Evening star., 1940-12-26
BY MILO Nj. THOMPSON,
Associated Press STAFF Writer.

NEW YORK, Dec. 26.-1 have
been bombed out" So have large
number of my friends. Some men
on the London staff of the AS
sociated Press have been bombed
out" as many as three times. 1t
is by no means the worst thing
which can happen to you in total
warfare waged upon a metropolis.
-Four things happen to buildings
from bomb explosions. They may
be merely damaged, their occupants
may be bombed out, the premises
may be demolished or they may be
leveled.
There's nothing over three feet
high" they say when they try to
describe to you a leveled building.
It is the product of G. direct hit by
a high explosive bomb of high cali
ber. I have seen a whole block in
that condition. more than once.
The demolished building is one so
messed up that 1t has to be torn
down and rebuilt. But the bombed
out premises frequently can be made
tenantable again. They are victims
of conclusion, of man-made
fiendish tornado which has all the
freakish characteristics of natural
one.
Here's Typical Experience.
For every demolished building
there are probably Is from which
the tenants have been driven either
permanently or temporarily.
One experience. therefore, gives a
fairly accurate picture of what has
happened to tens of thousands
among the 100000 people in the
London area.
1t usually happens at night, when
the bombardment is at its worst,
and probably in the second stage of
the nights attack when the heavy
stuff succeeds the incendiary bombs
and showers of parachute flares,
used to develop targets.
You have long since retired from
the blacked-out living rooms to the
basement shelter. leaving doors un-
locked in case police or A. R. P. men
need to make hurried entrance and
windows partly open to save the
glass against some less distant eX
plosion.
The gurgling whistle of a bomb
brings you up tensely, all nerves.
The sound swells into scream
which is coming right at you.
Your Chance Is 1000 to 1.
You say inwardly, perhaps this is
it." referring to that direct hit
against which no ordinary shelter
is proof, the thousand-to-one
chance that this may be the end.
Comes a binding flash and the
earth heaves.
You have a feeling that all your
little world has suddenly been
shaken into a heap.
Debris seems to be falling all about
you.
The air is sharply cold and dusty,
almost unbearable.
A gale seems to be whistling
through the once cozy house.
Things continue to fall Long
after the crash of sound has been
succeeded by a deep silence, that
silence is broken occasionally by
falling glass.
You have an urge to fly but you
keep your place by sheer force of
will. knowing it is the safest place
you've got, hoping that a collapse is
not going to bury you next minute.
The minutes pass like hours.
Fumble for Candle.
At last, you reach for the light
switch and snap it, but nothing
happens. AS you tumble for the
matches and candle on your bed
side table, knocking off the first
aid kit and the candy intended
to feed you if you have to be dug
out pieces of plaster slip from the
bed to the floor.
At last you make a light, find
slippers and walk across a carpet
of glass and plaster to view the
scene.
Tattered draperies stir eerily at
empty windows.
Doors have been wrenched of
their hinges.
Here is a whole window frame
pushed into the kitchen.
Yonder is window looking like
the billowing sail of Spanish
galleon.
The terrific wrench to the house
has dislodged SCOT from all the
chlmneys, and it has piled 3 inches
deep over some of the rugs and
mingles with glass and dust on the
furniture.
The locks of glass connecting
doors have burst. An interior par
tition is out of plumb. There's a
splash of water from a damaged
pipe.
It is a mess which grows in