United States Navy

“ Command plane over side in five minutes. Sandwich makings from home. California sardines, Chicago ham spread, oragne juice from Florida to wash it down. A squall bearing down from the sea, but the Cats leave for schedule. In all this base's history, foul weather has never stopped a flight. He slides in, hull settling deep under bomb-laden wings. Landing gear disengaged, following out for the take-off. Peeling away into the run, motors growling over the job of lifting too many men off the water, too much gas. ”

“ Six Black Cats will fly tonight. Their pilots, navigators. First discussion: new angles of enemy strategy. To draw more blood from US invading troops, Japan is feeding key defences with ammunition, guns, concrete for pillboxes. Our objectives: to stop at sea where one bomb can sink what a hundred bombing runs ashore might not destroy.
Latest enemy convoy sighting, southbound one tanker, three freighters, probably artillery and ammunition, estimated position at 0200. Watch out for Jap air fighters. Nearest airstrip only sixty miles away. Can they destroy our escorts? ”

“ Now the Cats get out, with one freighter sunk, one damaged, one tanker burning, a cruiser hit. The cost: Black Cat number five, whose night light went up in the smoke with the freighter she sank. One more flight completed. One less convoy flying the Rising Sun. Another loss in losses adding up to billions of dollars in equipment that didn't get there. A job done by planes that can't maneuever, but do, that can't dive, that can't rev up speed to wiggle out of a run but go in anyway for a second try, a third. What keeps them going? ”