Sport: Watch on the Ruhr

The good citizens of the Ruhr had not known such an air invasion since Allied bombers darkened their skies. Last fortnight, winged squadrons 30,000 and 40,000 strong beat upward from Austria, circled once and headed for the coal mines. The radio flashed word of their departure. On the roofs of their homes Ruhrmen glanced nervously at their watches and stared toward the south. They waited in fear—not that flyers would arrive, but that they might be too long on the way. For this was the race for the National Prize, the great homing-pigeon derby that is the payoff for one of...

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