A thin ray of yellow light pierced the racing clouds and touched the tips of the sturdy planes high above. It shifted with the swiftly-flying battlecar—throwing a blotch on the armored fuselage that defied the bursting shrapnel. For an instant it illuminated the black cross: then stole out to the tip of the planes again. "Eighty-six, G4. nineteen, called the officer peering into the instrument beside the big reflector. 'Eighty-six, G4. nineteen," ... [ILLUSTRATED]
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The World's News (Sydney, NSW : 1901 - 1955), Sat 9 Feb 1918, Page 1
It's easy and takes two shakes of a lamb's tail!
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