The last and hardest wait came at the edge of the bush, where the coarse, four-foot-high grass began. Scouts had been sent out to locate the Jap positions, so the soldiers’ “grapevine” reported. When they returned, the troops were to move forward. If all went well they would pounce upon their enemies in the first gray light of dawn. The Japs, notoriously late sleepers when they did not expect an attack, would be caught literally napping. “It sounds fine,” Curly Levitt muttered in Barry’s ear. “But one little mistake of ours could give those people warning. Wouldn’t it have been safer to surround the Nips’ positions and rush them from all sides?” “Possibly—in full daylight,” Barry whispered back. “But at dawn there’s danger of shooting down our own troops by mistake. Our jungle uniforms are enough like the Japs’ to fool you where the visibility is low. You’ve given me an idea, though, Curly. If the rest of our crew agree, we six might circle around to the enemy’s rear. We’re not under orders, and we’d be taking our own risk.” “Wait a minute while I crawl around and ask them,” the _Rosy’s_ navigator replied eagerly. “I think they’ll eat it up!” Curly was right in his guess. The extra risks involved meant little to the four Air Force sergeants. They would go where Barry Blake led, even if it meant charging the whole Jap force with hand grenades. Fortunately for their plan, the six “guerillas” were on the far right wing of the attacking line. In the darkness their silent departure would not be noticed. Keeping contact by touch alone, they crawled away along the edge of the jungle. The moon was now well up in the sky, silvering the long grass of the hill-crest. Thus Barry could watch the lay of the land, while keeping in the black shadow of the bush. On reaching the height of land, he stopped. “There’s a rocky outcropping twenty yards from here,” he whispered to Curly Levitt. “I’m going to crawl out to it and try to spot the Jap gun positions.... They might give us a clue to the trenches our scout plane reported the first day.” Without waiting for Curly’s answer, Barry Blake wormed his way toward the exposed outcrop. Reaching it, he inched his way to the highest part. Now he had no protection except the dirty color of his jungle suit. If a Jap sentry should catch his least movement, it would be just too bad. From the rocks he looked down on a sea of grass, broken by little islands of brush and trees. No trenches appeared. They were either cleverly camouflaged with grass, or else there were none near by. One of the tree clumps, however, drew Barry’s especial interest. From where he lay, a vaguely pagoda-like shape could be glimpsed protruding from the shadows. A Jap tent, draped with camouflage netting? It would be worth a risk to discover the truth, Barry believed. Cautiously he crawled back to his friends.