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liquid fire, sometimes cooling itself in a pool of white clouds. But the men below never thought of refreshment. Like creatures possessed, they darted about, hunting down their prey. Only the piercing sirens of the Red Cross ambulances served as reminder that there were human beings in the streets, the tormentors as well as the tormented, the slayers as well as the slain.

In the concentration camp at Drancy a few hundred remaining deportees killed their captors and liberated themselves.

That ambiguous word "Freedom" reached down even through the grated windows of the criminals' prison walls. Like some unleashed sea, Paris strained against its bonds, smashing its way towards freedom.

Day passed and night came-but there was no sign of weariness, no letup in the surge of the throngs. The work of clearing the city from the oppressors went on relentlessly with the irresistible sweep of the furies hounding their prey to death.

Only when the American tanks showed themselves on the highways did the liberators slacken. Like burned-out logs they lay on their piles of ashes.

• * *

The mighty armored tanks of American troops streamed through the gates of Versailles. They distributed chocolate, chewing gum, and cigarettes among the people. A new element appeared on the streets of Paris: from behind the heavily-curtained windows of lavish apartments, their pale faces daubed with rouge, women came out, hurrying to greet the liberators; while young girls seized the outstretched hands of the American soldiers, climbed onto jeeps and