In a series of short rushes the two companies closed in on the entrenched Japs. While some of them advanced the rest poured a hot fire into the Jap positions. Then the foremost Americans started hurling grenades. In a few minutes much of the fighting was hand to hand. Howling like wolves, the boys from Montana, Ohio, and New York leaped into the Jap front-line defenses and cleaned them out. Fred Marmon and Cracker Jackson wanted to charge down the slope and join that fight, but Barry forbade it. “You’d probably be shot for Japs,” he told them. “And, anyhow, you’ll be more useful here when the enemy starts to scatter.... Look there! Isn’t that a bunch of ’em crawling out of a communication trench? Once they reach the bush they’ll all turn into snipers. We’ll have to head them off.” The Fortress crew needed no urging. A fight in the open was more to their taste than crouching in a trench, any day. This time, with big Danny Hale in the lead, they ran, stooping, through the grass toward the outcropping of rock. They were within twenty feet of the enemy when the Japs realized that they were Americans. The little men tried to shoot, but the Yanks were too close. Swinging his tommy-gun like a war-club, big Danny Hale closed the distance. He took a bullet through his thigh without feeling it, and mowed down two Japs with one blow. His gun came to pieces, so he dropped it and fought bare-handed. Cracker Jackson was using his bayonet like a short sword—inside his opponent’s guard. Fred Marmon was swaying in a knife duel with a third enemy. Tony Romani, his sub-machine gun empty, was coolly picking his shots with an automatic pistol. Barry had shot two Japs and knocked out a third with his gun butt. Without stopping to make sure of the last man, he turned to help Fred Marmon. That was a mistake. A half-dead Jap is more dangerous than a coiled cobra. As Barry turned his back the dizzy son of Nippon clawed out a pistol and fired. Fortunately for Barry the Jap’s aim was bad. The bullet drilled through the calf of his right leg. Tony Romani’s quick eyes caught the play. His pistol blazed twice. The Jap stiffened out, his weapon sliding from his hand. The nearest enemies were all accounted for, but a movement to the right caught Barry’s eye. “Down, boys!” he said sharply. “There’s another bunch coming out of the communication trench. I’ll keep ’em busy while you reload your tommy-guns.” Throwing himself down behind a small rock, Barry opened fire in two-second bursts. He must halt the Jap retreat, and still conserve his ammunition until the others had replaced their empty cartridge drums. His strategy worked almost too well. The Jap officer leading the retreat took Barry for a lone gunner, and decided to wipe him out at once. Firing in short spurts, he led his thirty-odd men straight at the outcropping of rocks.