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canteens, to rid themselves of the awful taste of the air, only to spit the water out and wipe their mouths in disbelief. From without, a terrible din of machine-gun fire and rifle shots rose and ebbed. The men cursed and spat and raised their faces to the sky in a futile attempt to gasp in a breath of fresh air. Howls of outrage rattled the boat. “Let’s go!” the marines screamed. “What are we waiting for?”
    Josh climbed up on the steel frame around the cockpit, balancing him-self with one hand on the coxswain’s shoulder. He could see dozens of Higgins boats snagged on the reef, and in the lagoon marines were slogging ashore through chest-high water, their rifles raised above their heads. The sea was leaping all around them, marking bullet strikes. The sudden disappearance of individual marines told Josh when they were hit. Remembering his duty as an observer, he said to the lad at the wheel, “I need to see this up close. Let’s go in.”
    The coxswain shot Josh a wary glance. “I’m thuppothed to wait until the lead boat goeth first, thir.”
    â€œI said take us in, son,” Josh growled. The young man opened his mouth to object, thought better of it, and pushed the throttle forward and cranked over the wheel.
    â€œMarines!” Josh called down. “I need to get on that beach. So do you. It’s our job, boys. So get ready.”
    â€œAnything to get off this crate!” someone yelled, followed by cheers.
    Sergeant Pinkerton, the gunny Josh had talked to aboard the troopship, yelled out, “We’re with you, Captain Thurlow!”
    Beside Pinkerton stood the young marine who’d drunk the foul water when Josh had suggested it. His eyes stared beneath his helmet like white marbles, and it appeared he was on the edge of puking again. Josh looked away.
    Something big opened up from the atoll, and two huge splashes, like sudden boils from an underwater volcano, erupted no more than a dozen yards away from the charging Higgins boat. The coxswain started to weave the boat back and forth, but Josh stopped him. “Full throttle dead ahead, son. No time for maneuvers.”
    As they neared the reef, Josh saw with a sudden shock hundreds of bodies floating in the lagoon. He also counted eight amtracs adrift; oily bubbles indicated where others had sunk. He could make out only two amtracs on the beach, and black smoke was pouring from both of them. Tatters of water and coral flew as bullets peppered their way back and forth across the reef, chewing up the Higgins boats stuck there with their ramps down. No one appeared to be alive aboard them.
    â€œSteer for that boat there,” Josh told the boy at the wheel, pointing at a random Higgins in the long line. When the sailor hesitated, Josh reached over and jammed the throttle to its stops. “Ram it! Knock it off the reef and follow it in!”
    The coxswain gasped, then slumped down, blood pouring from a wound in his neck. Josh grabbed the wheel from him and kept the Higgins on course. Then something stung his arm, and something else whizzed past his ear. The Higgins plunged on, its engine howling. “Get ready!” he yelled at the marines, who screamed their readiness back. They turned as one toward the ramp.
    The Higgins plowed into the stern of one of the stuck boats, though the impact knocked it only a few yards forward. Josh backed off, then threw the throttle full ahead again, the sound of shredded steel informing him he’d thoroughly abused the transmission. Then it felt like a mule had kicked him in the ribs. He clutched his side but kept his hand on the throttle. The Higgins plowed on until it struck the stuck landing craft again. This time, the impact was enough to knock it off the coral, and it slid ahead, leaving be-hind a channel of clear blue. Holding his side and gritting his teeth against the pain, Josh drove his boat through the gap just as the transmission tore it-self to