 A Navy patrol plane, routine patrol, only behind every cloud may be an enemy. Midway Island. Not much land, right enough. But it's our outpost. Your front yard. These are the natives of Midway. Tojo has sworn to liberate them. The birds seem nervous. There's something in the air. Something behind that sunset. Excitement this morning. The dawn patrol has sighted an enemy fleet. During the night, flying fortresses had landed at Midway. An historic council of wars held. That fellow's walk looks familiar. My neighbor's boy used to amb along just like that. Is that one of them flying fortresses? Yes ma'am, it is. That's young Will Kinney. He's from my hometown Springfield, Ohio. He's not going to fly that great big bomber. Yes ma'am, that's his job. He's a skipper. Will's dad is an engineer, 38 years on the old Ironton Railroad. And his mother. Well, she's just like the rest of us mothers in Springfield or any other American town. And his sister Patricia. She's about as pretty as they come. I'll say so. Well, Junior Kinney. Suddenly, from behind the clouds, the Japs attack. This really happened. Our warship stalked the Jap fleet. The trap is sprung. Navy planes roared from the decks of our carriers. Army bombers, Marines. Thunder destruction over a 300 mile battle area. The invasion forces were hit and hit and hit again. Men and women of America, here come your neighbor's sons. Home from the day's work. You want to meet them. There's Jimmy Thatch. Seven meatballs on his plane. How many more today, skipper? Back at Midway. Told you'll swore he'd liberate the native. They see just as free as they ever were. The battle of Midway is over. Our front yard is safe. But a big job is still to be done. Day after day our patrol planes search for survivors. Every tiny coral reef. Every distant mile of sea. Search for men who fought to the last round of ammunition and flew to the last drop of gas and then crashed into the sea. Eight days. Nine days. Ten days without food or water. His first cigarette. Oh, and that first drag sure tastes good. Eleven days. Eleven days. Well done, Massy Hughes. Logan Ramsey. Frank Fessler. Thirteen for Frank. Get those boys to the hospital. Please do quickly. Get them to clean cuts and cool sheets. Get them doctors and medicine. The nurses soft hands. Get them to the hospital. Hurry. Please. There was a hospital. Clean, orderly. A hundred beds. And on its roof the Red Cross plainly marked. The symbol of mercy. The enemy was bound to respect. The next morning divine services were held beside a bomb crater that had once been a chapel. At eventide we buried our heroic dead. The last salute from their comrades and their officers. Captain Simard of the Navy. Colonel Shannon. Major Roosevelt. Holy light. Protect us, our King.