He whirled the nose of his plane into the east. A little later he caught sight of what he knew must be his destination. Below him lay a little city whose outskirts were lapped by the sullen yellow waters. Up in the heights a whole new city section had been developed with its streets lined by rows of little army tents. Some seaplanes lay at rest in a sheltered bay of flood water. Out on a stretch of meadow army planes were roped to stakes, tails to the wind.