"Gal?" Stan asked.
"Gal," Allison agreed.
"I'll wake the Irisher up," Stan promised.
The next morning Allison came barging into the breakfast room glowering savagely. He dropped into a chair across from Stan and O'Malley and snapped his order at the corporal. O'Malley gave him a brief look, then returned to his job of spreading jam on a huge stack of hot cakes which were flanked by a double order of sausages. The lank Irisher was not in a talkative mood. Stan grinned at Allison.
"What's eating on you? Did some civilian steal your gal?"
Allison glared at him. "We have friends over here at Croydon. The way they run a war! You'd think somebody would wake up to a few things!"
"What sort of an assignment did we get?" Stan was sure Allison was riled over the assignment they had been given.
"Nursing a flock of coal barges through the channel. Just big, lumbering boats not worth as much as the coal inside them. The Jerries won't waste a pound of T.N.T. on any of them. The only chance we'll have will be if they try to dive bomb a destroyer tagging along." Allison jerked a plate of bacon and eggs to him and shot a hard look at the corporal. "Black coffee," he snapped.
"We rate better than that," Stan said.