the spread of disease and famine in their own ravaged territories. Of course the Communists retaliated, or perhaps it was in part the result of our own interference with nature. That fall, early frost hit the West Coast and blizzards screamed down from the Arctic over the plains. Our grain crops were ruined and much of our late fruit and vegetables. And now the "Folly of the Fifties", as one presidential candidate had called the price support programs, paid an unexpected dividend. From every cave and warehouse, from dumps and silos and refrigerator rooms, the stores of grain and potatoes, butter and meat, poured out by truck and train. Convoys of food ships had already left for the NATO countries. The terrible death toll of the measlepox made available sufficient food for the rice eaters of the Indian subcontinent from their existing supplies, since the weather war had had little effect in those regions. Africa, its own population decimated by the same measlepox disease, was left to its rich resources. The Reds were not yet beaten. Desperate for food, they gambled boldly. The Soviet premier himself appealed to the United States and Canada for aid, in a shrewd psychological move. He knew we did not want to announce to the world that we were at war. It was doubtful if even our own people would believe it. World opinion would be likely to turn against us and uninformed or unbelieving governments, side with the Communists to isolate us. We had to help them, at least in appearance. In spite of tremendous losses the Soviets still outnumbered us and, if pushed too far, might start the long-awaited march into the vacuum left by the dying populations of Asia and the evacuation of our bases, daring us to start an all-out war. The counterstroke was a masterpiece. Supplies of flour and other prepared foods were rushed, in great fleets of ships, to the European ports of the Russian Empire. Every pound of flour, every ton of meat, every cask of butter had been treated with the new tasteless and odorless contraceptive compound which our scientists had recently discovered. We never knew if the Russians found out why their women were not getting pregnant ... the rate of conception drops off in starvation in any case. It did not matter. They had two choices, to eat or to die. * * * * * In June, six weeks after he had left Sea Island, we heard again from Harry. Of course Polly had had letters, but purely personal ones as Harry had been much too busy to do more than write, "I love you, wish you were here" notes. Now, finally, he gave us some news. Polly came bursting into the coffee room one morning waving a sheaf of electron pictures in one hand and a bundle of closely written pages in the other. "I got a big letter from Harry this morning," she said to the three of us around the table. "Would y'all like to hear the news?"