The sailors suffered horribly from thirst and they eagerly pulled in a drifting coconut, but it was dry. They were badly sunburned and covered with salt-water sores. Another chilly night and another blazing morning passed without relief. At noon on March 10th, three Army B 25s flew over. The planes circled the frantically waving sailors, and Ensign Cutter sent a message by semaphore, a dubious method of communication with Army pilots, but better than nothing. One bomber dropped a box which collapsed and sank. On his next pass, he dropped two more boxes and a small package fixed to a life preserver. They plunked into the sea not ten feet from the boat. The sailors eagerly tore open the packages and found food, water, cigarettes, and medicine. A marked chart showed them their position, and a message said a Catalina flying boat was on its way to pick them up. The Catalina took its time, however, for the sailors had one more trying night to endure before the Cat, screened by two P 47s, landed on the water and picked up the five exhausted survivors. The old problem of bad communications between the different services bothered the PTs worse than ever in New Guinea waters. On the morning of March 27th, Lieut. Crowell C. Hall, on Ensign George H. Guckert’s PT 353, accompanied by Ensign Richard B. Secrest’s 121, went into Bangula Bay to investigate a reported enemy schooner. That morning, at Australian fighter squadron headquarters on Kiriwina Island, a careless clerk put the report of the PT patrol in the wrong file basket, so fighter pilots flew over Bangula Bay, with the information that no friendly PTs would be out. This was the same setup that had already caused repeated tragedies and near-tragedies in other waters. At 7:45 in the morning, admittedly an unusual hour for the night-prowling PTs to be abroad, four P 40s of the Australian squadron flew over the boats. Lieut. Hall asked them, by radio, to investigate the schooner, which was beyond a dangerous reef from the PT boats. The plane pilots looked it over and told the PT skipper that it had already been badly strafed and wasn’t worth attacking further. The boats turned to go home. Four other P 40s and two Beaufighters of the same squadron came down out of the sun in a strafing run on the PTs. One of the Beaufighter pilots recognized the boats and frantically tried to call his mates off the attack, but nobody listened. The gallant Australian pilot even put his fighter between the strafing planes and the boats, trying to block the attack with his own body. No luck. The PT officers held their men under tight discipline for several punishing runs, but the nerves of the gunners finally gave way, and each boat fired a short burst from 37- and 40-mm. cannon and the 50-caliber machine guns. The officers sharply ordered a cease-fire, and for the rest of the attack the PT crews suffered helplessly while the planes riddled their craft and killed their shipmates. Both boats exploded and sank.