Evening star., 1941-07-17
lFourth OF a Series.)
By ROBERT ]. CASEY,


Foreign Correspondent of The Star and
Chicago Daily News.
One night they tried to burn Lon
don down, and thus began what to
my notion is the greatest newspaper
story of our time.
London was burning. London, the
glorious and irreplaceable, would be
ashes tomorrow. London, the i'm
mortal, would be dead.
From the roofs of high buildings
in Fleet street we watched the ap-
preaching doom with unbelieving
eyes. The light of the pyre made
brilliant glow all across the east
ern sky-and it was getting brighter.
The dismal blackout was gone. From
where we looked into the cavernouS
recesses of The City" and over the
elegant old wrecks of aristocratic
Mayfair, along the Mysterious River
and beyond the Splre OF WeStmln-
ster and the towers of the House
of Parliament, there didn't seem TO
be a single shadow left in London.
The steeple of Bow Bells rose like
a sword against the fame. The
dome of ST. Paul's. ethereal and
fragile as always. was marked with
million glittering facets. The
streets, to use phrase of Ed Anglys,
u-are cna tered with pOld
Air Becomes Sitting.
London. about to die, had buckled
on its most gorgeous armor to do
the dying in.
There had been no fire like this
in Europe since 1860, when smaller
London was laid in cinders-prob-
ably there had been no such fire
anywhere since the burning of
Rome. Great cumulus formations
of smoke billowed out of the raging
east. rolled to the sky and f1attened
southwark. They did not look so
much like smoke as rivers of slow
moving white-hot Stag. Some of the
fumes were working their way in
our direction, although We couldn't
see them save as misty blemiShes
on the bright metallic surface of the
sky But We were conscious present
ly of the deadly stagnation of the
air. First it was merely hot and
lacking in oxygen. Then it was
hotter and scented with oil and
burning wood. Then it was acrid,
choking. almost unbreathable.
Il guess there must be half a
million people down there in their
fine. fireproof Anderson shelters"
said a man from Commercial Tele-
graph. Il wonder how much longer
they're going to be able to get air"
How much longer do you think
they're going to need air?" asked
a man from Exchange Telegraph.
Targets Illuminated.
BY this time there was plentiful
evidence of the thoroughness of the
raid. Hitler's effort, it appeared,
wasn't directed solely toward the
demolition of Londons most pop
ulous Slum-it was spread out to
embrace congested areas south of the
river and the night club district in
Leicester Square and the sacred
pagodaS of the rich and the mildewed
in sainted West End
Queerly camouflaged by the thou
sand glittering reflections of the
night. the planes hung high above
the light, and dropped their bombs
with ease and precision on perfectly
Illuminated targets.
There seemed to be hundreds Of
them-probably were The rhythmic
groan and grumble of them seemed
no farther away than the hoods of
the fues above our heads. We heard
them bracketing Fleet street. and
the Strand and the Embankment
with sticks of bombs. .. One-two-
three-four-five. Some of the
crumps were so close that they
seemed to have been aimed at us
personally. We crouChed in the
dubious protection of the concrete
parapet as the blasts went off below
US and the rattle of tumbline glass
continued when the echoes of the
explosions had ceased.
Machine-Gu Shoppers.
All night this went on and. with
some hours of respite. almost as in
tensely the next day. On Monday.
September 9. daylight raiders came
to strew crumps in st. James Park
and in business thoroughfares and
to machine-gun shoppers in the
streets.
And for just a moment that day
Hitler appeared to have won his