The other three suppressed their laughter, but they couldn't help smiling at Freddy's innocent inquiry.
"An American baseball expression, Farmer," Colonel Stickney explained. "I mean, it's up to you two to see that any Nazi raiding planes don't even get a chance to get close enough for action. Get it, now?"
"Oh, quite, and sorry, sir," Freddy said, and blushed.
"Think nothing of it, Farmer," the other said kindly. "Yank slang is a language all its own. Takes time to learn it. And when you have, the next generation below you is talking an even different jargon. But that's the American kid for you. Well, if you've got it all straight, and there are no questions, I guess that's all I have to say. Are there any questions? You'll be given flight charts and flight signals to use en route later, of course."
"All clear to me, sir," Dave spoke up.
"Quite, sir," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Can't say I hope you get your wish, though, sir."
"Huh? What's that?" the Field Commandant demanded.
"I mean, that we won't have to use our guns," Freddy replied with a smile. "A bit of Nazi action at the end of the trip would suit me fine. Successful action from our point of view, of course."
"Check, and how!" Dave breathed before he could stop his tongue.
Colonel Stickney tried to give them the hard eye and stern face, but found it too difficult.