Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

He united— and automatically I smiled back, and was rewarded by seeing him Hush with pleasure. HAD just finished serving coffee and cookies to a tableful of soldiers when I glanced up — it was as if something had pulled my gaze in that direction, really — and saw him. He was standing a few feet away, quite oblivious of all the laughter and music that swirled around in that crowded room. His uniform was clean and pressed, his face shone with sun and health and scrubbing with army soap, and in his hands he held his overseas cap and a neatly wrapped parcel. He was watching me. As our eyes met he smiled — timidly, and so briefly that almost at once he was solemn again. Automatically, SEPTEMBER, 1942 I smiled back — and was rewarded by seeing his clear, ruddy skin flush even brighter with pleasure, like a child's when you hand it a sweet. With two longlegged steps, he'd crossed the space between us. "I was afraid — maybe — you mightn't remember me — Miss Neale." He brought the words out in little rushes and pauses, as if he didn't have quite enough breath. "Of course I remember you," I said. "You're Private George Blakely, from Camp Upton, and you were here a couple of weeks ago. We danced together, and talked." "You do remember!" he said delightedly. "I couldn't forget anyone as nice as you." I'd intended to sound light, bantering — (Continued on page 74 13