"Me too!" Freddy said with a heavy sigh. "I heard a story once of something that happened in the last war. It was in a camp in England, an infantry training camp. A spy was sabotaging things, causing gun accidents, and several chaps were hurt. Well, they hunted high and low for the lad, but no go. Then one of the chaps working on the case got an idea. One evening when all the men were in barracks, and lights were out, he went from barracks to barracks, popped open the door, switched on the lights and yelled, 'Attention!' in German. In the third barracks a chap leaped out of his bed and sprang to attention. He was the blighter they wanted. German Army training drilled into him, you know. He reacted to the German command automatically." "I get it!" Dave snorted. "So we should go all over the ship yelling 'Attention!' in German? Nice, but I've got a better idea. We dress up to look like Hitler and cover the ship. The first bird who gives us the Nazi salute we throw to the deck and nail him down. Then we search his quarters and find the stolen plans. It would be a cinch, but I guess there aren't any Hitler uniforms aboard. Too bad! We'll have to think up something else." "Well, I certainly didn't offer it as a suggestion!" Freddy Farmer muttered. "Frankly, the best thing we could do would be to throw ourselves overboard. It would at least put an end to _our_ worries." "Nope, that's out," Dave grunted. "The darn thing would still haunt me wherever I went. And no crack, now, about _where_ I'd go! Nope! We're stuck. Our only hope is a break, some kind of a break--any kind. Heck! I wonder if I'd be able to recognize a break even if it stepped up and kicked me in the face. Oh-oh! Something's going to happen, maybe!" As Dave spoke the last he sat up and watched the young watch officer come striding across the deck toward him. The youth was about their age, and held an ensign's rank. He grinned as he approached and jerked a thumb aft. "All pilots wanted in the Ready Room, Lieutenants," he announced. "Executive Flight Officer's orders." "Something up?" Dave asked eagerly. "Could be," the Ensign said with a shrug. "But maybe the flying's been sloppy, too. You never can tell when the Exec gets in the mood to crack down. Luck, anyway."