In the light blue ether above Fort Tilden, Rockaway Point anti-air defense base of Manhattan, soared, twisted, wobbled a deep blue cone of canvas, 15 ft. long, tapering in diameter from 5 ft. to 4 ft. Ahead, linked to the sky-target by a few scant hundred feet of rope, flew Air Lieut. Archie Smith in a Martin Bomber. From below anti-aircraft gunners launched torrents of gun fire, exploded thousands of pounds of powder into billions of cubic feet of gas. Sweated, toiled, emitted words peculiar to gunners.
Eighteen times, with the undeviating regularity of...
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