11' '■■■■ - ■ '

Use Rich Corde inMaking That Bag

■'■■■&•■:CO YOU want a Corde bag! Too*-* expensive to buy? Then cro-chet either of the beauties pic-tured—inexpensive and easy to do.

* * •

Rich Cerde bags crocheted in squares ortriangles. Pattern 936 contains direction*tor purses; stitches; list of materials.

Due te an unusually large demand andcurrent war conditions, slightly more timeis required in filling orders for a few ofthe most popular pattern numbers.

Send your order to:

Sewing Circle Needlecraft Sept.

82 Eighth Ave. New YorkEnclose 16 cents for Pattern

No .

Name.Address

Acid IndigestionRelieved in S minutes or double moneyback

Whenexcess stomach add causes painful, suffocat-ing:gas, sour stomach and heartburn, doctors usuallyprescribe the fastest-acting medicines known forsymptomatic relief—medicines like thosein Bell-anaAblets. No laxative. Bell-ana brings comfort in aJiffy or double yourmoney back on return of bottleto m. 26c at ail druggists.

DON’T FOOLWITH COLD MISERIES

HERE’S FAST RELIEFRELIEF ONE-Ease Headache.RELIEF TWO-Reducefever.RELIEF THREE-Lessen body aches.RELIEF FOUR-Ease stuffy nose.RELIEF FIVE-Reduce muscle aches.Grove's Cold Tablets getright down In-side to work Internally on all those coldmiseries for prompt relief. A combina-tion ofeight active Ingredients.Take ex-actly asdirected. Large sizesaves money.

GROVE’S<ggff§\COLD

TABLETSMOTHER GRAY’S &&

SWEET POWDERS C 9Has merited the confidence of w/mothers for more than 45 years. Good forchildren who suffer occasional constipation—and for all the family when a pleasingly-acting laxative is needed. Package of 16easy-te-take powders, 35c. Be sure to askfoi Mother Gray’$Sweet Powders. At all drug•tores. Caution: use only as directed.

Try Great Tonic Maiy Doctors AdviseSee how good-tasting Scott’s Emulsionhelps tone up your system; helps buildop stamina and resistance against colds—-if there is a dietary deficiency of A ft DVitamins. It’s easy I Simply take Scott’sdotty throughout the year. It’s great! Buy

Female Weakness(Also IhM Stomachic Took)

Lydia Plnkham’a Vegetable Cam-pound 1* famous to relieve periodicpain and accompanying nervous,wank, tired-out feelings—when duetofunctional monthly disturbances.

Taken regularly—Plntham's com-pound helps build up resistanceagainst such annoying symptoms

Plnkham’s Compound Is mad*especially for women—lt helps na-ture and that's the kind ofmedicineto buy) Follow label directions.

LYDIA E. PINKHAM’S cmfSam11 f

SAVE TOUR SCRAP ITO HOP GAIN

IWICTORYOU METAL, RAGS,

V* RUBBER asd PAPER

FOREWORDThe author. Col. Robert L. Scott Jr.

served under my command from July l,1942, to January 9, 1943, as commander ofmy fighter force. The only criticism of hisactions as group commander was that heconsistently scheduled himself as a piloton all possible missions. He led all typesof combat missions but specialized in themost dangerous, such as long-range flightsto strafe from minimum altitude Jap air-dromes, motor vehicles, and shipping deepin enemy territory. It was often necessaryfor me to forbid his participation in com-bat missions in order to enable him to dis-charge the many other duties of a groupcommander.

His story is a record of persistence, de-termination, and courage from early boy-hood. Having determined early in life thathe had to fly, he overcame all obstacles inttte way to the attainment of his ambition.This story alone should be an inspirationto every American boy. Having become amilitary pilot, his determined struggle tomeet the enemy and his glorious recordfirst, as a “One Man Air Force,” and later,as commande. of the American Fighters inChina, shouldbe an inspiration to allAmer-icans of all ages.

Colonel Scon’s group of fighters alwaysoperated against greatly superior numbersof the enemy. Often the odds were five toone against them. Their planes and equip-ment were usually battered by hard usageand supplies were extremely limited. BothScott and his handful of pilots had one re-source in unlimited quantities —courage.They also possessed initiative and a never-failing desire to destroy the enemy. Theywore themselves out doing the work of tentimes their number. They demonstratedtime and again that American pilots andplanes are superior to the Japs. The re-sults which they achieved prove Indisput-ably that the enemy can be destroyed ordriven from China if adequate equipmentand supplies are made available. The of-fensive spirit displayed by Scott and hisearly pilots lives on in the men who re-placed them. They impatiently await theweapons needed to drive on into the heartof Japan and to final victory.

C. L. CHENNAULT.Major General, A. XJ. S.,

Commanding, 14th Air Force.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

My decision for the title of thisbook was probably made back therein Kunming one afternoon as thedoctor dug those five rivet headsfrom my back. They had been driv-en in when a Jap explosive bullethit the armor plate behind my seat.To keep my mind off the pain thebig Cantonese intern of Doctor Man-get’s kept talking to me. He seemedto find it hard to believe that I flewthe little fighter alone that Idropped the bombs—fired the sixmachine guns changed the fueltanks navigated and landed thefighter. Finally, with disbelief inhis eyes, he looked at me and said,“Colonel, you are up there all alone—even talk over the radio when youshoot the guns?” As I waited forhim to go on with another question,I heard the old doctor say, “No,son—you’re not up there alone—notwith all the things you comethrough. You have the greatest co-pilot in the world even if there isjust room for one in that fightership—no, you’re not alone.”

I believe when this war is overthat we will be closer to God thanat any time in the past. I believethis because I have seen instancesof real faith on all fronts. Take forinstance: Just the other day a songcame out, “Coming in on a Wingand a Prayer.” That could havebeen conceived as a title or as thetheme of the song only by some realevent. A ship landed with an en-gine shot away—the fuselage guttedby fire and the plane riddled withbullets. One of the war correspond-ents hurried out to the wounded pi-lot and asked, “How in the world didyou bring this ship in . .

.?” Thepilot shook his head, smiled and re-plied, “I don’t know—ask the Manupstairs.”

We who fly are going to get toknow that Great Flying Boss in thesky better and better. My personalambition is that He permit me togo again into combat against theJap or the Hun; that He help mejust a little to shoot down a hun-dred Jap ships—even a thousand.Then I hope He lets me come backto tell another story. I’m going toname that one—the sequel to thisone—GOD IS STILL MY CO-PILOT.

R. L. S.

CHAPTER I

Even the angels in heaven musthave shrugged their wings after thefew seconds of my first flight. Forback home in Macon, Georgia, in1920, I must have been, even at agetwelve, the “vandal” type. There Iclimbed the steeple of the BaptistChurch, and from the belfry tooktwelve whitish pigeons, carried themto a tent-meeting of Holy Rollers,and at the tense moment of fanaticprayer released them. I can re-member nearly splitting my sideslaughing at what happened—thedarkies were rolling on the sawdustfloor. They were rolling their eyesand yelling, “Gideon, Gideon—hal-leluiah—glory, glory!” I suppose thepigeons really did look like dovesof peace.

But I had reckoned without theold preacher, who had me arrestedfor disturbing the noisy peace. WhenI got out of jail, more embarrassedthan anything else, I swore ven-geance on the Holy Rollers and theold preacher. Early one morningwhile delivering papers I took a ra-zor blade and cut off fifty feet ofcanvas from the side wall of theconverted circus tent—took it awayand hid it in the woods.

I had no use for the purloinedcanvas, and to excuse myself froma nagging conscience I tried to for-get it. But every morning I sawthe jagged hole that I had madefor vengeance. Later on I decidedto build a glider, and for wing-covering the canvas was ideal.Then, with the cloth stretched overthe ribs of the airfoils and varnishedfor tightening, even with Americaninsignia painted on the fuselage, Ifound myself ready to fly. Two ofmy friends helped me pull it tothe roof of a high colonial home inMacon, and with them steadyingthe wings I ran down the slopingroof and flew out into space. Nowin those days I knew nothing of“main-spars,” “center sections,” or“wing-loading.” With a crack likethe closing of the jail door, the wingbuckled in the center and I crashedsixty-seven feet to the ground. TheCherokee rose bush—that sacredState flower of Georgia into which Ifell—probably saved my life, butthe thorns stayed with me for along time.

After my father had pulled mefrom the wreckage—more scaredthan hurt—l was ordered to tearthe glider apart. I did, but savedthe ill-fated canvas for other plans.Later on it was used to cover thebarrel-stave ribs of a home-madecanoe which was intended to trans-port me down the Ocmulgee Riverto the sea, some twelve hundredmiles away as the winding riverran. I had made about six hun-dred miles of the trip when the sail-ing canoe caught on a snag andthe current rolled us to the muddybottom, tangled in the rope riggingof the sail. In the seconds that fol-lowed I nearly drowned—l saw mywhole misspent life parade beforemy eyes. Finally the rope brokeand I swam ashore; but I had al-ready decided to leave the sacredcanvas, seasoning forever, at thebottom of the Ocmulgee River.

Once again my mind turned to fly-ing. I confined my aircraft con-struction to scale models, and final-ly made a flying one which won thefirst Boy Scout Aviation merit badgein that part of the country. I re-member when General Mitchell(Billy Mitchell) led a flight of fast-looking MB-3’s through the hometown. I crawled into one of thebaggage compartments in hopes thatI would be flown on to Florida inthis dawn-to-dusk flight. But themechanics found me, and I missedmaking the pursuit ship any tail-heavier than it normally was.

It was far back, when I was fouror five, that I had seen my first air-plane. A pilot by the name of Elyspun in and was killed, and myhorrified mother dragged me fromthe scene. It most certainly shouldhave been an ill omen for my fly-ing future. However, I know that itwhetted my appetite to fly. I likedanything that flew and freed onefrom the earth, but most of all Iprayed that destiny would make mea pilot of the fast, little single-seat-ers—a fighter pilot.

In 1921 I read of an auction saleof war-time Jennys in Americus,Georgia. Gathering the largest for-tune that I could collect, I drovemy cut-down Model-T racing Ford tobuy myself a real plane. As the auc-tioneer’s hammer hit the block forthe first time that morning I openedwith my maximum bid—Seventy-five dollars! The auctioneer did lookmy way, but the look was merely afrown. Far in the back of thehangar a heavy voice called, “Sixhundred dollars.” And to this fatman the Jennys went, one by one.I must have bid over a hundredtimes before the morning had gone—the sale had stopped for lunchand had been resumed.

That afternoon I kept bidding, andas I said “Seventy-five dollars” forabout my hundredth time, I heardheavy breathing over my rightshoulder. I turned to look at theman who had been overbidding me,and the deep voice said, "Now lis-ten, son, I’m going to let you havethis one for your seventy-five dol-lars. Get it and get the hell out ofhere, because I’m buying all therest for an airline.” Anyway I hada real plane, all crated up. I hauledit home on a truck, hid it in an-other boy’s garage so my parentscouldn’t find out about it, and be-gan trying to assemble the parts.

For days and weeks I worked,but couldn’t get the knack of it. Fi-nally I received a letter from astreet-car conductor who said hehad been a pilot in the war. He of-fered to help me put the Jenny to-gether, and teach me to fly andnavigate, if I would give him use ofthe plane for “barnstorming” overthe State on week-ends.

Hflfw v CO-PILOT ®7 mCol. Robert L.Scott wnu-release lifiai I

The partnership began. He taughtme some fundamentals, like taxyingfaster and faster until the ship wasalmost ready to take off. I went toChandler Field in Atlanta and tookseveral lessons with the instructorsthere in Eagles and Jennys, untilone day I trusted myself to takeoff from the racetrack of my home-town fairgrounds. I still don’t seehow I got by with the flight, be-cause I knew nothing about co-ordination of controls or the tech-nique of flying—though no oneseemed to know much about them inthose days. But the ship was apretty safe old crate, the wing skidssaved me from digging a wingtip inon the forthcoming ground-loops,and I got away with murder.

All of this ended very suddenly.The street-car conductor instructorof mine came back to land onenight and hooked the Jenny’s rightwing on the guy-wire of a smoke-stack. That was the last of him andthe last of my Jenny, because theyboth burned.

As the years went on I moved upin the Boy Scouts until at seventeen,in 1925, I was one of the highest inthe country, and had more meritbadges than any other Scout in theSouth. With all of them, however,my schooling had suffered, for tome flying and athletics came beforebooks and such. I sometimes thinkthe only way I ever completed highschool was for my patient motherand father to promise to let mework my way to Europe on freight-ers in the summer only when Icould pass studies like Spanish andEnglish. I don’t think, though, thatmy parents knew I had resolved togo to West Point. For after talkingto men in the Air Corps I had dis-covered that if a boy went to theTraining center at Brooks Field,near San Antonio, as a Flying Ca-det, his future was rather indefinite.The Government would train you tofly, give you the best course in theworld. Then they would order youto active duty as a Reserve Officerfor about a year. After that, dueto economy programs, it might allbe over.

Wanting to fly for the rest of mylife, I had charted my course. Iresolved to go to the Military Acad-emy and become a regular armyofficer first; then to be ordered tothe Air Corps Training Center as astudent officer. After completing theflying course, I would have a life-time in front of me as a pilot in theRegular Army.

The greatest fight I had was toget into the Military Academy, forappointments were scarce in theSouth. I wrote all the Senators andCongressmen in Georgia, but foundthey had promised their quotas longbefore. All such refusals merelymade me more determined to winthe opportunity. I wrote not onlymy own State political leaders butthose of other States. Finally, theCongressman of my Georgia dis-trict—at the earnest plea of home-town friends who knew of my BoyScout record—gave me second alter-nate. This proved of little value;the principal won out by merelypresenting his high-school creditsand passing the physical examina-tion. The next year I was givena first alternate from a Senator butagain the principal won.

Hope of entering the Academyseemed to wane, for I was approach-ing maximum age limit for appli-cants. The same year I tried acompetitive examination with theNational Guard, but failed the alge-bra subject. This failure at leastproved to me that though my studiesin high school may have beenpassed, I had learned very little.My stock in myself was at a lowebb, there in 1926, when the high-school principal did me the greatestfavor in the world by his remark:“Well, you really didn’t expect togo to West Point, did you?” Andthe smile that accompanied the slurmade me swear that by all that washigh and holy I would get there.

The things that followed werechronologically peculiar for any boy.I’ll bet I’m one of the few in thisworld who was graduated from highschool, attended two colleges, andthen returned to high school to real-ly get the foundation I had missed.I know I had at last learned thatwhat one of the old professors saidwas right: “Not for school, but forlife, we learn.”

Returning to my old high school,I chose my own courses and sub-jected myself to several periods ofmathematics, history, and Englishevery day. The professors, who re-membered me as seldom opening abook, glanced at one another asthough they thought they had a psy-chopathic case on their hands. ButI acquired some of the knowledge Ihad missed, and the next summer—June, 1927—1 went to Fort McPher-son and enlisted in the RegularArmy as a private. There I be-came Private Scott, Serial Number6355544, in Company “F” of the22nd Infantry. Three months later,after a preliminary examination, Ibegan training in the Fourth CorpsArea—West Point Prep School.

wm flDvmnißm

Unit Shelves Are Easy to Builc^May Be Divided or Multiplied

By Ruth Wyeth Spears

SIMPLE CUTS AND EASY CONSTRUCTIONMADE RIGID WITH NAILS AND MODERN GLUEl U. ■■—■■l-' ■ I

* —■——■' eff—

■ ■"

\X7HETHER you have a houseof your own or whether you

move often, unit book shelves arethe answer to many a problem.They may be scaled to fit almostany space; you may add to themas needed and they may be shift-ed from one place to another ac-cording to your mood. They may (start in the living room and endin the children’s room or in thekitchen. The units may be divid-ed, multiplied or used in variouscombinations.

You need no special skill tomake the three units shown.

J0STeebbEh.Retired for Sure

Rastus—How come yo’ all ain’tworkin’ again, Sambo?

Sambo—Ah’s retiah’d, Rastus.Rastus—Retiah’d? Why yo’ aint

got no money!Sambo—Dat am right, Rastus,

but Ah was tiah’d befoah, and nowAh’s tiah’d again, so Ah’s retiah’d.

No BarrierJoan—1 hear your neighbor was acci-

dentally shot in the head while hunt-ing. Is his condition serious?

Jasper—No, I guess not. The bulletjust went in one ear and out the other.

Out of Sight-Two men got on a bus and sat

down. Later the bus becamecrowded and one of the men closedhis eyes. "Hey! What’s the mat-ter?” asked his friend, “are yousick?” “No,” said the first, “but Ican’t bear to see ladies stand.”

A girl’s idea of a stepping stoneto success is generally a diamond.

hat’s LuckSpoofy—l fell over 40 feet today

without getting hurt.Goofy—Did you land on a

feather bed?Spoofy—No, I just stumbled

through a crowded street car.

These well proportioned shelveswere designed especially for ama-teur homecfafjers to make. withthe simplest tools. A compass sawfrom the (}ve: will cutthe curvetfshetyWof the end units.Because the snejyes were de-signed by a homepiaker, a simple'method of constructing them withno open at the bottomwas worked out and specialthought was given to the widthand depth of sjhgjves so that theywould have themaximum useful-ness and still be made of stocksizes of lumber.

• • •

NOTEi Pattern 270 gives a full size pat-tern for the cuiyedtshelves of these bookcases and large diagrams with dimensionsef all the straight pleies. Abo a com-plete ljst 0f materials' requited and Illus-trated directions for each step In the con-struction ofthe units. To get this patternEnclose 19 cents with name and addressand send direcf to: i

Mas. RUTH WYETH SPEARSBedford HUls New York

1 Drawer 10

Send IS cents for Pattern No. 270.

Name

Address

Mimeo & Multigraphing14 yrs„ of fine work and fair

prices. Free samples and prices.B. ALLSJVIITH, 1500 W. NedroAve., Philadelphia 41, Pa.—Adv,

How To RelieveBronchitis

CreonpiMon relieves promptly be-cause It goes right to the seat of thetrouble to help loosen and expelgerm laden phlegm, and aid natureto soothe and heal raw, tender, in-flamed bronchial mucous mem-branes. Telrgotir druggist to sell youa bottleof Creomulslon with the un-derstanding you must like the way Itquickly allays the cough or you areto have your money back.

CREOMULSIONfor Coughs, ChestColds, Bronchitis^

KNOW YOBB FOODS .by Mary Bellumimmi i m———■ ■ —— i

Doctors say many people who eat| BIG MEALS ARE STILL UNDERNOURISHED

JH if ...WISE MOTHERS FREELY USE NUMAID.I ML THE MODERN‘TABLE-GRADE* MARGARINE

jUg■ 1 THAT HAS 3,300 CALORIES PER LB. AND1 IS RICH IN "PEP-UP* VITAMIN *A?

Children love nu-maid (CAhl sp*£Aa jON BREAD AND AFTER- °.N -f JT^sfuiLSCHOOL SNACKS BECAUSE OF V sVwITS SWEET, CHURNED-FRESH ‘ yA \JV ' MFLAVOR. AND THIS 'TABLE-GRADE* ♦ T jTtH \ WMARGARINE IS SO ECONOMICAL, C/J .i\llllJH V 1THEY CAN USE IT LIBERALLY. VQ

Because of rrs delicious flavor,-■ MU-MAID is also used BY GOOD

COOKS WHEN THEY WANT EXTR^j!\\^N EU4E cakes and pies.

‘Table-grade" nu-maid is a high-energy food (mooCALORIES PER LB.),ENRICHED WITH 9,000 USP UNITS

_

OF THE "PEP-UP* VITAMIN "A*.

*tfoUAt fO* fit**\%&§f MBJI'MADPPK muahu MARGARINE CO., CINCINNATI

MIDLAND JOURNAL. RISING SUN, MD.