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All the photographs on these and the following two pages were taken exclusively for PHOTOPLAY Magazine by Errol Flynn or members of his party
£B<4 ERROL FLYNN
Less than a mile from the firing line lorries loaded and unloaded soldiers weary from all-night sniping
Gay, bright buildings that once knew laughter and music and song are now nothing more than shambles
when awakened by a sibilant whoooshing, followed by a loud crash. I muttered something about somebody please let the dogs out and I tried to get back to sleep. At that moment, there came another loud whooosh-bang, and I was suddenly uncomfortably aware that I wasn't back in Hollywood, so it couldn't be the dogs.
I opened a tentative eye and peered through the window. A few yards away, bathed in the morning sunlight, stood the huge Telephone Building. But something was wrong with it. It had holes in it. Targe, gaping holes. And from one of them, dust, bricks and debris were at that moment still falling. I was pondering this unusual phenomenon when, directly overhead, another whoooshing sound approached, banged off and there, before my eyes, was still another brand new hole in the Telephone Company's lovely building.
I rose and left my bed rapidly.
In fact, I didn't even wait for the elevator. My pal, Doctor Erben. and I swooped down three flights of stairs with an ease that would drive a trapeze artist to an early, brooding grave. Arriving in the lobby, we wrapped ourselves in bathrobes and dignity and approached the clerk.
"Buenos dias," he smiled. "I trust that you have slept well and are over your fatigue. The accommodations are excellent but, of course, the service — " he shrugged — "La Guerra!''
We agreed that the service was a bit hampered by the good old guerra and that the view was indeed excellent. The clerk expressed polite interest when we informed him that the view had three spanking new holes in it. He glanced at his watch.
"Ah, yes! To be sure! Nine forty-five. It is that way every morning. The enemy warm up their guns with three shells at the Telephone Building every morning. You may return to your rooms now in complete safety. There will be no more local bombardment until tomorrow morning at the same hour — excepting, of course — strays. But they won't be intentional."'
Erben cleared his throat and mentioned something about quieter rooms anyway. They could be had, but they cost three times as much. They were in the cellar and the viewwas very bad. We hastened to assure him that we would readily sacrifice the view of the sorely wounded Telephonica and in a few moments were installed in the crowded but
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