O'Malley grinned back at him. "I know a couple I wish you could get hold of," he said. He turned around and walked out of the office.
For a full five minutes O'Malley stood outside the office looking out toward the blue Mediterranean. There was a deep scowl on his face. Finally he sauntered into the mess and seated himself near a window. Elevating his feet, he closed his eyes and took a nap.
He was awakened by an orderly. The soldier saluted smartly and said:
"You are wanted at operations, sir."
O'Malley got to his feet and walked into the briefing shack, which was a shed hastily erected outside the mess. Captain Marks was waiting for him. He shoved a sheaf of flight orders at O'Malley.
"You are to deliver three Lightning fighters to Malta. In case you meet enemy planes, you are to take proper evasive measures. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sor," O'Malley said and added, "If we be attacked we fight?"
"Certainly, we don't want these new planes shot down."
Glancing at his flight orders, O'Malley moved leisurely out to the flight strip designated. Three Lightnings stood there with their props spinning. A ground crew was just leaving them. O'Malley nodded toward the chief mechanic who swung down out of the cockpit.
"Is this bag o' bolts ready to fly?" he asked with a grin.