“They are two of the best,” Stan cut in. “You can learn a lot from them.”
“I might and I might be able to teach them something. I’m signed up as an instructor to show the boys some of the new wrinkles we have developed over in the States.” Nick Munson smiled a little patronizingly.
Stan looked at him thoughtfully. “I have had a bit of experience in the United States,” he said.
Nick Munson did not meet Stan’s steady gaze. “That must have been a while back,” he said.
“Not so long ago,” Stan answered, then added, “but we must be toddling along. I just wanted you to meet the men you’ll be working with. See you later.”
They turned away, leaving Nick to amuse the native girls. When they had crossed the street, O’Malley growled:
“That spalpeen better not try teachin’ me any new tricks.”
“If he makes any more wisecracks I’ll sock him,” O’Malley threatened. “He made me mad first, so I get first whack.”
Allison laughed. “Don’t be a nut, Irish. He’ll make a good man once he’s been up the glory trail and has had some hot lead smacked through his ship. He may even learn a few new wrinkles the Americans have not worked out.” He gave Stan a knowing leer. “Yanks are all a bit cocky at first.”
“Nick isn’t a fair sample,” Stan said quickly. “Before you get out of China, you’ll meet a lot of fellows who are right good men.”
They walked across the grounds to headquarters and turned in. Wing Commander Beakin was seated at his desk. In spite of the heat, he was dressed in full uniform. He frowned heavily as he looked at them.
“No, sir, just recruits,” Allison answered.
“China, eh?” The commander did not wait for an answer. “Well, boys, you can serve up there better than down here right now. We all know trouble is on the way. Japan is about ready to strike. The stronger China is, the safer we are down here. We have to keep supplies moving in over the Burma Road just as long as it can be kept open.”
“Yes, sor,” O’Malley broke in. “That’s just the way we had it figured out. Once we get up there that road _will_ be safe.”
Commander Beakin’s leathery face cracked into a smile. “Aren’t you the pilot who brought in a new model German gun and laid it on the desk of my friend, Wing Commander Farrell?”
O’Malley squirmed uncomfortably. Allison spoke up. “The same man, sir. He herded a Jerry right down on our landing field.”