"O'Malley spotted a big fighter base all equipped with vanishing planes." Stan got to the point he wanted to discuss at once.
"There must be dozens of them, but we have never been able to spot any of them to knock them out. Those Me's and FW's just sprout out of the ground as we go along." Allison frowned and shook his head. "If we could spot the fields, we could send out separate missions ahead of a raid and knock off those fields."
"O'Malley says they snap the planes out of sight in less than a minute. He slipped in over one of them, circled, and when he came back there wasn't a plane in sight."
"I figure there were at least seventy planes parked when I popped in over the field. When I came back over they were gone." O'Malley shook his head.
"Think anyone would believe such a yarn?" Stan asked.
"Every bomber pilot and crew member would believe it," Allison said grimly. "Why don't you report it and ask for a chance to check up?"
"I've already gone over the head of Sim Jones once and got socked for it," Stan said. "But O'Malley ought to report it."
"Sure, an' I'll be after seein' Colonel Holt meself." O'Malley ran his fingers through his mop of red hair. "I'd as soon have this Jones bird after me as not."
After that the talk got around to the raid on Huls. Allison's ship had come through with only a few bullet holes. His bombardier had laid their eggs squarely on a factory building. It had been a good show for the Forts and Libs.
"What I'm worried about," Allison said as he got ready to leave, "is that the Wellingtons and Lancasters will blow Berlin off the map before we are able to penetrate that far."