gh he were wandering about
in a country village at home. No arc-lights shine. The window-lights
are all extinguished. The few lights on the great boulevards are so
dimmed that their luminosity is about that of a healthy firefly in June
back home. One gropes his way about, feeling ahead of him and
navigating cautiously, even the main boulevards.

The first time I walked down the streets of this great city at night I
had the same feeling that I had on the Atlantic. I was sailing without
lights, on an unknown course, and I felt every minute that I would bump
into some unseen human craft, as indeed I did, both a feminine craft
and a male craft. I also had the feeling that in this particular city,
in the darkness I might be submarined by a city human U-boat, which
would slip up behind me. After having my second trip here I still have
that feeling as I walk the streets; the unlighted streets of this city,
and especially the side-streets, by night.

FRENCH CITY DURING RAID

But the one time when you catch the very heart and soul of the lights
o' war is when you happen to drop into a French city while the Boches
are making a raid overhead. I have had this experience in towns and
villages and cities. At the signal of the siren the lights of the
entire city suddenly snuff out, and the city or town or village is in
total darkness. Candles may be lighted and are lighted, but on the
whole one either walks the dark streets flashing his electric "Ever
Ready," or huddled up in a subway or in a cellar, or in a hallway
listening to the barrage of defense guns and to the bombs dropping,
watches and listens and waits in total darkness, and while he waits he
isn't certain half the time whether the noise he hears is the dropping
of German bombs or the beating of his own heart. Both make entirely
too much noise for peace and comfort.

As one approaches the front-line cities and towns he learns something
more about the lights o' war. It is dark. He is in a little town and
must go to another town nearer the front lines. He is standing at the
depot (gare). No lights are visible save here and there an absolutely
necessary red or green light, which is veiled dimly. His train pulls
silently in. There is not a single light on it from one end to the
other. It creeps in like a great snake. There is nobody to tell you
whether this is your train or not, but you take a chance and climb into
a compartment which is pitch-dark.