"But doesn't the C.O. know where the bombers are based?" Freddy Farmer spoke up. "They're not coming here all the way from Tunisia, are they?"
"I couldn't say, sir," the orderly replied with a shrug. "All I know is what I hear around the base. There aren't many of us here. The base isn't in full swing yet. But it won't be long, and then maybe we'll have a fighter squadron here, in case them Nazis try to really start something. Funny about them Snoopers starting to show up three days ago. It doesn't make sense. But what does in this screwy war?"
Neither Dawson nor Farmer had an answer for that one, so they just shrugged, and pushed back their chairs.
"Well, thanks for the fine meal, Corporal," Dawson said, and tossed a bill on the table. "Here, have a time for yourself when you get a pass to town."
"I sure will, and thanks, Captain!" the orderly gulped when he saw the amount of Dawson's tip. "Thanks a lot, sir. And I hope I'll be here next time you pass through."
"So do I, Corporal," Dawson smiled as he headed for the door. "And good luck."
"The same to you, sir!" the other called after him. "The same to you both!"
Outside the mess, Dawson glanced at his wrist watch and saw that it was just about time to report to Colonel Welsh in the field commandant's office.
"Let's go, Freddy," he said. "What do you think of Goering's Snoopers? I guess we spotted some of them, huh?"
"No doubt," the English youth replied, and frowned. "And a very queer business, if you ask me. Do you suppose, Dave—"