"An' suppose he pops up with a regiment o' soldiers to take you to a camp about five minutes before our parole is up?" O'Malley asked.
"He could do that anyway," Stan answered. "We've waited a month. A few more days won't kill us. I have a feeling Allison is right."
"The Italians have thrown Mussolini out, perhaps they will start throwing the Germans out," Allison said.
"They wouldn't have a chance," O'Malley answered.
"I guess you're right about that, but something's up. I'm going to wait and see." Stan walked to the balcony rail and seated himself.
That night at dinner the Bolero brothers were quite gay. And for the next few days they were always around, but always friendly and polite. Stan wondered why they were not at the front. Italy certainly needed every pilot she had. He did not think that the officers had been detailed to watch them.
The parole day came and a guard arrived in the morning. The three Yanks saw a squad of Italian soldiers headed by a young officer halt in the yard below. O'Malley sat on the rail, watching. The young officer came to the balcony alone.
"Which one is Lieutenant O'Malley?" he asked.
O'Malley grinned at him. "Sure, an' that's me. I'm glad you dropped in. Tell General Bolero that I am givin' my parole, though it is against me better judgment."
The officer bowed. "I am pleased," he said. "I will report this to the general." He bowed again and turned on his heel.