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Bruce shook his head.

"And for a crew?"

"I thought about asking for an Eighth Air Force volunteer," Canidy said.

"If he turns out okay, we can draft him, permanently. If he doesn't, we send him back."

"Just a copilot? "Stevens asked.

"No," Canidy said.

"Before we sent him to Switzerland, I was planning to take Stanley Fine. And then, before we sent him to Australia, I was going to take Jimmy Whittaker. Now, I think Dolan."

Bruce's eyebrows rose again.

"Why Dolan? "he asked.

"He's an old pilot--" Canidy began.

"That's what I mean," Bruce interrupted reasonably.

Chief Aviation Motor Machinist's Mate--formerly, until physically disqualified, Chief Aviation Pilot--John B. Dolan, USN, had, after twenty-six years of service, retired from the Navy to go to Burma and China with the Flying Tigers as a maintenance officer. Afterward, he had managed to acquire a reserve commission in the Navy as lieutenant commander and had been sent by the Navy to England as the aviation maintenance officer for Operation Aphrodite. That was the code name for an attempt to convert worn-out B-17 aircraft into radio- controlled flying bombs, to be used against the German submarine pens at Saint-Lazare, which had proven immune to attack by conventional aerial bombardment.

Eisenhower, his patience with Air Corps-Navy squabbling exhausted, had turned Project Aphrodite over to the OSS. Dolan had been delighted. Canidy had been put in charge of the project, and he had known Canidy at the Pensacola, Florida, Naval Air Station when they had both been in the American Volunteer Group. Dolan had correctly guessed that Canidy would not watch his every move the way the Air and Navy brass had been doing.

"We intrepid bird men have a saying," Canidy said. ""There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots."" "Very interesting," David Bruce said.

Colonel Stevens gave in to the temptation.

"And where, Richard, would you say that profound observation leaves you? "he asked innocently.

"Why, I thought you knew, Colonel," Canidy said, smiling broadly, "that I intend to be a very old pilot."

"Not the way you're going, you're not," Stevens said.

"But, okay, Richard, you have... just barely... made your point."

"I presume Commander Dolan is physically up to it?" Bruce asked.

"Specifically, that he's had a recent flight physical?"

"It's in his records," Canidy said.

"Look for yourself."

"I just might," Bruce said.

There was a Report of Physical Examination (Flight) in It. Commander Dolan's records. Canidy did not think that David Bruce would notice the astonishing similarity between the handwriting of Commander A. J. Franklin,

Medical Corps, USNR, who had signed the examination, and that of It. Commander John B. Dolan, USNR.

Canidy intended to see that the old sailor didn't overexert himself on the flight. But he really wanted the old "Flying Chief "with his eight-thousand-plus hours in the air with him, heart condition or not. Experience was far more valuable than youth and health on a flight like this.

"It just makes sense for me to go," Canidy argued.

"It accomplishes what has to be done with the least fuss."

Bruce studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, "Ed?"