The ride back to camp was fairly quiet. Anderson was doing his best not to complain about how uncomfortable it was riding over the bumpy, uneven ground with an extremely sore behind because he knew that Greg, in this case, wasn't going to be to generous with sympathy and after having had time to think about it, Anderson had to agree with him, finally though he spoke up, "Pappy?"

"What Anderson?" Greg said sharply.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for causing you any more trouble."

"Well, you and Boyle should have thought about that earlier and French and Bragg should have put a stop to it. I left them in charge while I was gone. I've got a lot to deal with right now. TJ's not out of the woods yet, you're not going to be able to fly for five days, and Gutterman's on lock down until I see what happens with TJ. So that leaves me short three pilots, and I just hope nothing else happens until you get medical clearance to fly."

"You could temporarily release Gutterman under the circumstances, couldn't you?" Anderson suggested.

Greg looked at him coldly.

"I could, but I'm not going to and you want to know why?" Greg stopped the jeep before continuing. "I'm not going to because if it wasn't for him and his aggressive behavior TJ wouldn't have been shot down and he wouldn't have spent four days and nights alone on a raft shot and at the mercy of the elements. I don't even want to consider what he was thinking, watching Gutterman just leave him like he did. I do know one thing though, he was probably scared to death and I don't blame him. I spent about an hour with him in the hospital, just sitting there watching him clinging to life, and I can't think of any time in my life when I felt as helpless, as powerless as I did then." Greg decided not to say anything about TJ briefly regaining consciousness. "So there's no way in hell I'm letting Gutterman out until TJ is back with us in the air, and if he dies I'm going to see to it that Gutterman is brought up on charges and as many as I can make stick."

Anderson didn't know what to say.

"Sorry I mentioned it," he said quietly.

Greg just looked at him for a few minutes, then shook his head, started the jeep, and headed back to camp.

A week later, Greg was bathing Emily, who thoroughly enjoying the experience, was splashing happily in the same tub that was her "wading pool" when Casey walked up with his hands in his pockets looking very concerned about something.

"You okay Casey?" Greg asked.

"No," Casey replied. "As a matter of fact, after you hear what I have to say I don't think me, French, Boyle, or Anderson, are going to be okay."

Greg picked up a cup and poured water over Emily, rinsing the soap out of her dark hair. A warm breeze drifted through the leaves of the palm trees near the camp. He had a feeling that this peaceful afternoon was about to be disrupted.

"What did you all do?" He asked, hoping it did not involve anyone getting shot again as he lifted Emily, wet and scented with that delicious smell just washed babies have, from the tub and laid her on a towel to dry her off. She made sweet little baby sounds enjoying the warm breeze blowing on her, as she lay naked as a cherub, while Greg applied baby lotion to her arms, legs, back, and tummy and put baby powder on her bottom, before putting her diaper on.

"The four of us got bored and decided to fly down The Slot a little ways. We knew it was too early for the afternoon patrol, but we decided to fly around for awhile since we had nothing better to do," Casey said.

Greg could think of a few things they could have been doing, namely cleaning out the Sheep Pen, which was starting to resemble a pig sty and smell like it, too, but he let Casey continue rather than say anything about that.

"Go on," he said.

"Well, we ran into some trouble over Rendova."

"Just what do you mean by trouble and why in the hell were you all clear down there?" Greg asked not liking where this was going."

"Um...Well...It's like this, Pappy."

Casey was so nervous he was about to wet his pants.

"Out with it, Casey," Greg knew something was definitely wrong.

"No one got hurt or anything, but we got attacked by about 14 Zeros. I got four, Boyle got four, Anderson got four, and French got two, but our planes really sustained a lot of damage."

Greg wrapped Emily in a dry towel and looked at Casey, and Casey didn't like the look he was giving him.

"You're telling me that I am now short four more planes?

"For a few days, Hutch thinks he can get 'em in the air by the weekend."

"HE THINKS HE CAN! I'M ALREADY SHORT TWO PILOTS AND NOW DOWN TO HALF MY PLANES. WHAT ARE YOU ALL TRYING TO DO? COLONEL LARD ISN'T GOING TO HAVE TO HAVE AN EXCUSE TO BREAK US UP AS A SQUADRON BECAUSE YOU MEATHEADS WILL HAVE ALREADY DONE IT FOR HIM BY SLOWLY DESTROYING THE PLANES. I'VE GOT MORE TROUBLE TO DEAL WITH NOW THAN I CAN HANDLE AND THE FOUR OF YOU HAVE JUST GONE AND ADDED MORE ON TOP OF IT!"

Greg was so mad if he hadn't been holding Emily he would have hit Casey or the table, although more than likely both. Despite Greg's shouting however, Emily was sound asleep against his shoulder.

"Bragg," he called seeing Jerry heading across the camp.

"Yeah Pappy, say did you know we're gonna be short four planes...?"

Then seeing Casey standing there and the look on Greg's face he realized that he probably did.

"I'm going to get Emily dressed and then take her with me to visit TJ in the hospital. While I'm gone I want you to supervise Casey, French, Anderson, and Boyle while they clean out the pig sty...I mean the Sheep Pen. They won't be flying the evening patrol and that will give them something to do."

"Pappy!"

Casey didn't finish the sentence as Greg glared at him with a look that told him whatever else he had to say had better remain unsaid if he knew what was good for him.

After getting Emily dressed, Greg drove by the airstrip on the way over to the hospital. Hutch was working on Casey's plane and Greg just about turned the jeep around and went back to beat the crap out of the four of them.

"If Hutch is able to get those four planes in the air by the weekend it will be a miracle," he thought.

It also was a miracle they'd made it back safely if the condition of the planes was any indication. However, Greg didn't have time to sit looking at the planes and getting madder than he already was. He hadn't been to visit TJ in a few days, although Suzette had been keeping him updated on how his recovery was progressing, Greg wanted to go see him personally and he thought seeing Emily might do him some good as well.

When Greg walked into TJ's room carrying Emily he was surprised to find him sitting up in bed reading the card Greg had brought a few days earlier.

"At least someone in the squadron listens to me," Greg commented sitting down in the chair next to his bed.

Emily reached out towards TJ and he carefully leaned over taking her from Greg and once she was settled against him, she lay quietly with her head resting against his shoulder, sucking her thumb.

"What do you mean, Pappy," TJ asked.

"TJ, the last time I was here you were practically at death's door and the last thing I said to you before was I left was that I wanted you to get back to us and that was an order."

"I don't remember that," TJ replied.

"No, I doubt that you would, although you did regain consciousness for just a moment to thank me."

TJ was confused.

"Thank you...for what?"

"For blowing that Zero that shot you down into a million pieces. I told you that I'd blown the hell out of him and you squeezed my hand, thanked me, and then you lost consciousness again."

"I don't remember that either," TJ said.

"What do you remember?" Greg asked. But, as soon as he done so he wondered if that had been a smart thing to do.

"I remember we were almost back to Vella La Cava and four Zeros attacked us. Two of them latched onto me and Bragg got one of them and then...and then."

Greg reached over and placed his hand gently on TJ's shoulder.

"TJ, you don't have to do this," he said.

"No, Pappy, it's okay. I felt something slam into my plane and I knew that I'd been hit. I tried to pull up, but couldn't. I tried to call for one of you to help, but the radio wasn't working, and then after a few moments I knew that I had to bail out or I was going to die, but I just couldn't get my body to move and finally I just forced myself to open the canopy and jump."

TJ was silent for a few moments as he got his thoughts and nerves under control. Greg let him take his time knowing that if TJ decided he couldn't go on talking about it he would say something, but at the same time TJ needed to get this out of his system as his healing from the psychological damage that getting shot down had caused was just as important as his healing from the physical damage.

"I floated down to the water and was able to grab onto one of the wings," he continued. "I saw one of the planes flying overhead for awhile and then it left."

"Gutterman," Greg thought. "That worthless horse's ass."

"Then I thought one of the guys was returning, but it was one of the Zeros and they must have realized I was a downed American pilot because they started shooting at me. I felt two of the bullets slam into me and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to hold on to the wing much longer in the shape I was in. Somehow, I managed to get to my inflatable raft out, pull the inflation cord, and get in. I knew I was losing blood, but didn't know how much.

I could feel myself drifting in and out of consciousness and I tried to force myself to stay awake, since I was afraid that if I shut my eyes that would be it as far as TJ Wiley was concerned. I thought about my family, you and the other Black Sheep, and Emily. Then I finally just had to close my eyes and give in to the blackness, since the pain was so bad. After that, I don't remember anything until I woke up here early this morning."

TJ was just about wiped out physically and emotionally after that. Greg lifted Emily off of him and patted his shoulder encouragingly

"It's okay TJ; you just need to get some rest now. I'll talk to Dr. Pendleton before I leave and let him know I was here and how you were."

TJ nodded sleepily.

"Pappy," he said.

"Yes TJ."

He looked at the card he had placed back on the nightstand when Greg and Emily had come in.

"Tell everyone thanks. That was the first thing I saw when I woke up and I wished I was back with them."

"I will and they miss you as much as you miss them," Greg replied.

While Greg and Emily were visiting TJ, Bragg was sitting in the Sheep Pen with his feet propped up on one of the tables that had been pushed against a wall, drinking a beer. Casey, French, Anderson, and Boyle were in the process of cleaning the floor of the Sheep Pen.

"You should be helping us," French groused. "You're in here every night the same as us."

Bragg just leaned back in his chair and looked at them over the two month old newspaper he was reading.

"But, I didn't wreck half of our planes like you guys," he said matter of matter-of-factly. "And besides, Pappy didn't say anything about me helping, just supervising, so shut up and get this place clean because I'm supposed to spend the evening with Clarissa tonight and if I have to explain to her why I won't be able to go walking on the beach with her you're all going to have more problems than you do now."

The four of them worked without further comment although Bragg could tell they all wanted to give him a hard time. They were working on cleaning behind the bar when Anderson and Boyle moved a storage cabinet and a horrendous smell filled the air.

"What the hell," Bragg chocked."What did you all do? Eat some fermented fish and the digestive results are just becoming obvious?"

Anderson and Boyle could hardly talk, but indicated the decaying carcass that was in such a state of decomposition that it was no longer identifiable. Bragg got up and looked at whatever it was nearly losing his lunch in the process.

"Get a shovel and get that thing out of here," he choked.

"Where do you want us to take it?" French, trying not to throw up, said from the far end of the bar where he and Casey had been cleaning out the cabinets and scrubbing shelves.

Bragg, nearly sick to his stomach, both from the sight and smell of whatever the thing had been in its living state, said the first thing that he could think of.

"Get a shovel and take it several feet into the jungle and then cover it good with dirt."

Boyle grabbed a shovel and holding his breath he scooped up the maggot and worm infested, stinking carcass and trying not to breath too much carried it several feet into the jungle, dumped it on the ground, and then buried it under several large shovelfuls of dirt.

Then, just to be safe, he found several large rocks and placed those over it as well. Although he doubted if anything would dig it up and eat it. Then he left, holding his breath until he was almost back to camp. He arrived back at the Sheep Pen to find that French, Anderson, and Casey had gotten the spot where the animal, whatever it was, had died scrubbed clean even though it had taken an entire jug of bleach to get the noxious smell out of the Sheep Pen.

When Greg and Emily returned from visiting TJ he stopped by the Sheep Pen half expecting to find Bragg at the end of his rope and French, Anderson, Casey, and Boyle doing a half assed job of cleaning. To his surprise, however, he found them seated around a table playing cards and the Sheep Pen looking and smelling cleaner that it had in a long time. Bragg looked up and grinned. Greg smiled and gave him two thumbs up before he shut the door and carried Emily back to his tent for her afternoon nap.

"They did a great job," he said to himself. "But, did they have to use so much bleach?"

It was a few days later and Greg was sitting at his desk doing paperwork while Emily and Meatball napped. Hearing a knock on the door he looked up to see Anderson and Casey standing in the doorway.

"What?" he asked hoping he wasn't going to have another problem to deal with.

"There's a guy out here that says he's one of the Black Sheep, but you haven't said anything about us getting a new pilot," Casey remarked doing his best to keep a straight face.

"I never requested a new pilot. What are you two talking about?" Greg asked laying aside the reports he had been working on.

"Maybe you ought to talk to him, Pappy, should we send him in?" Anderson remarked also trying not to laugh.

"Yeah and if I have to I'll contact General Moore and see what he knows about it as well," Greg replied.

"Major Greg Boyington, 1st Lt Thomas Joseph Wiley reporting for duty, Sir," TJ stood by Greg's desk saluting.

Greg was too stunned to speak for a few moments not quite believing his eyes.

"At ease TJ," he said jumping up and giving him a hug."What are you doing here? Dr. Pendleton told me it would be the first of the week before you were discharged."

TJ gave Greg a mischievous smile.

"Pappy, I sort of talked him into discharging me early on a little condition."

"What would that be?" Greg asked.

"That you'd give him two bottles of that expensive scotch you've got hidden in your footlocker."

"How did he know about that? I've never told anyone about that," Greg was flabbergasted. Then he added. "That's my over $200 a bottle scotch and I got 12 bottles at $50 each on a condition...well I'm not at liberty to say what the condition was, but I sure as hell got a bargain on scotch out of it."

"Apparently, you let it slip when you were at the Officers' Club on Espritos Marcos for that training seminar two months ago and you'd had a few too many drinks at dinner one night," TJ explained.

"Damn," Greg thought. "Well, it's a small sacrifice if it's going to get you back to us, but I'm limiting your flying time to morning patrols only until the first of the week, or until I talk to Dr. Pendleton and get his okay to let you resume full and active duty. Have I made myself clear?"

"Whatever you say, Pappy, I'm just glad to be back," TJ said.

"TJ, a few weeks ago I never thought I'd be saying this to you, but I'm glad to have you back, as well. Now you'd better go rest up because knowing you guys you'll be up all night celebrating," Greg said indicating for Anderson and Casey to help him back to his tent.

I couldn't believe that Casey and Anderson had cooked that little act up to keep TJ's return a surprise, I also couldn't believe that I had let it slip to Dr. Pendleton about my best scotch, but then I guess that over indulging in too much liquor does that. However, I unfortunately knew that the chances were more than good that at some point in the future I would, while in the same inebriated condition, pull the exact same stunt, and agree to God only knows what while too drunk to even comprehend what I was agreeing to.

That evening at supper, TJ looked around for Gutterman.

"Anyone know where Jim is?" he asked.

The rest of the Black Sheep moved their food around on their plates or looked around the room not sure what to say.

"Come on guys, what's going on?" TJ said becoming worried.

"Ask Pappy when he comes in," French replied.

A few minutes later Greg sat down next to TJ.

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," TJ replied. "But I'd like to know where Gutterman is?"

Greg sighed.

"I've had him locked up since you were shot down," he explained. "You remember how he was behaving before the mission and when he found out you were leading the second team?"

TJ nodded.

"I gave him specific instructions to stay with you until Air Sea Rescue arrived and it wasn't 20 minutes after we landed that he came flying back in. He smarted off to me and basically acted like he didn't care what happened to you."

TJ was silent for a few minutes.

"So that was who I saw flying away," he said softly.

By this time the others had gathered around him offering their support.

"Yes, TJ, it was," Greg replied. "I told him I wouldn't consider releasing him until I knew for certain you were going to be okay."

"Pappy, I know that if Jim had stayed like he was supposed to I might not have gotten used as target practice by the pilots of those two Zeros and I probably would have been back with you guys a lot sooner, but if you would, well, I'd like for you to release Gutterman and let me talk with him?"

"Is that what you want, TJ, because I can also bring him up on charges."

"He's like a brother to me, the same as any of these other guys. I couldn't do that to them anymore than I could my own biological brother, and I can't do it to Jim, either," TJ said firmly.

Greg tossed Casey the keys to the shed.

"When you and TJ are finished eating the two of you can let Gutterman out," he said. "And tell him I want to see him myself first thing in the morning."

It was a quiet, tropical evening and everyone, but Greg was in the Sheep Pen celebrating TJ's return. Greg was in his tent, he had just finished a letter to TJ's family informing them that he was out of the hospital and doing well. Now, he was finishing the letter that he was enclosing with the assessment of the planes that he was finally ready to send to Washington, DC, when the mail plane came in tomorrow morning, and then he was going join them. Meatball was lying on the floor by Greg's desk patiently waiting for Greg to finish as the sounds of the Pied Pipers singing Mairzy Doats drifted from the Sheep Pen. Greg signed his name to the letter he was sending with the assessment packet. He had used some rather strong language in the letter and he hoped that would get the attention of those pencil pushing bureaucrats and then maybe they'd realize that he wasn't complaining over nothing, but was seriously in need of parts even more so than he'd been several months ago when they had promised that he would receive them. He had just sealed the envelope when suddenly Meatball jumped up and facing the door began barking, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

"Quiet Meatball," Greg replied, but the dog kept right on barking. "Meatball!" he said a little more sharply. "I mean it, be quiet!"

Greg got up and went to the door looking out, all was quiet; the only sounds were coming from the Sheep Pen.

"See Meatball, everything's fine," Greg said trying to reassure him.

Meatball stopped barking, but emitted a low growl from deep in his throat.

Greg stepped outside with Meatball following him. The dog sat quietly on the ground, although a low growl still arose from him every once in awhile.

"What's gotten into you?" Greg thought looking down at the dog.

He looked towards the ocean; nothing appeared out of the ordinary. There was a new moon and the sky was a dark indigo blue saturated with several hundred million stars. Just then Greg looked towards the horizon where a brilliant star like object hung just above it at the exact spot where the ocean and the sky touched, as if lovers holding hands. As Greg watched the light seemed to move upward.

"What," Greg thought. "Is that?"

Meatball resumed his frenzied barking and wondering what was going on to cause Meatball to be so agitated the rest of the Black Sheep ran out of the Sheep Pen and came over to stand next to Greg, who was watching the light climb steadily in the sky. As it did so, it appeared to be getting brighter.

"That's not a plane of some sort...Is it?" TJ, who was holding Emily, asked.

Greg shook his head.

"I don't think so," he replied.

"I've never seen a plane do that!" Gutterman exclaimed as the light made a flute like whistling sound and separated into balls of colored light connected around the central white light.

Purple, blue, red, orange, green, yellow, aqua, pink, and a few strange pearlescent and sparkling colors none of them had ever seen before.

The light appeared to dance across the sky as the Black Sheep watched too stunned to say anything. Greg noticed a few of them were shaking and he happened to be one of them. In fact, he had to sit down next to Meatball who was now whimpering. Greg reached over and patted his head trying to calm both the dog and himself. He glanced over at TJ and Emily, she must have picked up on everyone's fear because she had her head against his shoulder and he was patting her back and whispering to her as if trying to calm her down too. Then suddenly, the lights ceased their whirling and spinning and seemed to fade out until only the bright white light was left, then it too slowly began growing smaller as it descended in the night sky until, as before, it looked like a brilliant star on the horizon. Then it faded until it was gone as well. The Black Sheep were too stunned to do anything for several minutes and then finally Boyle asked.

"What the hell was that we just saw?"

No one had an answer for him, but they were all silently asking the same question themselves. None of them felt like going back to the Sheep Pen after the events of the last few minutes and so French walked back and put things away before locking up. Then he came back and stood around talking with Greg and the others, who kept casting furtive glances towards the ocean, although everything looked normal.

Anderson, French, Bragg, and Gutterman were especially uneasy; talking in hushed voices about the "cloud" they had encountered while on patrol several weeks earlier and speculated among themselves whether there was a connection between the two events. Slowly, the Black Sheep began making their way back to their tents although none of them slept very well that night.

I had no idea what it was we saw that evening and even though we had stood outside my tent, for several hours afterward, trying to figure out what we had seen. No one else could come up with an explanation either. I thought about mentioning it to Colonel Lard or General Moore, but knowing my habit of overdoing it with liquor they would have just assumed that I had been with the others in the Sheep Pen and told me that what I had seen had been nothing more than an alcohol induced image along the lines of proverbial pink elephants. However, I knew that what we had seen could not be explained as being of human origin and as I stood in the doorway of my tent before going to bed, my gaze drifted to the horizon where the light had first appeared and a wave of cold fear washed over me.