Avon Fantasy Reader No. 10 — page 105: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

storm of “extras” over the city, announcing the sinking of a merchantman by an Engtalian cruiser. A dispute had arisen between the officers of the merchantman and the port officials, because the latter had jeered disrespect- fully at the gostak. The merchantman picked up and started out without having fulfilled all the Customs requirements. A cruiser followed it and- ordered it to return. The captain of the merchantman told them that the gostak distims the doshes, whereupon the cruiser fired twice and sank the merchantman. In the afternoon came the “extras” announcing the Executive's declaration of war. Recruiting offices opened; the University was depleted of its young men; uniformed troops marched through the city, and railway trains full of them went in and out. Campaigns for raising war loans; homeguards, women’s auxiliaries, ladies’ aid societies making bandages, young women enlisting as ambulance drivers—it was indeed war; all of it to the constantly te- peated slogan: ‘The gostak distims the doshes.” I could hardly believe that it was really true. There seemed to be no ade- eee cause for a war. The huge and powerful nation had dreamed a silly slogan and flung it in the world’s face. A group of nations across the water had united into an alliance, claiming they had to defend themselves against having forced upon therm a principle they did not desire. The whole thing at the bottom had no meaning. It did not seem possible that there would actually be a war; it seemed more like going through a lot of elaborate play- acting. Only when the news came of a vast naval battle of doubtful issue, in which ships had been sunk and thousands of lives lost, did 1t come to me that they meant business. Black bands of mourning appeared on sleeves and in windows. One of the allied countries was invaded and a front-line set up. Reports of a division wiped out by an airplane attack; of forty thousand dead in a five-day battle; of more men and more money needed, began to make things look real. Haggard men with bandaged heads and arms in slings appeared on the streets; a church and an auditorium were converted into hospitals; and trainloads of wounded were brought in. To convince myself that this thing was so, I visited these wards, and saw with my own eyes the rows of cots, the surgeons working en ghastly wounds, the men with a leg missing or with a hideously disfigured face. | Food became restricted; there was no white bread, and sugar was rationed. Clothing was of poor quality; coal and oil were obtainable only on govern- ment permit. Businesses were shut down. John was gone; his parents re- ceived news that he was missing in action. . Real it was; there could be no more doubt of it. The thing that made it seem most real was the picture of a mangled, hopeless wreck of humanity sent back from the guns, a living protest against the horror of war. Suddenly someone would say: “The gostak distims the doshes!” and the poor wounded fragment would straighten up and put out his chest with pride, and an un- 103 , comicbooks.com