Two days before the bombardment began there was a meeting of
the American residents--such of them as still remained in the city--at
the leading club. About a dozen of us in all sat down to dinner. The
purpose of the gathering was to discuss the attitude which the
Americans should adopt towards the German officers, for it was
known that the fall of the city was imminent. I remember that the
sense of the meeting was that we should treat the helmeted
intruders with frigid politeness--I think that was the term--which,
translated, meant that we were not to offer them cigars and buy
them drinks. Of the twelve of us who sat around the table that night,
there are only two--Mr. Manly Whedbee and myself--who remained
to witness the German occupation.

That the precautions taken against Zeppelins were by no means
overdone was proved by the total failure of the second aerial raid on
Antwerp, in the latter part of September, when a dirigible again
sailed over the city under cover of darkness. Owing to the total
absence of street-lights, however, the dirigible's crew were evidently
unable to get their bearings, for the half-dozen bombs that they
discharged fell in the outskirts of the city without causing any loss of
life or doing any serious damage. This time, moreover, the Belgians
were quite prepared--the fire of their "sky artillery," guided by
searchlights, making things exceedingly uncomfortable for the
Germans.

I have heard it stated by Belgian officers and others that the bombs
were dropped from the dirigibles by an ingenious arrangement
which made the airship itself comparatively safe from harm and at
the same time rendered the aim of its bombmen much more
accurate. According to them, the dirigible comes to a stop--or as