One of the boys looked up. He was wearing new and shiny insignia of a major. He grinned up at Stan and Allison, his eyes taking in their service stripes.
"I guess you mean Flight Leader O'Malley," he said. "You should be able to find him over at Mess Three."
"So, he's already gotten himself shifted to flight leader," Stan said, matching the major's grin. "How'd he manage it?"
"By eating a pie while Colonel Benson was delivering a lecture on how to capture Italy," the major chuckled.
"So he's back on the firing line. I say, that's just where he wanted to be," Allison said.
"No, he didn't rate that well," the major explained. "The Old Man chucked him into a job of ferrying planes to Malta so we'd have some reserves in close to Sicily. Less than an hour ago O'Malley told me it was a quiet and peaceful job, but one he didn't like."
Stan looked at Allison. "You were right, there was a mouse, a big, dead one." He nodded to the major. "Thanks, Major," he said.
They turned away and walked out of the room. Allison laid a hand on Stan's arm as they turned toward the door of Mess Three.
"Suppose we surprise O'Malley," he suggested.
"He'll be in no mood for surprises," Stan answered. "He'll be a wild man. With the whole Army and Navy getting set to force a beach-head and him on ferry duty, he'll be red-hot."