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U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [359]

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propel er. The engine started. Everything was ful of the roar of the engine. Suddenly she was scared and sober, thought about home and Dad and Buster and the boat she was going to take tomorrow, no it was today. It seemed an endless time with the engine roaring. The light was brighter. She started to fumble with the straps to unstrap them. It was crazy going up like this. She had to catch that boat. The plane had started. It was bouncing over the field, bouncing along the ground. They were stil on the ground rumbling bouncing along. Maybe it wouldn't go up. She hoped it wouldn't go up. A row of poplars swept past below them. The motor was a settled roar now, they were climbing. It was daylight; a cold silver sun shone in her face. Underneath them was a floor of thick white

-416-clouds like a beach. She was terribly cold and stunned by the roar of the motor. The man in goggles in front of her turned around and yel ed something. She couldn't hear. She'd forgotten who Pierre was. She stretched her hand out towards him and waved it around. The plane went on climbing steadily. She began to see hil s standing up in the light on either side of the white beach of clouds, must be the val ey of the Seine ful of fog; where was Paris? They were plunging into the sun, no, no, don't, don't, now it's the end. The white clouds were a ceiling overhead, the sun spun around once first fast then slowly then the plane was climbing again. She felt terribly sick, she was afraid she was going to faint. Dying must be like this. Perhaps she'd have a miscarriage. Her body was throbbing with the roar of the engine. She had barely strength enough to stretch her hand toward him again and make the same motion. The same thing again. This time she didn't feel so bad. They were climbing again into blue sky, a wind must have come up because the plane was lunging a little, took an occasional sickening drop into a pocket. The face in the goggles turned around and swayed from side to side. She thought the lips formed the words, No good; but now she could see Paris like an embroidered pincushion, with al the steeples and the Eiffel Tower and the towers of the Trocadèro sticking up through a milky haze. The Sacré Coeur on Montmartre was very white and cast a shadow clear to the garden that looked like a map. Then it was behind them and they were circling over green country. It was rough and she began to feel sick again. There was a ripping sound of some kind. A little wire waving loose and glistening against the blue began to whine. She tried to yel to the man in goggles. He turned and saw her waving and went into another

dive. This time. No. Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the Sacré

Coeur, the green fields spun. They were climbing again.

-417-Daughter saw the shine of a wing gliding by itself a little way from the plane. The spinning sun blinded her as they dropped.

NEWSREEL XXXIX

spectacle of ruined vil ages and tortured earth "the work of fiends" wrings heart of Mr. Hugh C. Wal ace during his visit to wasted and shel torn regions

WHIPPET TANKS ON FIFTH AVENUE

STIR LOAN

ENTHUSIASM

U. S. MOBILIZES IN ORIENT AGAINST

JAP MENACE

Rule Britannia, rule the waves

Britains never never shall be slaves

YOUYG WOMAN FOUND STRANGLED

IN YONKERS

the socialrevolutionaries are the agents of Denekine, Kolchak and the Al ied Imperial Armies. I was one of the organizers of the Soldiers, Sailors and Workmen's council in Seattle. There is the same sentiment in this meeting that appeared at our first meeting in Seattle when 5000 men in uniform attended. EX-KAISER SPENDS HOURS IN

WRITING. Speaking broadly their choice is between revolu-tionary socialism and anarchy. England already has plunged into socialism, France hesitates, Belgium has gone, Italy is going, while Lenine's shadow grows stronger and stronger over the conference.

TEN SHIPS LAID BARRIER OF SUDDEN

DEATH FROM

ORKNEYS TO SKAGGERAK

NO COAL? TRY PEAT

-418- If you want to find the generals

I know where they are

If you want to find the generals

I know where they are

masses stil don't know how the war

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