wouldn't for a while, but he soon left in a hurry. After the
explosion they found bits of him and sixty-seven other people!

The Germans pinned their faith to the Zeppelin because it could carry a
heavy load of explosives and would be an easy way of damaging an enemy;
and it was only a few months before the war that considerable enthusiasm
ruled Germany because a Zeppelin had made a record trip from the
southern to the northern fringe of Germany, or, as "Vorwarts" said, "as
far as from Germany to England and back again."

Here, then, was an easy way to fight. Just rise up out of danger and
drop bombs.

They tried it at Antwerp.

On 25th August, 1915, a Zeppelin flew over the sleeping city, guided by
flash lamps from German spies on roofs. It was a night of terror--a bomb
dropped to fall upon the royal palace, missed and injured two women; a
bomb aimed for the Antwerp Bank missed and killed a servant; but one
fell into a hospital and another into a crowd in the city square. Five
people were blown to atoms.

It must have been an awful night, for it is recorded that the city
watchman of Antwerp announced: "12 o'clock and all's hell."

On September 2nd (the anniversary of Sedan), the Zeppelin came again to
give its stab in the dark, but finding it was recognised, retreated. It
did not rise higher to get out of danger of the air guns and put up a
fight. The German in the air takes few risks. It is his temperament. Not
so with the Frenchman. He is by nature dashing and volatile. The
easy-going of the dirigible little appealed to him. The risk, the speed,
the adventure of the aeroplane touched his soul, which explained why
France had 2032 military aviators, whilst Germany had only 300 qualified
military pilots.

The German lacks the dash, nerve, vim and initiative essential to a
successful flier. He is moulded as a cog. He is part of a system--out of
that he must not move. It has wrecked his initiative, and the sneer of
the greatest German in history, Frederick the Great, has to-day grim
significance.

"See those two mules," he said satirically to one of his officers, who
lacked initiative, "they have been in fifteen campaigns and--they're
still mules."

The German training system has taken all the humanity out of the men.
They move like machines, either destroying or rolling on to destruction,
and they often act with the dumb sense of the machine to pain and
suffering.

Lloyd George has very truly put it: "God m