The men, attentive to detail, moved forward in their chairs as the Lieutenant Colonel pointed to a spot on the map. “They will fly from Quantico to Pensacola and refuel there,” he explained as his finger followed the proposed route across the map. “A member of the Squadron, Sergeant Williams, is temporarily assigned to that base as a flying instructor. He will rejoin his regular unit and their next hop will be to Havana, then to Honduras and from there it will be only one short jump to Managua.” When the Lieutenant Colonel finished, he looked to the Major General for a sign of approval. The Commander responded merely with a nod of his head as the Air Chief rolled up the map and returned it to its case. “Any suggestions, gentlemen?” the general asked of his aides, waiting a moment for their response. “I believe the Lieutenant Colonel’s flight plan answers the Secretary’s request, guaranteeing the arrival of our air forces in the shortest possible time,” the Chief of Staff announced. “I have no further comments.” As the others rose to leave after announcing their satisfaction with the proposed plans, the Major General turned to his Air Chief and explained, “You will notify the commander of the Tenth Squadron and also this sergeant at Pensacola to join his unit for active duty upon their arrival at his base.” The Lieutenant Colonel saluted and left with the others to prepare plans for the attack upon the Nicaragua bandits from the air. The following morning, miles away at the Marine instruction base at Pensacola, Panama Williams was summoned to the quarters of the Post Commandant and given the official orders received by telegraph that morning from Washington. His entire being thrilled with the prospect of real action after so long a period of peace-time inactivity. His imagination became alive, visualizing all sorts of adventures he would encounter, striking a responsive chord in his stout heart. Sure-footed, with sparkling eyes and cheeks flushed from excitement, he made his way hurriedly across the field to the base hospital, where, he tried to make himself believe, he wanted to have the final bandage removed from his burned hand, but in truth, hoped to have a few minutes alone with Elinor at that early hour. Upon his arrival at the dispensary, his secret hopes became justified for there was Elinor, alone in the large room, rolling bandages in preparation for a long day of activity just ahead. “Morning!” Panama shouted jubilantly, “It’s a great day, Elinor!” The little nurse turned, put down the bandage she had been rolling and with a welcome smile, crossed to greet the sergeant. “Hello, Panama,” she said warmly. “What brings you here so early?” Her words completely took him off guard for a moment and he struggled to regain his bearings, thinking fast for a probable excuse. “Why—er—well—er—that is, I wanted you to—er—remove my—my bandage!” he stuttered.