Bessie’s father was a milkman, and her mom was a homemaker, but Aunt Jenny was a beader.
Glad cam the dawn in rosy robe, Whilk day our Saviour rase, An' flang her scancing dewy veil Out ower the hills and braes.
How vain is Virtue which directs our ways Through certain danger to uncertain praiſe!
The attack also afforded Helena to a front-seat view of literal air-to-air melee combat, as one Wildcat pilot of the Cactus Air Force, who was swooping in to help break up the attack, found himself out of machine-gun ammo; instead, he dropped his landing gear, positioned himself above the nearest bomber, and begun beating it to death, in midair, using his landing gear as clubs. After a bit of evasive action that the fighter easily kept up with, the repeated slamming broke something important, and the bomber spiralled down into the sea.
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