The Terror of the Zeppelins page 3

Five of the raiders reached England, two having had to turn back on account of engine trouble, and their deadly work began in the early hours of April i. There is no need to describe and re-describe the scenes of confusion and panic which followed. Suffice it to say that over two hundred bombs were dropped that night, killing nearly fifty people (men, women, and children), and wounding many more. Houses were blown to pieces, burnt, and reduced to heaps of useless rubble, and more than twenty-five thousand pounds' worth of damage was reported. But this time the enemy was not to have it all his own way. The Captain of the L.15 passed over the Suffolk coast and headed for London, dropping bombs as he went. Almost as he reached Grays, to follow the course of the Thames, he was picked up by one of the many searchlights which stabbed the night, and the great silver ship was seen by hundreds of awestruck Londoners, who felt somehow that a terrible drama was about to be played out to its bitter end. A second after the brilliant column of light found its target, the air rocked with the crash of anti-aircraft fire.

Meanwhile, unheard by those who watched so breathlessly, an aeroplane had taken off from Joyce Green aerodrome, and Second-Lieutenant Ridley, the pilot, was roaring towards the "floodlit" raider. As soon as he was within striking distance he pressed the trigger of his machine-gun, sending a hail of bullets towards the enormous ship. A second later she escaped from the searchlight's beam, and for a time no one knew what had happened. Then another of the probing fingers of light fastened on her, and once more the guns crashed out from fully half a dozen points, filling the air with fragments of shell. It was too much for the Zeppelin's commander, and he turned away, unloading his bombs over North London as he went. But his deadly cargo fell harmlessly into country fields, and a few minutes later the Zeppelin was hit by a shell from a gun at Purfleet, Surrey.

A large hole yawned in the envelope, and although the commander tried vainly to save her, she was doomed. With gas streaming from the punctured fabric, the ship began to sink. Everything that could be jettisoned went by the board, but the Zeppelin sank lower and lower. An urgent radio call for assistance was sent out, but although the commander was told that destroyers were coming to his aid, the Admiralty had also heard the messages, and British destroyers went speeding into the night to intercept them, or, if the Zeppelin still showed fight, to attack and capture her if possible. But the raider was finished. She landed in the sea, close to a number of fishing boats, and an armed trawler. The trawler immediately opened fire, but there was no reply so she steamed alongside. Whereupon a voice from inside the ship called out:

"We surrender; have no arms; come alongside."

The trawler took off the crew, with the loss of only one man, and awaited the arrival of the British destroyers. When they arrived, L.15 was taken in tow, but she collapsed and sank when within sight of the shore.

So was the first important blow struck at the enemy in the air; and although many more raids were to take place, and many more people to die before the raiders were finally defeated, the news of this single victory did more to restore confidence in England than anything else since the raids began. Before the end of April, seven more night attacks were made, over towns and villages, right across England, from Scotland to Kent. But it seemed that the sting had been taken out of the enemy's tail. Three of those seven raids, in which six Zeppelins crossed the coast, only resulted in damage to the extent of five hundred odd pounds, and one man wounded. From the beginning of May, 1916, to the end of August, there were seven more raids, four of which only accounted for one more injured victim and a thousand pounds' worth of damage; and this in spite of the fact that twenty-one Zeppelins took part altogether. And then, at the beginning of September, another Zeppelin was destroyed.

It was the biggest raid which the enemy had planned. No fewer than sixteen airships started out, and fourteen of them made England. Fourteen counties suffered a most vicious attack, including London, and nearly five hundred bombs were dropped. But the result of this terrific hail was only four killed, and twelve injured; and, as the enemy was to learn, he had shot his bolt.

The real victim of this ambitious raid was to be the S.L.11, one of the newest military airships. Arriving over London in the early hours of September 3, the Zeppelin immediately began to release its hail of bombs. Almost at once, however, she was picked out by searchlights, which held her relentlessly in their fiery beams while the storm of anti-aircraft shells burst around her. Meanwhile another avenger, a British aeroplane with Lieutenant Leefe Robinson at the controls, was roaring angrily on its way through the night. Guided by a fire, caused by one of the ship's incendiary bombs, the pilot gradually crept up to his prey.

"At about 1.50 a.m. I noticed a red glow in North-East London," Leefe Robinson stated in his official report. "Taking it to be an outbreak of fire, I went in that direction. At 2.5 a.m. a Zeppelin was picked up by the searchlights.... Remembering my last failure, I sacrificed height for speed and made nose down in the direction of the Zeppelin. I saw shells bursting and night tracer shells flying around it. When I drew closer I noticed that the anti-aircraft aim was too high or too low; also a good many some 800 feet behind - a few tracers went right over. I could hear the bursts when about 3,000 feet from the Zeppelin...."

More words cannot describe the full drama of that scene. Darkness, cold, and wind. Far below him, the pilot could see occasional fiery splodges where the raider's bombs had fallen. Pin-pricks of flame marked the beginning of the antiaircraft shells' long journeys. Bursts of flame and smoke showed him only too plainly what danger he was facing as he tore along towards his gigantic target, gleaming, grey and sinister in the searchlights' glare. There would be machine-guns in the airship, ready to sweep him with a hail of bullets as he approached. The air was full of flying bits of shell - any one of which meant certain death if it hit him or his machine. Nearer, and nearer. The Zeppelin grew enormous and unreal...

"... I flew about 800 feet below it from bow to stern and distributed one drum along it. It seemed to have no effect. I therefore moved to one side and gave it another drum distributed along its side - without apparent effect. I then got behind it (by this time I was very close - 500 feet or less below) and concentrated one drum on one part. I was then at a height of 11,500 feet when attacking the Zeppelin. I hardly finished the drum before I saw the part fired at glow. In a few seconds the whole rear part was blazing. When the third drum was fired there were no searchlights on the Zeppelin and no anti-aircraft was firing. I got quickly out of the way of the falling blazing Zeppelin and, being very excited, fired off a few red Very's lights and dropped a parachute flare...."

The S.L.11 hit the ground with a roar and a shower of sparks at Guffley, and all her crew perished with her. From the dark heights above London the crews of the other Zeppelins must have seen her fall and burn; and they, like the thousands who watched from below, must have realised one thing. That at last the beginning of the end was in sight. The Zeppelins were only a source of terror so long as the country was defenceless. Now, as was most apparent, the defences were organised on sound and formidable lines.

On the very next raid (September 24), twelve Zeppelins set out, and nine arrived. Among them were the L.32 and the L.33, the latest of the German Zeppelins, and the latter on her maiden flight. As this ship approached London she was picked out and treated to an overwhelming inferno of anti-aircraft shells, was crippled almost at once. Turning for home, gas pouring from a dozen rents in her gasbags, she sank lower and lower; but she was caught up by a British aeroplane over Chelmsford, and the pilot proceeded to riddle her with bullets. Finally, seeing that escape was hopeless, the commander landed in a field, where the Zeppelin caught fire. L-32, meanwhile, was also endeavouring to escape from a terrible trap of bursting shells which screamed and splintered all round her. But she too was doomed. Even as she escaped the one danger, she met nemesis in the form of Second Lieutenant Sowery, piloting another British aeroplane.

"At 11.25 p.m. I received orders to patrol between Buttons Farm and Joyce Green," said the pilot in his report. "... The weather was clear, with a few thin clouds at 3,000 feet. At 4,000 feet I passed another machine proceeding in a northerly direction. I was then flying due south. I continued climbing as hard as possible, and at 12.10 a.m. I noticed an enemy airship in a southerly direction. It appeared to be over Woolwich. I made for the airship at once, but before I could reach it the searchlights lost it. I was at this time at 8,000 feet. There was a certain amount of gunfire, but it was not intense. I continued climbing and reached a height of 13,000 feet. I was still patrolling between Buttons Farm and Joyce Green. At 12.45 a.m. I noticed an enemy airship in an easterly direction. I at once made in this direction and manoeuvred into a position underneath. The airship was well lighted by searchlights, but there was not a sign of any gunfire. I could distinctly see the propellers revolving and the airship was manoeuvring to avoid the searchlight beams. I fired at it....

"The first two drums of ammunition had apparently no effect, but the third one caused the envelope to catch fire in several places.... I watched the burning airship strike the ground, and then proceeded to find my flares."

So, in those simple words, describing a great deed, lies the true account of Britain's third victory over the Zeppelins. The end of the terror was now well within view. Three of the costly enemy giants had fallen in two successive raids. They could only know that the game was fast being played out, and that so long as it continued it must be a losing game at that.

Undaunted, however, nine more Zeppelins set out the very next night, and six of them reached England to kill and maim nearly four score victims. But it was the last successful raid for some time. On October i eleven Zeppelins set out, seven arrived, and six got back. The seventh, destroyed in the air by Lieutenant Tempest, afforded one of the most dramatic sights ever to be seen by the thousands who watched in silent awe below.

"At about 11.45 p.m.," he reported, "I found myself over South-West London at an altitude of 14,500 feet. There was a heavy ground fog on, and it was bitterly cold, otherwise the night was beautiful and starlit at the altitude at which I was flying. I was gazing over towards the north-east of London, where the fog was not quite so heavy, when I noticed all the searchlights in that quarter concentrated in an enormous ' pyramid.' Following them up to the apex, I saw a small cigar-shaped object, which I at once recognised as a Zeppelin, about fifteen miles away, and heading straight for London. Previous to this I had chased many imaginary Zepps, only to find they were clouds on nearing them. At first I drew near to my objective very rapidly (as I was on one side of London and it was the other, and both heading for the centre of the town). All the time I was having an extremely unpleasant time, as to get to the Zepp I had to pass through a very inferno of bursting shells from the A.A. guns below. All at once, it appeared to me that the Zeppelin must have sighted me, for she dropped all her bombs in one volley, swung round, tilted up her nose and proceeded to race away northwards, climbing rapidly as she went. At the time of dropping her bombs I judged her to be at an altitude of about 11,500 feet. I made after her at all speed at about 15,000 feet altitude, gradually overhauling her.

"At this period the A.A. fire was intense, and I, being about five miles behind the Zeppelin, had an extremely uncomfortable time. At this point misfortune overtook me, for my mechanical pressure pump went wrong and I had to use my hand pump to keep up the pressure in my petrol tank. This exercise at so high an altitude was very exhausting, besides occupying an arm, thus giving me 'one hand less' to operate with when I commenced to fire. As I drew up with the Zeppelin, to my relief I found that I was free from A.A. fire, for the nearest shells were bursting quite three miles away. The Zeppelin was now nearly 15,000 feet high and mounting rapidly. I therefore decided to dive at her, for though I held a slight advantage in speed, she was climbing like a rocket and leaving me standing. I accordingly gave a tremendous pump at my petrol tank and dived straight at her, firing a burst straight into her as I came. I let her have another burst as I passed under her, and then, banking my machine over, sat under her tail and, flying along underneath her, pumped lead into her for all I was worth. I could see tracer bullets flying from her in all directions, but I was too close under her for her to concentrate on me.

"As I was firing, I noticed her begin to go red inside like an enormous Chinese lantern, and then a flame shot out of the front part of her, and I realised she was on fire. She then shot up about 200 feet, paused, and came roaring down straight on to me before I had time to get out of the way. I nose-dived for all I was worth, with the Zepp still tearing after me, and expected every minute to be engulfed in the flames. I put my machine into a spin and just managed to corkscrew out of the way as she shot past me, roaring like a furnace. I righted my machine and watched her hit the ground with a shower of sparks. I then proceeded to fire off dozens of green Very's lights in the exuberance of my feelings. I glanced at my watch and saw it was about ten minutes past twelve. I then commenced to feel very sick and giddy and exhausted, and had considerable difficulty in finding my way to the ground through the fog and landing, in doing which I crashed and cut my head on my machine-gun."

L.31 fell at Potters' Bar, a blazing funeral pyre for all her crew, and for nearly two months it seemed that the air marauders had given up their work of destruction. On November 27, however, seven more Zeppelins arrived over England, dropping over two hundred bombs, killing four and injuring nearly forty. But it was another disastrous trip. Two more Zeppelins fell victims to the deadly aim, and courageous work of British pilots, the last being seen, as she made her ghastly, blazing plunge to earth, by hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children in all parts of the country she had come to bomb. And as they watched, though they did not know it at the time, they were watching the beginning of the end.