"Did you have a man in mind?" Colonel Holt asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I should have consulted you, but I already have promised a man the job."

"Who is he?" Stan asked, trying not to show his disappointment.

"Lieutenant Jones."

Stan began to grin. "The same man I had in mind," he said.

"Good. Now take over."

Stan hurried away. He found the boys listening to the radio in the rest room. At his nod O'Malley and Sim joined him at a reading table.

"We get special rhubarb detail," he said.

"Foine," O'Malley said eagerly. "Only we'll never be able to fly far enough into Kraut territory to see anything."

"I get to go along?" Sim asked.

"Colonel's orders," Stan said and grinned. "And we get P-51 ships with the same range as the Forts."

"Sure, an' we'll fly to Berlin," O'Malley said.

"You better be thinking about locating that airfield," Stan answered. "There was a general at the meeting I just left."

"As long as he won't be askin' to go along, it's all right," O'Malley said.

"Now let's get some shut-eye." Stan got to his feet.

In the operations room the next morning, their papers were ready and they headed out on the field where three big Mustangs stood ready and warmed up. They were powerhouses with wicked armament and plenty of wingspread. In addition to wing guns, they had bomb racks which were fitted with extra gasoline tanks.

"Sure, an' they're one-man bombers," O'Malley crowed.

"They weren't built for hedge-hopping, but the major said they could do about four hundred miles per hour on the treetop level," Stan 

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