CHAPTER VI
PRISONER
Stan opened his eyes and found himself in a big room with stone walls and high windows. Sun was streaming in through two of the windows and gleamed upon piles of straw littering the floor. A dozen Yank airmen and several R.A.F. men sat on the straw. Stan lifted his hand to the back of his head and groaned. An R.A.F. man near him said:
"A bit of a tough rap? Can I get you some water? It's all we've seen so far in the way of refreshments."
"Thanks," Stan said. "But where am I?"
"A Jerry prison. I take it you were one of the boys who bombed the fighter fields. I'm Captain Prentiss." The Britisher smiled.
"I'm Stan Wilson. I'm not sure I bombed anything. Is there an Irishman here by the name of O'Malley?"
"Right-o. He was dragged in with you." Prentiss got to his feet. "I'll go tell him you're awake."
"Thanks." Stan heaved himself to a sitting position and looked around. Several of the boys nodded to him but none of them got up. All of them were strangers to Stan, men from flights he had not worked with.