1941-02-27 — Page 11

Thursday,

HONGKONG TELEGRAPH

DONALD

OK, THERE'S A PERFECT SPOT ON THE OTHER SIDE

OF THE FIELD!

DUCK

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

Cor. 101, WM Dunty Productions

GRIN

AND BEAR IT

By Lichty

2801, Corset Times, Jar.

Reg UN FAG GE Arthes fo

HO IMRKING

"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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10-Baring tools jelly word of mouth 115--One who lavishes

extrema fondners 10-Oller garment......... 17-Exchange premium

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February 27, 1941. By Walt Disney

Ubourg Simreme Court

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 of rubble. Sometimes the smashed bricks, broken mor- far and splinters were caught in a pool of light.

The men were beat almost double to their tasks. They were picking up the broken bits of whal had once been a house, dropping them into bas- kets. They were working with their hands. You can't use pleks and shovels when there are people. trapped under- neath. Occasionally they used tiny sawa 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 barked and rumbled. The shells, as they burat in the aky, 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 screech of bombs fying 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 bont backs. The bombs screamed by. As thunderous explosion followed thunder- ous explosion, those on the rubble heap shook in a world where nothing was still, and their hands 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 were obviously tired. The R.A.F. men helped to empty the baskets...

The raiders droned over- hand. The bombs screamed down. Farther away now.

So hours passed, Fow words were spoken. It was as though words had no place in this world of screaming bombs, whistling shrapnel and rumbling gung. 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 women handed tea to the working men.

The raiders droned over- hend. The guns barked. Bombs again.

An Air Raid Warden loomed up out of the darkness. "How "Three." many?" he asked.

came 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 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.

down,

He put his mouth against a crack. His voice came strange- ly up the shaft. "Are you there, mate?" We all stood at the top listening. We saw him put his car to the crack

He climbed awkwardly

to the top again.. We waited. "I can hear then faintly," he said. Without a word they · · returned to work.

Pitiful little personal things appeared. A mug with "A Prosent from Brighton" writ- ten on it. A torn shred of a rayon undervest, a man's pipe, a woman's handbag with worn puff and a smudgy box of rouge. The Warden put them meticulously in a corner. Over the river bombs fell.

The raiders passed.

A man appeared minongst us. He was very sanall, in a shrubby coat. His face was tired and grey, and a few thin wisps of hair sprend over the bald up of his heat. He held a grimy cap in his hanits.

"I've just come home," he said, almost apologetically, "working the night shift."

It was though he had not spoken, for what was there to reply? He stood there silent, a pathellë droop to his tired shoulders, a blind misery in his dyes, his fingers

the <p> around und The rubble before him was what had been his home.

"Mother will be in there," he said, "and the two lada." He turn-, ed his head sideways to look up the faces of the

"Are of the men digging they

"Hope so, Chum." So he stood, twisting and twisting the cap. He didn't say any more.

We were all looking down to the bottom of the shaft now. There did not seem anything but rubble and a

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 underneath were two smaller bodies. They were all three crush- ext and pressed into the raw material of the house.

*

Stowly 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 down at her. The black hair was matted with brick rubble and her face was smeared with red brick powder.

"You 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 Incant. The tears rolled down the erenses on his face onto the twisted cap. So we stood there, the be- grined figures of the rescue work- cts swaying with exhaustion. The "All Clear" sounded and noticed the duwa was breaking.

People started to come on to the streets from the sheltera. A wo-

we

esine up and took the 1111e man by the arni. "Come on, Jim, and have a cup of hot teu."

The stretchers were litted into the ambulance. We all walked slowly down the road,

Such people as these live in England.

A typical raid aftermathı, as described in the story.

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