“With rope nets, I’d say,” Barry replied. “I noticed some of the stuff drifting alongside the ships, after the first bombs struck them. I think they strung their nets over the masts and superstructures and fastened the tops of jungle trees to them. They used bushes to cover the sides. The one thing they couldn’t hide was the ship’s wake.”
“They’d planned to have all their troops ashore a little after sunrise,” Curly Levitt put in. “If we hadn’t come along, they would have left a force here strong enough to take over our airfield and perhaps two or three more.”
Five minutes after landing, Barry Blake and his crew were making their report to the officer in command of the airport, Colonel Bullock.
“You men have written a great page in Fortress history today,” the officer declared when they had finished. “Four transports and thousands of enemy troops sent to the bottom within a few minutes! That would have been a nice bag of game for a whole squadron. I have an idea that decorations will be coming to all of you for this feat. You’ve earned a few days’ rest, too, but I’m afraid you won’t get it.”
“We shan’t mind that, sir,” Barry said with a smile. “We like action better than sitting around and fighting mosquitoes. Is there some special mission for us?”
Colonel Bullock’s gaze shifted to the slice of blue sky framed in the tent door.
“No, not yet,” he replied, frowning. “But the enemy is massing his strength for another big land, sea, and air attack. Our steady gains in the South Pacific have cost him too much. He is due to strike back, hard.”
There was a brief silence. Glancing at his crew, Barry saw their faces tighten with eagerness.
“The sooner they come the better, sir—so far as we’re concerned,” he said.
The colonel rose to his feet, smiling.