I smiled to myself, for it was my first introduction to the romantic part that lights and the lack o’ lights is playing in this great World War.  Then my friend continued his observations as we stood there on the aft deck watching the white waves break, glorious with phosphorescence.  He said:  “What a topsyturvy world it is.  Three years ago if a great ship like this had dared to cross the Atlantic without a single light showing, it would have horrified the entire world, and that ship captain would have been called to trial by every country that sails the seas.  He would have been adjudged insane.  But now every ship sails the seas with no navigation-lights showing.”

IN WAR COUNTRY

But when one gets his real introduction into the lights o’ war is when he gets into the war country.  It is eight o’clock in a great French city.  This French city has been known the world over for its brilliant lights.  It has been known for its gayly lighted boulevards, and indeed this might apply to one of three or four French cities.  Light was the one scintillating characteristic of this great city.  The first night that one finds himself here he feels as though 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.