After that our squadron was moved to Nadzab, where a new, larger strip had been constructed. On November 3 I was told that my orders to go home had arrived. The next day, as I waited for the B-25 courier that would take me to Port Moresby, the alert crew on duty was ordered off on patrol. As I walked across the taxi strip to my transport, the alert flight started up and taxied out to take off. As they went by, each man huddled in his cockpit, helmeted, strapped, and goggled, as identical as the planes themselves, each wearing the same expression, I had a sudden peculiar but overwhelming feeling that I was watching myself.