“You’ve all known we’ve been heading for something as fast as we could get there,” he said, in clipped tones. “Now I can tell you, because we’ve made speed and are not far away. Within a few hours we should contact other carriers and ships going to the same objective. That objective is the Jap Naval base at Truk.” There was a gasp of surprise throughout the room as the Admiral paused for a second. “There’s a mighty fine batch of ships in Truk Harbor,” he said, “and, we have reason to believe, not too much protection. Carriers—and there’ll be six of them—will go in close enough to launch all planes. Battleships, cruisers, and destroyers will go in closer.” Turk Bottomley was sitting on the edge of his chair, as if he would bound from the room and race to his plane in a second, but the Admiral continued. “The time is now about 1600. We shall rendezvous with the others of the task force at about 2030. You will take off on a schedule your squadron commanders will give you beginning at 0430, arriving over Truk about dawn—the first wave, that is. All scout and torpedo planes will go to Truk, one-half the fighters will remain as protection with or near the carrier. Your squadron commanders will go over all necessary details with you now. That is all.” The Admiral stalked from the room, and the commanders prepared to go over all details. They launched at once into detailed descriptions of the objective, the schedule of flights. “If we’ve figured right,” one of them said, “we’ll stick around two days, throwing in wave after wave. We must meet our schedule because it ties in precisely with the schedules of the other carriers in the group. We’ll not give them a minute to catch their breath. There’ll be planes coming at them continuously.” For two hours the briefing session continued. Photographs and maps were shown, man after man asked questions. Finally every flier felt that he knew Truk and its environs as he knew his own home town. Then came the announcement of the fliers who would remain with the carrier instead of going to the attack on Truk and there were groans about the room as men heard their names called. “One minute,” the fighter squadron commander called. “I think the Old Man gave a wrong impression. The names I’m calling won’t stay with the carrier both days. They’ll stay behind the first day but go on to the attack the second day, while the first group remains with the carrier.” Groans turned to laughter, but Turk Bottomley was furious. He was going out the first day, but he wanted to go out the second day, too. He made his feelings known in no uncertain terms. “Never mind, Turk,” the commander laughed. “You can go up and fly around and around the _Bunker Hill_ all day!”