When the Zeppelin Came.

Horowhenua Chronicle, 30 November 1915, Page 3

When the Zeppelin Came.

♦ LONDONERS CALM UNDER BOMB FIKE. The following impression of tho Zeppelin raid on tho London district on September 8 was sent to the American papers on September 12 by Mr William G Shepherd, the correspondent or the United Press: Above the din of the orchestra there sweeps over the theatre a cavernous "bass "boom." "Zeppelin!" whispers a pretty girl sitting next to a Scottish officer. "i\o," you hoar him whisper, "it's a door ibanging." He's lying and knows it. "Zeppelin 1" "Zeppelin 1" The whisper runs through the audience. If you knew what' was transpiring m the street you'd be out there instead of waiting for the last act to end. Such.a hve'iie"is bf^g-enacted-out there as i)he old town ,oi London in all : ts rich, thousand-year history never before behold. The curtain goes down. You file out of the theatre into a crowded street. Traffic is at a standstill. A million peoplo of the biggest city in tho world stand gazing into the sky from the darkened streets. Here is the climax to the 20th century. Among the autumn stars floats a long gaunt Zeppelin. It is dull yellow— the colour of the harvest moon. The long fingers of searchlights, reaching up from the roofs ol Hie city are touching all sides of the death messenger with their white tips. Great booming sounds shake the city. They are Zeppelin bombs—falling—killingburning. Lesser noises—of shooting—are nearer at hand, the noise of aerial guns sending shrapnel into the sky. "For God's sake! Don't do that!" says one man to another who has just struck a match to light a cigarette. Whispers, low voices, run all through the streets. "There's a reel light in the sky over there: our house may be burning,'' exclaims a 'woman clutching at a man's coat. "There are a million -houses in London; why our's particularly?" he responds. , ' THE FRENCH WAITERS. A group of men talking French stand gazing up from the street. They are in waiter's clothes and have rushed out from the upper rooms ol one of the most luxurious hotels in the world. "The devils!" exclaimed, one, and then— "We've got it! It can't get away! There's shrapuel all around it!" "Oh—my neck!" says a pretty girl ii evening wraps. "1 can't look up a minute more." But she does. All about you are beautiful garbed women and men in evening clothes. "Oil's" and "All's" long drawn out — exclamations of admiration like the sounds made by American crowds watching fireworks—greet the brilliantly white flashes of siirapnel. Suddenly you realize that tTie biggest oity in the world has become iiie night battlefield in which 7.000,000 harmless men, women, and children live. Here is war at the very heart of civilization. threatening all tlic millions of tthinjgs that human hearts and human minds have created in past centuries. There are more cries. "Good God! It's staggering!" as a shrapnel flash breaks, apparently near •the great airship. But the. Zeppelin moves on steadily. ELEMENTAL PASSIONS. What a roar of joy would go up lrom the millions ot this great city if they couldl suddenly see the yellow object transformed into the Hash of one gigantic gas explosion! Little white-gloved hands clap their approval of the Zeppelin's near approach to death; white 'teeth sparkle in smiles; men roar with delight. These men and women, flowers of the 20th century culture, have become elemental. Dirty, bloody, bat-tle-mad soldiers feel this same way in battle. Killing has been put into the iiearts of these crowds. If the men up there in the sky think they ate terrifying London they are wrong. They are only making England white-hot luad. We are all brothers and sistere in the streets of London to-night—neither man nor woman, neither good nor bad —just liuman, outraged, mad, unwilling to die. This is a miracle tlie great gas bag in the air brings about. They typify London and; England— unchanged one iota by t'liis Zeppelin raid that only ended in the loss o'f 20 harmless lives. The next diay recruiting tripled.