Travelling on the Hindenburg

[Dave Homewood]

High Life on the Hindenburg

Transatlantic Journey In a Hotel of the Skies

By ESTHER FOLK MILLER.

One of the first women to travel to the United States by the giant German airship, Hindenburg.

MISTY New York at dawn. The skyscrapers seem to be raising their heads above whisps of cloud. Streaks of silver appear as the sun breaks through and spreads shafts of colour on world-famous buildings —the Chrysler, the Radio City pile, the Woolworth ...

Above this changing panorama in the dawn I am cruising; almost touching, it seems, the toy-like spires below. The Hindenburg, like a giant cigar, is purring its way over the sleeping city, en route for Lakehurst and the Newark Airport
.
Most of the people on board the ship are asleep.

I rose early to see the dawn, and under a shaded lamp at a writing-table am penning these lines. Lines which record the most thrilling experience of my life; and something of which I am particularly proud, for I am one of the first women to make the transatlantic trip on the Hindenburg.

An Early Breakfast
The noisy German who moans constantly about not being able to puff his cigar all over the ship has just crept up from the smoke-room on the lower deck to get a better view here from the starboard side. His view is magnificent. Even he is not grumbling.

A sleepy-eyed steward tells me there will be an early breakfast call, as most people will want to see the sun over New York, or watch the shadow of the giant vessel as we fly 2000 ft. above Broadway.

As we purr through the low clouds, the long lounge of the Hindenburg is quite dark. A few dim figures are standing at the long, low windows, silhouetted against the sky. The little lamp on my desk gleams brightly, and there is the steady throb of the engines.
Almost we might be on board ship.

This is only the second time I have travelled by air. There is absolutely no sensation of movement. No roll or pitch. I have not stinted myself in what I chose from the menu, and not for one moment have I had those qualms which ocean travellers leaving Liverpool for Ellis Island experience when the sea round the Emerald Isle in rough!

An almost imperceptible up or down movement is all you feel in the roughest gale. Sometimes you have the queer sensation that things are not quite level. That is when the giant ship is veering or banking. The movement is slow. The airship takes perhaps half a minute to roll one way or the other. Then it comes back level again.

I can certainly recommend this way of travelling to those who are afraid of the Atlantic. At 2000 or more feet up it loses its terrors!
The queerest sensation you get when first coming on board is that everything belonging to the ship is as light as air.
Getting on Board

The crockery, the bath-room fittings, the aluminium steps for the upper berths are all of special alloy, and weigh hardly more than paper. Where this metal cannot be used they have cunningly made things of a sort of celluloid substance. The washing-bowls in my cabin are of this stuff, which does not appear to wilt under the running hot and cold water.

The only uncomfortable sensation was getting on board at Frankfurt. The dirigible swings in the wind, and the companionway, high up, moves with the ship. But it takes only a few minutes to get on board, and when you get accustomed to the fact that everything is made as light as possible without being skimped you can almost forget you are not in a West End hotel, or in the first-class section of a modern liner.

Fire Would be Fatal
We had a long walk to the ship, as cars are not allowed with engines running within a few hundred yards of the Hindenburg. At night all lights of visiting cars have to be switched off in case wires fuse.

On board the Hindenburg everything is done electrically, and the only difficulty is the business of smoking. Three minutes alter I had first gone to my cabin, and was just sorting out the things from my trunk, a steward knocked.

He gave me a personal note from Dr. Eckener, putting me on my honour not to smoke, except in the special smoke-room on the lower deck. Even there smoking is "verboten" when the ship is changing altitude rapidly, for the eddying air currents might then cause fire
.
A fire, Dr. Eckener told me yesterday, would be fatal to a ship like this in under five minutes. Extinguishers would he useless. Matches are forbidden throughout the entire ship, though when the Marquess of Donegall flew back from Lakehurst to Frankfurt Dr. Eckener gave him special permission to carry a box of matches in the smoke-room so that he could enjoy his favourite pipe.

Thrill of Adventure
I have only smoked two cigarettes during the whole of the trip —the first for the sheer novelty of working the electric lighter in the smoke-room wall. I have not asked for, nor received, special facilities as a woman passenger.

The whole routine of the day is exactly as it would be in a liner on the first day of sailing, with instructions about smoking and emergencies replacing the life-belt drill compulsory on liners.

In spite of this there is an "electric air" on board. We haven't got bored with each other's company in just under 60 hours, as we might have done on sea. Friendships have sprung up in two days. We are allied by the thrill of adventure. This is the newest way of arriving at the newest city of the New World.

Yesterday we worried the steward at lunch to see over the ship.

In the Engine Cabins
So far we had soon only the long, narrow, 70ft. lounge in which we spend most of our day; the dining-room, seating 40 passengers at two long tables; and, on the lower deck, the shower-room and smoke-room.

They took us round all the cabins. Each is a double cabin, and every one has the pull-out washing-basin of that strange celluloid, as in my own cabin, with running hot and cold water. The cabins run between the lounge and the dining-room, and, being more up in the body of the ship, are very quiet and much more comfortable than amidships liner cabins.

Down on the lower deck are the wash-room, shower-room, and smokeroom, while sticking out from the ship at four corners are the four engine cabins.

Black Swastikas
We struggled and scrambled through narrow passageways to get to the engine-rooms. It was so much of a struggle that, after seeing the rear room on the starboard side, I refused to visit the others. There was room for three of us at a time to walk round the engines.
The man in charge was proud of his toy, and demonstrated how the throttle controls are all worked from a central point on the "bridge." But it was more fascinating for me to watch the green-and-grey carpet of the earth below —an impressive sight from the gondola of the engine-room, which seems to be perched out in space.

Looking back along the huge hull of the ship, you can see the big rudder-fin underneath, painted black, with the Nazi emblem in black on a white circle. There is another rudder-fin, with another Swastika, above.

Comparison with Graf Zeppelin
The ship is run by four Diesel engines (giving a total of 4500 horse-power), each of which is contained in a gondola. The gondolas are attached to the hull by means of steel girder framework and steel cables of enormous strength. For short cruises, in addition to the crew of which is accommodated on the lower deck amidships, the number of passengers can be increased to 100.

Though she is not many feet longer than her immediate predecessor, the Graf Zeppelin, the Hindenburg has nearly twice the diameter. The skeleton is of duraluminium. Her 16 gas bags (each with an outer and inner gas cell) are filled with non-inflammable helium.

The most striking change in the interior design is that, whereas in the Graf Zeppelin the pilot's and passengers' rooms are in an after-gondola, the entire passenger accommodation in the Hindenburg is in the interior of the hull. In all on the "B" deck there is accommodation for 50 passengers—25 small cabins each containing two bunks.

On the port side is the spacious and lofty dining room with slanting windows of safety glass, through which the diners can watch the landscape below. On the other side of the ship is the comfortable lounge already mentioned and a small library and writing room. In the centre there is the cocktail bar at the entrance to the first smoking room ever built into an airship.

Daylight Breaks
Slowly we drop to around 1000 ft. Full daylight is here and the sun streams in at the window. There is the bustle of stewards, and I go back to my cabin for a hurried wash to freshen myself for breakfast, the last meal I shall have on board.

We are over Lakehurst, and the United States Navy experts on board are getting excited at seeing their home town again. Last-minute radios have been received before the wireless closes down for the serious business of landing.

A buff envelope drops on the table—a cable from my sister on the Aquitania. Throughout the whole trip we have been in touch with Rugby and New York; but the radio is very expensive.

The gleaming green-and-white patch of the Newark Airport is twisting slowly underneath us. The earth seems unreal, and the only tangible thing is the chromium-and-grey saloon which I shall soon be quitting for a fast, small aeroplane.

In two and a-half days even a woman could not tire of air travel to New York.

Effortless Glide
But I am terrified at the thought of that small aeroplane which is to take me part of the way back to New York from Lakehurst. I wish they could have moored the Hindenburg to the Chrysler building!

The fifty-two hour rush from Europe to America has seemed like an effortless glide. But I must polish my nails before the steward packs all my things. I do not want to arrive in God's Own Country looking anything but my best.

The white-coated stewards are serving farewell drinks, and there is a confusion of luggage and labels in the cabins.
Dr. Eckener wears no uniform, but I have never seen him on this trip without his yachting cap and blue jacket.

The commander of the Hindenburg is probably the greatest living authority on airships to-day. He is really a new kind of skipper, one whose job is to cut an aerial swathe round the world where captains in the past have devoted themselves to the Seven Seas.

"Seaman of the Air"
And this grey, keen-eyed and granite-browed "seaman of the air," with his slightly stooped shoulders, his close-cropped moustache, and wisp of grey beard —this aerial Marco Polo, to whom the business of girdling the earth's atmospheric shield is merely an incident in the larger business of proving the commercial merit of lighter-than-air craft, was once one of Germany's bitterest, opponents of the gas-bag type of aviation.
Born in 1868, the son of a shopkeeper in Fueusberg, Friesland, he was schooled in a German gymnasium and entering the Dresden University, took his doctor's degree in physics, philosophy and political economy.

His marriage to the daughter of a newspaper proprietor in Schleswig-Holstein turned his interest to journalism. He moved to Friedrichshafen so that he might follow developments in the Zeppelin works, and soon he was accompanying the Count on trial flights.

The doctor was 40 years old, however, before he finally became a member of the Zeppelin organisation and took up flying as his career. It was in 1909 that he entered the employ of the Aviation Service Company as commander and manager, and three years later he was made director-general of the organisation.

During the Great War, which followed shortly afterwards, he was an instructor in the Naval Airship Department. With the Treaty of Versailles came a change in Dr. Eckener's fortunes, and for the worse, but he persevered, and was eventually made—-in 1920 —a director of the Zeppelin Endowment Fund.

Two years later he became general manager of the works. His promotion to the presidency of the organisation in 1928 followed his two successful flights across the Atlantic in the Graf Zeppelin, while in between times he made numerous shorter flights to advocate the airship as a passenger and freight carrier.

Dr. Eckener has as much reticence about talking of his personal affairs as the average sea captain. Even when his own son —he has, by the way, two sons and a daughter—took part in repairing the stabilising fin of the Graf Zeppelin on a flight to the United States, Dr. Eckener had hardly anything to say of that deed of heroism. On the contrary, he told reporters that the flight "demonstrated that it doesn't take heroes, but just ordinary mortals to fly across the ocean safely."

Dr. Eckener was awarded the National Geographic Society's special gold medal for his world flight in the Graf Zeppelin. Only 10 other men had received this award in the previous 42 years. Colonel Charles Lindbergh and Rear-Admiral Richard Byrd are included in the list.
My nails finally manicured, I go down to the lounge for our last drink. All but four of us came this way by air for the thrill, and are going back by boat. —L.G.P. (Copyright.)

NEW ZEALAND HERALD, 5 DECEMBER 1936

[Mustang51]

What a brilliant description. Can you tell me any more about Esther. Surely she must have been a writer of some kind to have such great descriptive powers. Loved reading that.

[Dave Homewood]

I had a quick Google around but found nothing on her. I really enjoy first hand accounts of flying on the Hindenburg. Such an amazing aircraft and brilliant piece of engineering. It is so sad that it was snuffed out in mere seconds.

I have found a couple of other first hand accounts in the past. I will see if I can find them again and add them here.

[Dave Homewood]

GREATEST ZEPPELIN

LAUNCHING HINDENBURG

LINER OF THE SKIES

FRIEDRICHSHAFEN, March 5

Germany's mighty new Zeppelin, Hindenburg— as wide as Nelson's Column is high, nearly as long as Britain's liner Queen Mary—was launched into the air to-day to a thunderous chorus of "Heils!"

Her first flight was so astonishingly successful that it was announced tonight that no further trials will be held. This will not affect her trip to England.

The doors of the great hangar swung open at half past two this afternoon. The airship ran slowly out, stern first; along a special track. One hundred and fifty men hung on to the mooring ropes for dear life. Soon the whole ship was exposed. The crowd gasped at the size of her. Then they cheered hysterically. The 150 men on the ropes handed over their charge to 350 others, picked workmen.

SIXTEEN FEET A SECOND
Slowly the Hindenburg was swung round into the wind, the men straining on the ropes to hold her down, Then Dr. Hugo Eckener, her famous commander, cupped his hands to his mouth in the control room and roared, "Cast off!''

The four Diesel heavy-oil engines now were humming contentedly. As one man, the 350 dropped the mooring ropes. A split second later the great ship shot into the air at the rate of 16ft. a second. It was a tremendous moment, and the crowd was wild with excitement.

The ship picked up her course and melted into a bank of cloud. Now Queen of the Skies, for three hours she cruised over the lake, while Dr. Eckener and five other Zeppelin commanders in the control cabin felt her pulse.

Then Dr. Eckener put her nose towards home. The crowd on the ground saw her slip from behind a cloud, and there was a sigh of awe.
The ship now was ablaze with lights. It looked as though some phantom liner from the seas was cruising in the clouds, Lights blazed from the promenade deck, from the reading-room, from the restaurant, and from all the other rooms which make the Hindenburg a first luxury liner of the air.

She made a perfect landing at 6.25. Then she went back into the shed where for four years men have been creating her.
The first flight of the first Zeppelin ever built mainly for passenger traffic had ended successfully.

FURTHER TRIAL FLIGHTS
Within three months the Hindenburg will have spanned the Atlantic and blazed the way through the air for a regular Transatlantic air service.
After further trial flights which will bring the Hindenburg over England, the ship will go to the new Zeppelin ball at Frankfurt-on-the-Main, the future Zeppelin capital of Europe.

Captain Lehmann, the Hindenburg's future commander, was beaming with pleasure after the flight to-day. "It was successful beyond our loudest hopes," he said.

Dr. Eckener, too, was full of praise for his new airship. He said that although nearly twice as large as the Graf Zeppelin, the Hindenburg was much easier to handle. In case of emergencies, the Hindenburg carries enough parachutes for all on board and a number of collapsible rubber boats in case of a crash on the sea.

POVERTY BAY HERALD, 22 APRIL 1936

[Dave Homewood]

NEW AIRSHIP

THE HINDENBURG

A HUGE STRUCTURE

The Hindenburg embodies lessons and experience gained through all the previously constructed airships and is the strongest, fastest and most perfect dirigible ever built at Friedrichshafen. With her four 16-cylinder Daimler-Benz Diesel oil motors of 1200 horsepower each, throttled down to 900 horse-power, the Zeppelin’s cruising speed is 80 miles an hour. She is capable of 85 miles an hour and can fly 9000 miles without refuelling.

The Zeppelin is 807 ft. long and 137 ft. in diameter at the thickest part. A woman journalist, Lady Drummond-Hay, who inspected the Hindenburg when it was under construction last year wrote that “it was so colossal that the workmen were lost in the mass of spars and tremendous ring girders.” The four motor gondolas are as big as aeroplane fuselages. There are 28,000 square metres of fabric.

Lady Drummond-Hay said that more than seven years earlier she had seen the Graf Zeppelin in the same stage of construction. To obtain comparisons she questioned Dr Hugo Eckener; commander of the Graf Zeppelin, who supervised the erection of the Hindenburg. “He told me,” she added, “they were following the general construction principles of the Graf Zeppelin, which had proved so satisfactory, but with added strength.
Strength in Construction.

“Seven years have brought improvements in all materials —duralumin for spars and girders, and fabric and dope that are most weather-resisting. An innovation is a close lacing of wire and thread in the spaces of the metal framework, to which the fabric can be more firmly attached than on the Graf.
“The stern of the new Zeppelin—which in the cases of the American airships Akron and Macon, proved the weakest parts—is strengthened by three extraordinarily strong cruciform supports upholding the frame vertically and horizontally.”

Lady Drummond-Hay added. “As I was examining the last ring girder still to be attached, Dr Eckener called my attention to a complicated joint where the fin enters the main structure of the ship. 'It took 300 working hours to assemble this joint,’ he remarked.”

There are 7,000,000 to 8,000,000 rivets in the completed Zeppelin. It weighs 100 tons dead weight and about 220 tons loaded. The lifting gas capacity is 7,300,000 cubic feet. The gas is contained in 16 balloonets of synthetic gold-beaters’ skin, which has proved to be more gas-tight and considerably cheaper than the real gold-beaters’ skin first used on the Graf Zeppelin.

Extraordinary Special Features.
Sixty metric tons of oil for the Diesel motors are carried in 25 oil tanks of 2%, tons capacity each. There are 10 tons of water in tanks which, in case of emergency, can be emptied in 48 seconds. The airship is fitted with a new scientific navigation instrument, replacing the echologue in the navigation room, which might be called the “whistling” altimeter. This is an instrument which emits a shrill whistle, the echo of which returns from the ground or sea over which the Zeppelin is travelling and records the altitude in metres on a dial. It also operates through fog.

An aid to night flying is a 5,500,000-candle power searchlight which, directed downward, enables the navigator to use the drift meter as well by night as by day. The Zeppelin has the most powerful electrical plant of any yet built into an airship. It has a long-range wireless station for both long and short-wave transmission.

Experiments are to be made in two-way telephoning between the airship and steamers or land stations. Another feature is a compressed air tube from the passengers’ quarters to the wireless room and from the wireless room to the bridge. Wireless messages of passengers, or from the control cabin, may thus be sent directly to the wireless operator and vice-versa.

Accommodation for Passengers.
Compared with the Graf Zeppelin, the placing of the passenger accommodation in the new airship is interesting. On the Graf Zeppelin the passengers’ cabins and saloons are in a gondola, with the bridge, navigation room, wireless station and kitchen underneath, and placed outside the main structure of the bow. In the new airship the passenger quarters are in the interior of the body of the ship well forward. There are 25 two-berth cabins, each equipped with running hot and cold water. The water pours into celluloid basins which tip out of the walls and fold out of the way when not in use. Unlike the Graf Zeppelin, all the cabins are “inside” rooms, with no outside view. They are in the centre with a social hall and a reading and writing room on one side and a dining room on the other.
The whole of the passengers’ quarters are air-conditioned. All the walls are of cotton or silk meticulously sewn into place by hand. On them, in the public rooms, hang oil paintings depicting man’s conquest of the air.

Smoking Permissible on Board.
Around the whole runs a small promenade with large windows set at an angle, through which the passenger’s can look out. The public rooms are heated, but, to have extra heat and easiness in cold weather the circular plate-like pedestals of the reading, writing and dining tables have hot air ventilators which will keep the feet warm.

The deck below the principal passenger deck contains the electric kitchen, crew’s mess hall and smoking room. An electric elevator from the kitchen to the dining-room facilitates service. The swinging doors of the smoking-room are so designed that the room remains gas-proof. This is the first dirigible built on which smoking is permissible.

A special two-ton apparatus has been installed for obtaining water from the atmosphere at the rate of 100 gallons an hour. The chemical agent used for extracting the moisture from thin air is silicon dioxide. Just as a steamer has lifeboats, so the new Zeppelin carries inflatable rubber boats.

The Hindenburg is the first of a vast fleet which will encircle the globe, states an English writer. Plans are now ready for two sister ships; envisioned are 50. And this is but the beginning of a new Atlantic rivalry.

HOKITIKA GUARDIAN, 27 APRIL 1936

[Dave Homewood]

A FLYING HOTEL.

DETAILS OF THE NEW ZEPP

Speaking of airships one is inclined to think of gondolas, an eerie smell of gas, wind blowing through cracks and crevices, howling engines, and the singing of wires in the wind.

One is apt—as in the earlier days of aeroplane travelling—to arrive at the airport dressed as if one were about to start on a polar expedition, with fur-lined coats, woollen socks, and warm underclothing.

One would scarcely expect to enter what resembles a comfortable hotel with corridors and stairs, bedrooms and bathrooms, lounge and dining hall, and still less expect that, while one is yet unpacking, this whole hotel, with its rooms and passengers and luggage and all, would gently rise, higher and higher, and glide swiftly through the air until, two days later, it descended just as gently and discharged its guests in another continent on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

But that is what is actually about to take place at the beginning of 1936, if all goes according to schedule (writes Howard Siepen in the “Christian Science Monitor”). For far down in the south-west corner of Germany, in a huge shed surrounded by low factory buildings, lies the LZI29, Germany’s newest and finest airship, now rapidly nearing completion at the Zeppelin works at Friedriehshafen. This spaciousness was made possible by moving the passenger accommodations into the hull, for there they could expand without creating that head resistance which a gondola-like protrusion of sufficient size underneath the hull would have offered.

A business man should be able to leave New York on a Monday and arrive in Europe on a Wednesday, attend to his business in Berlin, Paris, or London, and return on Thursday, and be back again in New York on Saturday evening. All in one week.

GISBORNE TIMES, 2 MARCH 1936

[Dave Homewood]

WONDER AIRSHIP

GERMANY'S LATEST

COMFORTS OF A LINER

SPECIAL SMOKING ROOM

[From our own correspondent] By Air Mail, LONDON, Sept 28

Though the name of Germany's airship, the L.Z.129, is still an official secret, I am told she is likely to be called the "AdoIf HitIer," writes a Berlin correspondent of the News Chronicle. A few days ago I was given the opportunity of inspecting the airship in the great hall at Friedrichshaven, where she is now more than half-completed.

The engineers hope to put the finishing touches on the ship by the end of November; but it is doubtful whether her maiden voyage will take place before the New Year.

I spent nearly an hour in her vast interior listening to enthusiastic explanations of her technical wonders and the new comforts awaiting her passengers. Though she is not many feet longer than her immediate predecessor, the Graf Zeppelin, she has nearly twice the diameter.
The skeleton is of duraluminium, and with the exception of the stern and rudder plates she is now mounted. Her 16 gas bags (each with an outer and inner gas cell) will be filled with hydrogen on the first voyage; but it is hoped that on her visit to the United States hydrogen will be replaced with the non-inflammable helium.

Central Heating Scheme
The most striking change in the interior design is that, whereas in the Graf Zeppelin the pilot's and passenger's rooms are in an after-gondola, the entire passenger accommodation in the new ship will be in the interior of the hull. The engineers have tried to make the comfort of the air traveller almost as great as that of the passenger in a small liner.

On "B" deck there is accommodation for 50 passengers—25 small cabins each containing two bunks, supplied with hot and cold water and centrally heated. On the port side is a spacious and lofty dining room with slanting 'windows of safety glass, through which the diners can watch the landscape below.

On the other side of the ship is a comfortable lounge and a small library and writing room. In the centre there is a cocktail bar at the entrance to the first smoking room ever built into an airship. The passengers are not allowed to smoke in any other part of the ship, and in this small smoking room, the walls of which are of special fire-proof material, tobacco and matches are retained in compartments with the owner's name or number.

To Carry 135 People
Outside the smoking room an attendant will be on guard to see that no one passes out with a lighted cigarette, pipe or cigar. The electric kitchen is of the most modern type. The passenger section is arranged in two decks and there is a gangway and a broad staircase for the passage from one deck to another.
The ship is to be run by four Diesel engines (giving a total of 4500 horsepower), each of which is to be contained in a gondola..The gondolas are attached to the hull by means of steel girder framework and steel cables of enormous strength.

For short cruises, in addition to the crew of 35 which is to be accommodated on the lower deck amidships, the number of passengers can be increased to 100.

New Zealand Herald dated the 17th of October 1935

[Dave Homewood]

Here is one on the Hindenburg's predecessor, the Graf Zeppelin.

THE TRAIL-BLAZERS— Round The World By Airship

By ROBERT JACKSON

Suddenly, the orchestra amid the potted palms stopped playing. Voices stilled and all was silence, save for the hiss of the wind.
The moment of truth had dawned for the passengers and crew of the giant airship Graf Zeppelin, on what was generally regarded as the greatest undertaking in the short history of aviation—a round-the-world flight with only three stops.

Passengers, sipping champagne at the open windows, peered out at the towering peaks, drawing ever closer. Heart-beats quickened and one man made the sign of the Cross. Everyone knew that one sudden vicious gust and it would be all over. The airship would be hurled against the crags of Siberia’s Stanovoi mountains and plunge to destruction.

Four days earlier, on August 15, 1929, the Graf Zeppelin had taken off from Friedrichshafen on the first leg of the epic journey, under the command of the Zeppelin company’s chief pilot, Hugo Eckener.

On board were 41 crew, 20 passengers of nine nationalities—including the famous explorer Sir Hubert Wilkins —and 880lb of mail.

Flying Hotel
They called the airship the "flying Ritz Hotel”—and for good reason. Absolutely no expense had been spared, and the silence and luxury were comforts no aeroplane could possibly match.

After the airship had crossed the vastness of the Soviet Union and Siberia, the first port of call was to be Tokyo. Then it would be on across the Pacific to Los Angeles and, from there, over the North American continent to Lakehurst, New Jersey. Then would come the final lap—across the Atlantic and back to Friedrichshafen

By the early hours of August 16, the airship was over the Ural Mountains at 3300 feet There were one or two moments of anxiety when the hydrogen-filled ship passed over a series of forest fires raging on the slopes below. But fortune was with them and they were soon heading towards the heart of Soviet Asia.

Gradually, the primitive villages became fewer as solid ground gave way to vast swamps.

Watery Waste
For 14 hours—between 7 p.m. on August 16 and 9 a.m. the next day—the airship pressed on at a steady 70 miles an hour over the multi-coloured expanse of watery waste. Some passengers marvelled at the scene’s wild beauty; others were appalled at the utter desolation. For uppermost in their minds was the thought that if the airship was forced down here, one of the remotest places on earth, there would be little hope of survival.

Then, later that morning, they picked out the first landmark in the sea of swampland—the mighty Yenessei River and the small village of Verkne Imbatskoe.

As they cruised by, they saw peasants hurl themselves to the ground in terror at the sight of the gigantic silver cigar in the sky.
Two hundred miles further on, the Graf Zeppelin reached the Tunguska. It was in this area, 20 years earlier, that something had hurtled down from outer space and exploded with the force of a multimegaton hydrogen bomb, flattening the forest for miles around. The flash had been seen 250 miles in broad daylight. The vast area of destruction had never before been seen from the air.

Dreadful Moment
At 4 o’clock that afternoon, they ran into the first bad weather of the flight. They plunged into pitch darkness, rolling and yawing, and, in one dreadful moment, the airship dropped violently as a down-current caught it. But the giant broke free of the murk and emerged into dazzling sunlight.

The relief was short-lived. The moment everyone feared was at hand now, as the make-or-break part of the journey slipped into view—the uncharted Stanovi Mountains, running parallel to the eastern coast of Siberia and plunging steeply into the Sea of Okhotsk.

Once again, all sign of life disappeared as the height of the ground below rose steadily. At 2500 feet, the Graf Zeppelin slid into a valley which, according to the maps, led to a pass that cut between the peaks. But the maps were uncertain, to say the least. The valley could just as easily end in a mountain wall.

Cautiously, the airship wound its way up the twisting canyon. Below, jagged rocks jutted up like clutching fingers.

Terrifying
The canyon floor began to slope upwards, forcing the Graf Zeppelin to climb to 3000 feet and then to 3500 feet. The canyon was growing narrower now, the rocky wall closing in as though bent on crushing the airship in a deadly grip.

At 4000 feet, the massive bulk of the airship was almost scraping the jutting rocks. And still it was being forced higher. Five thousand feet now, and the crew could see the entrance to the pass ahead and above them. The tension was tremendous. Would they make it, for the airship was approaching its ceiling . . and the rock walls were terrifyingly close.

And to make matters worse, a gusty wind had sprung up. . . . Up she went another 500 feet . . . and with inches to spare, the Graf Zeppelin just scraped over that evil-looking ridge. They had done it, and there ahead was the Sea of Okhotsk, blue and sparkling in the sunlight, and, beyond it, Japan. The world’s first non-stop flight across the mighty land mass of Russia was over.

Funeral Pyre
The giant airship went on to complete the trip round the world in a little over 21 days —assuring, or so it seemed, the future of the passenger airship in the story of aviation. Who could know that in less than a decade the era was over—incinerated in the funeral pyre of the Graf Zeppelin’s sister ship, the Hindenburg, in tragedy at Lakehurst, New Jersey, in May, 1937.

—Copyright, Provincial Press Features.
The Press, 14 June 1969

[Dave Homewood]

The best first-hand account I have read was on the airspace magazine's site, but the link is sadly now dead.

[Dave Homewood]

Related to the Hindenburg I guess, shortly after the great airship met its sad demise, this article appeared in the New Zealand Herald, on the 22nd of May 1937.

Awaiting Death In A Blazing Airship

"All Will be Over in a Short Time"

SURVIVOR'S DRAMATIC STORY OF ZEPPELIN RAID

I HAVE been asked to write an account of my experiences as a Zeppelin officer who often flew over England during the War writes Otto Mieth in The Field. I am glad to do so in memory of my comrades who are resting in English earth, and on whose graves are written these words from the Bible : "Who art thou that judgest another man's servant? To his own master he standeth or falleth."

I joined the German Navy in 1913 as a naval cadet, and when I was promoted lieutenant in 1915 I was transferred to the Naval Airship Service and stationed at Nordholz, our main airship port in the German Bight. I served on board three different airships —L11, L 36 and L48—as second in command, and had many thrilling experiences over sea and over the British Isles, until I made my last trip to England, ascending from Nordholz on June 16, 1917.

It was a glorious day, the world seemed to be so peaceful, and there was nothing to suggest that the nations were at death grips. Then suddenly the silence was interrupted by the shrill sound of the sirens howling over the airship port. This meant that the airships were to prepare to sail, and a short time afterwards the huge lines of our Zeppelin L48 could have been seen moving out of her shed packed with bombs and ready to start for an air raid on London.

"A Bad Omen"
It was our crew's thirteenth trip to England.

When the ship rose into the air the band was playing, but the heat of the day was so intense that the skin of one drum, burst with a loud, explosion. "A bad omen," said someone. But I was certainly not superstitious, and when one is 20 the world appears to be so wonderful and the excitement of an air raid was so great that, and I think everybody else, as usual, started in the best spirits.

Our ship made good headway, and before dark we were standing near the south-east coast of England with our course set on London. So we had to wait until it was quite dark before we could cross the coastline.

We had risen to about 17,000ft, and the temperature stood at about 20 degrees (Celsius) below zero. We felt terribly cold. The air was so thin that we could breathe only with the help of the oxygen bottle and some of the crew were so exhausted by travelling for many hours at that altitude that they were scarcely able to stand on their feet.

Heavy Weather
Suddenly a thunderstorm started west of us; it did not last very long, but it must have brought about a change in the atmospheric conditions, for when we turned our ship to the original course again we found that a heavy south-west wind was blowing against us, and that we could make only very little headway.

The ship fought bravely against the wind and we crossed the coastline. We were over England. It was pitch-dark, for all the lights below were extinguished.

But at 2 o'clock at night we were still standing near Harwich, and as one motor was giving trouble and did not work any more, and as the nights are only short in June, we had to decide to give up our original objective —London —and to attack Harwich, which was not far from our position, and which we could make out as a dark spot through the light haze.

In the Searchlights
So our course was set on Harwich. We came nearer and nearer. No lights, no sound, only our engines were humming their monotonous song. But we soon found out that the British Lion was not asleep, for when we were quite near Harwich, some 30 enormous searchlights suddenly flashed out, throwing their huge beams of light towards us.

They turned and turned their great beams, but they could not find us. They touched the body of our ship and passed again. Suddenly one of them got us, and in no time we were caught by them all.

Our gondola was flooded with white light, and though it had been pitch dark a second before, we could see each others' faces as if it were daylight. The black body of our ship was shining like silver.

The, anti-aircraft guns started immediately. The shells exploded near our ship which went unperturbed on her course, slightly shivering to the detonations.

Bursting Shrapnel
We were now about 19,000ft. high. The guns were working hard, and it looked as if an enormous fireworks display had started, the air being tilled by the noise of the bursting shrapnel and the devilish whistling of the tracer bullets which were surrounding us like a cloud.

If one of these projectiles hit the fragile body of our ship the gas would ignite, and that would be farewell to everything. Every man of the crew was doing his duty. Their nerves were strained but there was no more exhaustion.

My job was to direct the ship, as it seemed, right into the middle of the searchlights. The moment came for me to press the button of the electric mechanism to let off our bombs, one by one. Their detonations contrasted with the sharp noise of the English guns.

The battle between heaven and earth was reaching a Miltonic zenith, and then gradually it slackened down, as we had passed our objective; and dropped all our bombs.

Turn for Home
Gradually the searchlights lose their grip on us, and they are switched out. It is dark again in the gondola; darkness covers England again. The battle was short, but so furious that we could hardly believe that we had come out of it unhurt, and it was with infinite relief that we took our course home again.

Again we felt the terrible cold and exhaustion, for the cold was so bitter that our compass became frozen.

This was the finger of fate. Instead of steering straight home we were turning in a circle over England, and by the time we found it out precious time had been lost; nor did we see the aeroplane which was following us like a mosquito after a leopard.

It was about o'clock and dawn was slowly breaking. I went into the wireless cabin to report to the High Sea Fleet. When I came back into the navigation gondola I noticed that it had suddenly become as light again as when we were caught by the searchlights.

I wondered what had happened, and thought that we might be flying over some battleships which had got hold of us with their searchlights. But when I look up (the navigation gondola was hanging underneath the front part of the airship), l saw a sight I shall never forget.

The whole ship, about 700 ft. long, was aflame, and the flames, caught by the wind, were playing round the huge body of the ship. The white framework was shining through the red flames as if death in person was grinning into our gondola. Was it the end?

Brave Commander
I would not believe it, and I took off my coat and advised the captain, who was standing next to me, to do the same, as I thought we might come down on the sea and save ourselves by swimming.

But he was standing quietly looking firmly into the flames waiting for his death, which seemed inevitable. He turned to the crew, and with a comforting sound in his voice, said: "All will be over in a short time."

No one spoke a word, each stood still at his place. There was no noise but that of the fire playing in the wind. The ship was still keeping in her horizontal position, and it flashed through my mind to make an end quickly, for burning to death must be too terribie an end.

I determined to throw myself out of the gondola, and rushed to the next window, when suddenly the burning ship started to shiver and bolt like a frightened horse.

Human Shield
It was impossible for me to get out of the window then. The gondola rose, the stays burst with a loud noise and the framework broke as if a thousand window panes were crashing. I felt the heat of the flames blowing into our gondola, and the biting smell of smoke and burnt gas.

I could hear the groaning of my comrades whom the fire had caught and who were lying on top of me protecting me with their bodies from the same fate; I hoped just then that all might soon be over; and then the ship fell vertically with its rear part first towards earth like an enormous torch, and from the smoke and heat and the terrific speed I became unconscious.

The ship crashed to the ground in open country near Ipswich. The terrific shock must have made me recover consciousness for a short time, for I distinctly remember the awful feeling when I opened my eyes and saw the flames all around me, and felt the hot metal parts under which I seemed to be buried alive and from which I could not move.

Legs Broken
Then I became unconscious again, and awoke several hours later when the sun was standing high, in the skies from which I had fallen. I was lying on a stretcher with both my legs in big bandages soaked with blood, for they were broken. I felt that I had wounds from burning in my head and thigh, and I could breathe only with difficulty. In short, I must have looked a real apparition.

I was not quite sure if I was dreaming or if I was awake, until an English soldier came along and, putting a cigarette box under my nose, asked me with a friendly smile: "Do you want a cigarette?"

Just in Time
Then I was told what had happened. Our ship was shot down in flames by the aeroplane which we had not seen in the darkness. She had crashed to the ground vertically with her rear part first and the framework of the body had probably functioned like a kind of spring, so that the navigating gondola in which I was standing and which was hanging under the front part of the ship did not bump the ground with full impact.

The men who, during the drop, had fallen on top of me had probably protected me with their bodies from worse burns. When I was lying on the ground someone must have noticed that a living being was underneath the debris, and I was pulled out, just in time, so I was told. All the others of the crew were dead, except one man, who is still alive and who, marvellous to relate, was not hurt at all. It took me some time to recover from my wounds, but, after about a year, I was all right again.

[errolmartyn]

Jan 19, 2023 8:01:41 GMT 12 Dave Homewood said:

Related to the Hindenburg I guess, shortly after the great airship met its sad demise, this article appeared in the New Zealand Herald, on the 22nd of May 1937.

Awaiting Death In A Blazing Airship

"All Will be Over in a Short Time"

SURVIVOR'S DRAMATIC STORY OF ZEPPELIN RAID

I HAVE been asked to write an account of my experiences as a Zeppelin officer who often flew over England during the War writes Otto Mieth in The Field. I am glad to do so in memory of my comrades who are resting in English earth, and on whose graves are written these words from the Bible : "Who art thou that judgest another man's servant? To his own master he standeth or falleth."

I joined the German Navy in 1913 as a naval cadet, and when I was promoted lieutenant in 1915 I was transferred to the Naval Airship Service and stationed at Nordholz, our main airship port in the German Bight. I served on board three different airships —L11, L 36 and L48—as second in command, and had many thrilling experiences over sea and over the British Isles, until I made my last trip to England, ascending from Nordholz on June 16, 1917.

It was a glorious day, the world seemed to be so peaceful, and there was nothing to suggest that the nations were at death grips. Then suddenly the silence was interrupted by the shrill sound of the sirens howling over the airship port. This meant that the airships were to prepare to sail, and a short time afterwards the huge lines of our Zeppelin L48 could have been seen moving out of her shed packed with bombs and ready to start for an air raid on London.

"A Bad Omen"
It was our crew's thirteenth trip to England.

When the ship rose into the air the band was playing, but the heat of the day was so intense that the skin of one drum, burst with a loud, explosion. "A bad omen," said someone. But I was certainly not superstitious, and when one is 20 the world appears to be so wonderful and the excitement of an air raid was so great that, and I think everybody else, as usual, started in the best spirits.

Our ship made good headway, and before dark we were standing near the south-east coast of England with our course set on London. So we had to wait until it was quite dark before we could cross the coastline.

We had risen to about 17,000ft, and the temperature stood at about 20 degrees (Celsius) below zero. We felt terribly cold. The air was so thin that we could breathe only with the help of the oxygen bottle and some of the crew were so exhausted by travelling for many hours at that altitude that they were scarcely able to stand on their feet.

Heavy Weather
Suddenly a thunderstorm started west of us; it did not last very long, but it must have brought about a change in the atmospheric conditions, for when we turned our ship to the original course again we found that a heavy south-west wind was blowing against us, and that we could make only very little headway.

The ship fought bravely against the wind and we crossed the coastline. We were over England. It was pitch-dark, for all the lights below were extinguished.

But at 2 o'clock at night we were still standing near Harwich, and as one motor was giving trouble and did not work any more, and as the nights are only short in June, we had to decide to give up our original objective —London —and to attack Harwich, which was not far from our position, and which we could make out as a dark spot through the light haze.

In the Searchlights
So our course was set on Harwich. We came nearer and nearer. No lights, no sound, only our engines were humming their monotonous song. But we soon found out that the British Lion was not asleep, for when we were quite near Harwich, some 30 enormous searchlights suddenly flashed out, throwing their huge beams of light towards us.

They turned and turned their great beams, but they could not find us. They touched the body of our ship and passed again. Suddenly one of them got us, and in no time we were caught by them all.

Our gondola was flooded with white light, and though it had been pitch dark a second before, we could see each others' faces as if it were daylight. The black body of our ship was shining like silver.

The, anti-aircraft guns started immediately. The shells exploded near our ship which went unperturbed on her course, slightly shivering to the detonations.

Bursting Shrapnel
We were now about 19,000ft. high. The guns were working hard, and it looked as if an enormous fireworks display had started, the air being tilled by the noise of the bursting shrapnel and the devilish whistling of the tracer bullets which were surrounding us like a cloud.

If one of these projectiles hit the fragile body of our ship the gas would ignite, and that would be farewell to everything. Every man of the crew was doing his duty. Their nerves were strained but there was no more exhaustion.

My job was to direct the ship, as it seemed, right into the middle of the searchlights. The moment came for me to press the button of the electric mechanism to let off our bombs, one by one. Their detonations contrasted with the sharp noise of the English guns.

The battle between heaven and earth was reaching a Miltonic zenith, and then gradually it slackened down, as we had passed our objective; and dropped all our bombs.

Turn for Home
Gradually the searchlights lose their grip on us, and they are switched out. It is dark again in the gondola; darkness covers England again. The battle was short, but so furious that we could hardly believe that we had come out of it unhurt, and it was with infinite relief that we took our course home again.

Again we felt the terrible cold and exhaustion, for the cold was so bitter that our compass became frozen.

This was the finger of fate. Instead of steering straight home we were turning in a circle over England, and by the time we found it out precious time had been lost; nor did we see the aeroplane which was following us like a mosquito after a leopard.

It was about o'clock and dawn was slowly breaking. I went into the wireless cabin to report to the High Sea Fleet. When I came back into the navigation gondola I noticed that it had suddenly become as light again as when we were caught by the searchlights.

I wondered what had happened, and thought that we might be flying over some battleships which had got hold of us with their searchlights. But when I look up (the navigation gondola was hanging underneath the front part of the airship), l saw a sight I shall never forget.

The whole ship, about 700 ft. long, was aflame, and the flames, caught by the wind, were playing round the huge body of the ship. The white framework was shining through the red flames as if death in person was grinning into our gondola. Was it the end?

Brave Commander
I would not believe it, and I took off my coat and advised the captain, who was standing next to me, to do the same, as I thought we might come down on the sea and save ourselves by swimming.

But he was standing quietly looking firmly into the flames waiting for his death, which seemed inevitable. He turned to the crew, and with a comforting sound in his voice, said: "All will be over in a short time."

No one spoke a word, each stood still at his place. There was no noise but that of the fire playing in the wind. The ship was still keeping in her horizontal position, and it flashed through my mind to make an end quickly, for burning to death must be too terribie an end.

I determined to throw myself out of the gondola, and rushed to the next window, when suddenly the burning ship started to shiver and bolt like a frightened horse.

Human Shield
It was impossible for me to get out of the window then. The gondola rose, the stays burst with a loud noise and the framework broke as if a thousand window panes were crashing. I felt the heat of the flames blowing into our gondola, and the biting smell of smoke and burnt gas.

I could hear the groaning of my comrades whom the fire had caught and who were lying on top of me protecting me with their bodies from the same fate; I hoped just then that all might soon be over; and then the ship fell vertically with its rear part first towards earth like an enormous torch, and from the smoke and heat and the terrific speed I became unconscious.

The ship crashed to the ground in open country near Ipswich. The terrific shock must have made me recover consciousness for a short time, for I distinctly remember the awful feeling when I opened my eyes and saw the flames all around me, and felt the hot metal parts under which I seemed to be buried alive and from which I could not move.

Legs Broken
Then I became unconscious again, and awoke several hours later when the sun was standing high, in the skies from which I had fallen. I was lying on a stretcher with both my legs in big bandages soaked with blood, for they were broken. I felt that I had wounds from burning in my head and thigh, and I could breathe only with difficulty. In short, I must have looked a real apparition.

I was not quite sure if I was dreaming or if I was awake, until an English soldier came along and, putting a cigarette box under my nose, asked me with a friendly smile: "Do you want a cigarette?"

Just in Time
Then I was told what had happened. Our ship was shot down in flames by the aeroplane which we had not seen in the darkness. She had crashed to the ground vertically with her rear part first and the framework of the body had probably functioned like a kind of spring, so that the navigating gondola in which I was standing and which was hanging under the front part of the ship did not bump the ground with full impact.

The men who, during the drop, had fallen on top of me had probably protected me with their bodies from worse burns. When I was lying on the ground someone must have noticed that a living being was underneath the debris, and I was pulled out, just in time, so I was told. All the others of the crew were dead, except one man, who is still alive and who, marvellous to relate, was not hurt at all. It took me some time to recover from my wounds, but, after about a year, I was all right again.

The author of the article, Leutnant zur See Otto Mieth, died in Tanganyika on 30 Apr 56.
There were actually three survivors from L48 but one died of his injuries in England on 11 Nov 18 (Armistice Day!).
The other survivor outlived them all, dying in Germany on 4 Aug 63.

Errol

[Dave Homewood]

Thanks for that Errol.

[Dave Homewood]

Escape from Blazing Airship Horrors

Ill-fated Hindenburg's Last Terrible Journey

"WE RAN THROUGH A SEA OF FIRE"

THE personal account of his experiences in the airship disaster, told by Leonhard Adelt, German author, collaborator with "Captain Ernst A. Lehmann, late Commander of the Hindenburg, in writing " Zeppelin: The Story of Lighter-than-Air Craft."

OUR trip on the Hindenburg in May was the most uneventful journey I ever undertook in an airship. Visibility was bad, and we had barely glimpsed the North Atlantic before we had crossed it. Passengers spent their time reading, addressing postcards in the writing room, discussing Germany's problems in the smoking salon.

In the reading room the Doehner children played games while their mother crocheted. The ship glided as smoothly through the black storm clouds as though it were a calm, moonlight night.

On the third day we sighted Newfoundland. Binoculars and cameras appeared, and my wife's delight grew when the white dots along the coast turned out to be icebergs. The captain ordered the ship to fly low and steer toward them. Very slowly we passed over the most' beautiful, which looked like a magic marble statue. The sun came out and laid a double rainbow around the airship. The giant iceberg turned into a monument of sparkling brilliants. 

Over Invisible Sea
We glimpsed the foothills, the lighthouse on Cape Race, the limitless forests of the hinterland. Then the coast sprang back and we again floated, a grey object in a grey mist, over the invisible sea. On the forenoon of the fourth day we were over American territory. Boston passed below us, hidden in the mist.

Everyone was excited. The passengers packed, and collected their papers for their passport examination. The stewards removed the bedclothes and piled them at the end of the corridors. They arranged the baggage in the stair hall. For an hour the Hindenburg cruised over New York. We were high, and in the mist the skyscrapers below us appeared like a board full of nails. Then the sun for a short while dispelled the mist, and we flew so low that we could see the photographers on the top of the Empire State Building.

The, viaducts and highways were in relief as in a model, and in a filigree of steel the bridges swung across the rivers. The Statue of Liberty could be seen, small as a porcelain figure. A short time later we passed low over the field at Lakehurst. The landing crew had been ordered for 4 p.m., but thunderstorms, which crowded around the airport like a pack of hungry wolves, caused the ship's commander to move on.

This was a bitter disappointment. I saw automobilies parked around the edges of the landing field and people waving to us. I knew that among them were my two brothers whom I had not seen for 30 years.

We were riding south along the storm wall, from which slanting bolts of lightning leaped. We could not hear the thunder. Above the sea-like mouth of the Delaware, the Hindenburg turned about. The storm had subsided and at the airport landing conditions were now favourable. A last bolt of lightning followed the ship threateningly, while with lowered nose and high speed we pushed through a last rain curtain. The hangar came into view, the sliding doors wide open.

The Hindenburg turned in a sharp curve in order to head into the wind. Water ballast went splashing earthward to prevent us from landing too fast. From a height of 150 ft., two ropes fell from the bow. Two columns of landing crew seized the ropes and pulled the ship toward one of the movable mooring masts.

With my wife I was leaning out of a window on the promenade deck., Suddenly there occurred a remarkable stillness. The motors were silent, and it seemed as though the whole world was holding its breath. One heard no command, no call, no cry. The people we saw seemed suddenly stiffened. I could not account for this.

Detonation Heard
Then I heard a light, dull detonation from above, no louder than the sound of a beer bottle being opened. I turned my gaze toward the bow and noticed a delicate rose glow, as though the sun were about to rise. I understood immediately that the airship was aflame. There was but one chance for safety—to jump out.

The distance from the ground at that moment may have been 120 ft. For a moment I thought of getting bed linen from the corridor in order to soften our leap, but in the same instant, the airship crashed to the ground with terrific force. Its impact threw us from the window to the stair corridor. The tables and chairs of the reading room crashed about and jammed us in like a barricade.

"Through the window!" I shouted to my fellow passengers, and dragged my wife with me to our observation window. Reality ceased with one stroke, as though fate in its cruelty was yet compassionate enough to withdraw from its victims the consciousness of their horror. I do not know, and my wife does not know, how we leaped from the airship.

The distance from the ground may have been 12ft. or 15ft. I distinctly felt my feet touch the soft sand and grass. We collapsed to our knees, and the impenetrable darkness of black oil clouds, shot through with flames, enveloped us. We had to let go of each other's hands in order to make our way through the confusion of hot metal pieces and wires. We bent the hot metal apart with our bare hands without feeling pain. We freed ourselves and ran through a sea of fire. It was like a dream. Our bodies had no weight. They floated like stars through space.

Poisonous Vapours
All at once I had a feeling that my wife was no longer by my side. I turned about, and the flames and poisonous smoke vapours struck me squarely, in the face. I saw my wife stretched out full length and motionless on the ground. I floated to her and pulled her upright. I gave her a push and saw her running again like a mechanical toy that has been wound up. The violence of the push threw me on my side.

I lay on the oil-drenched, burning ground, and I had the feeling that I was "at the goal." I knew that this was dying, but it was such a feeling of well-being to stretch out and await death that the thought did not frighten me.

Then I lifted my head to see if my wife was safe, and saw her, half blurred, running through the smoke vapours. That gave me a new start. I sprang up as though electrified and hurled myself after the phantom of life. All at once my scorched throat again breathed air. I stood still and turned around to the ship. Behind the thick, smoke the skyship that had carried us across the ocean blazed like an immense torch.

Something drew me toward it; I cannot say whether it was the feeling that I must try to save others, or that demon-like urge of self-destruction which drives the moth into the flame. My wife called to me, called more urgently and ran back to me. She spoke persuasively; took me by the hand; led me away.

Terrible Burns
We walked along the firewall and stumbled over the body of one of the landing crew. An ambulance that came tearing to the scene took us to the small airport hospital. Its rooms swarmed with excited people like a disturbed ant heap. In the corridors on tables, stretchers and chairs lay, the seriously wounded. An ambulance orderly with a morphine syringe the size of a bicycle pump ran about and wanted to give everyone an injection.

In one room a dying young mechanic called from his stretcher alternately for his bride in Germany and a priest. A neighbour on board was led by. He was badly burned and hung more in the arms of his companions than walked. Men with bloody burns strode searchingly through the rooms.

In the next room we entered, Captain Lehmann was crouched upon a table. He was half unclad and sat bent over. In jumping from the gondola he had broken his back. None of us knew at the time the gravity of his condition.

Dying Commander
I went to him. "What caused it?" I asked. "Lightning," he replied. These were the only words we exchanged. What could we have said to each other in the face of the disaster, which brought death to him?

We looked into each other's eyes; when I could no longer contain myself, I left. Outside, the airship was still burning.

The cause of the disaster has been thoroughly discussed by the investigating committee. The main point remains that, in the future, inflammable gas must not be used on passenger airships. England's R101 and Germany's Hindenburg are warning enough. If, in the future, German and American ships filled with non-explosive gas safely make their way across the ocean, then our sufferings have not been in vain.


11 DECEMBER 1937

[Antonio]

Wow

[Dave Homewood]

I had not known that the captain survived but he broken his back in the jump, and died later. I wonder how he got from where he landed with the broken back to the hospital, someone must have pulled him out of the flaming wreckage.

I really think the Hindenburg, despite being a huge symbol of Nazi Germany in the 1930s but I cannot help thinking it really was an amazing marvel of the age and an aviation icon. I love reading the first hand accounts by people who rode onboard. There were big plans that would have revolutionised international air travel that crashed and burned with the great airship, sadly.