They had the compound!
A final dive of Glencannon’s battered plane had blown the air cooling through into the compound breathe-gas pumps, flooding all the underground areas with air.
Glencannon had landed the ship safely. A hidden g*n battery had blown out his instrument panel and radio, but he had not been burned and his controls still worked and he got the ship back to the ravine.
Scots, howling with joy, had pulled him out and pounded him on the back until sternly reminded by the parson that the pilot had broken ribs.
A few more bursts of assault rifles had cleaned off some snipers.
The pipe major had cut loose with bagpipes. The other piper and the drummer had thrown aside their rifles and picked up their instruments, and the high-pitched wail and low drone of pipes skirled across
