ZEP. NIGHTS.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 1578, 18 July 1916, Page 4

ZEP. NIGHTS.

A SPECIAL CONSTABLE’S IMPRESSIONS.

(Manchester Guardian.)

No mrfon and a rising barometer make the wise special go to bed betimes. You fall asleep comfortably conscious that trains are shunting in the distance, and that so far all is well with the world. Then all at once you dream that the postman has come unreasonably early. You hear double knocks such as those Mr Ben Allen inflicted on the door of the Borough Market Office. Plashes of light come through the interstices of the blinds. Gradually the truth breaks upon you that someone is at the front door. You rush to the window and behold a regular policeman Hashing a bull’seye towards you. “Zepps., sir,” he says, cheerfully—wonderful how cheerful knoekors-up can be! “I’ve put a list of six names and addresses in your letter-box. Mali you knock them up and tell them to report at the station at once?” This is decidedly cheering. To be knocked up is an annoyance, but to deprive others of their slumber is a joy. As the old French cynic said, “There is a certain satisfaction in the misfortunes of one’s friends.” Then one becomes aware of a curious idiosyncrasy of women. It may be saddening for Count Zeppelin to know that the British wife has more fear of pneumonia than of his bombs. By the time you have assumed the garments ordered you feel like a member of the Shackleton Expedition. You leave with a thermos flask bulging from one pocket and packets of sandwiches bulging from the other. On Zeppelin nights one can distinguish the single from the married special. The latter, even if naturally slim, assumes Zeppelin-like proportions. After this comes the gleeful business of knoeking-np one’s comrades. At once one makes the discovery that violent knocking at the door of a house is sure to rouse first the residents in the next house. By what law of acoustics this happens one cannot explain. It is staled as a scientific fact. A theory has been advanced' that specials, having easy consciences, sleep soundly, whilst the non-specials always dread a policeman at the door. Soon one finds that better far than bell-ring-ing or knocking is a handful of gravel hurled at a bedroom window. That brings an instant response. A sleepy face looks down on you. “Zeps., old man; report at the station at once.” Some grumble, but most take it in a sporting spirit. One amiable man says, “Bring the boys round here. I’ll have the car otd in ten minutes and run them down.”

In a quarter of an hour we are under way. As wo pass through the gloomy streets we come across other specials starting on their tramp. One by one they are wedged into the ear till even its hospitable owner has to admit that further passengers are an impossibility. Thanks to the car, we are early at the station and able, to secure a favourable position near the Are. One has to visit police stations to appreciate what a fire can be. The fire of the ordinary house is a paltry thing compared with the great red glow maintained for our nightly defend-

One by one the specials come straggling in. Some are optimistic and declare that they have heard unaccountable noises and seen weird Hashes in the sky. They assert that the Zeps. will bo upon us in ten minutes. Others arc pessimists, who say that it is a mere coastal raid, a hundred miles away, and that it is intolerable we should lose our rest for such a trilling thing. Saddest of all is a special who had not even gone to bed when he -was called. “We had a few friends in, and were making a night of it,” he says sadly. “We were playing solo whist. 1 had the misere hand of a lifetime, when the bell rang.”

“Sir Francis Drake would have played the hand out,” remarked another special. “Sir Francis Drake was playing with sporting admirals. Amongst my opponents was a member of this company. I don’t like to say he (bought my misere was a. certainly, but he threw down his cards, and said he must go on duty at once—a mask of patriotism hiding a bad loser.” Soon the station is full. Even the police cells are packed with specials. Seats even on the floor are at a premium. The kuockersup tell stories of weird pyjamas they have seen that night, and declare that they never know so many of their comrades assumed the aspect of zebras at night. But all conversation stops when the telephone bell tin Wes and the amiable inspector goes to the instrument. He looks rotund to give the news at once.

“They are eight miles away, gentlemen. Doesn’t look as if we shall have a visit to-night, but you must stand by till further orders come.”

The ordinary specials, vjjio are on regular beats, come dropping in, and display a profound contempt for the slackers who are saving their country by sitting round the station lire. There is a certain ostentation in the way they make their reports. Regardless of possible bombs, they are collecting stray dogs, and stopping cars without ,roar-lights, and watching for brilliantly-lit houses, One has a story of an illegal light he spotted. He rushes to the house with intent to summons its occupant, and found that it was a special’s wife, sand-wich-cutting iu the kitchen, who had

forgotten to draw the blind. “I cautioned him severely, and fined him c*ffee and sandwiches,” declares the guardian of the King’s peace.

After an hour or so, conversation quietens down. Some specials sitting on the couches in the cells drop oh:' to slumber. Even the war yarns arc exhausted. The man who went through two Zeppelin raids in London cannot find a listener. At last a glimmer of light comes through the doorway.

“Gentlemen,” says the inspector, “I am very sorry and very glad that you have been called out for nothing. You can go home now. Those who have duties to-day will be excused them.”

A hundred sleepy middle-aged men rouse themselves wearily to plod homewards. Yet even at four in the morning the lofty spirit of the special min show itself. A benevolent gentleman gazes at the glow in the East, and says, “I’ll say this for (he Kaiser, anyhow: I should have missed some gorgeous sunrises had it not been for him.”