Some men said later they were sure they heard a muffled scream, the scream of a man in mortal agony, but I doubt it.
I think it was an afterthought, strictly imagination.
No attempt was made to keep us from retiring with the skeleton of Yount. As soon as we were back, and had placed it against a side of one of the LCVP's for burial later, the Shadow Men again began their inexorable march.
"Sailors!" I called. "Break out the flame-throwers."
We surrounded ourselves with a sheet of flame, hot beyond anything used in World War II. We sprayed the stuff into the faces of the advancing Shadow Men; we blotted them out.
They were erased as if they had never been.
At my command the flames stopped—and the Shadow Men were still coming on.
Not very hopefully, I gave the command to use the flames again. We still had tricks in the bag, but if they proved no more effective than what we had so far used—I shouted my next command:
"Stand by to charge! Hang onto weapons! Go between them! Don't touch one of the shadows! CHARGE!"