Orderlies moved about with grim, determined faces, heavily laden with the luggage of their superiors, deaf to the usual heckling of the enlisted men, who never pass up an opportunity to yell, “dog robber,” when seeing an orderly perform some menial task. Some of the officers and men who had friends and relatives in Pensacola, were making the rounds, shaking hands and patiently listening to fond farewells, don’t-forget-to-write warnings and the usual bon-voyage ceremonies that are such an important part of all types of leave-takings. As the base buglers sounded the preliminary calls at a quarter to six, the pilots and observers hurried to their planes, and with the assistance of mechanics and ground men, put on their parachutes and adjusted their Gasborne helmets, at the same time, supervising the last-minute loading of personal baggage. A sharp note was sounded by a bugler and someone crisply yelled, “Attention.” All the men on the field turned their eyes center, lifting their bodies and heads and throwing back their shoulders as the senior Marine officer and the flight commander came upon the scene of activity, accompanied by their respective aides. An adjutant called, “As you were” after the two officers had returned the salutes of the pilots and observers, and the buzz of activity, laughter and flip talking was again resumed with greater zest. “The Aerological Officer reports that you will have a good ceiling to Havana,” the senior Marine officer announced, as he accompanied the flight commander to his plane, the first one in line, bearing the red replica of Satan, the insignia of the Tenth Air Squadron, “though you may run into rain over Yucatan.” The flight commander smiled as he hurriedly cast his clear, narrow blue eyes over the line of pilots and observers standing by their planes, waiting for the word to go. “It will take more than rain to stop these anxious playmates of Satan!” Both men joined in hearty laughter over this prophecy, each knowing full well the courage of Marine flyers, especially members of the Tenth Squadron, who lived up to every tradition of the service and the flattering legends spread throughout the land concerning their especial deeds of glory and bravery. Panama and Lefty paid little attention to the noisy activity now going on about them. They had been too occupied since Reveille to even speak to each other, and now they were frantically working away to load the last bit of equipment into their plane. Large beads of perspiration trickled down their faces and their breathing was deep and quick as they bent over to throw the final piece of baggage into the ship. “Well, that’s that!” Panama announced as he straightened himself and rubbed his back to ease a sharp pain just above the base of his spine, “another fifteen minutes and we’ll be in the air.” Lefty smiled broadly with anticipation as he unwrapped a slice of chewing gum and looked about to see who was among those preparing to leave.