Thursday,
DONALD DUCK
OH, THERE'S A PERFECT SPOT ON
THE OTHER SIDE
OF THE FIELD!
PHOOEY!
ONE SPOT'S AS GOOD AS
ANOTHER WE PICNIC
RIGHT HERE!
I STILL THINK IT'S NICER OVER THERE!
YEAH, WELL- I STILL SAY ONE SPOT'S AS GOOD
AS...
Cope 2941, Wahh Day Productiona ||Wiehl Rights Served
GRIN AND BEAR IT
By Lichty
Tiare In
`n 1911, Chicago Mu
Rig
& Pat OH, AN Rio Rea
NO
PARKING
"I wish the radio companies would settle that music war- ain't a thing worth listening to on the air!"
Crossword Puzzle
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HONGKONG TELEGRAPH
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February 27, 1941.
By Walt Disney
Story of a Night Raid
Such People As These
Live In England
The night was dark except when the moon came out from the clouds and shed a silvery sheen on the tin helmets of the men standing on the mass the of rubble. Sometimes. smashed bricks, broken mor- tar and splinters were caught in a pool of light.
The men were bent almost double to their tasks. They were picking up the broken bits of what had once been a house, dropping them into bas-` kets. They were working with their hands. You can't use picks and shovels when there are people trapped under- neath. Occasionally they used tiny saws that looked as if they had come out of a toy shop. With them they would saw through a piece of joist or a beam. Every now and then a man would straighten up, pick up a basket and carry it away, bringing it back empty.
The raiders droned over- head, and now the search- lights had a misty quality as- they swept the sky. The guns
The barked and rumbled. shells, as they-burst in the sky, made new stars to re- placed the ones the clouds hid. The "plonk" of the shrapnel
on
the roofs and pavements sounded as if it were coming down lightly, and did not carry death in its ragged, pointed fingers.
the
Suddenly there Was Bcreech of bombs flying through the air. The little crowd around the pile of rubble flung themselves on their faces all but the men at the top. They did not raise their bent backs. The bombs screamed by, As.thunderous explosion followed thunder- the ous explosion, those on rubble heap shook in a world where nothing was still, and their heads were filled with the roar of noise that filled the air.
All
The raiders passed. round the mound, the deeper shadows become human be- ings again as they slowly pulled themselves to their feet. The men at the top were still carefully picking up their scraps of building and drop- ping them into baskets.
The ambulance girls leaned
against the side of their am. bulance, hands out and bleed- ing with trying to help. They The were obviously tired. R.A.F. men helped to empty the baskets.
The raiders droned over- head. The bombs screamed down. Farther away now. *. So hours passed. Few words were spoken. It was as though words had no place in this world of screaming bombs, whistling shrapnel and rumbling guns. The throb- bing engines of the raiders added their sound to that universe of noise.
By Marjorie Nelson
The raiders passed.
A mobile canteen drove up. Two drawn and white-faced
tea 10 women handed
the working men,
The raiders droned over- head. The guns barked. Bombs again.
An Air Raid Warden loomed up out of the darkness. "How "Three." many?" he asked. camie briefly from under a tin. hat.
The raiders passed.
The minutes-dragged-on: The baskets made their inter- minable journeys back and forth. Suddenly one could see --it was a shaft they were digging. Now it seemed big enough for a man to go down. The men stopped work. One man climbed slowly down, carefully pulling his body this way and that to avoid dis- lodging the surrounding de bris and to avoid the ragged ends of joints and beams. Then he was at the bottom in the rubble.
He put his mouth against a crack. His voice camo strange- ly up the shaft. "Are you there, mate?" We all stood at the top listening. We saw him put his ear to the crack .. He climbed awkwardly to the top again. We waited. "I can hear them faintly," he suit. Without a word 'they returned to work.
Pitiful little personal thinga appeared. A mug with "A Present from Brighton" writ- ten on it. A torn shred of a rayon undervest, a man's pipe, a woman's handbag with a worn puff and a smudgy box. of rouge. The Warden put them meticulously in a corner. Over the river bombs fell.
The raiders pussed..
A man appeared ainongst us. He was very small, in a shabby coat. Its face was tired and grey, and a
few thin wisps of hair spread over the bald top of his load. He held a grimy cáp in his hands.
"I've just come home," he said, almost apologetically, "working the night shift."
to
It was though he had not spoken, for what was there to reply? He stood there silent, a pathetle droop his tired shoulders, blind
in his eyes, his misery
Angers twisting the cap around and around. The rubble. before him was what had been hir home.
"Mother will be in there," he sald, "and the two lads." He turn- ed his head sideways to look up the faces of the men digging. "Are they
Hope 90,
Chum." So he stood, tivisting and twisting the cap. He didn't say any more."
We were all looking down to the There bottom of the shaft now. did not seem anything but rubble and a curious yellow
wood.
Slow-
ly it turned into a woman's arm. As they cleared the network of bits of beds, boards and brick, you see she was lying face down, and
two underneath were
smaller bodies. They were all three crush-
Inte and pressed material of the house.
raw
Slowly they brought them up with ropes and laid them on the steel stretchers. "Must have flung herself over the boys to protect them," said the Warden,
The little man stood looking clown nt her. The black hair was matted with brick rubble and her face was sinenred with a red brick
didn't ought to have done It, Mother," he said, "you didn't ought to have done it." We all stood silent, not knowing what he meant. The tears rolled down the creases on his face onto the twisted cap. So we stood there, the be grimed figures of the rescue work- ers swaying with exhaustion. The "All Clear" sounded and noticed the dawn was breaking.
Wo
People started to come on to the streets from the shelters, “A wo- man came up and took the little nan by the arm. "Come on, Jim, and have cup of hot tea."
The stretchers were lifted into the ambulance. We all walked slowly down the rond.
Such people as these live in Emtland,
A typical raid aftermath, as described in the story.
Where Simrende
Court
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