“Today we fight here near Rangoon. Perhaps next week, next month we will be at Lashio or even deep in China. We can only do the best possible with what we have to use.”
On the third day after the raid an orderly ushered a ragged man into Stan’s little office. Stan jumped to his feet, completely forgetting his dignity.
“Kirby! You lucky dog!” he shouted.
Kirby saluted and a weary smile came to his lips. “Kirby reporting for active duty, sir,” he said.
“Sit down. Active duty, my eye. You have to be fed and get some rest.” He leaned forward. “Tell me, how did you get back?”
Kirby seated himself. “I hit silk and floated into a clearing. It turned out I had landed on a field where a fellow keeps his elephants. Before I could get untangled a lot of brown men were on me.”
Stan grinned widely. He knew just what had happened to Kirby.
“They dumped me into a stockade along with a lot of Thailanders. I crawled through a hole I made in the stockade, borrowed a gun from one of the guards, and came home.” Kirby took a deep breath. “And am I glad to be here!”
“Good work,” Stan said. “I’ll have a ship for you as soon as you are rested.”
“I met a friend of yours,” Kirby said. “She had been tossed into the stockade for helping you get away. It seems her number is up. She’s to be shot.”