"Wish there were some humans, or something else to give a scale," said Baker. "For all we can tell, it could be anything from doll houses and a life sized statue, all the way up to an air base, and a reclining Buddha to end all reclining Buddhas." There was an expectant pause. Stimson, seeing that we had nothing more to add, cleared his throat, glanced briefly out of the window behind his chair, and hunched forward. "This picture was made from an F-180A, modified for photo reconnaissance. The plane was on a routine flight from Singapore to Mindanao, over a solid deck of clouds. The pilot swung south over Yat just out of curiosity. He approached the island at 50,000 feet, using radar, and was about to pass over when he spotted a hole in the overcast. Time was 1800--just sunset--but the edge of the crater was well lighted, although the bottom was in deep shadow. More important, the smoke generators had been turned off. Obviously the clouds had just parted, and would close in again in a minute. The presence of the F-180A at this particular instant was just one of those one in a million lucky breaks. The pilot realized this. He put the ship into a dive and ordered his photographer to ready the cameras. "The plane approached Yat at a speed above Mach 1.2, so there was no audible warning, and evidently the island's radar was off, for the surprise was complete. Within 90 seconds the F-180A closed level just over the crater and shot past with only a thin stratus layer between it and ground. Time over the crater was hardly 10 seconds, and neither pilot nor observer saw anything, but the synchronous vertical camera was operating and four flashes were made during the middle four seconds. Then the plane was in the clouds again at a 45 degree climb and a dozen miles towards the Philippines before anyone on Yat could even get outdoors.