At 10:05 pm, the target finder over Dresden in a howling Mosquito bomber dropped a red flare and called out into his headset, “Tally ho!” The first attack had begun.

One Lamp Louie roused the POWs out of their bunks, hurried them across to the yard, and then sent them down the precipitous steps of the storage building toward the lower basement, sixty feet underground. A German corporal and three privates rushed behind, shutting the steel door after them.

There was room for everyone on the floor between the sides of beef hanging in rows from the ceiling on tenterhooks. Vonnegut listened, as “Giants stalked the earth above us. First came the soft murmur of their dancing on the outskirts, then the grumbling of their plodding towards us, and finally the ear-splitting crashes of their heels upon us.” Each convulsive blast overhead shook the rows of beef, making them dance, and white calcimine dust fell from the ceiling.

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In the bowels of the bomber a pretty woman with dark tresses pushed under a tin hat was throwing up.

The crew had never before dropped a woman into enemy-occupied France, so as a token of their admiration, they had given her a spam sandwich, which she was now losing.

The woman was attired in bulky overalls with loaded revolvers tucked in her pockets. A heavy camel-hair overcoat draped over her shoulder. But all was not as it seemed.

Beneath her cumbersome attire she was wearing a chic dress and silk stockings. Stylish heels were on her feet and her slim ankles were skillfully wrapped with bandages to protect a high-heeled fall.

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