“Keep your head down, Carlyle!”

“Don't worry, there's no way we could be spotted,” The two men quietly paddled their way upriver.

The first man was named Michael Johnson, nationality-American. He was about six foot three inches with dark brown eyes, and a serious face. He had light brown hair, and a small brown beard. The other man in the raft was named Carlyle Smith, nationality-British. He had thick blonde hair, and blue eyes. He was clean shaven, and only about five-foot eight inches.

“Come on Michael, loosen up. This is our first mission this month, be excited. The only things we've been doing until now, were cooking over a campfire, eating tiny rations from the OSS, and watching the Marine Raiders make our lives as bad as possible. Try to enjoy this. We'll make them go speechless after this is over,” said Carlyle.

“Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm just a little jumpy from relaxing so long,” replied Michael.
Suddenly, a chatter of bullets sprayed out of a bunker on the riverbank and splashed across the water next to the raft. Amazingly, the bullets missed the raft by mere inches. Filled with adrenaline and fear, the two men leaped from the raft and sank into the water. Bubbles squirmed their way out of Michael's mouth as he gasped for air under the oil black liquid. The two men struggled to keep the raft afloat above them, for it was carrying all their supplies, including their Browning 9mm semi-automatic suppressed pistols and their .30 caliber semi-automatic M1 Garand assault rifles. After they had passed the bunker, they emerged from the water. The men were as dirty as trashcans.

So much for, 'Don't worry, we'll never be spotted!' thought Michael angrily.

“Sorry about that Mike, but you knew this plan wouldn't go perfect from the beginning,” said Carlyle.

“I know, but that was too close. We're better than that Carlyle,” replied Michael. “I just hope that Jackson and Fischer made it in alright. Let's go, we're going to have to run to the rendezvous point now. That little encounter cost us at least five minutes.”

The two men ran across the jungle of Guadalcanal. They had been chosen for this mission because they had been known to keep their designated time. If they were one minute behind, the whole operation could fail miserably. Their orders were to assassinate a special commander, though they weren't told who. They were commandos, Michael, an agent for the OSS, and Carlyle, an agent for the British S.A.S.

“Okay, I think we're getting close,” said Michael. “Just hope the boys are there.” Michael led the way through the jungle and into a clearing. “Jackson and Fischer aren't here!” exclaimed Michael. “Alpha 5-0, Alpha 5-0, do you read me?” Michael whispered into his radio. “Come on Jackson, pick up your radio!” There was no response through the radio. “Something's wrong, Jackson's gone dark,” Michael whispered to Carlyle. “We've have to keep moving, and hopefully we'll find them in the compound.”

Michael and Carlyle kept running through the jungle, as stealthy as cheetahs stalking their prey. Pretty soon, a very large building loomed over the two men.

“Okay Michael, I know what to do. Just stay clear of the door,” Carlyle instructed, as they came to a solid iron door. Carlyle ran up to it and placed a small satchel charge on the door. He ran back and took a small detonator out of his pocket. With one small stroke of his finger, he pushed the button and the door blew wide open. The inside of the building, a beautiful, royal home, was decorated with lots of pictures and carpet. The two men made their way inside the structure. All the hallways, colorful and lively, made the men feel welcome in the house. They turned right at an intersection, and saw a steel door with bars across the small the window.

“Jackson, Fischer, are you in there?” whispered Carlyle.

“Carlyle! Michael! Is that you?” the two men heard Jackson's frightened voice.

“Carlyle! Bust them out!” whispered Michael.

“Already on it, Mikey!” replied Carlyle. He fished a Semtex grenade out of his pocket and pulled the pin. The grenade smoothly stuck to the door and blew it open.

“Thanks guys. We were spotted on our way down. We dropped the raft and jumped, we even made it to the jungle, but then we were ambushed,” explained Jackson. “I'm just glad we survived!”

“All right, we'll talk later. We've have to keep moving!” exclaimed Michael.

The four men moved silently into another hallway, where two guards were running to meet them. The four men took out their pistols and easily took out the guards without a sound. They turned another corner, and the commander that they had come to assassinate was waiting for them. He fired twice, and both bullets hit their target- Jackson. He went down with one bullet in his knee, and another in his right arm. Michael only had to fire once, and his bullet hit the commander square in the chest, and the man fell to the ground without a single sound. Michael, Carlyle, and Fischer helped Jackson up and to a small glass door that led to a balcony. The four men rappelled from the balcony, with Fischer helping Jackson. Carlyle took an un-inflated raft from his pack and blew it up. The four men climbed into the raft and paddled downriver.

“Keep your head down Carlyle!” said Michael jokingly.

“Very funny Michael,” replied Carlyle.

The four men reached their destination. A PT-48 patrol boat was waiting for them off the coast of Guadalcanal, and they had completed their mission, with zero casualties. All of them had survived, and Michael stayed with the OSS until the Japanese surrendered in 1945. He was remembered as a hero among his family, and that was all that mattered to him.