"Yes, he's as hard as nails but he has the old rules well trained into him. He'll do whatever the big shots order. Guess who the big boy in Italy is."
"Couldn't make a stab," Stan said.
"Rommel himself. He's to keep us from breaching the continent. Remember how Herr Goebbels has been shouting that the Allies could never break into the European fortress? Well Rommel is going to see that we don't crack through." Allison laughed softly.
"Sure, an' we'll give 'em the same pastin' we gave him in Africa," O'Malley growled.
An hour passed and O'Malley was not called in. Supper of bread and thin soup arrived and with it came the Gestapo officer. He seated himself on a stool outside the bars and talked while the boys ate. O'Malley looked at the food, then turned to the officer.
"'Tis not fit for a hog, this food."
"That's why you are getting it," the officer said and laughed loudly.
"We are entitled to decent rations," Stan said.
"What does it matter about the rations? I have just talked by radio to headquarters. Unless you give us the information we want, you will be shot. I have the order with me." He leered at the boys triumphantly.
"Pleasant sort of folks, you Nazis," Allison drawled.