From the mountains of New England to the shaggy slopes of Georgia's hills, flames ate greedily at priceless timber. Red-eyed, smoke-bleary, smudge-blackened men fought, cursed, touched off backfires. Out over the Atlantic rolled billows of smoke, swept east by the prevailing winds. Airmen on patrol for submarines groped through the haze.
Evidence of sabotage was near-conclusive. At Providence, R.I., it seemed strange that 15 fires should spring up in one area at once. At Keene, N.H., a small boy stumbled on to a burned-out candle in a paper bag attached to a...
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