On the third day, Lieutenant Ranson crawled along the barricade, stopping to inform each man to save on ammunition as supplies were running low.
The sputtering of machine guns ceased and the Marines, with rifles, drew back their guns to wait until the enemy closed in before again opening fire.
Near the gate, Ranson met the top sergeant and the two saluted in a hasty, grim fashion.
“If our man got through Okay,” the officer announced, “we should be seeing a sign of planes before long.”
“If he got through,” Cosgrove speculated, “he’s done somethin’ more than a miracle!”
Just then, the sergeant’s face grew tense and white with the muscles of his jaw contorting in pain as he toppled over, across the feet of the lieutenant.
The muscles of his jaw contorted in pain as he toppled over.
The officer picked the man’s head up and rested it on his knee, noting a trickling stream of red matter just below the temple. Quick to think, he broke open the first aid package that the stricken man carried on his belt and removed the tape, hastily bandaging the wound and helping the sergeant back to his feet.
“They’ve only grazed your head,” he announced. “Now snap into it and pay ’em back, Cosgrove!”