Munson strode to the front of the room, clicked his heels and made a turn to face them. Stan’s eyes narrowed as he watched the big fellow. Munson looked the men over with a cold eye.
“You fellows put on a lousy show today,” he snapped. Pausing, he waited for someone to contradict him or argue the point.
Silence filled the room. All eyes were fixed unwaveringly upon the commander. Munson cleared his throat and went on.
“Three of you,” he glared at Stan, Allison, and O’Malley, “broke away from formation and went off on a chase. You intercepted and broke up a fighter attack on the field, but if that bomber squadron had been as big as it was reported to me, the docks and the city of Rangoon would have been blasted.” He paused and his gaze bored into Allison.
Allison stood staring at him without any expression on his face.
“You, Major Allison, ordered your flight off on that attack.” He leveled a finger at Allison and shook it threateningly.
“Yes, sir,” Allison said. “Sorry, sir.”
Munson fairly jumped up and down. His face reddened and he bit off his words savagely.
“You are insubordinate and—and—” He seemed unable to think of any more words.
“Yes, sir,” Allison said and smiled insolently.