"You gentlemen have come aboard this carrier to take part in a difficult and hazardous operation against the enemy forces in the Southwest Pacific," he began. "The details of the operation will be explained to you in full, later. Right now, though, I want to impress upon you that you are all guests of the officers and crew of this carrier, and as such will refrain from thoughtlessly interfering with the general routine of the ship's company." The colonel paused and grinned. "I'm including myself in these instructions," he said, "because, frankly, this is my first visit aboard a carrier at sea. And I, too, am mighty curious to see what makes one of these flat-tops tick. However, this is no time for sight-seeing, so I am asking you gentlemen to confine your movements to the officers' quarters, and the flight deck. Well, I guess that's all--except for one thing. All of you are to report to the Ready-Room, on the hangar deck, at five o'clock this afternoon. And--But there I make my first boner!" The colonel stopped and grinned apologetically at the Admiral in command of the task force. Then he turned back to the pilots. "Air Forces pilots will report at five o'clock," he chuckled. "And Navy and Marine Corps pilots will report at two bells, or whatever the correct number of bells it is. Anyway, all of you be there. That's all, and dismissed." The pilots let out a cheer for the colonel and then broke up into groups of two and three and began to wander along the smooth flat surface of the flight deck. They didn't wander about very long, however. There were few planes on deck, and the dawn sun climbing up over the horizon reminded each and every one of them that what was really in order was a little food. Particularly Freddy Farmer, and it was he who led the straggling procession down below decks to the pilots' mess room. And when he and Dave had eaten their fill of Navy chow they went to their quarters to arrange their personal belongings that had been taken aboard from the destroyer, and to chew the fat a bit. They did little of either. At least, that went for Dave. Just to "relax for a couple of shakes" he stretched out on his bunk, and the next thing he knew Freddy had him by the shoulder and was shaking him hard. "Out of it, Dave, old thing!" came Freddy's muffled voice to his sleep-lulled brain. "Out of it, I say! You want to be late and get off to your usual bad start? Blast you, man! Out of there, or you get this whole pitcher of water, and I promise it!" Dave blinked and blinked some more, and finally sat up on the bunk. "Huh?" he groaned. "What's cooking? Where are we, and what's the idea of trying to break off my arm? And--Holy smokes! Where are we, anyway?" "You can ask the navigation officer, later!" Freddy snapped. "Right now, move yourself, and get presentable. We've just about two minutes to get to the Ready-Room. Come on, Dave! Prop-wash the sleep out of your brain, will you? Lord! You're more bother than my maiden aunt!"