“I heard the new ship was a bit of all right,” the flight officer said. “I’ll take your report. The Wing Commander wants it rushed right over.”
“We’ll be after blushin’ to give you the actual facts of what happened,” O’Malley said slowly.
“One Messerschmitt to us and three to Allison,” Stan answered.
The officer nodded and began scribbling. “Fill out one for me right away.” He shoved a blank across the desk.
“How about the varmint I dissected with me guns?” O’Malley asked.
“Did you hit one of those Stukas?” Stan asked.
“Sure, an’ I did that,” O’Malley said.
“One Stuka badly damaged,” Stan added.
They went into the mess and for once O’Malley did not order a pie. He sat down and stared at the ceiling, his big mouth clamped shut, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down. Finally he said:
“Next time I get to take her, I can fly her like she was me own wings.”