“We feel that they do,” Stan said.

“I’m sorry I can’t take you. I’m afraid I’d be called to account for helping you disobey orders.” The general’s smile had spread into a grin. “You will go on as you should.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stan said. They both saluted and walked away.

“Guess we’re sunk,” Allison said sourly. “O’Malley will certainly rub it in when he sees us again. He’ll be right in the middle of the big fight.”

Stan was looking at the NATS amphibian and smiling. “We might be able to thumb a ride with the Navy.”

Allison looked down toward the sea. The Navy boys were getting the big freighter set to take off.

“Worth a try, let’s go down there.”

They hurried down to the beach. An ensign was handling the shifting of supplies from the flying boat to a truck. He greeted Stan and Allison in a friendly manner after glancing at their service stripes.

“You boys are a bit off your reservation, aren’t you?” he asked.

“We sure are and we want to get back. How about a ride to Bizerte?”

“We’re not hauling passengers, but if you piled in nobody would throw you off. We’re supposed to cooperate with the Army in every way we can.” The ensign laughed.

“Great stuff,” Allison said. “I’m March Allison and he’s Stan Wilson.”

“I’m Bert Thomas,” the ensign said. “If you have bags you better get them aboard. We’re about to shove off.”

“We’re not taking any bags back,” Stan said hurriedly. He did not want to risk having the general order them to go on into Alexandria. In fact, he did not want the general to know they were going out with the amphibian.

“O.K. Just get aboard and find a place to sit down.”

Stan and Allison climbed aboard the freighter. The crew paid no attention to them but went on lashing cargo into place, cramming all sorts of odd repair parts into every corner.

Ensign Thomas came aboard and took his place beside his copilot. Stan and Allison sat on the only two vacant seats along the arching ribs of the ship. They were careful not to take the space reserved for the crew.