IN BOMBED AREA

Evening Star, Issue 23723, 2 November 1940, Page 12

IN BOMBED AREA

DUNEDIH MAN'S IMPRESSIONS - ALL INTENSELY THRILLING " “ Every night I have matches and a candle by my bedside, with my clothes ready to hand so that 1 can, if necessary, dress in the dark,” writes Mr Win Hunter in describing life in Loudon in a letter to relatives in Dunedin. Mr Hunter will be remembered by the older generation as a successful competitor at the Dunedin Competitions. He has since engaged in a theatrical career under the name of Paget Hunter, and has travelled widely. “ Two nights ago,” Mr Hunter goes on to say in his letter, “ I was up until nearly day-break : bombs were dropping so close that I felt the house trembling, and all the small articles in my room were rattling. Hundreds of searchlights were hashing; then would come the sound of bombs, preceded by flares dropped by the Germans. Next came the crackling of the anti-aircraft guns, it was all intensely thrilling, fcioine nights the raiders come over so often that 1 cannot be bothered getting up, and so lie awake going through the uncanny experience of hearing the enemy machines directly overhead, and wondering whether my last moment has come: lying there, however, without any rear and listening to the throb-throb-throb of the plane engines until the sound gradually dies away. “ The calmness of the people is amazing. Here is an example: When a raid was in progress a few days ago a maid in a suburban home said to her mistress: “ I’ve served tea on the lawn, ma’am; and, if you please, ma’am, there’s a raid on.” Only once had the writer of the letter felt really nervous. This was when the /■aiders first came over London. It was in the middle of the night and he was awakened by the sirens. It was the first time he had heard them,

•• it was a ghastly, unearthly sound, like a voice from beyond screaming ‘ Prepare to meet thy God This awful wailing lasted for two or three minutes and was accompanied in its later stages by the sounds of police whistles and ringing bells, as the ambulance wagons tore down the streets. But there is /never any panic. People stop on the street to light cigarettes and crack a joke, even while death tears through the air oyer their heads, before diving into a raid shelter. The eight million Londoners are very tired, though; sore-eyed and weary lor lack of sleep. But their spirit is undaunted. One Cockney was heard to complain: “ Every time I go into a pub to ’ave one the Germans come over an’ I don’t never get me blinkin’ beer.” But there is the other side of the picture—buildings destroyed and lives lost. How much damage is done each time Londoners do not know, because details cannot be published. “ But this we do know (the writer adds) —the Germans cannot stand up to British airmen and they will never, never beat us. Our airmen are national heroes; little more than boys they are, but their bravery is something to give us fresh heart and determination to carry on.” “ Some day,” concludes the writer, “ peace will come, but it will not bo a peace based upon Communism and Atheism ; it must be founded on the acknowledgment of God and on true brotherhood and understanding amongst the nations.”