CAN LAST LONGEST

Taranaki Daily News, 17 September 1940, Page 7

CAN LAST LONGEST

BRITAIN IN AERIAL WAR London, Sept. 1. With the close of its first year the war has at last developed a phase on the lines of text-book anticipation— that of opposing aerial bomber forces passing each other in the darkness, as Wellingtons, Whitleys and Hampdens head for Berlin and Junkers, Dorniers ahd Heinkels set their course for London, says the Sydney Sun's war correspondent. Britons, however, are confident that they can stand up to this longer than can the Germans. It was on just such a bright, urbane Sunday morning a year ago to-day that the church bells rang in England to war. Now the church bells are mute until they peal as a signal of invasion, but, in place of tlie false raid alarm which was blown then, the sirens' chilling wail is heard more and more often as London's long immunity is challenged from re-cently-friendly soil. A year has passed since Britons have seen any external illumination, except the reflected glow of searchlights or the flare from incendiary bombs. They begin to dig in for the winter campaign with ears sub-consciously attuned in expectation to sirens, guns, bombs and aeroplane motors.

London's Normallty. London now has had its first week of prolonged raids and still is in process of adjusting itself to the form of life dictated from the clouds. A high ratio of normality, however, remains, for Britons are reluctant to change their habits. There is no sign yet of that shabbiness which the Chancellor of the Excllequer recently predicted would become the badge of patriotism, however much the city's own face has been changed by sandbags, barbed wire, strong posts, trenches and raid shelters. When one of yesterday's all-clear signals shrilled, a newsboy called out, "Tons of bombs on the heart of Berlin! What lucky people you are!" referring to the relatively bland scene in sunny Central London, which was looking then not much different from any time in recent months. "Facing the Enemy." There is ample food, with plenty of modified forms of entertainment. The shops still are well stocked with luxuries for which, naturally, there is a decreasing number of buyers. Everyone looks a trifle worn and with heavily-lidded eyes, after a succession of all-night raids, but many are now resolving to defy the raiders and stay in bed, uniess bombed out— a policy which, thus far, has proved safe for all but an unlucky few. It is hard to get away from it all. Few cari take holidays and most of the coast is banned to holiday makers. Some Dover landladies wryly are advertising: "Nice rooms, every convenience, facing the enemy," and resorts which earlier in the war proclaimed themselves safe areas have become, in many cases, among the hotter spots in an island which has few remaining abodes of reasonably assured peace. The Upper Thames, however, is enjoying its most prosperous season in memory. The river takes the place of the seaside and swimming, boating and sun bathing continue, under the perpetual thud of engines as preparations go on to fight out the war in the air.