NEW YORK: Out of the Night

On Manhattan's Wall Street only a few late workers heard the rising thunder of engines and looked up. There was only a moment—a quick glimpse of scattered squares of light where charwomen worked while the low clouds swirled about the towers. Then the crash.

Below the tower of the Bank of the Manhattan Building, thrusting more than 800 feet into the murk, there rained a shower of debris—an officer's cap, a parachute, the wing of a plane. On the skyscraper's 58th floor, beyond a gaping hole in the wall, lay the rest, the wreckage of an Army light Beechcraft transport,...

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