“Two reasons,” the young skipper replied. “First, there are four ships at least in that floating island, and two or more may be cruisers. Splitting their formation would only prolong the job.... Second, I want a better look at their scheme of camouflage before we blow it to pieces.... Sergeant Babbitt, you will radio the airport what we have seen, and say that we are about to attack.” He swung the Fortress a few points to the left and nosed down. “Tail gunner from pilot:” he said through the interphone. “Let me know as soon as that fake island is out of sight.” A few minutes later Tony Romani’s voice came through. “Pilot from tail gunner: Floating island has dropped below the bulge of the coastline.... Are we going back, sir?” “Right now, Tony!” the skipper told him. Keeping the land mass of New Guinea between him and the Jap vessels, Barry turned his plane around. Lower and lower he took her, until _Sweet Rosy O’Grady_ was skimming only a few hundred feet above the sea. Tree tops nearly grazed her belly turret as she swept over a blunt headland, into sight of the camouflaged ships. “We’re going over ’em at two thousand feet, Chick,” Barry warned. “Be ready to drop a whole stick of bombs on the target.” “Look!” yelled Hap Newton. “There’s a swarm of landing barges between the fake island and the shore. They’re crammed with Jap troops.” “We’ll take care of them later,” Barry said grimly. “Here we go, bombardier.” “Roger!” Chick’s answer came back ... and an instant later: “Bombs away!” Hard upon his words came the blast—a multiple explosion so terrific that it tossed the great Fortress like a feather. Later her crew found that it had torn all the fabric off her ailerons and elevators. Barry climbed his ship, and came back. There was no more “floating island”—only three burning Jap transports and the two broken halves of a fourth, just settling into the waves. A puff of smoke blossomed just beyond _Rosy O’Grady’s_ right wing-tip; another, to the left and rear. The gun crews of the stricken transports were only now reaching their weapons. _Rosy’s_ sudden re-appearance, close at hand, had taken them entirely by surprise. Barry Blake swung his ship shoreward and nosed down. “We’ll risk the shell-fire,” he said briefly. “Our first job is to destroy those Japs landing on the beach. Be ready to fire all guns.” At a thousand feet the big bomber roared between the burning ships and the shore. Her nose and tail and belly turrets spat .50-caliber death. Beneath her the Jap soldiers in thirty landing barges fired their rifles upward in frantic reply. Through the side gun-port Fred Marmon hosed lead at the deck of the nearest transport. Twice more the flying fort swept back over the same course. Shells from the Jap ships missed her narrowly. Some of the bursting antiaircraft fragments struck her fuselage and rudder. But the Jap landing force was practically wiped out.