at the idea of Zeppelins coming over to drop bombs on undefended towns, or making an air raid upon London. The popular reply to anyone who venturned to express fear of such a thing as had been openly threatened in the German Press was: 'Bah! they haven't come yet!'
But at last they had come, and they had dropped bombs upon inoffensive citizens. There were some writers already crying, 'Never mind the Zeppelins!' In the sluggish apathy which refused to worry as to the state of our air defences they discovered a sort of heroism! 'Surely,' they exclaimed, 'civilians, including women and children, ought to be really glad and proud to share the risks of their sons or brothers in the trenches.'
A poor argument surely! The unarmed people of London and the provinces, when summoned to confront the hail of fire and death, had showed an imperturbable coolness worthy to compare with the valour of the soldiers in the field. On that point, testimony was unanimous. The people had been splendid. But they expected something more than passive heroism. It was so very easy to shut one's eyes to the ghastly record of suffering a hundred miles off, easy, as somebody had said, to doze under the hillside with Simple, Sloth and Presumption.
Long ago I had agreed with Teddy that some means must be found to fight effectively the German airships now that anti-aircraft guns had proved unreliable for inflicting much damage, except in a haphazard way. In conjunction, therefore, we had been actively conducting certain secret experiments in order to
