He went on up and headed for home. As they roared along, Allison poked him and pointed up. Stan saw four Jap fighter planes coming down at them. He cracked the throttle wide open. With a whoop, O’Malley scrambled back to the rear gun turret.
The Japs came down the chute but they were not fast enough to make contact. The Martin showed them a clean pair of heels and they gave up the chase.
The Martin dropped in on the temporary field and slid up beside a hangar. Ground men swarmed out to take over. The three pilots climbed out and headed for the briefing room where they reported in.
“Let’s go report to the colonel,” O’Malley said. There was a savage glint in his eye.
“First, you report how you happened to bail out with that tommy gun,” Stan said to O’Malley.
“I spotted a squad o’ Japs near the woods. We had no phone an’ you were comin’ in fast. I jest piled out and sailed down into a patch o’ timber. You were so low, the Japs didn’t see me bail out.” O’Malley ran his fingers tenderly over a mass of scratches on his cheek. “I like to niver got out o’ the mess o’ vines and bushes I landed in.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Allison asked in mock surprise.
“I’m weak with hunger,” O’Malley declared solemnly. “But I’m mad, too. I got to lay one on the beak o’ that Munson before I’ll get me full appetite.”
“I think we’d better eat first,” Stan said. “We might be able to figure out something while we watch you devour a couple of pies.”
O’Malley grinned widely. “Sure, an’ if I wasn’t so weak from hunger, you couldn’t talk me out of it,” he said.