“I’m sorry that numskull Irishman isn’t with us any more. I should have liked to have made a flier out of him,” Nick said.
“For a test pilot without combat stripes you have done well, Munson,” Stan said and his eyes locked with those of the colonel.
“I may do even better,” Nick boasted. “This is the land of opportunity.”
Stan had suddenly lost interest in Munson. He was looking out across the darkening rice fields. Three men were coming toward the shack. Two walked ahead while another came on behind. Suddenly Stan laughed in Nick’s face.
“You may get your chance to train O’Malley, after all,” he said.
O’Malley was striding across the field with two Japanese pilots in front of him. He had lost his helmet and his flaming hair bushed out on his head. He waved an arm to Stan and Allison and bellowed:
“Here I come with the reserves!”
He marched his prisoners up to Colonel Munson and halted them. They were very meek. One of the men had a black eye that suggested he had been hit by a fist. Nick stared at the Japs and then at O’Malley.
“You were reported killed,” he growled.
O’Malley looked Nick over, observed his rating and then answered insolently: