The authorities may make all sorts of complicated “lighting orders” with power to the police to enforce them, but it is next to impossible to black out any even moderately populous area.
While a hundred residents will effectually darken their windows, there are the few thoughtless ones who burn gas beneath their skylights, or who do not sufficiently cover one window—often a staircase-window—or servants who go to bed neglectful to draw their curtains across the blinds.
Then there are shaded street lamps burning at dangerous corners, or at cross-roads, and these, provided the ground is wet after rain, reflect a zone of bright light which acts as an excellent guide to aviators aloft.
In the increasing light of the moon I made out the big gasometers of Eastbourne which stood out as a landmark in the direction of Langney, but, leaving them on my left, I steered a course for the coast over Willingdon Hill, my altimeter again showing 2,800 feet.
I flew slowly and leisurely for fear of our anti-aircraft guns.
As I expected, a few moments later the listening-post on Beachy Head, having heard my approach, was instantly on the alert, and the beam from their searchlight shot up, searching slowly about for me, because at that moment I had run into a bank of cloud and became obscured.
We were suddenly both enveloped in darkness, our only light being that little bulb set over the map. Still I kept blindly on, hoping to get out of it quickly. Yet the moments seemed hours as we went along. I increased the speed, but so long were we in that damp obscurity, that I knew that we had entered the cloud at its greatest length.
At last we emerged once more into the cold bright night. The atmosphere of the cloud had chilled us both to the bone, but as we emerged the long white ray fell quickly upon us. Then I swerved, so as to exhibit to the naval watchers the rings upon my planes and decreased my speed to show that I had neither desire nor intention to escape. Indeed, I hovered there for a few moments in order to let them have good sight of me. This satisfied them, and once again the long white ray was shut off.
In the increased light I found that road which most motorists know so well, the steep and often winding way which runs near Beachy Head down to Friston and on to Seaford. Then, flying over Newhaven, I kept on to Rottingdean and headed for the scattered and ill-obscured lights of Brighton.
Flying at 3,000 feet I passed over the central station at Brighton, striking north to Lewes, with my eyes constantly upon my watch. From Lewes I followed the right-hand line of railway which I saw, by the map, would lead me past Barcombe to Uckfield. And with my engine running well I again, on gaining Buxted, struck due east in search of another line of railway which would lead me to Mayfield.