and headed into the woods. He was looking for a power line pole.
The job of locating a pole among a forest of trees was not easy, but Stan had the general location from the run of the lines. After a few minutes of hunting he located the pole and got set to climb it. He stacked his things at the base of the pole. He would have to slide down in a hurry and dash to the attack. He hoped there would be plenty of confusion. He also hoped the lead-in wires were insulated. The line was at least 220-volt, because there were three wires leading to the barn.
Climbing up the pole Stan came to a transformer. Gingerly he tested one of the wires with the hard rubber handle of his knife. Nothing happened, so he started sawing away. He was not shorted by any part of the transformer or any wire he might be touching in the darkness. The wire was thick and heavy but it was copper and his sharp knife bit into it. With a tug Stan severed the heavy wire and felt it go twisting away into the darkness, which had suddenly become very black because all of the lights in and around the villa had snapped off.
Stan almost fell down the pole. He heard shouting and bellowing from the yard. Shots were fired and flashlights began to stab back and forth. Stan grabbed his machine gun and leaped into the road leading to the small barns. Suddenly the machine gun under the tree opened up. The Germans knew a prison delivery attempt was on. Stan halted and pulled a grenade from the sack slung over his shoulder. Jerking the pin, he tossed it just as he had often tossed a forward pass in a football game.
A sharp roar and a flash of fire told him the grenade had gone off, and the sudden ceasing of the staccato voice of the machine gun told him he had scored a hit. He did not have time to look as he charged toward the kennels. He ran into a German and knocked the soldier down with the barrel of his machine gun. Reaching the door he came to grips with three Germans. They had an electric lantern and they spotted him closing in, but not quick enough. Stan’s tommy-gun blasted them off the wide stone flagging before the door.
“Hi, Allison! O’Malley!” Stan hit the door with his shoulder in a leaping dive. He went crashing into the room with the door draped around him.
“Stan!” O’Malley roared from the darkness.
“Here! Get close to me and follow me!” Stan shouted as he staggered to his feet.
Outside, the flaming and the sound of Stan’s tommy-gun had given away his location. Rifles and pistols began blasting away. Bullets splintered the front of the building.
“Get down low!” Allison called.
A dozen men had rushed out of the kennels, carrying Stan with them. He heard a man groan and go down as a bullet hit him.
“Here!” he bellowed.
O’Malley and Allison located him. They knew just about where he was headed. Wiggling along on their hands and knees, the three fliers moved to the hole in the hedge.
They slid through and, paused. “Where’s Tony and Arno?” Stan asked.
“In the shed next to ours,” Allison answered. “They were captured the day we were shot down.”
“Sure, an’ if you’ll wait I’ll go beat down the door,” O’Malley whispered.
“We’ll all go,” Stan answered. “We’ll batter open both prisons.”
The three, keeping close together, circled and charged into the mass of milling Germans. They were not spotted because there was little light. Flashlight beams stabbed here and there, but none of the fingers of light found the three Yanks. They actually shouldered their way to within a few yards of the first door.
“I’ll take this one, you and O’Malley take the other. I’ll clear the way with the tommy-gun,” Stan hissed.
He opened up with a burst of fire which scattered the Germans, then charged the door. O’Malley and Allison smashed the other door. Stan heard the shouts of the prisoners as they piled out. He backed away as men lunged out of the building he had opened. Stan thanked his luck that the doors had been built out of light plywood. He leaped aside and turned his submachine gun on the Germans. He swung his arc of fire across the yard and sent the Nazis charging for cover.
Ceasing his fire he ducked for the hole in the hedge. Allison was already there, but O’Malley had not showed up.
“Hope he hasn’t gotten any crazy ideas,” Stan growled.
“He probably has,” Allison said. “How’d you douse the lights?”
“I cut the main line, but they’ll locate the break and fix it in a hurry.”
Suddenly they heard O’Malley coming. He ducked through the hedge. Behind him came two other men. O’Malley had stayed to locate Tony and Arno.
“How did you find us?” Tony asked excitedly.
“Allison got someone to smuggle out a note. I have a bomber up on your secret field to take us off, if we can get up there,” Stan answered. “It’s so dark, I don’t know whether we can locate the path.”
Arno laughed softly. “We will lead you and we will show you how to take off in the dark.”
“I’m glad you’re along,” Stan said.
Arno led the way up the trail. He moved along at a fast pace. He knew every twist and turn in the trail. The Yanks were hard put to keep up with him. Tony brought up the rear, which helped to keep the party together.
They reached the little meadow that served as a runway. Arno led them straight to the hidden parking ground. Here they halted under the wing of the Mosquito.
“What you flying?” O’Malley asked.
“A Mosquito bomber,” Stan answered.
“One o’ them wood crates?” O’Malley asked. He did not try to hide his disgust.
Stan laughed. “And I’m flying her, see? I wouldn’t ride in as fast and tricky a ship as this Mosquito with you at the controls.”
“I’ll bet me auld grandmother could fly as fast,” O’Malley said.
“The lights are on below,” Arno broke in. “I hear German soldiers coming up the slope through the woods.”
“They have a big force down there,” Allison said. “I’ll bet they comb this mountainside.”
“We’ll never be able to take off as black as it is,” Stan said. “We’ll have to wait for the first light so we can see something.”
“By that time the Germans will have found the ship. See the lights flashing in the woods below?” Tony spoke sharply.
Arno laughed. “Now I will show you how we took off on black nights. Will your bomber lift in a hurry?”
“Faster than a Nardi fighter,” Stan said.
“Wait. I will show you,” Arno said and disappeared into the blackness.
“We have done it many times,” Tony said, laughing.
Arno was gone only a few minutes. When he returned he explained:
“First we roll the ship out from under the trees by hand if we can.”
“That will be easy. There is a downgrade and the Mosquito is light weight,” Stan said.
“Then we get the engines warm enough to take off.” Arno paused.
“That will take a little time. We may have to stand off the Germans,” Stan said.
“When the engines are hot I will place two blue flares with a red one in the middle for a target. It is so easy. You head for the red flare and take off before you get to it.”
“Good work. You have the flares?” Allison asked.
“We keep a supply here,” Arno said. “I will place them. When you shout to me that the engines are ready, I will light them. Then I come running and we take off.”
“’Tis very simple,” O’Malley said eagerly. “Sure, an’ we better get her rolled out.”
The boys got hold of the Mosquito and rolled her out. Arno made off to set his flares. Before the boys piled in, Stan handed his tommy-gun to Allison. “You’re an artist with this sort of banjo. You stay on the ground. If any German squads show up, you chase them back into the woods.”
“Good idea, old boy,” Allison said as he took the gun.
Stan went up and wound up the radial motors. They coughed and sputtered but finally took hold, first with a rumbling gallop that was uneven, then with a smoother roar. The sound of those powerful radials shook the night air. Stan knew their full-throated exhausts could be heard by the Germans.
Flashes of light winked in the woods below, Stan judged that the German squads were not over two hundred yards down the slope. Some might be even farther up the hill. He tested the engines with a jerk of the throttle.
