Men in khaki uniforms are more conspicuous; and bandaged heads, slung arms, and legs assisted by crutches are more noticeable than formerly.
The searchlights flash above the city; the street lights are shaded overhead in foolish fancy as a protection from aeroplanes or dirigibles.

Curtains are closely drawn by police orders, in the houses and railway trains.
Yet one of the airmen who had been over London at night told me that the city was just as conspicuous as though it were wide open in illumination.

Indeed, there is a general call among the Londoners for the police to let up and permit electric signs, lighted windows, and more light in the streets.

But the only answer that came early in December was orders to turn down the lights further! In Paris they turned on the lights, illuminated the streets, closed up the museums and galleries, buried their art and sent the Venus de Milo on a walk to some storage vault along with the banks' reserve gold.
London's museums and picture galleries are wide open, and the endeavor to protect the streets from Germans peering down from above looks childish.

The great strategy of the Germans consists of talking across the Channel about their plans for raiding England.