INVISIBLE PAINT.

Hokitika Guardian, 13 July 1917, Page 4

INVISIBLE PAINT.

A DREAM WAR INVENTION. (By Twells Brex in Daily Mail). “The Tanks. Good Heavens'!” said the sergeant slowly. “The tanks staggered us when they ap-' penred—bnt Invisible Paint ! ” lie opened and knotted again his big hands in mute expression of the futility of words. / “You were in the Paint Push ? ” asked the strange?! “Aye, from the beginning. 1 was one of the first men they tried it on down at base. The major comes into quarters quq night; flushed-like and excited. ‘ Sergeamt,’ lie says, ‘ you’ve heard all those rumours of the wonderful new war invention ? ’ ‘Yes, sir,’l says, ironic like; ‘new sorb of tanks what can fly ip air, burrow underground, and do fifty miles an hour.’ “ ‘ Stop talking,’ says the major. ‘ Collect half a dozen men, who can keep their months shut (that was one for me, of course), and bring them round to the laboratory at three o’clock! ’ “ So I rounds up ten men, gets theni in a bunch, and tells them, ‘ First man what opens his jaw about thi§ hero day’s proceedings gets shot at dawn. And each man step out in tnrn and swear his solemn oath--on secrecy.’ ‘‘Each man steps out. and swears different, according to his education, but plj horrible and blood-curdling . Enow what a base-camp laboratory is like ? ” asked the sergeant. “ No,” ’ replied the stranger. “ Well, just like one of them college class-rooms,” said the 'sergeant. “ No signs of war. Pale young chaps in spectacles and overalls. Quiet and solemn as the best parlour on a week day Well, when we gets there, the major

was /in the. background. Ancl a whole'company 6f big-wigs and brass hats was And even they" stood modest in the background, all looking at a little man with bottle shoulders, long hair, thin face, and a frock-coat and silk hat.” The sergeant gave a gesture of amazement. “Frock-coat and silk hat —think of it. * * __ 4* * ? “Little chap seems in no way humble. Talks abstracted-like to tlie ceiling. Rubs his glasses, sticks them ou, stirs some sort of mess in a paint pot with the brush, aud says dreamily, ‘ I think I may safely say ——yes, safely —that we have come to fruition of the experiment in invisible paint. There have been disappointments —difficulties - and - er—accidents. The first man we painted used his invisibility to gratify private ends and-er—did not reappear. The paint fades in—er--patches. He is, I imagine, in for trouble, wherever lie is, when that happens. To-night I understand we are experimenting with relink men, and we hope for better results.’ The little man said ‘ we,’ but there was only one of him —'.unless othei professors what had made themselves invisible wps in the pool.

“ ‘ Will tliei ten men stop out ? soys the professor. ‘ Get a move on you,’ I ordered, and they files out, in a row, standing between the professor and the big-wigs, the sunlight from the windows blinking in their eyes. “ Without saying no more the professor steps up with his paint box and begins to splash his paint on Private Mnstian as if-he vas washing a statue.” The sergeant paused for suitable words. “ Ever had one of them Christmas, cards, governor, with a little tab on yon pull and the top of the card ‘slides down and an angel appears? Well, think of one of the cards when yon push the tab up and the angel disappears — feet first then legs then body —then head. That’s how Private Mnstian disappeared as the professor painted him. 1 Shut your mouth and eyes, my man,’ says the professor when lie comes to Mustian’s head. And then he paints Mustian’s face, not touching the eyes and mouth. ‘ I don’t think there is pinch visibility left, gentlemen, says the professor stepping hack for the big-wigs to seeThere wasn’t much for them to see — two eves and an open month ; nothing else in the sunshine. Ghastly ! ” cried the sergeant. “ Well, when they had done the row and the big-wigs had walked round tffeai, bumping info them, swearing and muttering to themselves just like human beings, and gone away whispering as if they had seen a miracle, the major said, ‘ Go out in the camp—among the men—try it on them —play tricks if you like—but don’t divulge —man who divulges shot at dawn.’ ' “You can guess what tricks we played,” mused the sergeant. “ Live a thousand years, none of ns will ever have a barney like that.” :& & “ And the great Paint Push ?’’ asked the stranger, impatiently. The sergeant lifted his arm and dropped it with another gesture of infinite futility. “ You can’t iipagine it —no, not if I talk for ever,” he said. “ Think of hundreds of invisible guns, thousands of invisible horses, scores of invisible tanks, squadrons of invisible aeroplanes, and two hundred thousand invisible men—all paipted - up, bright and fresh that very morning. “Butter!” lie cried, contemptuously. “ People have written that we went through the Huns like butter! They are tajking of hard wprk compared to that blessed day. Fighting ! It wasn't fighting. Massacre! That’s a poor word for it. Casualties ! '! Ji • only casualties we bail tliat day—perhaps a hundred or two—was through our owp guns pelting on us. pur own men running tjpongh each other—rheing invisible ; and the few we lost when (be jinn's got blind panic stricken and began firing at the bine, and at the sun a ink hnr zon, as far as that goes.” , “ Was it an awful panic ? ”

“ Day of ihe East Trump will be a rest cure compared to it,” said the sergeant gravely. “ See them poor devils now, I can, white as chalk, blubbering like babies, so earning, lying clawing al the ground, running slower and slower, and stopping, like vou stop in night-inn res—to stare at Nothing—Nothing running, bieathino hard, at them, Nothing using British swear words, Nothing crying out, ‘Remember the Lusitania, boys ! ’ Nothing yelling, ‘ In among ’em, and through’em, lads!’ ’’ —the sergeant fell a-thinking—“ and yet, sometimes I think,” lie said softly, “that I pitied the prisoners most of all—the Huns who found themselves unhurt, bnt in the grip of arms they could not see, who felt hot, panting breath on their faces, and heard voices coming from lips floating in empty air; I crying, ‘Cheer up, Fritz, you’ve been, in thC Reiser’s last fight.’ ”