shouted, sprinting towards the iron behemoth. As he took cover behind a charred tree stump, his eyes rested on a fallen marine. He’d had the best eyes in the company, but now they stared blankly into the sky, his blood mixing with gasoline from the flamethrower. Wait, gasoline… perfect. The captain slid the corpse out of the straps the bound him to the giant Zippo lighter and dragged him behind the stump he hid behind. Then, he leaned around the tree trunk and emptied his entire clip at the tank. The turret turned and the tank changed direction and rumbled toward him. The captain discarded his spent clip and ran full out away from the death and destruction that was now right on his heels. As he ran, he pulled his pistol out and, turning for one shot, fired at the flamethrower just as the tank rolled above it.

Suddenly, in a flurry of flames, the tank ground to a halt. The top hatch flew open and a man, presumably the tank’s commander, leapt out, covered in flames. Another man jumped from the tin coffin and joined the other, running around in a sort of fiery dance. The captain ended this demented ballet with two well placed .45 rounds. Several marines helped him to his feet, slapping him on the back and cheering. As more men joined him, the captain forgot the war for a moment and smiled.

Then, as if on cue, the shriek of artillery compelled the marines to run for cover. As he crouched low in a shell crater, he looked through a space in the trees and saw, to his amazement, ships exchanging fire on the ocean. Realizing what was happening, he shouted to his men,

“Everyone, fall back to the sea!”

* * *

Back in Nome, as the Artic sun sank below the horizon, a brick red husky walked down the quiet streets. She soon left the small town behind, following a dirt path to the lighthouse, which stood perched atop a cliff. Below, the waves crashed against the treacherous rocks on one side of the harbor’s entrance. Knocking on the lighthouse door, she pulled her coat even tighter around her. The door opened and Mr. Samuels smiled at her.

“Jenna, come in, come in.” The old man walked into the tiny kitchen and poured two cups of tea. “So, what brings you here?” Jenna smiled sheepishly as she accepted her cup.

“I’m just so nervous, for Balto. It’s been almost two days now and still not a word from the Navy. He should have reached the Aleutians by now.” Mr. Samuels smiled and said,

“Perhaps a breath of fresh air will help calm your nerves. It always works for me.” Jenna nodded. He lead her up the winding staircase and out onto the balcony from the lamp room, where the powerful searchlight stood on its mount.

“Why isn’t the light on, Mr. Samuels?”

“The Navy sent me a notice yesterday; until they say otherwise, the light stays off.”

“But what about the ships out there? What if-”

“The Navy seems to think the security of our town is more important.”

“They do,” said a voice from behind. Jenna and Mr. Samuels both turned to look.

“Kaltag! What are you doing here?” Jenna asked the tan husky still wrapped in a thick wool blanket.

“I saw you out walking and followed you,” he replied, “Listen Jenna, I know you’re worried about Balto, but he’s the best we got. He’ll pull through. He never let us down before.” Jenna nodded, looking at the floor. Kaltag took notice. “Come on, Jenna, I’ll walk you home.” Jenna thanked Mr. Samuels for the tea and disappeared down the spiral staircase, Kaltag followed close behind. As they reentered Nome, Jenna stopped at her door and gave Kaltag a friendly hug.

“Thanks, Kaltag.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he replied, “Let me know if you need anything else; you know where I live.” Jenna nodded and waved as Kaltag walked away. Before she went inside, though, she looked at the sky with growing concern. I almost forget about the storm, she thought.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A cheer rose above the icy waters as three American destroyers sat unhindered off the coast of Attu, not far from where the Japanese fleet had been. Now there remained only burning wreckage and an eerie orange glow in the Artic sky. Balto stood on the bridge balcony, looking back at the flaming remains of seven Japanese warships; only one of the eight had managed to evade their deadly guns and slip away into the night. Lowering his head, he said a silent prayer for a brave enemy. A young officer stopped in the doorway behind him and his mouth opened to speak, but thought better of it. As he turned to leave, though, Balto spoke without turning his head.

“What is it Talbot?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” said the officer.

“Go on, you were going to say something?”

“The first boats are returning, sir.”

“Alright.” Balto turned from the railing and walked down onto the main deck, where chosen men waited. He pointed at two strong sailors and said, “You two follow me.” He led them to the railing of the Northern Lights to where rope netting had been hung over the side. As the first lifeboat arrived and the tired Marines clambered out, they used the net as a ladder. The first man up was a captain, with two bars quite visible on his helmet. When the captain climbed up on deck, Balto stuck out his hand and said,

“Welcome aboard the Northern Lights.” The marine captain shook Balto’s outstretched hand and replied,

“Captain Marshall, US Marines. Thank you, for riskin’ your necks to save us.”

“We’re not safe yet. Any word on enemy movement?” The captain shook his head.

“We pulled back nice and quiet like; so far we ain’t seen a single one of ‘em.”

“Alright.” Balto turned back to the railing and continued lifting the dirty, exhausted marines onto deck, shaking their hands and directing them below decks. A few hours later, the last boat pulled up alongside the big destroyer and her occupants piled out. The crew of the small rowboat stepped onto the netting and helped the marines up, giving many a slap on the back and handshake. Then, one grunt slipped halfway up the netting and fell backwards into the ocean. He came up a moment later, struggling to stay above water.

“Oh Jesus,” one marine exclaimed, “Its Willie, he can’t swim!” The floundering man sank below the waves. Seeing this, Balto removed his cap and coat and shoved them into the hands of a bewildered Marine, saying,

“I didn’t come all this way to loose a man!” Without another thought, he jumped. The frigid water felt like a thousand needles pricking his skin as he swam deeper and deeper. Looking around frantically, he saw the sinking shape of a man. Seizing the marine’s arm, he turned his head upwards and swam with all his might towards the surface. Just as his lungs were ready to burst, Balto’s head breeched the water and he gasped for breath, swimming with his free arm as he dragged the unmoving Marine to the edge of netting, where two sailors hauled him and Willie up onto deck.

“Jesus Christ! Are you insane?” Captain Marshall exclaimed. Balto just smiled.

“I promised that I’d get every one of you home safe, and I intend to make good on that promise. Is he okay?”

“He’ll live, sir,” a marine replied. Suddenly, a loud shrieking sound filled the air and plumes of water erupted skyward around them.

“I think it’s safe to say they found us,” said Balto. He stood up straight and accepted his coat and cap from the Marine he’d entrusted with them. The mix of Marines and sailors on deck could only stare as he strode to the bow and crouched beside a few other soaked soldiers. None of them heard what he said, but before anyone could move, he stood and turned around. “Well, come on! Let’s not just sit here!” His sailors scrambled about, raising the anchor as the cannons elevated and rotated to return fire.

“Forget shooting! Let’s get out of here!” Balto stepped up beside the helmsman in the bridge and directed him to turn seaward, back towards Nome. “Full ahead!”

“Aye, sir!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Several hours later, the three destroyers plowed their way through the pounding surf as torrents of rain drenched every thing that escaped the ocean’s wrath. The Northern Lights, spearheading the charge against nature, creaked and groaned with each wave. Her helmsman struggled just to keep her on course.

“No sir, I can’t see a darn thing!” he shouted into the ship radio, “I can hardly see the tip of the bow, sir!”

“Stay there, I’m coming up,” said Balto.

“I’m not going anywhere, sir,” the man replied. A few moments later, Balto staggered through the bridge door and slammed it shut behind him. Pulling back his parka’s hood, he put his hand on the helmsman’s shoulder.

“Hold your course…” Suddenly, a beam of light cut through the gloom and soon pointed out in their direction.

“The lighthouse!” cried the helmsman, eyes filled with a new hope, “I-I see it!” Just then, the white beam moved, and the helmsman could only stare in horror as its light revealed a sailors worst nightmare; rocks dead ahead.

“Move!” Balto cried. The helmsman stepped quickly aside and he took the wheel. As the lighthouse’s beam danced across the rain soaked deck of the Northern Lights, the wheel spun in