"I'll be right there," O'Malley promised.
All of the details had been worked out and gone over so many times by the boys that they did not need to check again. They drew the machine guns and grenades they needed along with flares and other equipment. The supply officer got blue parachutes for them from an operating unit.
"Can't be spotted at night," he explained.
Evening was closing in by the time they had everything set. The Mosquito was warmed up and ready. She was stripped down for carrier purposes and to enable her to handle an extra gasoline tank. The ground crews gave her a final once-over, waved to her crew, and backed off. Stan sat up front in the copilot's seat to see that O'Malley was not teased into a fight. Allison and the Bolero brothers manned the machine guns.
O'Malley was a bit skeptical about the powers of the De Havilland, in spite of what Stan had told him. He gunned her and gave her her head. When she snapped off the ground in a manner that would have done credit to a Lightning, he began to grin and mumble to himself.
"Just don't get any wild ideas," Stan warned. They had sighted a flight of Focke-Wulf 190 fighters and O'Malley was eying the Germans with a dangerous gleam in his eye.
"If they run in on us, ye can't blame me," he said sourly.
The 190 fighters tried a run at the De Havilland, but she ran away from them before they could begin to cut her off.
"She's so fast she keeps out of trouble," O'Malley said in disgust.
"That's just what she was built for. Every night her sisters keep Berlin awake with bombing attacks, and every night they fly materials and dispatches from England to Malta. This is something you've overlooked, Irisher." Stan chided O'Malley.