Each man had his message pad on his knee, or on the sand beside him,
opened up. The moon was so brilliant we had scarcely any need of the
illuminated pages with which each book was equipped.
Within fifteen minutes our walkie-talkies were going wild. Every last
one received first, the eerie whispering. Then the men began to report
shouts, weeping, wordless screams, unearthly music, wind instruments,
drums, tom-toms--just about every noise-making agency of which any of
us had ever heard.
Was all this in answer to our attempts to communicate? How could we
make contact that would also make sense?
So far, the sounds were no more informative than static. But it was
something, when we had been hearing nothing at all, so we kept at it.
We kept it up for three days and nights.
The Shadow Men did not return during that time. The Japanese gradually
mingled with us. They realized that we knew no more of our situation
than they did, possibly less, and joined with us in trying to work it
out.
It was midnight, the fourth night of our disappearance, when we got a
break.
Ziegler brought me a message which said: "You are wasting your time.
Contact like this is forbidden."