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Silently
I
cussed
myself
for
utter
stupidity
.
A
scout
's
suit
is
as
fast
as
a
command
suit
,
twice
the
speed
of
a
marauder
.
I
had
been
having
a
nagging
feeling
of
something
left
undone
,
and
had
checked
it
off
to
the
nervousness
I
always
feel
around
Bugs
.
Now
I
knew
.
Here
I
was
,
ten
miles
away
from
my
platoon
with
a
party
of
three
men
each
in
a
marauder
suit
.
When
the
Bugs
broke
through
,
I
was
going
to
be
faced
with
an
impossible
decision
...
unless
the
men
with
me
could
rejoin
as
fast
as
I
could
.
"
That
's
good
,
"
I
agreed
,
"
but
I
no
longer
need
three
men
.
Send
Hughes
,
right
away
.
Have
him
relieve
Nyberg
.
Use
the
other
three
scouts
to
relieve
the
listening
posts
farthest
forward
.
"
"
Just
Hughes
?
"
he
said
doubtfully
.
"
Hughes
is
enough
.
I
'm
going
to
man
one
listener
myself
.
Two
of
us
can
straddle
the
area
;
we
know
where
they
are
now
.
"
I
added
,
"
Get
Hughes
down
here
on
the
bounce
.
"
For
the
next
thirty-seven
minutes
nothing
happened
.
Hughes
and
I
swung
back
and
forth
along
the
forward
and
rear
arcs
of
the
area
around
Easter
Ten
,
listening
five
seconds
at
a
time
,
then
moving
on
.
It
was
no
longer
necessary
to
seat
the
microphone
in
rock
;
it
was
enough
to
touch
it
to
the
ground
to
get
the
sound
of
"
frying
bacon
"
strong
and
clear
.
The
noise
area
expanded
but
its
center
did
not
change
.
Once
I
called
Captain
Blackstone
to
tell
him
that
the
sound
had
abruptly
stopped
,
and
again
three
minutes
later
to
tell
him
it
had
resumed
;
otherwise
I
used
the
scouts
'
circuit
and
let
my
platoon
sergeant
take
care
of
the
platoon
and
the
listening
posts
near
the
platoon
.
At
the
end
of
this
time
everything
happened
at
once
.
A
voice
called
out
on
the
scouts
'
circuit
,
"
'
Bacon
Fry
'
!
Albert
Two
!
"
I
clicked
over
and
called
out
,
"
Captain
!
'
Bacon
Fry
'
at
Albert
Two
,
Black
One
!
"
--
clicked
over
to
liaison
with
the
platoons
surrounding
me
:
