"Sure, an' it was a poor show," O'Malley's voice came in. "This colleen has the need of two big eyes to see where the spalpeens go when they run away."
"This will be nice news for the Nazis to broadcast," Allison called.
"Moon Flight, come in. Moon Flight, come in. Enemy dispersed." The call was from the field below.
Then Garret's voice broke in. "Squadron Leader of Moon Flight reporting. Enemy dispersed with many casualties. Two of our fighters left formation."
"Bah," Stan heard O'Malley growl.
They went down with the Spitfires and rolled into the floodlights. The O.C. was there and very much excited. Before Stan could reach the door of the briefing room Farrell had him.
"We watched the show, what we could see of it. Those Hawks were great. But how did you come to disregard my orders as to the hour of your leaving the naval base?"
Stan smiled. "Don't you think it lucky we did, sir?"
"It was more than lucky. Many lives would have been lost and much damage done. I'm afraid we would have come in for some stiff criticism." He shook his head. "Garret gets off slow, but this is the second time he has cleaned up."
The O.C. hurried away, still shaking his head. Stan barged into the room and reported as a part of Moon Flight. The briefing officer hesitated about putting down the three Hawks.