LIGHTS OUT!

Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2736, 3 April 1916, Page 6

LIGHTS OUT!

THE NIGHT OF A ZEPPELIN RAID IN A MUNITION FAClOit* (By Monica Coseus, in the "Daily ' Mail.") Clank! Clank I Clank I The metallic sound of a hammer soming down on steel. Whirr! Whirr! Whirr-rrl Tho sound of six-incli belting whizzing round driving wneels turned by electricity. "Pile up tho munitions!" And the command is being fulfilled. Every worker is straining her utmost. Then on the quiet air of a dark, moonless night conies the shriek of the hooter. Some of the hammers cease to clank. Some of the workers have heard that ominous sound. They stop to listen.' They hear it again. And then—' again. Before it dies away the lights are out and the whirr"of tho machinery fades until it all is quiet. A moment's paitie while everyone is listening unconsciously for the sound of the Zeppelin overhead. Instead come the stentorian tones of the foreman's voice, which ring out through the black and silent factory: "Stand by your machines!" A friend feels in the darkness for the friend who is on the machine next tj her. "Is it Zeppelins?" "They say a fuse has failed." "But I thought I heard the signal." Tlien comes a quiet procession from the far end. of the factory passing down the narrow "streets" littered with shells, barrows, tools, left as they were being used when the lights went out, picking its way by the light of an electric torch which flashes here and there. Tho leader tells each girl as shs passes, in a rather scared ■ little voice: "The foreman says we'ro to go into the canteen." So the quiet precession wends its way out of the factory into the. dimly lighted canteen. No one speaks much, and when one does it is more or loss) in a whisper. "Zeppelins are About." Tho canteen —a long, narrow room with narrow white tables—is lighted with candles l placed in saucers. Candles are permitted here because the windows are closely shuttered. But the great glass, globes in the ceiling are empty, for it is "Lights out!" here as well when .the Zeppelins are about. The girls seat themselves at the tables covered with American oloth or which the candlelight flickers and dances, reflecting on the faces of the girls besmudged with grease and dirt. . "Can you hear the trains running?" "No, I can't." And then from someone: giving consolation:

"Why, they put the lights out when they're fifty miles away I" And the same speaker, just to show her more nervous mate how little she cares about the Zoppelins, takes out a paper and, drawing the candle nearer, Dcncls her'black, oily head over it and reads the 'serial story through from the title iu.its big, black letters—"Man's Darkest Hour"—to tho small italics at the end—"To be continued."

Somebody in a 'corner faints. But thero is no panic. She lis attended to by tho trained nurse who is always in attendance. Perhaps some others are feeling faint, for tho room is hot and there are 300 people in it. A canteen worker brings lomid somo newspaper screwed up in the sliape of fans and hands them to the girls. One or two begin to cry. But in cevry group there is always someone who is stronger than the others.

"Cryin'l 'Ere, don't yer be a cockeyed onion. ■TJiom ole Germans couldn't 'urt yer if they tried!" spoken roughly hut with a great deal of sympathy and f'eoling.

So the tears pass. A canteen worker comes round with a biscuit-tin full of oranges. "Two a penny!" she says. "Doesn't anyone want an orange?" Here and there ono will be bought. But many of the girls, sit with their faces buried in their hands. To most of them oranges seem out of place when Zeppelins are about. • penance in the Air, From o'no table in the centre there rises the chorus cf "Tipperary." It is noisily sung—defiantly, i'erhaps prompted by hysteria—perhaps from sheer bravery of spirit. Gradually it is taken up, and before the last line is reached tho whole room is singing it. Some keop accompaniment with their feet. Some jump up and dance; some are shouting unnecessarily loudly. Tho first fooling of awo has passed and there is an atmosphere of defiance in the air. "They're a d nuisaiice, that's what they are, interferin' with, my bonus!"

Then the whisper of a more plaintive spirit:

"I wish they'd let us go 'ome, I'd much rather be at 'ome with mother than cooped up 'ere."' On top of that the tinkling of a bell and a grey-haired woman —the head of the canteen workers, very small and fragile-looking, but with a power behind her much stronger than herself— announcing:

"Someone will sing a song in which you can join in the chorus."

The song is: When. Irish eyes are smiling. The concert starts, and once it starts it swings. Concert It is a concert! There are ragtime duets, recitations, serious and comic; songs old, songs now. And no one could have told coming into that room—saving the absence of_a piano— that it was anything but an impromptu concert that was being held for the amusement of the "hands." Yet overhead those girls knew -'norther how near nor how far a fleet of Zeppelins was making its way to deal death as indiscriminately as a bridge-player deals a pack of cards.

Once in between the songs comes tho sound of rushing water being poured down upon the roof.

"That's one of our aeroplanes— ccouting." The concert goes but the talent is exhaustible. And just when no one knows where to turn for the next item one of the clerical staff, a Scotch laddie, comes to offer his services. He is greeted uproariously as ho steps on to the chair and sings in. a sweet tenor "Annie Laurie." "Lights Up." The concert has lasted three hours now, and the audience, as well as the performers, are tired. The singing becomes desultory. I The Belgians at their table start "La Brabanconno." It fires the girls for a few minutes. Then it flags. A foeman appears in the doorway. A canteen worker speaks with him. All eyes arc turned suspiciously. There lis an air of alertness. Nobody sings now. The girls whisper among themselves. The mood lias changed. Some I Begin to move. Others stand up. There is a rush towards the foreman. What is ho telling those in authority that he is not telling them? Something is happening. Something they do not know about. Are the Zeppelin's coming nearer? Everyone listens for the sound of the first gun. I Instead—it is "Lights up!' greeted | with applause, laughter, a burst of cheering, n burst o[ singing. It is not the "Marseillaise" or. "La Brabanconno" that is sung now, hut a song that has been held back, treasured for a supreme moment: God save our gracious King, Long live our noble King, rolls out in* one volume. i