Screenland (May 1943-Oct 1944)

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Get Dean's Pills. 74 Five Craves to Cairo" Continued from page 70 And I want him to live even if it costs a piece of mosquito netting." He ran after her as she dashed into the hall. They had been too tense to notice the commotion. Soldiers were searching every room. Farid was standing on the top landing looking down at Mouche running down the stairs, then stopping suddenly as Rommel gestured to her imperiously. "They are looking for Schwegler," Farid whispered as Bramble limped past. Bramble looked down at Rommel impatiently pacing up and down, his eyes narrowing as they rested on .the frantic girl. "So you approached a certain lieutenant about your brother, did you?" he shouted. "I have just found out that he showed you some telegrams supposedly coming from Berlin. They were never received. He tricked you. They were forgeries." He stopped as a soldier came dashing down the stairs, his mouth tightening as he listened to the man's frantic words. "So you killed him !" Rommel turned to the girl again. "Self-defense, of course. Improper advances. Outraged virtue." As Bramble waited tensely a German Corporal touched him on the arm and told him his motorcycle was waiting. Tensely he limped down the stairs, his eyes on the silent girl. "Speak up !" Rommel shouted. "Why did you do it?" Suddenly he struck her across the mouth and she flung her head up defiantly. "Because I thought I could make a bargain with him. Because he lied to me. Because he was dirt — one of you!" The gloved hand went out again. It was more than Bramble could stand. Forgetting everything he advanced toward Rommel. "If I may be permitted, Your Excellency," he began. But the girl's wild laugh interrupted him. "Oh, your spy wants to speak!" She spat out the words as she turned viciously to Bramble. "I will say what there is to say. I know you've worked for them all these years. Get out of here, Davos ! Get out !" She was reminding him of that piece of mosquito netting, telling him she understood at last, that she understood about Dunkirk too and that it wasn't the individual who must be considered but the good of the whole world. She had to stare at him as if she hated him, now when she loved him most. And there was nothing he could do but go out with the corporal and sit there in the side car as the motorcycle sped away. The wind blew dust into his eyes and he felt the tears smarting his eyelids. History was in the making that day of the disastrous summer of 1942. Bramble, the unimportant clerk from a London store, was having a hand in the making of it. For it was after he reached headquarters, after the supply depots were discovered and destroyed, that a new victorious British Eighth Army attacked and won back the ground it had lost. There was a second lieutenant's bar on Bramble's shoulder that day the British tanks rolled back into Sidi Barrani. And in his hand was the parasol, the dainty white parasol with the ruffles on it that Mouche had wanted so much. He had bought it for her in the shop in Cairo. Hoping desperately against hope he called her name as he went into the hotel. But it was Farid who answered. "They beat her and beat her," the Egyptian said dully. "She didn't feel it. I could see in her eyes that she was listening to your motorcycle going away. She wasn't afraid after that. In the morning they led her out. One bullet would have been enough." "What did I expect?" Bramble forced the words through a hard sob in his throat. "It's just that you keep feeding your brain on foolish thoughts. Where is she?" "Out there." Farid gestured toward the crosses in the small cemetery out on the sands. "I put her with the other soldiers." Bramble knelt beside the grave. "Hello, Mouche," he said softly. "Perhaps I should bend so you can hear me better. I brought you that parasol." His smile twisted as he opened it and stuck it in the sand at the head of the grave. It seemed as much in keeping as the helmets over the other crosses. "Don't worry, Mouche. We are after them now. When you feel the sands shake, that's us, our tanks and our guns and our lorries, thousands and thousands of them, British and French and American. We are after them now, coming from all sides. We are going to shoot Coventry back at them, and Rotterdam and Warsaw. We are going to pound and pound until the whole earth shakes like a great bell, until it rings with a new song, a better song, pray God." His smile came then. Tears weren't for the brave, for Mouche. And as he left he didn't even turn back to see the small parasol fluttering there. It would still be there when he came back. Somehow he knew that. It would stand staunch through the battles and after that through Victory. After Bizerte was taken, after Tunis, after all of Africa was free, it would be there until he returned. 5 Year Plan for Fame Continued from page 22 ever they called themselves, she was a curbstone Cornell (Katharine), appeared in a dozen plays, and was so harassed by would-be discoverers that her mother had the telephone disconnected in order that her offspring might do her geometry home work without interruption. Alas ! The truth of the matter is that our Cheryl got practically nowhere with high school drama. The way things were at Pasadena High a girl had to be well up in her studies before being eligible for dramatics. Cheryl wasn't. She enrolled at Pasadena Junior College with bright hopes. She did a play or two (one of them with a sensitive lad by the name of William Beedle) and was picking SCREENLAND up momentum when Destiny, unannounced, tapped her on the shoulder via a nomination as Queen of the Tournament of Roses. It was quite an honor, this business of being picked Queen of the Tournament of Roses. And a lot of fun, too. The Queen got to ride in a float, dressed in white organdy and flanked by ladies-in-waiting (who probably wished she were dead and one of them up there in her place) at the head of the most important annual parade of the country. Naturally, a hundred photographers exploded flash bulbs commemorating the event on film and every paper in Southern California carried pictures on page one the morning after.