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[Page 120]

1.
Oct 1916
We, a group of not more than half-a-dozen soldiers, are wandering curiously in Ypres, the bombarded city of Belgium. Here there are hundreds of men of the Australian forces hidden in the ruins. We are under cover of the merciful darkness of night.
There is not a spark or a glimmer of light to be seen. This complete darkness is jealously maintained, for in the sky is heard the death-threatening churn of an aeroplane, and we know the soaring eyes of the enemy are above us.
Light means death, or, rather, a greater certainty of death than darkness.
The beams of a candle are enough to define to a bomber overhead the exact location of a camp in the ruins below. Darkness is the only safety but it is not absolute safety, for bombs may be dropped at random with the chance of doing terrific slaughter. The hazard, however is an expensive

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