"We'll send out scouts," I said, "to the four cardinal points of the compass. We'll split each quadrant with another scout. That's eight scouts. Make it sixteen, scout in pairs. Don't get out of sight of the landing craft. No telling what you may run into." We officers split the horizon into thirds, set out to reconnoiter. The sailors flatly refused to leave the LCVP's further than the almost non-existent shade they cast. It was their way of grasping at something they could understand. I didn't blame them or argue with them. The skipper of the APD was their immediate superior. Where _was_ he, anyway? What had snatched us into this unbelievable Limbo? How had it been done? What was going to happen to us? * * * * * I traveled about four points north of the northeast group. I am a fast walker; even through sand I can travel faster than most men. I was slightly ahead of all the other groups when suddenly I could go no further. I could feel nothing, yet when I put out my foot to set it down in a new place, it struck an invisible something, dropped back, and my impetus carried me forward to involve my face in something much finer than cobwebs. I jumped back, swearing, for I could see nothing except the hot waste of glistening sand. There were dunes, hummocks with strange grasses and brush sticking up through them like beards; but I had struck the limit of my trek and could not reach any of those visible spots beyond. I pushed against it with my hands. It gave, but only as a taut wire net might give, then press back against the hands; it was a strain to make the thing bulge. The counterpressure was strong. I could not advance. I turned to the right and saw that the nearest patrol had stopped. The two men were fumbling in the air like blind men. They were raising and lowering their feet as if they felt for steps above an abyss. They, too, had come to the end of possible advance. They had come into contact with invisibility also--invisibility that was inflexibly tough beyond a certain brief limit. The two men turned now and looked at me. I gave the halt signal and started toward them. I ran into something and caromed off, falling to my knees. The horrible thought struck me that each group might have stumbled inside some hideous globe and become separated from all other groups. But it wasn't so. I got to my feet, put my left hand out against the invisible wall--which felt warm to the touch, as if it were a living thing--and started toward the northeast group. The surface of that strange substance was undulant; it zig-zagged, like the weaving walk of a drunken man. I reached the first patrol, Corporal Hoge Ziegler and Private First Class Barry Preble. Their faces were white. I wouldn't say they were scared but they were definitely concerned.