THE NIGHT-BOMBERS.

Hokitika Guardian, 9 August 1918, Page 1

THE NIGHT-BOMBERS.

1 The long evenings before the moon- | lit nights are times of great activity j and excitement at many aerodromes |on either side of the lines, from Switzerland to the North Sea and from the Trentino to the Adriatic. I Lhe night-bombers are getting ready*. Dusk is t.lieii dawn and midnight tlieir noon. Then life is inverted. The day is a time of laziness and rest.

The setting sun dispels all their inactivity. Machines, heavy with bombs and petrol are wheeled out on to the great aerodromes. Maps are prepared and consulted. Heavy flying suits and thick mufflers and long fur-lined gloves are laid on beds or tables ready to be put on by the airmen. All eyes watch the sky and the line of the horizon to see if any clouds or mist are coming to interfere with the work.

As the evening star shines in the east the song of the first engine is heal’d, and soon the wide, slim machine glides over the grass and slips into the dusk like a cockchafer booming along the t wilight lanes of England. One hv one the great machines drone and rise to greet the gathering night.

j The airmen sit in their little cars of canvas and wood. Before them glow the luminous figures and pointers of their instruments. Below lies the great sweep of the country, bathed in the silver light of the mx>n. Distant canals and rivers gleam brightly as the shimmering radiance touches them. The loads are white and clear. Great blue shadows lie beside the trees and the farms. Even the shadow of the machine can he seen moving across the fields beneath. Along the lines rise occasionally the star shells, which are now almost useless, so bright is the moon. Here and there the red flash of gunfire shows that peace and tranquillity do not alone brood over the magic world of .sleep. The night is full of birds of darkness, travelling on theirslow-winged flights. One by one they cross the Channel towards the dark line of the English shore. They move restlessly over the cities of Belgium and France. They haunt the Belgian coast. The Rhenish cities hear their hum.

The pale beams of searchlights pay* their homage to these great eagles of the moon. Scintillating chains of emerald balls rise to greet them iii their passage. Shell > mingle their red twinkling with the clear stars which burn in the velvet of the night. The night-bombers are happy.