Fog is man's enemy. Coast dwellers frown when the grey banks drift in and smother the buoys. At sea the slowed ships feel their way; the sirens mourn incessantly. Voices are lowered in a fog, which muffles them yet lower as though it shrouded something grave about to happen. Fog, several hours of it, gets on men's nerves. Two thousand miles of groping through fog might drive two men in an airplane—a land airplane over an ocean—close to distraction. So thought radio operators listening last week to the day-and- nightlong flashes of Ernest...

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