Pantelleria Island which had been occupied by the British and Yanks. Sicily lay ahead and O'Malley knew evasive tactics called for a wide sweep to the east and south. He had already flown miles north in his hopeful quest of trouble. Easing down to two thousand feet, they swept around in a circle that carried them within sight of the coast of Sicily. But there was no enemy craft in sight in the air and very few on the water along the coast. With a sigh O'Malley straightened their course and headed in to Malta. They had flown a half circle deep into enemy territory but nothing exciting had happened. O'Malley was beginning to worry. If all of their ferry flights were going to be like this, he would have to do something about it.

Picking up the radio signals from the Malta field, they slid in, spotted the Yank landing strip, and set down. Ground crews rushed out to take over. They swarmed around the Lightnings and had them moving off almost before their pilots were out of the cockpits. O'Malley scowled. The boys had no more respect for a ferry pilot than they did an M.P.

O'Malley obtained his release and acceptance of the planes from a captain who rode out in a motorcycle. The captain seemed irritated.

"Your flight time is double what it should be. Get over to Number Three Field and get your transportation back to Africa."

"Yes, sor," O'Malley said. "We drifted a bit off course."

The captain looked at him sharply. He was very busy and delays did not improve his ragged temper.

"Don't let it happen again," he snapped.

O'Malley smiled at his two fliers. "Sure, an' 'tis very ungrateful some people are. We risk our necks to deliver these crates an' get a sour welcome." He turned and walked away. The captain stood staring after him. He had not met a man like O'Malley before. Usually ferry pilots were not given to back talk.

The transport was waiting. O'Malley and his pals climbed in among an assortment of equipment and supplies being returned to base. In a short time they were back at their own briefing room. Three planes were ready and they took off again.

All day they ferried Lightnings across to Malta and not once did they sight enemy craft. O'Malley was wild when they checked in for the evening. He glared at the grinning Captain Marks.

"Sure, an' something better bust loose tomorrow," 

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