``Zeros!'' Todman said excitedly, and hopefully.

And then he thought Todman might be right. His mind flicked through the mental pictures he had from the hours of Aircraft Identification. He narrowed the shape down to two: either a Zero or a U. S. Navy type aircraft.

If it were the enemy, tactically his position was correct. Japanese aircraft were strong on maneuverability, American on speed and firepower. His present maximum altitude, up against the overcast, gave him the opportunity to exploit his advantages. But it also made him conspicuous to the enemy, if it was the enemy, and he hadn't been spotted already. But the closing aircraft showed no sign of deviating from their original course.

In seconds, Greg made his decision.

He pushed the radio button. ``Sweeney Blue, hit the deck. Lots of throttle. Todman, you take the one on the left. I'll take the middle. Belton, the one on the right. If & & & if they're Japs. Let's make sure first.'' Greg had the stick forward and the throttle up before he heard the two ``Rogers.''

The planes, light with most of the gas burned out, responded beautifully. Greg's airspeed indicator was over 350 when he leveled off just above the trees. The opposing aircraft continued to come on. They appeared to be the enemy. Greg wished the Air Corps had continued to camouflage planes. There was, of course, no way for the other planes to get by them. It was a box. But they could turn and escape to the east.