“But you’ve just told Munro that had he gone up last night from Hendon his flight would have been quite useless, as he would never have been able to mount sufficiently high in the time.”
“Quite so. But we ought to have efficient air-patrols at night,” was his reply.
“Combined with properly illuminated landing-places,” Roseye added. “Otherwise more than half the airmen and observers must kill themselves through landing in the dark without any knowledge of the direction of the wind.”
“That could all be arranged—as it no doubt will be in due course,” I said. “The Government are not such fools as some people seem inclined to believe. I’m not one of those who blame the whole Government for a few mistakes of its subordinate departments, and the incompetency of men pitchforked, in the hurry of an unexpected war, into places for which they are entirely unfitted. We all know of glaring cases of that sort. No. Let’s take heart, and look on the best side of things. Britain is not vanquished yet, and the heart of the true Briton beats quicker and is fiercer than ever in its patriotism over the base enemy outrage of the kind that was committed upon innocent Londoners last night.”
“Only yesterday I was reading a popular book called Can Germany Win? written by an anonymous American,” remarked Sir Herbert. “The writer gaily informs the public that even well-directed rifle-fire can bring the vaunted Zeppelins down, and to secure any accuracy of aim themselves, the airships must descend to an altitude which brings them well within the range of modern guns.”
“I know!” I laughed. “The rubbish written about Zeppelins is simply ludicrous. I’ve read that book, which has no doubt been read by thousands of patriotic Britons. I remember quite well that, in it, we are gravely informed that as far as Zeppelins were concerned the British public may sleep comfortably in their beds. The great thing is, we are urged, to discount as far as possible, by reason supported by scepticism, the terrorising tales of the Zeppelin’s worth and doughty prowess which are so brilliantly ‘press-agented’ in Germany. The writer has further told us that talk never broke any bones, and the Germans are doing a good deal of talk at the present moment to hide the defects in their monster pets which have been detected as useless by the test of War. The Zeppelins, the writer told us, are comparatively negligible quantities. Last night’s raid is the commentary.”
“Yes,” said Roseye, “something must really be done to prevent such raids.”
“But how?” queried Lionel Eastwell across the table in that slow refined voice of his. “It’s all very well to talk like that—but you must act.”
Roseye and I again exchanged glances. She knew well what was passing in my mind.
And I remained silent.