Stan’s story told in clipped sentences over the telephone brought an immediate response from the Chinese commander, as well as from the British and American officers attached to the force. Colonel Fuller was in a furious mood when Stan, with Allison and O’Malley at his side, barged into the control room.
The headquarters at Rangoon was temporary and planned to be moved wherever China might need the Flying Tigers most. Colonel Fuller had been handling twice as much work as one officer could handle. He now strode across the room and faced Stan.
“My compliments, Major Wilson. You have saved me from being taken in by a scoundrel.”
“It couldn’t be Colonel Munson, by any chance?” O’Malley asked with a grin.
Colonel Fuller’s scowl vanished and he laughed. “It happens to be a certain Von Ketch,” he said.
The Colonel led Stan and his pals into a small room. There they saw a mixture of uniforms, British, Dutch, Australian and American officers’ mingled with the Chinese. Fuller turned Stan over to three colonels. One was a boyish young Chinese with horn-rimmed glasses. One was a colonel of Marines, a leathery faced veteran of many campaigns. The other was a British officer who had seen service in Norway.
Stan and Allison saluted smartly. O’Malley made a ragged gesture. The Chinese colonel spoke to Stan.
“You have brought remarkable news from across the border. But first, my compliments upon your daring escape from the enemy.” His English was smooth and unaccented.
“Thank you, sir,” Stan said.
“What action would you recommend?” The colonel was smiling as he asked the question.