"The Solomons," he said, and glanced at the huge naval chart of the Southwest Pacific that covered all of one wall in his quarters. "By pushing things we can get within striking distance by early dawn. I think that's the thing to do. The only thing we can do. Get right down in there and do what we can to help the land forces."
"Yes, I guess that's best," Colonel Welsh said, and glanced sadly out one of the ports at the red ball of fire that was the dying sun balanced on the western lip of the wall. "But what if we get down in among those islands and that Jap force comes up on us by surprise? You'll be in mighty tight waters. And they're bound to send dive bombers over from their Lae base, too."
"Do?" the task force commander echoed in a harsh voice, as his chin came out in a fighting pose. "I'll slug it out with them until I haven't a plane left or a deck under my feet, sir! And I can tell you, sir, that my ships and planes will not be the only ones lost, if the Japs catch us with our bows to those islands. Our forces have got to take Guadalcanal! And that's all there is to that. We can't let them trim us this time. By God, no, sir!"
Colonel Welsh smiled, nodded, and lifted his coffee cup and held it poised in midair.
"To whatever happens, sir," he toasted. "And may we have all the best of it!"
The task force commander lifted his own coffee cup, and nodded, too.
"And we will, by God, sir!" he said through clenched teeth. "Just as long as we've got a ship floating or a plane flying! Amen!"
And the two high ranking officers drank silently.