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5.
Now the great world war, screaming
shells, thundering tanks, submarine
bombs, poison gas. Then the (?)
and Peace! Now, I can sleep, at last
I can sleep. But out of the
dim moonlight reached a bony arm.
Its claw like talons clutched
my throat. A high voice croaked
"History is bunk, bunk, bunk, bunk
bunk!
Came the down and the (nearing?)
searchlight flooding my room. Gone
were the horrors of that endless
night. The grisly ghost of Norris
Fussell's nurse and the fearsome
spectre from Detroit were but
misty memories. Courage returned
and comfortably seated at breakfast
with a cup of fragrant coffee before
me I assumed the air of a (ferverolent?)
autocrat and remarked to my
long suffering wife, "My dear, Henry
Ford was dead wrong. History is
not bunk. History is the story of
life from the beginning of time. Its
laws are (inexcusable?). It makes
immortal those whose deeds good
or bad, make an imprint upon the
sands of time. It is the recorded