The following is a Luton [unnamed] man's narrative of his experiences in, and his description of, a moonlight air raid by Gotha aeroplanes on a South Eastern port this week: (The port now known to be Dover, the raid took place on 24 September 1917).
"Shortly before seven o'clock in the evening I was standing outside the house with a lad, watching a speck of light high in the heavens. The lad said to me, 'That light is not a star, it is an aeroplane. I have been watching it for a few minutes'. The lad had made a hobby of star study.
"As we stood there watching the slowly moving speck of light, a faint buzzing sound was heard. Immediately, the youthful astronomer cried in tones of alarm, 'Here, Mr -----, we had better be getting inside. That fellow's a German, I have heard that sound before and know it.'
"Scarcely a minute had passed when we heard the sound of the warning siren, and the buzzing of the raider, which had seemed like that of a bee, increased as it approached, until it sounded like that of a working threshing machine. Directly the siren was heard there was a general rush for shelter and the streets were soon clear.
"The people at this place are accustomed to air raids and have learned to lose no time in taking cover. As other raiders approached and circled above the town the air seemed to vibrate and quiver with their throb, and it shook every nerve in one's body.
"A bomb dropped. I was standing at the door and saw a flash of flame and heard a loud crash. I did not wait for the pieces, but slammed the door.
"The maddening buzz of the Gothas continued to increase and decrease alternately as they circled over us. Other bombs followed, and one dropped near our house. The raiders hovered about for nearly an hour and, although we could not see them, we could hear their buzz all the time.
"It was a perfect night - beautifully clear and with not a cloud to be seen. Star shells kept going up, and sometimes there would be a bunch of four or five sparkling away with their brilliant blue light high up above. We could hear the boom of our anti-aircraft guns, and occasionally the whistle of a shell, while the searchlights, six or seven concentrated on one point, swept the skies.
"As soon as the sound of the engines died away everybody was out. Mothers seeking children, crowds ascertaining the amount of damage done, ambulance workers taking the injured to hospitals, small boys with lanterns seeking for souvenirs, all swarmed into the streets.
"I went out to view the damage, and found the usual thing. Objects of importance, for which the raiders had apparently aimed, were untouched, but property nearby - mostly cottages - was ruined. The 'All Clear' did not sound until about 11 o'clock.
"The next morning the neighbourhood presented a sorry spectacle, for everywhere near where a bomb had fallen was littered with shattered glass, pulverised brickwork and debris.
"The explosions of the bombs had wrought some curious effects. The displacement of air caused by the concussion split a chapel roof neatly in halves from the ridge. One half fell down on one side and the other half fell down on the other. They were practically intact, scarcely a slate being displaced. The roof lay there - one half on each side of the chapel - a peculiar spectacle.
"The houses which had sustained direct hits were in a shocking condition, sometimes four walls and perhaps a lace curtain being all that stood up out of a heap of ruins. Most of these houses had collapsed like a pack of cards - bricks, woodwork, furniture, masonry, all being mixed up in one huge heap.
"In one case the pile of debris was surmounted by a bedstead, though how it got in that position I cannot understand. I noticed that in several instances bombs had dropped on buildings next to those standing on corners, and the same thing struck me when I saw the damage done by raiders in London."
In conclusion the narrator remarked that the people of this town have experienced many aid raids, and have grown to a certain extent indifferent to them. He instances the case of a man to whom he spoke after the raid. He had sent his wife and family away and was 'on his own'. He sat on the front when the raiders had gone, smoking his pipe with an air of nonchalance, though every window in his house was shattered, and it was the third time they had been so.
Our informant emphasised the fact that it is very seldom the raiders hit the objects for which they aim, and said he would rather be in a building of great importance during a raid than in one a hundred yards away.
[Beds & Herts Saturday Telegraph: September 29th, 1917]