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Take our angle on the cruiser. And pounce. Press the pickle and lay an egg. A hit! And two goes in. Miss. Another run, a hit. Plane three goes in. Now the Cats get out, with one freighter sunk, one damaged, one tanker burning, a cruiser hit. The cost: Black Cat number five, whose night light went up in the smoke with the freighter she sank. One more flight completed. One less convoy flying the Rising Sun. Another loss in losses adding up to billions of dollars in equipment that didn't get there. A job done by planes that can't maneuever, but do, that can't dive, that can't rev up speed to wiggle out of a run but go in anyway for a second try, a third. What keeps them going?