guards who stood around with rifles at ready until the plane started down the runway. Stan was squeezed in between O'Malley and Allison. The space inside the bomber was very limited, for it was not intended as a passenger plane. Besides the pilot and copilot, two men armed with pistols sat in the cramped quarters. The Italians had very thoughtfully provided their prisoners with parachutes. One of the guards spoke English and was not unwilling to talk. Stan singled him out at once. "I have been in America," the guard said in a friendly fashion. "What city?" Stan asked. "New York. I stay one year." "Didn't you like it?" Stan asked with a grin. "Sure, it was much good. I come back for my brother and then there is war. I must stay." The soldier shook his head sadly. "After the war you'll be going back?" Stan asked. "Sure. It is a fine place to live, New York. I make plenty money, got friends." The soldier smiled. "I will see you then." Stan laughed. "You sure will." His eyes were on the back of the pilot's neck. If O'Malley reached out he could touch the man flying the plane. Stan bent forward, at the same time signaling O'Malley with his knee in short and long taps. O'Malley finally woke up and answered the Morse SOS. As Stan talked to the soldier he also telegraphed to O'Malley and later to Allison. What Stan suggested was that they get control of the two pistols. The friendly soldier was bending closer. Stan would offer to show him some pictures from America that he had in his wallet. He would get the man off guard and when he had a chance would grab his pistol and push him over into the cramped back part of the ship. O'Malley and Allison would have to get the other pistol. "I think I have some pictures you may recognize," Stan said. He fished out a wallet which the Italians had not taken from him. Opening it he pulled out several snapshots of planes he had piloted at one time or another, but he held them so that the soldier had to bend forward. The guard leaned over almost against Stan. Like a flash Stan's hand shot out and he had the pistol. He lunged forward at the same instant, planting his head in the guard's chest. The soldier went over his stool and landed in a cramped position in the narrow waist of the plane. O'Malley had leaped the instant Stan's hand shot out. Allison did a good imitation of an American tackle. The second guard lost his gun but put up a tussle. Stan wedged past the struggling men and jammed the pistol barrel into the neck of the pilot. "We'll take over now," he snapped. The pilot cringed forward while the copilot turned about. Stan circled his neck with an arm and cinched down tight. Before the copilot could wiggle free, O'Malley was up forward with the other pistol. The copilot lifted his hands. His face was white and he 

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