“Word has reached us from an official source,” he announced, “that a body of our men are being attacked by the enemy near Ocotal.” He turned to the adjutant standing at his right and asked: “Are all the pilots and observers present?” “All present and accounted for,” the aide announced, “except Sergeant Greyson and Corporal Fleck, two observers who are down with malaria!” “In that case,” the major announced, “I will lead this formation myself. Sergeant Williams, you will accompany me as my observer. Private Phelps——” Lefty stepped forward, managing to stand beneath the shadow of one of the planes so that his bruised face would not show. “Yes, sir!” he replied and saluted. “You have had machine gun experience?” “Yes, sir!” “Then you are assigned to Corporal Steve Graham’s plane as his observer! Crews will service all ships for immediate flight. The armament section will place eight fragmentation bombs on each plane and check front and rear guns and ammunition!” He took two paces back. The adjutant stepped forward and saluted, then cupping his hands to his mouth, yelled: “Turn on the field lights!” Captain Burleson, second in command to Major Harding, moved up in front of the young adjutant and announced: “Make all possible speed. We must take off in less than ten minutes!” As the great Sunlight arc lamps from the roof of the hangars on the north and south ends of the field illuminated the vicinity for miles around, literally turning the dark night into daylight, the various crews began to service each ship, beginning with tearing off the engine covers. Noncommissioned officers moved about with raised voices, ordering their units to fulfill various tasks in hurried and excited tones of authority, as each man responded by springing into action. Over to the right, at the bombproof cellars, men perspired as they silently labored, passing up bombs along a line that reached to the first ship with the last man standing by to load plane after plane. The motors of some of the planes were already running and the deafening whirrs drowned out the shouts of officers and noncoms. With the ships serviced and loaded with ammunition now, the pilots and their observers climbed up into the cockpits, ready for the command to take off. Steve and Lefty’s plane was the second in line, just alongside of the major’s in which Panama was traveling as observer. Though Steve was keyed up and fervent with excitement over his first night flight as a pilot and the happy prospect of at last being baptized under the fire of Sandino’s guns, he found time to annoy Lefty, who sat in the rear cockpit, miserably unhappy and at fault with the world. The corporal glanced back at his observer, bearing a mischievous grin, and as he indicated the machine gun beside Phelps, remarked derisively: “Now be careful, Yale, and don’t fire that gun backward!”