I'll find a way out to my outfit."

"No trouble at all, glad to help you. I'll get you a room and you can
get a nice sleep. Bright and early I'll be around with a car." The
officer made it clear he was in a big hurry to be off.

"Thanks a lot," Stan said. "I'll see you later."

The officer stared at him as Stan turned and barged out of the little
office where the Navy had left him. News of a big air push made it
necessary for him to get into action at once. He had to report his
information in time to halt the operations, or catch Egbert Minter
before he reported to Berlin. Getting a report to his own flight
commander seemed the quickest way.

Without his Yank officer's uniform Stan was at a disadvantage. The
destroyer commander had had his civilian suit cleaned and pressed for
him and he was wearing it, having discarded the coveralls he had worn in
the German shop. Standing on a street corner in the coast village, Stan
realized that he was dressed as a German civilian. Getting a ride would
not be so easy. Then he began to understand why the Intelligence Officer
had wanted to hold him overnight. Intelligence had not been so sure the
destroyer commander knew all about Stan.

Grinning broadly he hurried down the street. A few people stared at him
and one man pointed him out to another. A bobby turned and stood
watching him. Stan halted abruptly. The policeman was walking toward
him. Suddenly Stan realized that he did not have a scrap of evidence on
him to prove he was a Yank officer. The Germans had taken all
identification away from him.

A man came up the street and halted the bobby. He showed the policeman
something. The bobby looked at Stan, then turned back to his beat. The
man sauntered on a few steps and paused to look into a shop window. At
once Stan knew he was being trailed by British Intelligence. He had a
hunch he would be picked up soon.

Entering a shop he smiled at a girl leaning on a counter. "May I use
your telephone?" he asked.

"Over there." The girl pointed to a small booth.

Stan went into the little room. He got a connection and asked for Eighth
Air Force headquarters after convincing the operator that he was a
stranded flier. A voice at the other end of the line said in a very
irritated manner:

"We are accepting nothing but accredited calls until tomorrow."

"This is vitally important. I must speak to General Gilmer. This is
Lieutenant Stan Wilson speaking. I've just escaped from German