He spotted the naval base and circled around to give the boys at the batteries a chance to see who he was, then set down and turned the Spitfire over to a ground crew. Taking his file of papers he headed for the commander's quarters.
The commander was an affable man, ruddy-faced and square-jawed. He had heard about Stan and O'Malley's attack upon the pocket battleship.
"I was so inquisitive about those ships I had them unloaded and uncovered. They are beauties, sir. But I can't see what you'll want with so much motor."
"I'll show you," Stan promised. "Now I want to make a call back to London and then I want a squad of your best mechanics. I have to get these Hawks into action at once."
"You will get all the help you can use," the commander promised.
Stan got Wing Commander Farrell on the wire and talked to him. He did not report the brush with the Heinkel, though he would have to mention it in his written report. And he did not mention Arch Garret. When he asked that Allison and O'Malley be sent up at once, the O.C. hesitated.
"We have been having poor luck keeping the bombers out," he said. "I'll have to replace you three and add six more Spitfires, if I can get them."
"I need them at once. The sooner you get them up here, the sooner we'll be back to help you."
"I have an old Defiant they can both pile into," the O.C. finally said. "I'll get them off tomorrow before daylight."
Stan waited a few minutes, then put in a call for Allison. Presently the Britisher's drawl came in over the wire clearly: