“Yeah! Anything you do sneaky like and plan out so’s it’s heads you win, tails the other bloke loses, that’s what you call strategy!” “Well, what’s that got to do with sendin’ us down here if there ain’t no Sandino?” The big fellow breathed deeply with impatience as he mopped off large beads of perspiration from his forehead. “Don’t you see? The Democrats is tryin’ to take over the government so they had their bunch, what is in Congress, vote to send us way down here so’s the Republicans won’t have no one to protect them in case of a revolution or somethin’!” The freckled-faced soldier jumped to his feet and grabbed for his hat. “Oh, boy! I ain’t hangin’ around you no more!” “What’s the matter now?” “Nothin’, only you’re so clean loco, you’ll be wakin’ up some night and cuttin’ people’s throats, an’ I ain’t stickin’ around till that happens!” The little fellow took his belongings and hurried down, past the line of tents, leaving his friend looking after him in a surprised manner and yelling for him to come back. At that moment, countless dark, moving figures appeared just over the ridge of the mountain that looked down upon the corral. A sharp, familiar crack, like the report of a rifle was heard and the little Marine, who had just moved out of his pup tent, fell in a heap, lying motionless in the center of the path between the rows of tents. In a flash, every man was out of his tent and on his feet as a second, then a third report from above was heard and two more Marines fell to the ground in a heap. It was Sandino and two hundred of his followers on top of that mountain, burning with vicious desires to exterminate Uncle Sam’s sea soldiers below. They had been informed by some inhabitants of Ocotal of the Marines’ location and the fact that the corral was a perfect target for an attack from the mountains. Losing no time, they made their way through the town and over the hill country, arriving at the mountain top unbeknown to the soldiers lying peacefully below. As the Marine bugle blew “To Arms” and the men fell in line in front of the shank, burning with excitement, the tall, lanky soldier crawled along the ground to where his friend lay, picking the limp form of the man up in his arms and carrying him at the risk of his own life to a place of safety behind the house. He placed his buddy on a pile of hay, certain that he would be comfortable until proper aid could be sent, and as he started to leave, the little fellow opened his eyes and looked up at him. “Don’t let ’em kid you, big boy,” he said hoarsely. “There is a Sandino an’ that ain’t no foolin’!” A look of extreme pain crossed his face as he struggled to breath freely, then he half rose, only to fall back, lifeless, with eyes open and glassy, staring up at the heavens above.