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Lieutenant Steele still seemed to be considering whether or not this was a good idea, but by then Deke had sent the vine back, and Philly was swinging across the ravine.

But he didn’t have enough momentum. Or maybe he just hadn’t had much occasion to swing on vines back in the city. The arc of his swing ended before he could get his feet on solid ground, and he started to swing back over the void below.

“Oh crap!” he cried.

Seeing that Philly was in trouble, Ball shouted to the men still on the edge of the ravine, “Grab my belt!”

Bat immediately figured out what Ball was up to. The tall marine got one hand on the back of his buddy’s belt just before Ball leaned out and gave Philly a powerful shove that sent him flying back in the other direction.

Philly yelped. On the far side, Deke grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him the rest of the way until Philly got his boots under him.

Both men stood for a moment, hearts pounding, panting from the effort. But this was no time to rest.

“Hurry it up!” Honcho shouted. “These Japs are getting so close that I can smell what they had for breakfast.”

Indeed, they could hear excited shouts mixed in now with the horns. The vine went back across six more times until all the soldiers had crossed the ravine. It had to be some kind of record for the most swings on a jungle vine — it would have put Tarzan to shame. Ball insisted on being the last one across, and he finally came swinging at them with all the momentum of a wrecking ball before he crashed into the brush on what was now their side of the ravine.

They were not a moment too soon. Amid the forest vegetation on the other side, they detected movement. At first, it seemed as if their eyes might be playing tricks on them. Then dozens of Japanese soldiers slowly materialized, spread out in a wide line. Several of the Japanese had twigs or leaves stuck into their helmets, helping them blend into the vegetation. Most of the Japs had bayonets on the ends of their rifles, poking at the shrubs and clumps of brush. They still hadn’t spotted the Americans on the other side of the ravine.

It was time to slip away, but not quite yet.

“Let’s give them something to think about,” Honcho said.

He raised his shotgun and fired, peppering the Japs with buckshot. The other raiders opened fire. Deke picked out a man who had reached the edge of the ravine and was in the process of raising his rifle to return fire. Deke’s bullet caught him in the belly, and the man lost his balance and fell into the ravine, his scream cut short when he crashed into the rocks and fallen logs at the bottom.

The Japanese were not surprised for long, however. They began to return fire, their bullets chewing up the greenery. The two groups were almost within spitting distance. More and more Japanese emerged from the forest and congregated at the edge of the ravine, quickly outnumbering the raiders.

“Go!” Honcho shouted, and they kept going down the hill. Ahead of them, the trees were already starting to clear, and glimpses of blue water became visible in the distance.

Philly whooped. “That ravine will slow down those Japs. I’d sure like to see them cross that thing. Knowing the Japs, they’ll probably stop and build a bridge.”

“I wonder why they don’t all just swing across like we did?”

“Maybe they’ve never seen a Tarzan movie in Japan.”

“Don’t matter,” Deke said, leading the patrol a couple of steps ahead of Philly. He had his rifle held in his hands again, eyes roving in all directions on the landscape ahead. “They don’t have to cross the ravine.”

“Sure they do! They’ll never catch us.”

“Philly, if you were a Jap, where do you think we’d be headed?”

“To the beach.” Then Philly got it. “Uh-oh.”

“Deke is right,” said Honcho. “They know where we’re going, so there might be a welcome party for us down there. Everybody stay alert.”

Behind them, the ravine must have thwarted the Japanese pursuers, at least for now. The Nips had even given up on blowing their annoying horns while they worked out a way around the ravine.

They reached the beach, but what they saw in the ocean nearby prompted them to remain in the cover provided by the forest’s edge. To their astonishment, they saw that it was some kind of Japanese naval vessel, slowly cruising past the beach area. Even without the scope, Deke could see the meatball flag flying from the pagoda mast. He put the rifle to his shoulder so he could get a better view through the scope. The ship was close enough that he could see the Jap sailors on it. Sailors stood at the rail, scanning the beach and surrounding waters. He figured it must be some sort of Jap battleship. The ship certainly bristled with guns.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and sink that ship with your rifle?” Philly said nervously. “Their guns are a whole lot bigger than ours.”

“I reckon it might be worth a try,” Deke remarked. “If I pick off a couple of those Japs on deck, they’ll never know what hit ’em.”

“Hold your fire,” said Honcho, who was glassing the ship through binoculars. “Philly is right, for once. I guess the Jap navy isn’t done yet.”

As the ship sailed out of sight, the raiders emerged onto the sand and discovered that, so far, they had the beach to themselves. There wasn’t a Jap around, but for how long?

Honcho looked at his wristwatch. Almost high noon. They were right on schedule for the pickup, but there was no rescue boat in sight, and no sound of any approaching motor. With the Jap navy on patrol, who could blame them?

With a sinking feeling, the men realized that the lack of any rescue boat meant that the navy boys had either forgotten them or had decided that they weren’t worth the risk. These were still Japanese waters, after all, as evidenced by the enemy ship they had just seen. Getting even a small US Navy vessel to the beach — and back to the ship — wasn’t going to be a pleasure cruise. Another possibility was that things had gotten too hot for the ship that must be waiting just over the horizon. The Jap navy was still out there, along with all their snooper planes and Betty bombers, which were hell on navy ships. The nervous skipper might have withdrawn to a safer distance.

“Rodeo, do you still have that flare gun?”

“Sure do, Honcho.”

“Then go ahead and fire a flare, just to remind those navy boys that we’re here.”

Philly spoke up. “Sir, you do know that once we fire that flare, we’re going to let every Jap in the vicinity know that we’re here too?”

“Geez, Philly. Since when do you get paid to think? I wouldn’t worry too much about alerting the Japs, because I’m sure they’ll figure out where we are soon enough,” the lieutenant said. “Besides, I don’t know about you, but I’d sure as hell like to get off this beach. The sooner, the better. Does anyone else have any bright ideas on how to do that?”

When no one else spoke up, Lieutenant Steele nodded at Rodeo. “Fire the flare, son.”

Rodeo stepped a few feet away, raised the flare gun, and fired it into the tropical sky. The flare ignited and arced down toward the sea, burning brightly until it disappeared far from land.

“If those navy squids didn’t see that, they must be blind,” Philly muttered. “I know that the Japs sure as hell didn’t miss it.”

“I’d tell you to smoke ’em if you’ve got ’em,” Honcho said. “But that would be a really bad idea right now.”

All that they could do was settle down and wait. There wasn’t a bit of cover, aside from a few scattered chunks of tropical driftwood. Deke didn’t like being so exposed, not one bit. They were putting an awful lot of faith in the hope that the navy had not forgotten them.

He took up a prone position, his boots practically in the surf, literally at the edge of the island, his elbows propped in the sand. From there he could see the entire sweep of beach in both directions.