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And then he remembered that Canidy was gone. He was off on one of his nobody-knows-anything-about-it missions in his souped-up B-25G. Canidy had given Douglass no details, of course, other than that he "would be away for a couple of days." But then Douglass had learned that Dolan was off somewhere, too. And he'd flown over Whithey House, and the B-25G normally parked there was gone.

Ergo. Canidy and Dolan were off somewhere doing something secret and important in the souped-up B25G.

There was a steady, sometimes nearly overwhelming, temptation for Douglass to ask Canidy--or, probably smarter, to ask OSS London Station Chief David Bruce--to have him transferred to the OSS. And there was little question in his mind that it could be easily arranged: For one thing, if the OSS wanted somebody, they got him. No matter what assignment an officer--or, for that matter, an enlisted man--had, it was not considered as essential to the war effort as an assignment to the OSS.

And he was sure that David Bruce had at least considered that It. Colonel Peter Douglass, Jr." knew far more about the OSS and its personnel and operations than he was supposed to.

Douglass had flown with Canidy and Bitter with the Flying Tigers in China and Burma, where their airplanes had been maintained by "Mr." John Dolan. It made no sense to indulge the notion that any of them would regard Doug Douglass as someone who couldn't be trusted with classified information, even if all of them, in fact, tried to keep him in the dark.

He had learned, for example, that Eric Fulmar was in Germany. He hadn't asked. Canidy had told him. He hadn't asked what Fulmar was doing in Germany.

And he had tried, unsuccessfully, not to put two and two together. So he had come up with the answer that if Canidy and Dolan had gone off somewhere in the B-25G, it was very likely that they had gone to bring Fulmar home.

Finally, the Deputy Director of the Office of Strategic Services was Captain Peter Douglass, Sr." USN, Doug's father. Considerations of nepotism aside, it made sense to have Peter Douglass, Jr." in the OSS, since he knew so much about it.

There were reasons Douglass had not asked to be taken in. He would have been embarrassed to speak them out loud, for they would, he thought, seem both egotistical and overly noble. But in his own mind, he was one hell of a

fighter pilot and one hell of a commander. By staying where he was, he believed that he was probably saving lives.

He did not allow himself to dwell on the counter argument that Canidy and Bitter and Jimmy Whittaker and the others were also saving lives. Not directly, by shooting down a Messerschmitt on the tail of one of his pilots, nor even less directly, by doing the things that a good commander does to keep his men alive, but in an almost abstract sense. If what the OSS was doing could shorten the war by a week, or a day, or even by six hours, that would mean that the guns would fall silent around the world, and more lives would be saved in six hours than he could hope to save by being a good fighter group commander for the rest of the war.

That argument seemed to be buttressed by the fact that Canidy and Bitter and Whittaker had proven themselves as fighter pilots.

Douglass understood that he would not be asked to join the OSS. If they wanted him in the OSS, he would have been transferred into it long ago. He was going to have to submit an application, no matter how informal, and he didn't want to do that.

It. Colonel Doug Douglass carried what was left of the imperial quart of Scotch whiskey to the battered desk. He unscrewed the top, took a healthy swig from the neck, and then set the bottle on the desk.

He sat down and rolled a sheet of printed stationery into the typewriter.

Then he typed the date.

He would, he thought wryly, have been one hell of a squadron clerk.

He opened the service record and found what he was looking for. His fingers began to fly over the keys.

APO 86344, Mew York

Mr. and. Mrs. J. Howard Till 711 Country Club Road Springfield,

M.J.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Till;

By now, you will have been notified by the Adjutant General that David has been killed in action.

He was my executive officer and my friend, and I share your grief.

The 344the Fighter Group was assigned the mission of protecting B-17 and B-24 bombers of the Eighth Air Force."4 iA on a heavy bombardment mission to Frankfurt, Germany. ThIji Group was divided into two echelons. David commanded on ) and the other.

Some distance from the target, we were engaged by a ';

large group of German Messerschmitfc fighter aircraft. In'"the engagement that followed, David shot down two Germaa fighters. He was going to the aid of another pilot when aircraft came under fire from several Messerschmitts. zlJi David's aircraft was hit in the fuel tanks, which then exploded. , 'fl David was instantly killed, probably without t|| warning. He died, I think, as he would have wanted ' to, in aerial combat, leading his men as they protected other men. " "Great

er Love Hath Mo Man Than He Lay Down His Life for Another."

The two German fighter aircraft he shot down brought his total kills to six. The posthumous award of the Air '? Medal (6fch Award) has been approved. I have, in additioaAJ just been informed by Eighth Air Force that David will also be awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, and the citation will reflect his flying skill, devotion to duty and courage, not only on his last flight but during the entire period of his assignment to the 344the Fightea?

Group.