“I was just playing a hunch, sir,” he murmured. “Chick—I mean, Lieutenant Enders—did the real job. He sank a big destroyer and blew the stern off a cargo vessel before we had to clear out. And the other boys knocked that _Aichi_ T98 out of the sky—simply chewed her to junk!” “My congratulations were meant for all of you, Lieutenant,” the colonel replied with a twinkle in his eye. “And so are the orders I just gave. _Dismissed!_” As Barry and his friends moved wearily toward the hospital tent, a squadron of Mitchell bombers passed over, heading out to sea. The ceiling had lifted to three thousand feet. If it stayed there, Barry thought, the planes would have little trouble in spotting the Jap convoy. The field, he noted, was almost empty of planes. Evidently they had taken off right after his radioed report. The Japs would catch plenty of grief before darkness shut down, but the real pay-off would be tomorrow. By that time Allied airfields from all over eastern New Guinea as well as Australia and the Solomons would be sending planes to the attack. The Japs would meet them with swarms of their own land-based fighters. A gigantic air-and-sea battle would be on, with the outcome impossible to guess. Much the same thing was passing through the minds of all the crew, but they were suddenly too tired to talk about it. The tension of battle had broken. Now they were conscious chiefly of stiffening wounds and the deep, physical craving for food and sleep. The night passed in dreamless oblivion. It seemed to Barry that he had just closed his eyes when the bugle routed him out of bed. He glanced unbelievingly at his watch. Yes, the hands stood at five-fifteen—half an hour before dawn! “Roll out of it, Chick, Hap, Curly!” he called. “This is our big day. If we’re not out there in time, I bet you _Rosy O’Grady_ will take off without us!” Groans and yelps answered him, as the tent mates moved their sore bodies and found them more painful than the night before. “Come on!” urged their young pilot. “Snap out of it or I’ll report the whole crew on the sick list. We’ll miss our crack at the Japs, but—” He saw a boot come sailing from Hap’s side of the tent, and ducked just in time. “All right, all right!” he laughed. “I’ll see you lazy birds on the runway, if you’re too late for mess call. So long!” Hap Newton’s other boot caught him as he hurried out of the tent. He picked it up, but paused in the act of throwing it back. “Setting up drill at this time of the morning, Lieutenant?” said Colonel Bullock’s voice behind him. “No, sir—_getting_-up drill is more like it,” Barry replied. “My crew slept too hard last night, and they’re still in a fog.”