on going to bed. So strongly can the sense of optimism be grown from
little habit that a respite of three weeks from bombing attacks had
almost (though not quite) convinced me there would never be any more. I
may explain that I was serving as canteen accountant, and occupied a
tiny three-room apartment across the street from the canteen, between it
and the railway station, and I took my meals at one of the two Red Cross
houses maintained in E----.

[Sidenote: Objective of a bomb attack.]

When a town is bombed, the Germans have various objectives, principally
the railway stations, troop barracks, canteens, munition dumps, food
stores, and hospitals. As a rule, when private homes are destroyed, it
is because they happen to be close to these points of attack. Torpedoes
are too expensive to be wasted in chance destruction.

[Sidenote: Lights are extinguished in the war zone.]

In towns in the war zone, great precaution is taken to prevent even a
thin line or dot of light from showing at night. Only the railroad shows
its signal lights, and these are put out at the first alarm, while all
moving trains come to a standstill and extinguish what lights they
carry. The lamps in passenger coaches are always put out when the train
enters the war zone. So the bombing aviator has a rather difficult task
in getting his bombs exactly where he wants them. The bomb must be
released about a thousand feet in advance of the object aimed at, and
the plane must pass over and reverse its course before a second bomb
can be thrown at the same target. The course of a plane can be followed
by tracing its bombs.

My position during a bombing raid was most unenviable. A torpedo cast at
the railway station and going a bit too far was likely to land on the
two-story brick house in which I was lodged. One cast at the canteen,
and falling short, was likely to do the same.

[Sidenote: Anticipating air raids.]

It is fashionable among the workers in France to affect great
indifference to danger. I am free to confess that I am not a
particularly courageous woman. My imagination is active, and on nights
when we expect a bombing raid I always go through a period of misery
before going to bed. I would not for anything leave the war zone, but I
have always a lively vision of coming out of slumber to the
accompaniment of fearful noise and the crashing of the building atop,
and then my coward imagination paints pictures of lying torn and
anguished unde