“Sure! Sure!” Pete agreed, sticking the rose in his cap as if it were a red feather. “Look!” he exclaimed suddenly. “There’s some kind of a track going over that clay bank. Let’s have a look.” They had gone into the lead of the other tanks by several hundred feet.
Quickly climbing down, he made a running leap and was atop the clay bank.
“Man! Oh man!” he exclaimed softly. “Track of a giant!”
At that he raced back to mount the tank once more.
“Bud,” he spoke in a low tone, leaning far over, “that’s the track of a giant tank. Alongside of that tank ours is just a baby. The Japs never made that tank. It came all the way from Hitlerland. They’ve been dodging our blockade, bringing in guns and tanks and taking out rubber and tin. They must have brought these tanks, maybe a whole shipload.”
“What do you know about that!” Bud exclaimed.
“They’ll hang around behind these banks, then come up and blast us,” said Pete. “We’ve got to get them first. Wait. I’ll have one more look.”
Again he streaked up the bank. He dropped flat when he reached the top, then crept forward. A moment later Bud saw him hold up three fingers.
“Three of them!” Bud groaned, speaking to his engineer. “Three giants. What now?”
When Pete returned, his strategy was all worked out. “They’re German Mark Sixes,” he exclaimed. “Sixty ton babies. But what do we care for that? This here gun of ours can shoot.”