VII.
DAWN TO DAWN.
"When in the East the evening stars burn clear,
We know our time of toil is drawing near;
For as the evening deepens in the West,
It brings an ending to our day-long rest.
One after one we slip into the gloom,
And through the dusk like great cockchafers boom;
High in the stars you hear our mournful cry,
As we sail onward through the sapphire sky."
—The Night Bombers.
I suddenly wake, and sit up in bed with strained ears. I have a dim recollection of a noise. Then I hear three or four dull explosions like distant gunfire, and out wails the piteous appeal of "Mournful Mary" at the Dunkerque docks.
Zoop-zoop ... bo-o-o-o-m!
The last is a tremendous explosion.
I wonder what is happening.