“It was during the campaign on Guam during the summer of ’44. Seven of us were about to do a job on a cave in which some Japs were reputedly hiding. We fanned into formation and worked out way to vantage points around the entrance. Then I signaled, and one of the flame throwers sprang up and shot a full load of liquid fire into the cave. He darted back and two men perched near the top of the cave leaned over and hurled in grenades. Two more Marines ran forward to spray the inside of the cave with .30-calibre bullets from Browning automatic rifles. And then the coup de grace as a demolitions man lighted the fuse of two blocks of TNT and flung them into the darkness.

“The job was over. Any sons of Nippon who might have been inside were certainly having tea with their ancestors. We relaxed and were lighting cigarettes when one of the guys suddenly pointed and cried “look!”

“We dropped our fags and wheeled like gun turrets, our rifles ready. Then seven square jaws sagged as an amber kitten, stepping daintily over the rubble, emerged from the cave, gazed at us indifferently and strolled away.” — a true-life tale written by James T. Wells, Jr., ex-lieutenant, USMCR, and bought by the Saturday Evening Post for $100, which wasn’t a half-bad fee for early ’46.