Alert

Last week France met German invasion for the third time in a life span, met it with traditional realism, rhetoric and resourcefulness. To a meeting of the Chamber of Deputies death-serious Premier Paul Reynaud said: "Hitler wants to win the war in two months. If he fails he is lost and he knows it. ... We are perfectly aware of the danger. We know the days, weeks and months coming now will determine the centuries to come. . . . We must not content ourselves with hope and words. Our soldiers are fighting and French blood is flowing. . . . Our lives count for nothing. One thing alone counts: preserve France."

In danger only to be compared with the days of the Marne, Parisians did what they did in 1914. Fifteen thousand of them went to pray for France inside and outside hoary, tradition-holy Notre Dame.

Paris itself was declared part of the Army zone. Busses disappeared, crowds were forbidden even on cafe terraces, walking on the public highway was not allowed, "except for the performance of a public mission." Alert for signs of a Fifth Column, authorities posted guards at each of Paris' gates, interned all German nationals (Nazis and anti-Nazis alike) in two huge bicycle-racing arenas, prepared to apply sternly Premier Reynaud's threat that "for every weakness there will be the penalty of death."

Best proof that the home front was set for action came involuntarily. One after noon last week stenographers in Paris' Champs-Elysees heard sudden machine-gun fire, rushed to windows in time to see what they thought were German parachutists plummeting to earth from a plane over suburban Neuilly. In the street reporters found police with revolvers drawn, taxi drivers set to speed to the exact spot of the landing, Defense Passive trucks al ready roaring off to the west.

Reaching the spot, searchers found cool, collected authorities, heard the true explanation: a barrage balloon had broken its moorings, and lest its trailing wires short-circuit power lines a French pursuit plane had shot it down. Parisians had mistaken floating fabric for parachutists.

The authorities added an anti-parachutist civic guard for every commune in France, armed all police and planted strong forces at all airdromes. Disregarding rumors of Allied routs, which Premier Rey naud told them were planted by Nazis, Paris did its best to resume daily routine all, that is, except 25,000 school children who were whisked off to the provinces.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.