Stan looked at Allison. “We should have somewhere near a thousand.” He grinned and added, “That is with the last bunch that arrived yesterday.”
The Jap looked at Stan and then jotted down the number. “Now, please, how many planes do you have?”
“We don’t know. They are coming in so fast we can’t keep count of them,” Allison answered.
“But some estimate, please,” the Japanese insisted.
“Oh, several thousand,” Stan answered airily.
This seemed to excite the officer greatly. He wrote the number down and chattered to the noncom beside him. They talked for a few minutes among themselves. When they had finished, Stan spoke up.
“Doesn’t that tally with the number Colonel Munson reported we had?”
The Jap stared at him. “Colonel Munson,” he repeated thoughtfully. He shook his head. “I do not hear of him.”
Stan was convinced that the officer was telling the truth. He did not seem to know Nick Munson. Before he could ask another question, a shining, new Chrysler rolled out of the woods and a trim little man stepped out. He was a ranking officer of the Japanese Air Force. Stan recognized his outfit at once.
The noncommissioned officer bowed and bobbed and saluted. He talked rapidly with the Japanese officer. The little man took the pad, looked at it, then scowled at Stan and Allison.