A City Falls

For weeks the enemy inched closer to Loyang. But every day from the city's radio station a calm Chinese voice spoke of the firm will to resist. Men built barricades, fought behind them as the Japs drove into the 2,700-year-old city.

One day last week the voice was not heard. Then from Tokyo came the jubilant claim: 2,000 Chinese soldiers had been killed, 4,000 captured in Loyang.

This was a sharp sentimental blow to China. But militarily it meant little--whatever the Japanese claims. (Said Tokyo: Loyang's fall had "dealt a mortal blow against the U.S. air units . . . vainly seeking air bases within flying radius of the Japanese mainland.")

Far graver rumblings of danger came this week from central China: four strong Japanese columns had plunged southward, towards the thrice-captured, thrice-abandoned ruins of Changsha. Tokyo's aim was the last missing links in the great rail line from Korea to the South China Seas.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.