[The Hosts of the Air by Joseph A. Altsheler]@TWC D-Link book
The Hosts of the Air

CHAPTER I
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I suppose they're nightingales, but do nightingales sing in the daytime?
And when I shut my book I see only walls of raw, red earth, and a floor, likewise of earth, but stickier and more hideous.

Even the narrow strip of sky above our heads is the color of lead, and has nothing soft about it." "If you'll stand up straight," said John, "maybe you'll see the rural landscape for which you're evidently longing." "And catch a German bullet between the eyes! Not for me.

While I was taking a trip down to the end of our line this morning I raised my head by chance above the edge of the trench, and quick as a wink a sharpshooter cut off one of my precious brown locks.

I could have my hair trimmed that way if I were patient and careful enough.

Ah, here comes a messenger!" They heard a roar that turned to a shriek, and caught a fleeting glimpse of a black shadow passing over their heads.


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