Allison and Stan walked to the cook’s galley after talking with the boys for about fifteen minutes.
“What do you have on your mind?” Allison asked.
“I’m not right sure, so I’ll have to go it alone for awhile,” Stan replied. “I guess I’ll just be snooping. But you fellows can cover up for me. I don’t want Munson to know I’m prowling around after dark.”
“We’ll take care of that,” Allison promised.
They entered the squadron mess hall and found O’Malley enthroned behind a huge dinner flanked by an apple pie.
“I showed the China boy how to cook that pie,” O’Malley said with pride. “I got him to make two o’ them so you birds can have some, too.”
Allison inspected the pie with a forced look of scorn. “Heavy as a Flying Fortress. Crust tough.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, old man, but I have my health to protect.”
O’Malley scowled. “Go ahead, swill iced tea and eat mutton chops. An Englishman niver could be expected to know decent food.”
Allison laughed as he dropped into a chair. “You sure knocked all the words out of the colonel.” He mimicked O’Malley, “I’m after bein’ near to starved.”
Stan joined their laughter. Munson certainly had been left speechless.