The Threat of Aerial Bombing in World War Two Lagos, 1938–1943


 The spectre of air bombing attacks on West African cities during World War Two remains an unexplored dimension of World War Two history. Lagos had long been perceived as vulnerable to attack from neighbouring Dahomey (Benin), and the Fall of France in June 1940 intensified these threats, while increasing anxiety concerning potential Axis raids. Focusing on air-raid planning in Lagos particularly, this article will argue that the possibility of aerial bombing exposed not simply the incapacity of the colonial government and officials’ limited understanding of housing and employment in 1940s Lagos, but also the inadequacy of measures to protect African lives. Conversely, the air-raid threat motivated Africans to critique limited government provision and propose their own interpretations of this new and deadly threat. Although the feared aerial raids never materialised, the crisis and anxiety they provoked yield significant insights into wartime Nigeria, local participation in civil defence, and African responses to World War Two more generally.

expanded alongside these new routes; Pan-American was contracted to provide services between Bathurst and Khartoum, as well as between West Africa and New York, via Brazil. R.A.F. Ferry Command, the US Army Air Corps, the Free French Air Forces and Trans World Airlines all came to use the 'Takoradi Route;' in Nigeria, key airfields along the route included Lagos, Kano, and Maiduguri.14 From 1939, the R.A.F. recruited some 10,000 West Africans to work in ground duties, but they were not trained as pilots. 15 What was the nature of the Axis air threat? Nigeria was at risk of attack from French West Africa or l'Afrique-Occidentale française (A.O.F.), despite the fact the Vichy's Armée de l'Air was considerably weakened by the Armistice measures, and had for long 'came a very poor second' to the defence of France itself, the residual groupings based in the region still posed a threat.16 The Armée, and its predecessor the Aéronautique had six escadrilles or squadrons in A.O.F., created between 1920 and1939, at Bamako, Thiès, Gao, andDakar, although the Gao and Bamako squadrons were dissolved in September 1940, as well as an escadrille in French Equatorial Africa or Afrique Equatoriale Française (A.E.F.), based at Bangui.17 By 1932, there were 32 French aircraft in A.O. F., 9 in A.E.F., and over 200 in North Africa.18 In 1939, it is estimated that the Armée had some 1,078 modern planes, including Potez, Loiré et Olivier, and Loire-Nieuport bombers; in Vichyite A.O.F. some of the Glenn Martin aircraft ordered before June 1940 were available from French North Africa.19 German aircraft were also supplied to Governor General Pierre Boisson in return for making the port at Dakar available to South Atlantic U-Boat patrols, the Germans granted the Vichy A.O. F. additional troops and aircraft.20 In addition, the Vichyites had some armoured fighting vehicles, and a naval presence at Dakar.21 The British anxiety over air attacks had dissipated by late 1942; the following year, the R.A.F. in West Africa became the West African Air Corps (W.A.C.C.), subject not to R.A.F. regulations but to those of the British Army's Royal West African Frontier Force (R.W.A. F.F.). The W.A.A.C., attracted significant African interest because it offered the prospect of an African-manned air force; by late 1944, the Corps boasted some 5,000 members and operated training schools at 14 Wilson 2009, 19;Culbert 2002, 576. 15 Jackson 2005, 219. 16 Thomas 1998, 337;Lecoq 2015, 141. 17 Manchon 2013. 18 Akinyeye 2001, 15. 19 Danel 1969Garraud 2001, 10;Thomas 1997, 662;Haywood and Clarke 1964, 363. 20 Thomas 1997, 661. 21 Haywood and Clarke 1964, 363. coates Journal of African Military History 4 (2020) 66-96 Takoradi and Oshodi,near Lagos.22 In 1944, the Air Ministry closed the 'Takoradi' supply route, thereby removing the strategic centrality of airfields across the Gold Coast and Nigeria to the wider Allied war effort. The historiography of civil defence in Anglophone West Africa remains undeveloped; comparison with research on East Africa and Asia is instructive. In East Africa, Stewart has shown how Nyanza in Kenya responded to the conflict with British settlers by creating civil defence institutions, and, from May 1940, air raid precautions. In Ksumu and Mombasa, practice black out alerts were rehearsed, while in Nairobi A.R.P. preparations extended to trial evacuations of children into the hills close to the city.23 Asian cities from Tel Aviv to Hong Kong faced Axis air attacks.24 In Ceylon, A.R.P. measures were hastily created and 'authorities in London and Colombo didn't realise until almost too late' that the island risked aerial attack.25 The anguish provoked by this new aerial threat went far beyond the fear for immediate survival; in Calcutta, the historian of medieval India Jadunath Sarkar worried that he must 'cling to [his] library to the last moment possible'; while in Madras, zoo animals were shot dead lest they seize upon the opportunity of an air raid to escape captivity.26 The consequences of air bombing could also be longer term; in Palestine, Arielli contends, service in wartime civil defence, along with Army experience, provided Jewish fighters with 'valuable military and organisational experience' that would become 'useful during the war of 1948.'27

Planning for an Aerial Attack on Lagos
Lagos represented Nigeria's key target; it was home to critical port infrastructure, including naval fuelling stations, and the centre of colonial government; by 1903, the value of Lagos trade was £1,000,000. Its importance extended beyond the boundaries of the colony; the port was a key trading hub for West Africa and, after Freetown, the prime British West African port, as well as a major centre in the strategically sensitive South Atlantic.28 Lagos, annexed by the British in 1861, had long been considered vulnerable to French invasion; this fear informed the development of the Lagos Battalion in the 1860s, and 22 Akinyeye 2001, 20. 23 Stewart 2017 Crowley and Dawson 2017, 1-15; Ragahavan 2017, 268;Jackson 2018B, 69-110. 25 Jackson 2017, 112. 26 Kamtekar 2006, 335, 336. 27 Arielli 2010, 338. 28 Jackson 2018A, 50. the West African Frontier Force (W.A.F.F.) in 1898/9.29 By 1899, detailed defence plans were drawn-up for Lagos Colony; the lagoons connecting the Dahomeian border, between Badagry and Porto Novo, to Lagos, fifty-two miles away, facilitated a potential attack, as did the prospect of a hostile force landing from the Atlantic.30 The geography of Lagos afforded basic protection from marine bombardment; the sand bar off the harbour compelled larger vessels to remain at a substantial distance.31 Although a company from Ibadan was available at six hours' notice, the township itself was exposed; in 1904, its police force boasted 400 men, while, in 1899, the Lagos Battalion consisted of 300 Hausas, and 3 European Officers.32 These early plans show that Lagos had long been strategically sensitive; direct bombardment did not materialise during World War One, and by the mid-1930s some Europeans considered any future war 'unthinkable,' but by the decade's end the colony nonetheless seemed vulnerable.33 After the 1935 Italian invasion of Abyssinia, the R.W.A.F.F. was re-organised with a view to mobilising an Expeditionary Force for East Africa.34 The colonial government increasingly considered using civilians to protect Lagos; a dedicated 'Lagos Defence Force' was conceived to recruit British workers in the township.35 Defence plans accelerated during the later 1930s., but they still assumed that Britain would exercise naval supremacy and that France would remain an ally.36 Although ocean attack remained a serious threat, it now contended with aerial bombardment and gas attacks; following the directives of the Imperial Defence Committee, civil servants attempted to calculate what these new threats meant for Lagos.37 Unlike marine attack, hostile activities such as assaults with 'high explosive or Lighting restrictions dictated that vehicles driving within a ten-mile radius of the Carter Bridge, a vital piece of infrastructure connecting Lagos Island with the mainland, were only permitted two lamps with dimmed head-lights.57 Drivers who failed to comply could face prosecution, a £ 50 fine and/ or 6 months imprisonment; in domestic houses, removing blinds and shutters on domestic dwellings constituted a separate offence.58 Businesses and public places faced routine inspection, and the authorities were to provide accommodation and medical care for individuals left homeless by air attacks.59 Buildings deemed to be contaminated by gas could be demolished; the Director of Medical Services was empowered to take over the management of hospitals.60 For A.R.P. purposes, Lagos itself was to be divided into the 'three natural zones' of Lagos Island, Ebute Metta, and Apapa, six further fire unit areas were also created. In order to guard against attack, a network of lookout points was to be created at Magazine Point, Signal Station (East Mole), Bullnose (Apapa), Quartermaster's Store (Ijora), Wireless Reconnaissance Station (Ijoyi), and the Railway Compound (North).61 British commercial and mercantile interests dictated this division of space, and thus ensured that African centres of population on the mainland were inadequately protected; while 5 Auxiliary Fire Service (A.F.S.) units were concentrated in the principal areas of European residence on Lagos Island, including the Government Residential Area, only two served the entire mainland.62 Key infrastructure was well protected; at Ijora Power Station, the civil defence staff included three assistant mechanical engineers, switchboard operators, power station attendants, and greasers, as well as six firemen, a junior technical staff member, and a mechanical engineer, while at the Iju Waterworks staff included 16 African workers and one British Inspector.63 Air raid shelters were key to civil defence; Lagosians were advised that their 'first duty … [was] to take cover and thus reduce the risk of becoming a casualty.'64 Taking 'cover' was not a straightforward move; shelters were only widely built during the latter months of the air raid threat, and then they tended to serve key government and commercial locations. Officials agreed that 'the psychological aspect' of these structures was important, and that they offered 'some sense of protection, even if [it] does not … amount to very much.'65 Construction was delayed by the absence of building personnel and supervisors.66 From 1942, deep shelters were constructed around 20 ft. below ground, although it remains unclear how many were finished. Other shelters were constructed from corrugated iron or wooden stick shelters, and packed with loose

The Practical and Conceptual Limits of Civil Defence in Wartime Lagos
A.R.P. measures ran into significant problems that indicated the colonial government's limited power to intervene in local societies. These financial difficulties, combined with the relatively short-lived nature of the aerial threat, and the lack of generalised local sympathy for A.R.P., made Lagos distinct from metropolitan cases, but also from examples in Asia where there was widespread awareness of an imminent threat of Japanese invasion.86 A significant problem stemmed from how officials conceptualised A.R.P. in. a colonial African city, and their inability to guarantee adequate protection for Africans. We have seen that soil conditions made trenches impractical and that shelters protected only those working at key European business and government installations. Protective measures for Lagosian civilians were largely absent; 'the provision for trenches and air raid shelters for the civil popula- tion of Lagos,' warned Nigeria's Governor, was 'not considered feasible.'87 This stance continued despite misgivings from the Colonial Office, who expressed 'concern …' over 'the almost complete lack of shelter protection for the civilian population of Lagos.'88 Civilians had to make do with only relatively flimsy surface shelters; made from mangrove wood, bamboo, and earth, even these basic constructions were largely undeveloped by January 1943 due to the shortage of construction staff.89 Where built, these shelters could be short-lived; in the Customs and Apapa areas, several of the shelters that had been built in January had collapsed by April.90 Tentative and belated steps were made to consider protecting African staff of the P&T. This necessitated an official examination of the domestic lives of African government employees. These ongoing investigations revealed the limited ways in which government officials could document and operate in African domestic and residential settings. Section 182 of the 1941 Defence Regulations authorised colonial authorities to order every householder to create a list of residents in their homes, and all employers to similarly furnish a list of employees 'and of their wives, children, and dependants.'91 In reality, the ability of officials to document and even determine the extent of employment was not readily apparent in the flourishing informal economy of 1940s Lagos.92 During an inspection of the living quarters of P&T workers in Lagos, Yaba, and Ebute Metta, civil defence officials found that of 118 buildings visited, 84 had no space for any shelter, and 34 had a little space in the back yard.93 Among the 84 unsuitable tenement houses, officials determined that in only 22 cases was it possible to build a shelter in the adjoining compound or street. Civil defence was fatally disconnected from social structures within Lagos, where wives often had their own careers, and categories such as 'home' and 'resident' Maintaining morale in the absence of any apparent attack became a significant problem and grew more acute from early 1942 with the Allied victories in North Africa and Madagascar.95 In this changed environment, scares persisted, such as in April 1942 when the battleship Richelieu attempted to break out of Dakar harbour, triggering air attack warnings, and later in October of that year when Vichyites in Dakar grew anxious about a potential Allied attack.96 Such threats remained both exceptional and distant from Nigeria; public disinterest only grew. To counter the growing apathy, officials suggested 'competitions, interesting lectures by well-known persons,' 'public review' of civil defence, the observance of Civil Defence Day, and realistic training.97 Drawing on experience from Singapore, the Colonial Office recommended 'the provision of uniforms or badges,' which would help 'individuals feel that they have an important part to play;' these measures would have inserted civil defence into a world of official symbol and performance in colonial Nigeria, which at the time focused on events such as the annual Empire Day celebrations.98 Severe penalties were recommended for desertion, and improved rates of pay to help deter discontent.
These measures did not translate into local realities; most African civil defence workers were unpaid volunteers who worked other jobs. Save for a small number of European officials, there had never been a peak in public engagement; even at the height of the bombing scare in 1941, 'interest among the rank and file [was] dying and only kept alive at all by the hope of payment.'99 The lack of even nominal payment for the auxiliary firefighters compared negatively to other workers, such as ambulance men who received 8d per parade.100 Even those who still turned up for parades, perhaps hoping ultimately for financial reward, faced a growing amount of work: 'their altruistic interest in an increasingly uphill task is admirable.'101 Faced with this situation, A.F.S. com-94 Barnes 1986, 75-77. 95 Haywood and  manders begged the colonial government to make a payment of some kind 'to show the men that their work is important.'102 Other officials worried that African goodwill, once exploited, would not be easy to regain after the war, and that: [if] their help is required at some future date for similar work, it might be found that their enthusiasm will not be forthcoming.103 Advice from London assumed both a financial and ideological framework that was sorely lacking in Nigeria; in general, African workers saw little reward, and still less rationale, in civil defence work. The commitment of a minority of African workers remains without a convincing explanation; it is too easy to cite the promise of future payment as a justification, men would surely have realised that money had not so far been forthcoming: Morale is on the whole good. In a recent alarm practice held in the middle of the forenoon all posts … were manned with encouraging promptitude even though some of the men had to go as much as three miles on foot from their place of work to their posts.104 The problem of morale was real, although it was not total. To some extent explained by the lack of actual bombing raids, and the receding nature of the Axis threat by 1943, the persistence of morale issues throughout 1941 and 1942 suggests that civil defence had failed to capture the imagination of the local population at a more profound level.
We have seen that civil defence was largely conceived at an all-Empire level. While it was admitted that metropolitan and colonial cases might differ, it was readily assumed that one could bring the experience of Hong Kong, Rangoon and Singapore to Lagos; at one point the Nigerian Government unsuccessfully attempted to hire an individual with 'actual experience of air raids on native cities' in Asia.105 All of this obscured the question of what stake Nigerians could coates Journal of African Military History 4 (2020) 66-96 be expected to have in civil defence projects. Aside from generalities concerning the alleged panic of African crowds, officials rarely concerned themselves with the social and political realities of Lagos. This was apparent in the somewhat florid descriptions of African workers penned by officials in their quest for civil defence staff; A.F.S. firemen, for instance, were to be 'fit and intelligent' men who 'kn[e]w how to obey an order,' but who were also 'not afraid to soil their hands-clerical type not suitable.'106 Ex-soldiers, police, and marine deckhands were given as ideal types, along with 'rover scouts,' 'boys brigade,' and labourers. Our point is not merely that these conflations of gender and racial stereotypes revealed the utter gulf between British civil defence officials and their unpaid African workforce, but that they demonstrated a tendency to misread local society in terms of casual generality.
If civil defence was stymied by its unwillingness to take the local context in Nigeria with any seriousness; it was also restricted by the financial shortages that characterised many colonial labour and social projects.107 By January 1940, only £8,000 had been spent on civil defence, and it was estimated that existing measures would require an additional £ 3,500 per annum to maintain; given that Bourdillon estimated air raid protection alone would cost £ 30,000 in total, spending by 1940 was a small proportion of the investment required.108 By late 1942, when A.R.P. measures were being reduced by the colonial authorities, an official warned that 'if we do not get equipment we shall have difficulty in keeping our organisations … on more than a care and maintenance basis.'109 Although A.R.P. drills were conducted early in the war, it was simply too expensive to run large-scale black-out trials in Lagos with any frequency; occasional drills continued during 1941, and the projected bill of £ 100 per actual black-out was already deemed precariously costly.110 At the anti-gas school, it was too expensive to build a fence around the perimeter for £ 145; the building had to rely on a newly sunk well; it was not possible to pay the £ 425 to connect it to the water supply.111 The quality of existing industrial buildings across the township was often poor; the shops at Apapa dockyard were found to be 'so old that 106 Director Marine to COMCOL 1st August 1939, Air Raids Precautions Committee for Lagos, N.A.I., COMCOL 1, 2362 Vol. V. 107 Spear 2003, 9. 108 Bourdillon to S.S. Col., 3rd January 1940, Civil Defence, Nigeria, T.N.A., C.O. 986/72/8. 109 Grantham to Lloyd, 17th December 1942, Civil Defence, Nigeria, T.N.A., C.O. 986/72/8. 110 COMCOL to C.S.G., 12th September 1939 it [was] impossible to make them gas proof'; they were likely to crumble under the pressure of high-explosive shells.112

Between Fear and Critique: The Air Raid Threat and the Nigerian Press
African responses to colonial air warfare have been unduly neglected. Perhaps because of the few documents' elucidating African responses to air bombing, historians have, as Omissi observes, 'given scant notice to the victims of [Africa-based] bombers.'113 The African press provides ample insight into local responses to many aspects of the global conflict; newspaper editors had partisan agendas, the West African Pilot was fiercely critical of the colonial government, while the Nigerian Daily Times tended to support official perspectives.114 Not all Nigerians regarded civil defence with apathy; both anti-and pro-government sections of the Lagos press provided sustained commentary and critique on the question. Air attacks figured sporadically in the Nigerian press until 1943; they reflected a more general interest in aviation and its possibilities for Africans during the war.115 Newswire services and West African newspapers brought details of Europe's air wars to literate Nigerians.116 This was part of a wider body of journalism focusing on Nazi ideology and atrocities, and exploring Hitler's personality.117 These tales of aerial warfare prompted African interest in forming a Nigerian Air Squadron that could 'glide … into the clouds … to wherever the enemy might be found.'118 The air raid threat had the potential to temporarily redefine the boundaries between metropolitan society and the elite of colonial Nigeria. As far afield as London, officials observed that 'accounts of air raids,' must: have percolated to a considerable section of the African population, and judging by the interest shown in A.R.P. matters by the local African press I 112 Director of the Marine to COMCOL, 3rd October 1938, Air Raid Precautions for Lagos, N.A.I., COMCOL 1 2362, Vol. III. 113 Omissi 1990, 107. 114 Omu 1978, 64-69. 115 James 2018, 596. 116 'R.A.F. Fight Germans,' West African Pilot, 19th September 1939 think it can be assumed that the more sophisticated element of the population are more 'A.R.P. minded' than in many other parts of the Empire.119 It was not simply a question of being 'A.R.P. minded;' African journalists reacted in ways that stressed Nigeria's centrality to global events, and aligned Nigerians with the civilians of war-torn Europe. 'Every day that passes by,' lamented one article Brings to the people of Nigeria particularly of the island of Lagos, the reality that confronts the people of the British Empire in this war … it is at the same time a warning of what may happen to us if the Huns come this way, and also an eye opener about the terrible onslaught that the Nazis are inflicting upon the defenceless women and children of Europe. This realisation alone should make us ready to do our little bit to minimise the danger of Nazi air attack on Lagos … if the terrible ordeal of air attack comes to us as it is now being experienced by innocent men, women, and children in Europe.120 The article claimed that the indiscriminate and total nature of air attack created a direct parallel between African and European victims. It is possible that such a view marked a strategic attempt to adopt Allied propaganda to further the Pilot's own interests; conversely we should not underestimate African antifascist sentiment.121 Government propaganda encouraged Africans to identify with the war effort, but the Pilot also promoted these views independently of official statements; '[we] must be prepared to face what other people in Europe and Africa have been facing for some time now,' asserted one editorial comment, while another observed how 'the youths of Britain, France, and their empires are shedding their precious blood.'122 These statements of Nigerian investment in the Allied war effort were not uncommon; H.O. Davies, Secretary General of the Nigerian Youth Movement, argued that Nigeria should assure imperial Britain of the 'greatest of all sacrifices' of its youth to defend 'a common heritage,' while the Pilot had editorialised on the 'loyalty of all Nigeria at  Clarke 1986, 38-42. 122 'Hitlerism Totters,' West African Pilot, 9th September 1939'Let Us 'Buck Up,'' West African Pilot, 12th June 1941. this approaching hour of supreme sacrifice.'123 One African journalist averred that we 'must remember the far more difficult lot of those in the towns of Great Britain,' who had experienced 'complete black-out … long before actual night raids started'; such African sympathy for British civilians should not be minimised to strategic self-interest.124 As Mordi argues, some Africans 'keenly followed the slide to war,' and were 'acutely aware of the dire consequences' of Axis supremacy; many were angered by Italy's invasion of Ethiopia in 1935, and mindful of Nazi racial ideology.125 They raised significant sums to help British civilians and the Allied war effort; in 1942, African philanthropic fund-raising had raised £1,400 towards a Spitfire in Nsukka, and £ 10,290 from Kano.126 The threat of air raids caused longer-standing insecurity to surface in new ways. Crime represented a major concern, as commonly feared in blacked-out European cities as much as in African ones; in Lagos, reporters worried that the black-out provided 'encouragement to thieves and bad characters.'127 This problem, took on a specifically Lagosian dimension when newspaper editorials connected it to a more general panic concerning the delinquent behaviour of urban youths known as 'Boma Boys.'128 In fact, crimes that took advantage of A.R.P. measures were not a preserve of the township; during the June 1941 blackouts in Abeokuta, 4 robbery cases were reported in one week, as well as two raids on shops.129 In Lagos, the Superintendent of Police advised homeowners and businesses to padlock their properties during the hours of darkness.130 Newspaper editorials urged 'extra vigilance' on the part of the police to counteract the threat of theft and violence.131 These fears were justified; responding to a temporary increase in black-out measures in the summer of 1941, the Pilot remarked that: dwelling houses, shops, etcetera are being broken into by those who think that they have got the finest opportunity to profit by the misfortune of the people … every day brings in its own tale of woe … if something is not done 123 Mordi 2019, 843. 124 'A.R.P. Measures,' Nigerian Daily Times, 1st August 1940'The Black-Out,' Nigerian Daily Times, 21st September 1940. 125 Mordi 2019Asante 1974, 292-293. 126 Clarke 1986, 21. 127 'Control of Lighting,' Nigerian Daily Times, 9th July 1940Adey, Cox, andGodfrey 2016, 3. 128 George 2011, 837;Aderinto 2015, 275-278;Fourchard 2006, 115-137;Fourchard 2005, 300-302. 129 'Black-Out at Abeokuta,' Nigerian Daily Times, 26th June 1941. 130 'How to be Prepared Against Air Raid Emergency,' Nigerian Daily Times, 14th June 1941. 131 'New Lighting Restrictions,' Nigerian Daily Times, 2nd July 1940 coates Journal of African Military History 4 (2020) 66-96 now, the visitations into the houses and shops will develop into robbery with violence on the highways, or … something even worse than that.132 Predicting an escalation from robbery to violent crime would lead to 'chaos and fear,' the editorial demanded increased police patrols, or the appointment of special constables. But even the appointment of extra patrols was not a straightforward solution; one observer worried that a volunteer corps of Special Constables might simply perpetuate the crime spree; such 'volunteers [had to be] … persons whose integrity and reliability are absolutely unquestionable.'133 If the black-out brought fears of 'brigands' and thieves to the fore, these worries also reflected a more generalised inability of the colonial government to impose order and control over the city, regardless of whether a black-out was in operation or not.
Africans also critiqued the government for its failure to impose sufficiently extensive civil defence protections. Appearing shortly after a broadcast speech by the Commissioner of the Colony on Lagos radio, one editorial took aim squarely at the lack of protection for Africans, arguing that 'we must … be fully prepare [d] for anything at any moment,' the writer continued to lament how 'it is unfortunate that it has not been possible to provide air raid shelters' for Nigeria.134 Observing that a recent practice had failed, enticing large crowds into the streets, the article continued by warning that such gatherings would form 'an inciting target:' for the enemy's bombs and machine guns and expose even the hospital to grave risk … We should have thought that in case of a raid, people already under cover would be allowed to remain quietly where they were until the 'All Clear ' … sounded.135 Stressing the proximity of Spanish and French territory, another editorial demanded: we want to know what plans for evacuation are being prepared for the people, not only for non-Africans but also for Africans …136 The critique was not merely general, but contained an element of pressure, suggesting that officials had failed to act decisively since the war began: the fate of the people must not be left to chance as was done in the past … We must also make plans for shelters, in case of aerial bombing, plans like these should now engage the attention of our Authorities and we expect the Governor to tell us what is being done about them in his next public announcement on the radio … the people must be calm, but the Government must be energetically active.137 Communications and planning shortcomings attracted pointed criticism; existing A.R.P. leaflets, such as the 1940 publication 'Protecting Lagos From Fire,' were only available in English. Such measures were deemed to have little effect in 'a community where illiteracy [is] preponderate,' and, the article recommended, A.R.P. measures should instead be 'broadcast in the vernacular.'138 The new post of Air Raid Warden, a product of the A.R.P., measures, attracted mixed responses. One editorial was thankful that wardens: … are now protected by our laws and those who think that they can molest them without compunction are finding that they can only do so to their sorrow.139 These lines hint at a local hostility to such wardens that must remain in the realm of conjecture due to the absence of supporting evidence. In any case, protection was deemed 'very essential' because 'the public': Owes gratitude to these Wardens for giving of their time and service to prepare themselves to work for the protection of their fellow men and women.
Despite this positive role, another 'side of the question' existed, particularly in 'the attitude of some of the wardens themselves.' Citing the comments of an anonymous warden, the editorial continued to reveal the suspicion that: When one comes in contact with [some wardens] … on patrol and notice[s] their method of approach to the public, one is challenged to ask whether they are mannerful, polite, and cautious or whether they are competent to teach and educate the general public …140 It is impossible to ascertain the substance behind this complaint, but we can observe the existence of a notion of what constituted 'proper' behaviour on the part of an A.R.P. warden, and how this was closely linked in the comments of this particular Warden with the mission of 'teach[ing]' and 'educat[ing]' the public. Ambassador of the entire edifice of A.R.P. measures, the mission of the warden himself was, at least in this case, being styled into a persona displaying sufficient education, 'knowledge' , and 'seriousness of mind' to indicate a bid to socially mandated respectability.141 African commentators also pointed disparities within civil defence, such as the government's reluctance to run trial air raids, and the racial discrimination that kept Africans from senior roles in civil defence. The necessity of trial air-raids was underscored by one Lagosian, Philip Awonka, who wrote to the Daily Times offering suggestions on how to run A.R.P. practices. 'Some practical demonstration' of a night-time raid was vital, Awonka contended, so as to give the wardens an opportunity to practice, and ensuring that 'the masses … have a full understanding of what an Air Raid means.'142 These steps would bring Nigeria into line with, what Awonka termed, 'more advanced countries,' where 'the people were taught what to do in case of an air raid.'143 Racial discrimination in hiring civil defence staff was also noted by African observers; the implication here was that some Africans were keenly interested in helping with civil defence, but were barred from doing so due to racism. 'I know personally,' argued one writer in the pro-British Daily Times that 'many Africans feel very strongly' about the refusal to hire local people to defend Lagos, and suggested that: it is inevitable that there should be the suspicion that colour or racial discrimination has something to do with it144  145 As we have seem, officials had prejudicial views of the Africans they expected to hire to civil defence roles, often drawing on gendered stereotypes that discriminated against clerks. Concerns over racism were sufficiently grave to necessitate the Governor of Nigeria's intervention, stressing that, in the military, 'Africans and Europeans [were] drilling in the ranks side by side' and that 'there [was] no question whatever of racial distinction.'146

Conclusion: After the Bombing Threat
By the winter of 1942/3, the bombing threat had receded; on 8th November 1942, around 90,000 Allied troops invaded French North Africa as part of Operation Torch, triggering the removal of Axis powers from the region.147 A February 1943 meeting of the West African War Council decided that land-based air attack 'could be disregarded,' and the remaining civil defence organisations were to be disbanded, outside of the ports of Lagos and Victoria.148 'So long as the military position in Africa does not deteriorate,' wrote one Lagos official, 'we are safe from air attack, since Germany and Italy have no aircraft carriers;' the threat from 'incendiary bombs … does not at present exist,' and bombardment from a submarine remained the sole risk.149 Anti-aircraft defences were moved away from West Africa, and any civil defence experts in the region were to be relocated; in Lagos, officials realised that their work was now on 'a care and maintenance basis.'150 Certain restrictions continued, such as those regarding seaward-facing lights; in March 1943, some 2,000 Europeans and Africans con-coates Journal of African Military History 4 (2020) 66-96 tinued to be employed in civil defence, many leaving their work places to take part in two hour unpaid shifts.151 Some restrictions continued, aimed at countering submarine attack; vehicles were still prohibited from driving southwards along Victoria Beach Road and the Marina, and ships anchored in the pool were only allowed to show lights with the Resident Naval Officer's permission152 By October 1943, civil defence services were being disbanded and equipment soldoff; departing staff were allowed to keep their uniforms.153 Civil defence represents a significant aspect of civilian experience on the African 'home front,' particularly in major urban centres. Although unrealised, the air raid threat demonstrates the extent to which the global war impressed itself upon the lives of urban Nigerians, and also highlights the scale and shortcomings of colonial government plans to implement civil defence measures, including A.R.P. in colonial cities.154 There was insufficient funding to buy enough materials to build, maintain, or extend shelters; it was too costly to run routine air-raid practices, and there was neither the administrative knowledge nor the official will-power to create shelters in most African residential areas. As if these crippling financial setbacks were not enough, there were serious problems regarding the manner in which civil defence was understood and explained in colonial Lagos. Material was not printed in local languages, and broadcasts remained sporadic, with some areas of Lagos, such as Yaba, lacking direct access to a public speaker for part of the war. In any case, government officials and certain business representatives lacked faith in the ability of Africans to respond to any threat; old spectres of mass panic, and untrustworthiness soon surfaced, and the whole edifice of 'A.R.P.' came to rely on the nebulous notion of an African 'of good social standing.' Despite these paternalistic assumptions, thousands of Africans voluntarily left their day jobs to engage in the hazardous work of defending Lagos.
If, as Korieh contends, 'the military history of [World War Two] has often overlooked the enormous burden placed upon the African population,' then the air-raid threat represents a localised, but far-reaching example of this bur-Journal of African Military History 4 (2020) 66-96 den.155 African journalists were active in pointing to shortcomings in the colonial government's civil defence measures; they highlighted the persistence of racial inequality in recruitment for air-raid wardens and the distribution of shelters, official insouciance over mock air-raids. Less directly, these observers suggested that the colonial government was unable to adequately police Lagos during the black-out, and noted that the very staff hired to protect local civilians might play a role in those criminal enterprises undertaken in the darkness. The threat of air-bombing had a limited but potent ability to insert Nigeria into the global war effort.