One afternoon last week at Aberdeen Proving Ground (Md.), a fringe of people stood behind a hemp rope. A soldier passed down the line proffering a roll of cotton batting. The people were advised to stuff bits of the cotton into their ears, stand on their toes, gape their mouths. A moment later there broke forth from eight sinister-nosed 75mm. anti-aircraft guns a maddening, vicious cacaphony that made trouser-legs tremble and skirts sway in waves of force. High in the bright ceiling, some 2,000 ft. above, innocent bits of cotton appeared, no...
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