[CHARTER] handvest nl.kunst.strips [wekelijks bericht] wk12

turned back to the chessboard and picked up the white knight
again. Almost in the same instant it dropped on to the board with a
clatter. He had started as though a pin had run into him.
A shrill trumpet-call had pierced the air. It was the bulletin!
Victory! It always meant victory when a trumpet-call preceded the news. A
sort of electric drill ran through the cafe. Even the waiters had started
and pricked up their ears.
The trumpet-call had let loose an enormous volume of noise. Already an
excited voice was gabbling from the telescreen, but even as it started it
was almost drowned by a roar of cheering from outside. The news had run
round the streets like magic. He could hear just enough of what was issuing
from the telescreen to realize that it had all happened, as he had
foreseen; a vast seaborne armada had secretly assembled a sudden blow in
the enemy's rear, the white arrow tearing across the tail of the black.
Fragments of triumphant phrases pushed themselves through the din: 'Vast
strategic manoeuvre -- perfect co-ordination -- utter rout -- half a
million prisoners -- complete demoralization -- control of the whole of
Africa -- bring the war within measurable distance of its end victory --