REASONS FOR THE LONDON RAIDS

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Six months of war transformed the Zeppelin Company into an ever-expanding organization working night and day toward quantity production of airships. This was something that the Allies never achieved. It was paralleled only by the output of American surface ships after the United States entered the conflict.

The assembly shed put up at Friedrichshafen in August proved too small for the larger ships which were being designed, so a larger shed was built. Laboratories, wind tunnels, engine testing chambers and shops grew up near-by. The Zeppelin harbor at Potsdam became a construction plant and during 1915 the two centers were to produce 26 airships for the army and navy. Early in January we were transferred from the Sachsen to one of the new ships, the Z-12.

She was a modern raider built for war, though much smaller even than the present Los Angeles.. She was nearly 100 feet shorter and possessed only half the girth, therefore had much smaller lifting powers. Her capacity load of 12 tons was slight compared to the 50 tons of the Los Angeles - indicating the progress made within a few years. And we now look upon the Los Angeles as only a small, experimental type.

Another point we did not like about the Z-12 was her speed, which, though the fastest yet made by an airship, was only 56 miles an hour. We knew that it was not enough to overcome adverse weather conditions in operating against a defended area. Still, the Z-12 represented a marked advance over the peace-time types.

Instead of open control cars, there were closed cabins not unlike those on present military craft. She was the first, after the unlucky peace-time experiment with the L-2 (Zeppelin's second ship, which was wrecked) to have a corridor partly inside the hull and was the forerunner of others which were to have the corridor completely inside.

Among the scores of improvements many had been suggested by Gemmingen and myself. The engineers and others back at the plant had displayed respect for our recommendations, for several reasons. They knew that technical progress must depend on the observations made under actual war conditions, and also, that I, as an experienced engineer, could be depended upon to avoid crackbrained and impractical suggestions.

When I first joined the organization in 1913, my experience as a ship-builder had enabled me to discover many faults immediately, and like any other novice I had rushed forth with one plan after another. For instance, why not streamline the ships (as they are today) and why not arrange the propelling machinery differently?

After many long explanations from my tolerant colleagues, it dawned on me that what I had suggested was merely the obvious, that anybody could see the need for improvement, and that these improvements were not made at that time for excellent reasons.

They were then impractical. The cylindrical pencilform hull with shaft-driven propellers high up on the sides made an awkward craft, but nevertheless one which could be landed and handled on the ground comparatively easily. With existing engines it was not then advisable to build hulls for more speed, the only advantage to be gained by streamlining. That was more costly, too, for under the prevailing methods hulls could be built quickly and in great numbers, the ring frames, except those at each end, being identical in size and therefore quickly duplicated.

The geared propellers were placed high up to avoid being damaged in a forced landing, and forced landings in those days were not uncommon. Thus my questions were answered until I had learned to investigate thoroughly just what had been done by the others in the planning rooms before advancing my own ideas.

I have dwelt on that subject at length because similar conditions exist here in America today. Since the war innumerable schemes for making "fool-proof" and perfect airships have been launched. Some are fanciful in the extreme. Others show all the signs of superficial reasoning. But there have been many failures in rigid construction simply because the builders, lacking thorough understanding of the fundamental theoretical principles and proper appreciation of the great variety of practical considerations involved, introduced "new improvements" which had been thought of and discarded without their knowledge.

With our actual war experience I could combine practical engineering, so Gemmingen felt justified in indorsing my reports to the high command and the factory. As a result I had the pleasure of seeing a number of my contributions materialize in the 26 Zeppelins produced during 1915 and used by the army and navy on a variety of missions.

Meanwhile, military circles, and, so it appeared, everybody else in Germany, had been thinking about air raids on London and Paris. Confidence in the Zeppelins had been so firmly established in the public mind by the commercial flights before the war that they were accepted as practical. Their accomplishments during the early months were not looked upon as unusual. More spectacular performances were expected. Though the airship crews were treated with the greatest consideration, they were not, nor did they ever become, objects of hero worship as did the airplane pilots such as Boelke, Immelmann, Richthofen and others who later on repeatedly attained new records in bringing down enemy planes.

The bitterness of war was increasing almost daily; and as the wounded came back from the front, there developed a public demand for the most drastic measures against the enemy, particularly France and England. Above all, England, in German eyes, safe across the Channel, must be made to suffer. The best way, according to those who talked loudest but who undoubtedly knew least about the subject, was to raze London by fire.

Raids on London were being considered by the high command, but obviously they required better reasons than mere public demand for the destruction of a city. Finally, early in 1915, these reasons were formulated, the result of long conferences between the army and navy chiefs and finally with the Kaiser.

Interference with the manufacture and procurement of supplies and munitions was the main reason for the raids. There were other reasons, of course. Next in importance was the object of inflicting damage on points of military value. These objectives lay scattered throughout England -- docks, arsenals, munitions factories, warehouses, railway yards, and not least in importance, the Bank of England.

The Bank of England was one of the principal targets in all the raids on London. If it could be destroyed England's entire monetary system might be thrown into confusion, and that would be one way of paralyzing the auxiliary industries in a war of this magnitude. The third object was to compel England to maintain large forces at home, to be concerned about defending London and other centers and thus divert from the battlefields no small part of her military strength.

The fourth object of the raids was to bolster up the spirit and morale of the Zeppelin crews assigned to scouting and patrol duty with the navy. Theirs was a monotonous and thankless task. They were exposed to all the dangers, yet had no real thrills of the sort that fighting or raiding provides. Admiral Scheer, commander of the fleet, recognized the need for giving the naval Zeppelins something else to do occasionally, and he advocated the raids because every member of the crews wanted to make raids.

The fifth object of the raids was to weaken the enemy morale. In this they failed. If anything, the British, in fact, Allied morale was considerably strengthened by the Zeppelin raids. But the other purposes were accomplished more or less successfully.

While the high command was deliberating on the question of attacking England with Zeppelins, public clamor in Germany for the complete destruction of London and other English cities became more insistent. It was what the people expected. From. the moral viewpoint, it would be justified, they said, because of England's food blockade against Germany.

The proposition progressed to such a point that it was subjected to expert opinion. Earlier in the war the high command had received a suggestion from a staff officer that whole fleets of Zeppelins be sent over London at once, not to scatter their effectiveness by single attacks but to strike in a group, one overwhelming group that should penetrate and frustrate all defenses no matter how strong they might be.

The airships were available. The plant at Friedrichshafen would soon be able to turn out a new ship every six weeks; and the navy already had five craft operating with the fleet and patrolling the German seas. Each lot of ships was larger in size, more efficient in lifting capacity and possessed greater cruising range. A plan for razing London was worked out in unofficial quarters, yet without any official authority for it. There was none to sponsor it.

The idea was to equip 20 Zeppelins and train their crews to operate as part of a fleet. Each ship would carry about 300 incendiary bombs. They would strike London simultaneously at night. Thus 6,000 bombs would be dropped on the city at once. When asked for my technical opinion, I agreed that it was entirely feasible.

Assuming that only a fifth of the bombs took effect or caused fires, that would give London more than a thousand fires to combat at the same time. We agreed that no organization on earth could successfully fight such a conflagration. We counted on having a third of the Zeppelins shot down, also in flames; but not until after they had dropped their bombs somewhere in the city.

"Then why wasn't the plan carried out?" I hear the question from all sides. There are two parts to the answer. First: though we agreed that it could be done, none of us desired to be a party to it. At least a million women and children would be involved. London with her noble buildings and treasures of art was valuable to us as a precious possession of civilized humankind which we would not destroy without necessity. I never talked with anyone who, realizing this, desired to take a personal part in such a raid. The fact that some people were expecting it may be attributed to war hysteria. I do not believe that a sane person would have really wanted it to happen.

However, the plan could be authorized only by the highest command, which meant by the Kaiser himself. And be bad never been officially consulted on it. From the first days of the war he had been strongly opposed to raids of any sort against England; and when in the face of constant pressure from his admirals and generals he finally approved and authorized the first sporadic raids, it was with the understanding that only objectives of real military importance should be bombed. He made these reservations much plainer than that.

He stipulated that such places as Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral and the residential sections should not be bombed, even by accident. I commanded the army Zeppelin which first flew over England and I know what the orders were and what they would have meant to me had I disobeyed them. Our orders were specific; we were to avoid the prescribed districts unless military exigencies made it imperative that some places should suffer damage.

During that first winter of the war, whenever we had a conference on bombing, the outstanding impression was that the Kaiser was responsible for the repeated instructions to bring our bombs back home if we were not sure of hitting objects of military importance.

Gemmingen and I studied carefully the first orders for the London raids, which were not issued to the army airships until the middle of March, 1915. We were to attack the inner city of London, all docks, railway stations, etc., but by no means were we to risk hitting the residence of England's King, Westminster or St. Paul's. As we talked about this, I drew out my map of London on which I had made circles in red ink around those buildings similar to the so-called danger circles employed by the captains of surface vessels to help them avoid rocks and shoals.

"Do you see how careful we must be?" I said. "I doubt if we shall have time to unload all our bombs during one run over the inner city. We must risk flying in a complete circle and make a second attack. We shall undoubtedly run into one of these danger circles, especially while coming from the south, with a south wind, within two or three minutes after starting the attack. The only alternative is to begin bombing at the Woolwich Arsenal or the Albert Docks?"

"Well," said Gemmingen, "that's true enough, but I am sure that we must not hit Westminster or the other buildings. I know the Kaiser will never forgive us if we should harm those places."

"But," I insisted, "we shall never have time for more than one single shot at the Bank of England, for weather conditions are such that we will not often be able to use our little device for avoiding detection. That will require clouds and below them sufficiently clear atmosphere for us to see the target. Under the circumstances, we had better take the docks and outer military targets for our normal objectives and forget all about the inner city."

I might cite another instance of the Kaiser's interest in protecting royalty among his enemies. On April 13, 1915, the Zeppelin LZ-35 was ready to set out on a raid over supply centers behind the British lines, Cassel, St. Omer and Hazebrouck. Just before departing the commander, Captain Masius, was handed a telegram in code. By direct order of the Kaiser the attack on St. Omer was forbidden and Poperinghe substituted. The reason was soon made known. Headquarters had received word that the Allied leaders were to hold a secret meeting at St. Omer and the kings of both Belgium and England were to be present. When Masius told me of this, he explained:

"The town council house at St. Omer, where the Allied leaders convened, stands isolated in the middle of a large open space and it would have been a simple matter to hit it with one of my two dozen bombs."

It was generally understood throughout the German air force that wherever King George or King Albert happened to be, that place was to be avoided by our bombers. On the other hand, the Allies made several airplane attacks on Charleville and Stenay, headquarters of the Kaiser and the Crown Prince.

I just mentioned our little device to avoid detection from the surface. It was one of the early it mysteries" of the war and so far as I know has never been explained fully.

Though we had been receiving better bombs, we still faced the problem of using them efficiently. Our huge airships were large-size targets. The Allies were not slow in improving their defense. Enemy airplanes were becoming faster, more reliable and capable of reaching heights near to our limit. The searchlights were stronger. They were making the heavens as light as day whenever the alarm was sounded for an air raid. The antiaircraft guns were becoming more effective as the gunners learned more about firing at their targets. In fact, we could count on running into a hornet's nest whenever we crossed our own lines. Gemmingen and I had set out to develop a means of overcoming all these defensive weapons. We succeeded in a way.

Our idea was to produce a small observation car which might be lowered a half mile or more below the Zeppelin. In that an observer could ride and direct the course and the firing, while the big ship floated serenely above him in a cloud bank or mist. As an engineer the task of designing the car fell to me. It was not my invention. Several persons had submitted similar ideas. It came to me from a business man by the name of Hagen, who was also a civil engineer, in Cologne at that time. He bad a small machine shop near-by and together we made the first tests with a very crude experimental apparatus.

He supplied a band winch and a one-eighth inch steel cable about 1,000 feet long. We found an old butter cask and tacked a tail stick on it which we hoped would act as a sort of weather vane to hold it from spinning. The winch was mounted in the bomb room amidships and the cask attached to the cable with a pair of strong springs to take up possible jolting. Installing an ordinary trench telephone in the cask so that I could communicate with the control car, I had the helmsman blindfolded and we set out on an experimental flight.

As I was lowered some 500 feet below, there came a series of shocks caused by the jerks and stops of the old hand winch. There I hung exactly as if I bad been in a bucket in a well. This jerking was not a pleasant sensation, and I did some hasty calculation and found the cable and winch were not over strong. But the test was successful.

With a hand compass I could determine the direction I wanted to take. My orders relayed to the blindfolded helmsman in the control car were acted upon quickly and the ship moved wherever I desired her. Back on earth again we immediately ordered the construction of an efficient winch to be driven by one of the main engines on the ship.

It held 3,000 feet of a high grade steel cable a quarter of an inch thick and especially made for us. Inside the cable was a brass core insulated with rubber so that it would serve as a telephone line. The observation car was made of wicker work and resembled in form the body of a tiny airplane with the regulation tail, rudder and lateral fins. A steering bar permitted the occupant to help control the lateral motion if the airship encountered a disturbance which might set the small observation car swinging unsteadily. This was soon discarded as unnecessary. Inside were a comfortable chair, a chart table, electric light, a lightning protector, a compass and the telephone.

During the first two months of 1915 we experienced great difficulty with the engines on the new Z-12, because the oil tanks and pipe installations were not sufficiently protected against extreme cold. I remember that we tried to make a raid on Nancy, the French fortress in Lorraine, on an exceptionally cold day in February. Our ship succeeded without particular effort in reaching the hitherto unusual altitude of 11,000 feet. There the thermometer dropped past 10 below zero, how much I cannot say because our instrument dials were not then made to indicate lower temperatures.

There was no way of heating the control car in which we had to stand to operate the ship. The men stationed throughout the hull fared as badly, and I feared that the engine crews would freeze their fingers working on their motors. The situation became serious, when one of the three engines stopped. While we were trying to get it started, another went dead. The oil had frozen into solid blocks inside the tanks. With only one engine it would be suicidal to risk flying over Nancy, so I turned round to come back, when I found that we would be lucky indeed if we were to reach the hangar. Finally, we had to rip apart the oil tanks, pick out the chunks of oil, break them into small chips and feed them almost directly into the engine through the small oil cleaner tank. In a similar manner we got another engine started and dragged ourselves back home.

We then had a number of changes made in the fuel and oil installations, and on March 8th flew the Z-12 from Frankfurt to Maubeuge, which was to be our airport. Maubeuge, being in captured French territory close to the Belgian border, placed us relatively near the enemy objectives.

Three days after our arrival we received a copy of the order authorizing the raids on England. It read something like this:

"Until further order, the command is to make bombing raids, whenever possible, on military objects in England, preferably London."

That was general enough. It gave me authority to pick my own time and use my own judgment as to just where we should fly. This was essential, for I should have to reckon with the weather. For days it prevented us making an attempt, and the members of my crew became very restless. They wanted to be first over London.

They could not be first over England because two navy Zeppelins, L-3 and L-4, had raided the English east coast on the 19th of January, but we still had a chance to make the first attack on the capital.

All airship commanders experienced difficulty raiding the enemy in the west because of the peculiar navigational problems. No accurate forecast of the weather could be obtained. In Europe, as elsewhere in the northern hemisphere, weather generally comes from the west. In other words, the storm areas develop somewhere in the northern part of the American continent and cross the Atlantic, thus striking the coasts of the British Isles and France with very little warning. The system of peace-time weather reports from steamers at sea was in the initial stages of development when the war started. Even today it is hardly adequate. The weather forecaster in western Europe has a most difficult task, unlike his colleague in the United States where in most instances new disturbances in the west can be checked and analyzed and the middle and eastern states forewarned. This, by the way, affords the United States a tremendous advantage over Europe in all aviation. When meteorological service for aircraft is thoroughly organized here, it will more than compensate for the greater violence of American weather which is caused by the topography.

For us during the war period there was rarely any advance knowledge concerning the weather on our projected course. The German meteorological headquarters was established in Belgium and the most advanced outpost permitted our observers was at the front - less than 100 miles away. That was almost useless, for a storm center traveling as slowly as 20 miles an hour would pass over or turn in its course or perform any of countless unforeseen twists before we could be warned of it. We were often compelled, therefore, to set out blindly on flights which might last 20 hours.

This necessitated our using the strictest care in reading the weather from our ships, observing the peculiarities of each cloud bank, the wind at various heights, the temperature and barometric readings. I should estimate that at least 30 per cent of the flights toward France or England were interrupted by unforeseen weather changes; and this would be a low average, considering that the Zeppelins went out whenever it seemed at all possible.

Even moderate winds in an unfavorable direction menaced the success of a flight, for the heavily laden craft could carry only a certain quantity of fuel and a headwind might reduce the actual speed just enough to keep the ship within reach of the enemy longer than advisable, or endanger it on the return in case of partial damage or engine trouble. Rain, too, if heavy enough, by creating additional weight on the ship, might prevent it reaching a sufficient altitude above the enemy, and so would thick clouds or fog.

In addition, we could not employ most of the normal aids to navigation because of war conditions. In flight we often had difficulty even to check the prevailing winds and weather. In war all the usual ground facilities were either unavailable or limited in application. Radio communication was too dangerous. The enemy could intercept radio messages and locate our ship. I never used it on an outward flight and only during emergencies while returning home. Astronomical observations were often impossible because we could not see the stars. The landmarks discernible at night were few and generally difficult to identify.

In peacetime, cities and towns are brilliantly lighted, lighthouses operated on all coasts and the ship free to fly as low as may be necessary. Navigation then is a simple matter.

Often we would not even use our floating flares designed to make a fixed spot on the surface by which we could calculate the wind drift. Our only aids while operating from Belgium were two lighthouses on that coast especially equipped for throwing beams upward.

One was at Ostende, the other to the east at Steenbrugge. The straight line between these two beams of light extended across directly to the mouth of the Thames. By keeping the lights in line as long as they were visible, we could determine the wind direction, at least during the initial period. Ample experience in judging cloud formations was our mainstay in checking the further developments of wind velocity and the changes at varying altitudes.

On the 16th of March the weather seemed to improve and we made ready for the first raid on London, waiting only for the late weather reports that evening. But in the upper air the wind was still blowing a gale. We did not get away until the next night.

The Z-12 was loaded with about three tons of mixed bombs and in the quiet evening air we arose and passed out over Ostende to the North Sea. We arrived over the English coast about 10 o'clock. There we found one of the thickest fogs that ever mantled the British Isles. Those fogs which cause so much trouble in times of peace saved England considerable damage during the war, just as centuries ago they protected her coasts from the raids of seafaring enemies.

I put the Z-12 up to 10,000 feet, as high as she would take her heavy load of bombs and fuel. But we could not get through the cloud banks which clung tenaciously to the fog belt. We circled about in all directions trying to locate the River Thames from the formation of the clouds; but could not find it. Ordinarily, the cloud banks above the river would be thinner and more uneven than over land but now they were too thick. Finally, we sent the ship down almost to the surface, but even there we could not find the river. All that we received for our trouble was a hot fire from a battery which we could not identify, so did not bother to answer it. By this time we were some miles inland and the game of finding London remained as difficult as finding a simple way to end the war.

Rather than waste the entire night in what was a futile attempt from the start we turned the ship about and headed for Calais. To our surprise conditions there were ideal for using the observation car. The clouds lay over both land and sea, their lower strata some 4,000 feet from the surface, and in that space the air was as clear as a crystal. We could make out the lights of Calais while miles distant, and prepared the car for service. Baron Gemmingen and I had several times argued as to which of us would be the first to ride in the car during a raid. I wanted to do it, but he was equally insistent and finally he made it plain that it was his duty as observer to go below, while I remained with the ship in charge of operations.

Approaching Calais we throttled down the engines so that they would make the minimum noise while still permitting us to maneuver and turn in our tracks if necessary. Gemmingen was lowered about a half mile below the ship and we ascended into the clouds. He said later that he had felt lonely down there by himself and as be saw the big Zeppelin disappear from sight it seemed as if he were a disembodied spirit floating about in space. But he was a dangerous spirit, as events proved.

By the time we arrived over the city he was half a mile above the surface with perfectly clear vision; and his tiny car could not be seen by the puzzled watchers below. They heard our engines, of course, and all the light artillery from the forts was directed toward the sound. But the sky was broad. Their fire was utterly futile. Only once did a salvo come near enough for us to notice the detonations when the shell burst.

Peering out of the control car we could not see anything, not even Gemmingen. The darkness and mist surrounded us like an impenetrable wall; but Gemmingen by this time was sending up his orders through the telephone, giving directions by compass. We circled over the fortress for 45 minutes, Gemmingen taking his time so that he could plant his bombs with precision. He had little difficulty directing the operations and at intervals be would quietly order a few small bombs dropped, then larger ones and so on. Five separate attacks were made, taking in the railway station, the storehouses on the docks, the arsenal and other points. Occasionally, emerging from the upper surface of the clouds, we saw light ovals made by the searchlights as the rays struck the clouds and were blocked as if they were playing on a great layer of cotton thousands of acres in extent.

Later we learned that Calais bad been thrown into a turmoil not only by the bombing but by the fact that the airship could not be seen. We were credited with all sorts of ingenuity. It was decided that we had perfected a mirror and color system which made our ship invisible from the surface, something which was proved to be a scientific impossibility. The authorities even imprisoned a pair of innocent residents of the city who had been out on their bicycles that night; and they were charged with having directed us by means of their lanterns.

It was while returning from that raid that I had my first real accident. We had sighted our landing lights at Maubeuge. I had brought the ship to within 400 feet of the ground and was "weighing off ", that is, stopping the engines and allowing the craft to rise and fall according to the conditions of buoyancy. Our forward motion had ceased. The altitude recorder indicated a slow sinking and I had turned around to signal for the engines to start when I saw tall chimneys rising up black and stark against the sky. The weather bad changed, the barometer bad fallen four inches in less than twelve hours and the altimeter, being controlled by the barometric pressure, had registered our height 300 feet higher than it actually was. None of us had seen how close to the surface we were until then, and before we could throw our ballast the ship reached the ground. Fortunately it had no forward speed and on a plain field no damage would have resulted. But here we dropped on a railroad between a group of factories on the outskirts of our landing field. The forward car struck a highway bridge over the tracks and the rear end of the ship settled into a railroad cut. The tail caught in a telegraph pole and ripped away part of the steering gear. Jumping out and finding the extent of the damage I sent out guards to stop all trains and then waited for daylight, meanwhile mooring the Z-12 to some telegraph poles. After we had towed the craft into the hangar next morning, we found that it would require fourteen days before repairs could be completed.

I bad another accident shortly after we had taken the air again. This time we were also bound for England, which was proving not altogether a lucky objective for us, for we were again turned back. The rain commenced pouring in torrents as we cruised through the night above the North Sea; and as the water gathering on the hull so weighted it that we could not gain sufficient altitude for successful bombing, we bad to call it off. But we did not desire to return empty-handed after such a wetting. As we should have to pass close to Dunkirk on our return we decided to dump the bombs into the fortress there.

They gave us a merry fight, peppering the air with shrapnel. We realized that a stray shell might find us, but continued dropping bombs with considerable effect. We must have sent a ton and a half of explosives into the forts when there came a peculiar vibration in the ship and a knocking sound. An instant later the crew in the rear engine car telephoned forward that the starboard propeller had vanished and had apparently been hurled into the gas bags. On inspection we found no trace of the propeller, but there was a big hole in the envelope on the hull and a smaller one in the lower side of a gas cell. We made for home, landing safely a few hours later. After a thorough search we concluded that a fragment of shell had hit the propeller, damaging it sufficiently to disturb its balance and twisting it off the shaft.

CHAPTER 4 -- WITH HINDENBURG ON THE EASTERN FRONT  |  Contents

The International Clearinghouse for Hydrogen Based Commerce
1	2	3	4	5	6
LATEST ADVANCES	DESIGNING THE FUTURE	HYDROGEN STORAGE	HYDROGEN VEHICLES	CREATING HYDROGEN	FUEL CELLS
7	8	9	10	11	12
SPACE PROPULSION	H2 TRUCKS & BIKES	HYDROGEN PEOPLE	HYDROGEN POLITICS	HYDROGEN VS  OIL	CLIMATE CHANGE
13	14	15	16     HYDROGEN ZEPPLINS	17	18
MANHATTAN H2 PROJECT	HYDROGEN & HEALTH	AMAZING HYDROGEN		H2 SHIPS & SUBS	HYDROGEN ON VIDEO