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way out the door before the springs on my bed stopped vibrating, and Semyon was only a yard behind me. The only thing was, what combat stations?
    But we did what came naturally, and I suppose it was the right thing to do. We found ourselves out in the corridor, along with every other officer in the BOQ, Semyon, buttoning his shirt, bawled over the noise: "What is, Logan? Can it be that the Orientals have attacked?"
    There was a rattle from the loud-hailer before I could answer, and Kedrick's tinny voice came over it, blaring: "All officers to the wardroom, on the double! All officers to the wardroom! On the double!"
    We swept into the wardroom like the Golden Horde through Russia—and just about as unkempt. The mess attendants showed up, blinking and rubbing their eyes; Kedrick, standing on a table with a strange Army major next to him, snapped: "Coffee, you men! On the double! We're pulling out of here in twenty minutes."
    As the mess attendants were disappearing, Kedrick shrilled: "Shut up, everybody! Keep it down! The Cow-dyes are busting out of the stockade and we're going to shove 'em pack in. Major Lansing will explain."
    The exec bobbed his plump chin at the strange Army officer, who growled: "Now you know as much as I do, except for details. I'm security officer at Eighth Group, up the beach; about an hour ago there was some ship-to-shore shelling, mostly flares and noisemakers; and then the damn Cow-dyes began boiling up. They swamped the guards, took our headquarters building, knocked out our radio, and kept on going. I've got six personnel-carrying copters outside—" I recognized then the fluttering rumble that had been subconsciously bothering me "—and you're the nearest effectives." He glanced at us wryly, but let it go at that. "Your commander is already on his way there; Lieutenant Kedrick and I will command two columns to relieve the guards. If there are any guards left to relieve by the time we get there." He moved aside as the mess men came in with the first pots of coffee. "I'm sorry," he added, "to be going out of channels this way, but war is hell." He glanced at his watch. "We're taking off in five minutes. You want coffee, drink it. You want more clothes, go get them. Weapons will be issued at the copters."
    And that was that. It was like being in the Navy again.
    Semyon, sleepy-eyed and wobbly, shouldered his way to me. "Ah, Logan!" he exulted. "We shoot some Orientals, I imagine. It will give me pleasure. Only"—he looked oddly shy—"a favor, Logan?"
    I burned my lips on the coffee. I managed to say, "What favor?"
    "Josip. Fortune knows what your Bureau of Supply will do with him if I do not return; I do not suppose that a dog is a standard article to be furnished to ships and shore installations. Will you—"
    I stared at him. "Sure," I said weakly.
     
    It was just cracking daylight as we came fluttering down into the mangroves. There was no sign of the ship-to-shore firing the major had talked about, but out over the pearl-skied Atlantic I could see the lights of hunter copters stabbing at the waves; if there were Caodai vessels out there, they would be wisest not to surface. It would be a while before marine vessels with any range could reach the scene; but the copters were there, and I imagined I could see the skittering hydrofoils on the surface, "Ssst!" said Semyon sharply as we banked and dipped. "Over there, Logan! Like beetles in barn dung!"
    "What? What?" I was a little jumpy, I suppose.
    "The Orientals," gloated Semyon. And then, with an abrupt change of pace, utter dejection: "The fools, the fools, the fools! Why do we not hit them from above, eh? Bomb them, shoot them—"
    "They're prisoners, Semyon!" I said, shocked.
    "A prisoner escaped is scarcely a prisoner, my friend. What is better, to shoot them from above, where they can scarcely do us much harm? Or to sit in the bushes below, and wait for them to come?"
    I said uneasily, "The major looks like he knows what he's doing,