“Lieutenant Blake!” the redhead yelped. “Thank Heaven for that flare—I might have carved you for a Jap.”
“You mean I might have broken your arm!” retorted Barry. “Listen, Fred—if you’ve got an extra gun or a clip of ammo, let’s have it. I think those yellow snakes are heading this way.”
“I have something better,” Marmon replied. “A sack of hand grenades. I got ’em when the Japs started landing. Help yourself—”
He broke off as Barry made a lightning lunge past him with his empty rifle. A high-pitched scream rang briefly. Barry had rammed his gun-muzzle like a bayonet into the face of a crawling Jap who had reached the edge of the hole.
Another queer-shaped helmet appeared, and beside it a machine-gun’s muzzle. Barry swung his gun-butt at the weapon, knocking it aside. A split instant later Fred struck with his knife. The second Jap kicked convulsively.
“I fixed him!” the redhead muttered. “See any more, Lieutenant?”
Barry’s Enemy Gasped and Dropped His Knife
Other flares were lighting the field. Barry spotted a furtive movement in a crater thirty yards from the jungle’s edge.
“There’s a bunch that’s getting ready to break for the bush, I think,” he said. “Give me a few of your grenades.”