“Let’s get going,” O’Malley broke in.
The three colonels smiled widely. The Chinese officer spoke. “We have ample need for leaders of squadrons. I have a place for at least two more colonels at once. Major Wilson will make plans for the attack. Please confer with the Air Commander and the supply officer.”
The three fliers saluted. As they turned away, the colonel of Marines called after them:
“Give them a grubbing, boys. Wish I were going along, I’d like a whack at that rat Munson.”
Stan grinned back at the Marine. Allison also smiled.
“If he’s a sample of your Marine Corps, I’d like to work with them,” Allison said.
“He’s a typical devil dog,” Stan said. “The world’s finest fighting men. Not many of them, but they’re tough and hard—always first at a hot spot.”
They went into conference with General Dern, who was to have control of the entire operation covering both Stan’s fighter escort and the bombers. Dern was a Georgia boy who had fought all over China and who had been in service long before the Flying Tigers came into being. He had fought the Japs from Lashio on the Burmese border to Kweiyang within the last year. He was a lank six-footer with a typical southern drawl.
“You can give us the location,” he said. “That’s about all we’ll need.”
Stan prepared maps for Dern, giving the location of the temple with the red roof and the location of the Jap planes and supply dumps.