"Where are you going?" Allison asked.
Tommy uncoiled himself and stood up. He began humming a snatch of song, stopped abruptly and answered Allison.
"Too quiet around here for me." Without any further explanation he strolled out.
"That nut can't get action enough running the notch. He's on his way over to a bombing squadron. He'll talk the O.C. into letting him go on a bombing raid as a gunner." Allison got to his feet. "Me, I'm going to bed."
"Reckon I will, too," Stan answered.
CHAPTER II
CLOUD TAG
Stan entered the mess room the next morning and stood looking around. There was the same air of indifference, with that undercurrent of tension. A dozen men were eating breakfast at the tables in the far end. They were all talking and joking, but at any moment they might be called to face the grim specter of death high in the clouds. Stan spotted Allison sitting by himself at a small table near a window. He looked about for Tommy but the lanky flier wasn't in the room. Probably sleeping in after an all-night party aboard a bomber, thought Stan.