Amongst the countless thousands watching the drama unfold in the sky in the early hours of Sunday 3 September were the ground crew at Sutton’s Farm. They shared the excitement of everyone when fire engulfed SL 11 but there were worries too. William Leefe Robinson should have returned from his patrol by 1.30am and was now an hour late. But when the sound of an aeroplane reached the airfield that tension evaporated. As Robinson brought his BE2c to a halt, eager faces gathered around to ask the question on everyone’s lips.
I was greeted with, ‘was it you Robin’, etc. etc. ‘Yes, I’ve Strafed the beggar this time’, I said, whereupon the whole flight set up a yell and carried me out of my machine to the office – cheering like mad.1
As darkness gave way to dawn a vast pilgrimage was already underway to Cuffley. Thousands who had watched the demise of SL 11 now descended on the tiny village by train, car, cart, bicycle or on foot, eager to be part of the story. The press named it ‘Zepp Sunday’ and filled their columns with vivid accounts of Robinson’s deed. Here at last was a ‘good news’ story, an antidote to the depressingly endless casualty lists from the Battle of the Somme.
While huge crowds flocked to Cuffley, a copy of Robinson’s report landed on the desk of Sir John French, Commander-in-Chief, Home Forces. On 4 September French’s office contacted Sir David Henderson, Director-General of Military Aeronautics, to ask if he recommended any reward. Henderson replied immediately: ‘I recommend Lieut. W.L. Robinson for the Victoria Cross, for the most conspicuous gallantry displayed in this successful attack.’ Just five days later, Robinson received the award from the King at Windsor Castle. Now arguably the most famous man in Britain, Robinson’s picture appeared in newspapers and on the covers of magazines, numerous photographic postcards depicted him and the crash site, as well as artistic renditions of the demise of SL 11 and souvenirs of all descriptions bore his image. All this to honour the man who shot down a ‘Zeppelin’. Yet a decision taken behind the scenes had changed the facts.
When the authorities sifted through the wreckage it quickly became clear that the absence of any significant amount of metal and the great quantity of charred and burnt wood denoted that the wreckage was a Schütte-Lanz airship and not a Zeppelin. And here was a dilemma. The British public hated the Zeppelins, while few of the population were aware of the name Schütte-Lanz, and the destruction of one would not have the same boost to morale as that resulting from the loss of a Zeppelin. A press release published on 4 September added a smokescreen to explain the lack of metal in the wreckage: ‘The large amount of wood employed in the framework of the Zeppelin is startling, and would seem to point to a shortage of aluminium in Germany.’ Three days later at the burial of the men, it was stated that they were the crew of Zeppelin L 21, an airship that the authorities had tracked leaving the country. While the real crew of L 21 relaxed back at Nordholz, most people in Britain believed they lay buried in a mass grave at Potter’s Bar. This misinformation remained firmly entrenched even though secret documents produced in November 1916 refer to SL 11 throughout.2 The authorities were also particularly keen to keep the new bullets a secret to prevent the information reaching Germany.
The destruction of their latest Schütte-Lanz airship was a significant blow to the army’s airship service. At the beginning of September the army had eleven front line airships: nine Zeppelins and two Schütte-Lanz. Mainly due to accidents as well as enemy action, these numbers quickly reduced and by November just six remained: LZ 93, LZ 98 and LZ 103 in the west and LZ 97, LZ 101 and SL 7, in the east. New airships were on order but the mood in army headquarters was changing.
Ernst Lehmann, commanding LZ 98, had returned safely from the raid of 2/3 September but his fellow army airship commanders were concerned by the loss of SL 11. They met and agreed that a height of 15,000 or 16,000 feet was needed when attacking London, only achievable by dramatically reducing the bomb load. ‘That, of course was undesirable,’ Lehmann admitted, ‘so for some time to come we were to remain away from the capital and visit other places where the defence was weaker.’3
In fact Army airships never returned to Britain. Weaknesses exposed in the German Army air arm during the campaigns of 1916 over Verdun and the Somme, had resulted in the need for a greater unity of command. In October 1916 all flying and support services came together as the Luftstreitkräfte (Air Force), a branch of the Army under the command Generaleutnant Ernst von Hoeppner; he soon concluded that the risks in sending airships to attack Britain were too great.
Successful attacks were possible only when especially favourable conditions prevailed and these were seldom present and we had to reckon on the chance that in each large attack a ship would be shot down and would fall into the hands of the enemy as a trophy.4
But von Hoeppner did not end the army’s air raids on Britain, he looked instead to the new bomber aircraft that were due to be ready in early 1917 to take on the task, and gradually dismantled his airship fleet.
The navy, however, did not share his views and Peter Strasser remained as determined as ever to prove the effectiveness of his airships in carrying the war to Britain. To Strasser, the loss of the Schütte-Lanz airship merely confirmed his own negative views of the wooden-framed airship design and he, unaware of the new bullets that had brought her down, felt that must have been a factor in its destruction. Strasser also firmly believed that the new ‘r-class’ airships were the weapon to confirm Germany’s superiority in the air war over Britain.
The army, however, did not have all the bad luck. On 16 September a fire at broke out during hydrogen filling at Fuhlsbüttel, Hamburg, and the flames destroyed L 6 and L 9, two of the navy’s older Zeppelins.
Strasser now waited for the next moon cycle, the new moon rising on 27 September. While the Zeppelins waited, carrying out engine tests, test flights and mine searching operations over the North Sea, on 22 September a single unidentified German aeroplane approached the Kent coast at about 3pm in another of the series of sudden stinging attacks. Aided by cloud cover the first anyone knew of the presence of the raider was when the first of three bombs exploded in the grounds of the Duke of York School, which provided barracks for the 6th (Reserve) Battalion, Royal Fusiliers. This alerted the Dover anti-aircraft gunners and RFC pilots of No.50 (Home Defence) Squadron at Dover’s Swingate airfield. The bomb smashed windows and cut telephone wires while the remaining two bombs exploded in a field between the school and the airfield. As the Dover guns opened fire, two RFC pilots climbed after the raider. Guns from Deal opened fire too and eight RNAS aircraft took off but it was all to no avail. A reporter based at Deal watched the action.
All around the enemy machine shrapnel was bursting, as the intruder dodged and manoeuvred... Not only was there firing from all directions, but British aeroplanes... also went up... For five or eight minutes spectators had the aircraft in view, and shrapnel burst very near it. There was no option but to bolt to sea... as it scurried outwards it rose to a still greater altitude, eventually becoming as a mere speck in the sky.5
The next day, Saturday 23 September, Peter Strasser deemed the weather promising for a raid and ordered 12 of his Zeppelins to prepare. Eight of the older ‘p’ and ‘q-class’ vessels would approach over the North Sea while four of the new ‘r-class’ Zeppelins took their routes over Belgium to approach England from the south-east. Strasser hoped to strike London but if the wind created difficulties, the raiders could redirect to the Midlands. Two of those approaching over the North Sea (L 16 and L 24) both turned back early and L 30 did not appear over Britain, although once again von Buttlar issued a dramatic report, this time of an attack on east London and Gravesend. In all likelihood L 30‘s bombs fell in the sea. That left nine Zeppelins to attack England, whose air defences had now proven to be far more formidable, even deadly.
The first of the Zeppelins to come inland on 23 September was L 21. Her commander, Kurt Frankenburg, thought he crossed the Essex coast at Foulness and intended to attack Colchester but reported that searchlights found him as he neared Chelmsford. In fact he came inland at 9.40pm, about 50 miles further north, and followed a rather tortuous course across Suffolk as L 21 struggled to climb above 8,000 feet. At 10.25pm he jettisoned a couple of empty fuel tanks to reduce weight; one of these fell at Stonham Parva, just over three miles east of Stowmarket where an explosives plant had been the subject of previous unsuccessful attacks. A searchlight flickered into action and caught L 21 – the light Frankenburg believed was at Chelmsford. He circled around to the south, dropping a single bomb ten minutes later at Coddenham then another at Needham Market before following the railway line towards Stowmarket. At 10.39pm two bombs exploded at Badley ripping down telegraph wires alongside the tracks and damaging windows, doors and the roof at Doveshill Farm. These bombs stirred the explosives works’ defences into action and the two 3-inch, 20 cwt guns opened fire.
Frankenburg dropped 26 bombs around Creeting St Peter and six more as he neared Stowupland, the bombs falling on the line Creeting Hall, Pound Lane, Brazier’s Hall and Crown Hill at Stowupland.6 Some of them fell within 500 to 600 yards of the guns, cutting the telephone line between gun and searchlight, but the explosive works was never in danger. At Creeting Hall Farm bombs killed five pigs and damaged buildings. Lightened by the release of the bombs, Frankenburg coaxed L 21 up to 9,500 feet and returned to the coast at 11.20pm. While the British authorities concluded this had been a determined attack aimed at the Stowmarket explosives works, Frankenburg never knew how close he had come to making a devastating attack on an important target.
The other five Zeppelins that crossed the North Sea criss-crossed the skies over Lincolnshire but only one pushed beyond the county borders. Reports state L 14 and L 17 crossed the coastline between Mablethorpe and Skegness at 10pm with both approaching Lincoln at 10.45pm. It seems more likely, however, that this was L 23 with L 17.7 At the village of Washingborough, south-east of Lincoln, a searchlight caught L 23 in its beam and moments later a 12-pdr gun south of the city at Canwick opened fire. While the unseen L 17 continued on its way, Wilhelm Ganzel swung L 23 to the north, identifying the gun and light as defending Lincoln. He released 17 incendiary bombs, which all fell in fields near the village of Heighington and had no effect. Switching to HE bombs, 12 of these fell around Washingborough as L 23 followed a course just to the east of Lincoln: ‘The windows of many houses in the village were broken, a joiner’s shop was partly wrecked, and four fowls were killed.’8 They also badly damaged an orchard. Crossing the River Witham, 15 more bombs fell around Greetwell where the explosions tore down telegraph wires and killed a sheep. Ganzel now turned back to the coast, which he crossed near Sutton-on-Sea just after 11.30pm. L 23’s bombs caused no human casualties, but two people were to lose their lives the following day as a result of the raid.
On Sunday morning large excited crowds came out from Lincoln to see the Washingborough bomb craters. Many crossed the River Witham on an old chain-operated ferry. At 4.30pm a large number crowded on board to head back to the Lincoln side, dangerously overloading the ferry. Ignoring the pleas of the 69-year-old ferryman George Moore to disembark, someone pushed the ferry out. Moments later it tipped dramatically to one side. In high spirits, those crammed on board cheered and tried to counter-balance the 6-foot-wide ferry, at which point it turned over, throwing everyone into the river where tragically two people drowned: 17-year-old Ernest Robinson and young George Melson, aged seven.
While Ganzel made his attack, Hermann Kraushaar continued on a south-west course in L 17, having already dropped a bomb at Waddingworth, 15 minutes before passing Lincoln. Kraushaar had taken command on 10 August and was leading a Zeppelin over England for the first time. At 11.50pm he reached Newark in Nottinghamshire, from where he observed bright lights 16 miles to the south-west, believing them to mark Sheffield. The lights, however, were shining from Nottingham. Kraushaar dropped an incendiary in the River Trent at North Muskham where it fizzed and bubbled as he aligned L 17 on the lights.
At 9.28pm Nottingham received the TARA order and lighting went off across the city – but not on the railways. To ensure that the numerous false alarms did not interfere with important work, the railways had permission to keep working until it was clear a raid was imminent. Nottingham’s goods yards were busy – and brightly illuminated. About 12.15am reports started to come in that a Zeppelin appeared to be heading towards the city from the north-east.
At 12.34am six bombs dropped on open ground close to the vast Colwick Sidings on the Great Northern Railway. Explosions damaged track and broke windows in six houses in Netherfield at the junction of Cross and Dunston streets. The crew of the anti-aircraft gun at Sneinton, on the south-eastern edge of Nottingham, waited anxiously as their searchlight failed to penetrate the ground mist and the throbbing sound of the Zeppelin’s engines drew nearer. Between Colwick and Sneinton L17 dropped six more bombs and at 12.39am an explosion severed the telephone line connecting the searchlight with the gun. On the southern edge of Nottingham a searchlight at Wilford was also blinded by the ground mist. Directly ahead the lights at the Great Central Railway depot, north of Wilford Bridge, and those at the Midland Station were still glaring, identified as ‘brightly lit industrial plants’ by Kraushaar.
The first bomb in the city exploded about 50 yards south of the Midland Railway’s London Road Junction signal box, shattering the windows and damaging Ashworth & Kirk’s timber yard on London Road. A second bomb fell in the Eastcroft Sanitary Depot’s yard where the explosion ‘scattered an immense heap of material’. Just how unpleasant this ‘material’ was is not clear. L 17 now approached the more densely populated working class area of south Nottingham where a bomb wrecked buildings and lives.
The bomb smashed into No.32 Newthorpe Street. A family with four children lived next door and all awoke to a chaotic scene of falling masonry and breaking glass. The explosion was responsible for ‘blowing in the wall of the sitting room, obliterating the scullery and reducing everything made of wood to splinters’.
‘As soon as I got out of bed,’ the father explained... ‘I could hear a woman’s voice from next door screaming for help. The floor gave way under me, but I got the child out of bed and made for downstairs’
His wife was thrown out of bed with one of her babies, but she too, managed to reach the street in safety, and her husband at once began to assist in the attempt to extricate their neighbours from the pile of debris caused by the explosion of the bomb.9
Next door, No.32 was home to Alfred Taylor Rogers, a tailor’s cutter, and his wife, Rosanna. They had two sons serving in the army. Buried in the rubble, Alfred was dead when rescuers found him, while the explosion had blown Rosanna out of the house, leaving her lifeless body sprawled on a pile of rubble. After many hours delicate work, rescuers pulled eight people alive from the ruins of other broken houses. Groans from the rubble alerted them to one victim. Bewildered by his terrifying experience, he simply asked: ‘Where am I; what am I doing here?’10
Leaving the residents of Newthorpe Street reeling from the shock of being attacked in their beds, L 17 followed the line of Carrington Street northwards towards the Midland Railway Station. Kraushaar dropped three bombs on the goods yard shed, two shattering the glass roof and injuring two men while the third exploded at the entrance on Carrington Street. It dug a deep crater, shattered windows all around and damaged the clock in the tower over the station entrance opposite. A foreman at the goods yard, Alfred Harpham, was within 30 yards of all three bombs and, although not physically injured, it affected him mentally. Harpham, a father of six children had worked for the Midland Railway for 21 years, was of good character and had an unblemished record at work, but after this incident he became ‘careless and reckless’.11 Three years later he appeared in court charged with petty theft, but friends testified that Harpham had not been the same since the raid. The Court dealt with his case sympathetically.12
Leaving the Midland Station behind, L 17 now headed towards lights still showing at the Great Central Railway’s Victoria Station. Before he got there Kraushaar released two bombs that struck the Canaan Street Primitive Methodist Chapel. One smashed down through the roof and floor but failed to detonate as it buried itself several feet deep, as the other bomb set fire to a gallery and the organ. Together they caused extensive damage but firemen controlled the blaze.
As those flames were taking hold, another incendiary bomb smashed through the roof of a house on Chancery Place, a group of about a dozen three-storey dwellings in a yard off Broad Marsh. It struck No.3 where an elderly male lodger occupied the top floor, the first floor being home to a recently married couple, 21-year-old Harold William Renshaw and his wife Ethel, while Ethel’s mother lived on the ground floor. Harold was serving in the army, based at the Sherwood Foresters (Notts. & Derbys. Regiment) Depot.
The bomb, described by witnesses as ‘a ball of flames’, crashed through the roof of No.3 before smashing through the upper floor and bursting into Harold and Ethel’s bedroom. The terror caused by these burning bombs is clear in Ethel’s own words.
I must have been awakened by the noise of the raiders, and I had just said to my husband, ‘They must be near, for they are firing guns.’ He opened his eyes to answer me when a bomb came from the ceiling, setting him on fire. I rushed from the room, got a bucket of water, and did my best to put out the flames, but when I returned the second time, I could not get to him for fire and smoke. And I could see him trying to crawl from the bedroom onto the landing.13
The helpless Ethel escaped injury, but when a neighbour arrived, she found Harold lying on the landing, his head and shoulders in flames. Harold died before he reached hospital.
In the meantime another bomb dropped behind 18 Low Pavement as L 17 swung to the west and dropped three or four more bombs, all close together. Damage occurred at the rear of a pub, the Sawyer’s Arms, and to business premises around the junction of Greyfriars Gate, Lister Gate and Castle Gate. There were no casualties in this commercial area but newspaper reports described how dislodged heavy stonework smashed into other buildings and into the street. These bombs had an effect over a wide area.
A strong wooden beam was hurled a distance of some 70 yards, on to the roof of another building, and a small hall, used for religious purposes, was practically destroyed... It indicates the force of explosion to explain that, as the result of not more than three or four bombs, the windows of practically every shop and building for a distance of close upon 300 yards, were more or less shattered.14
Kraushaar swung L 17 back on to a more northerly course as he headed towards Victoria Station. A bomb in Bridlesmith Gate had little effect then a single bomb hit the station exploding on Platform 7. It made a crater over four feet deep, damaged a section of track and inflicted other damage inconsequential in nature. Observers recorded L 17 steering away to the north-east at 12.49am. A final bomb exploded in the suburbs at Mapperley, damaging a house on Hickling Road and smashing windows in the area. From there L 17 returned to the coast, receiving anti-aircraft fire from a gun at Spurn Head at around 2am.
Incredibly, at the Midland Railway Station on Carrington Street, the lights still remained an issue ten minutes after L 17 had departed. It was only after Company Sergeant Major J.H. Wright of 18 Protection Company, Royal Defence Corps, arrived and following what he described as, ‘a lot of shouting’, that the lights were finally extinguished. In the inquiry into the raid the railway lights featured strongly.15
But before the inquest took place vast numbers of sightseers flooded into Nottingham the following morning to see the damage. Dick Cheetham, a 16-year-old miner, was one of them. The site of so many people left a lasting impression: ‘The Market Place and all down Wheeler Gate and Greyfriar Gate was just like Goose Fair. People were trying to dig pieces of shrapnel out from among the cobbles in the street’16 Another witness, Emma Cupitt, wrote to a friend: ‘You ought to have seen the thousands of people looking at the damage. Nearly every shop from here to the market place has broken windows...’17
Later, Cheetham, like many others walked to Newthorpe Street to view the wrecked houses there. Others went to look at the burnt chapel in Canaan Street, where an enterprising man started a restoration fund by charging the inquisitive a fee to look inside.
The casualties amounted to three deaths – Harold Renshaw and Mr and Mrs Rogers – and 16 injured: 9 men, 4 women and 3 children.
At the inquest into the deaths the railway received much criticism but the coroner pointed out that they had not breached Home Office regulations. In his summing up, however, he added some damning comments.
The Jury are of the opinion that the City was exposed to the risk of attack by Airships entirely by the action of the Railway Companies in keeping their premises lighted until the first bombs had been dropped.18
Taking up the matter, John Godfree Small, Mayor of Nottingham, sent a strongly worded telegram to the Home Secretary. It concluded: ‘The city authorities and citizens demand that measures be taken by Government to ensure that the railway lighting shall be so arranged as not to endanger the lives of the people.’19
While this rumbled on there was still the matter of burying the victims of the raid. Sadly this became a public sideshow. After Alfred and Rosanna Rogers’ burial on 28 September a local newspaper reported under the headline – ‘Revolting Burial Scene’.
Their progress through the streets was marked by scenes of reverence and sympathy but at the cemeteries there were large crowds of idle sight-seers mainly composed of slatternly women, many with children in their arms and at their skirts.
In their morbid curiosity these women showed neither respect for the feelings of the bereaved nor for the graves of others.
They pushed their way as close to the burial-places as the authorities would allow, trampled on graves ... and clambered onto tombstones in a disgusting effort to secure a ‘good view’.20
As Nottingham began to return to normal, the passions ignited by the railway were to gradually dim and never flare up again – no Zeppelin ever returned to the city.
At 10.25pm, about 25 minutes after L 23 and L 17 had come inland, Zeppelin L 22 appeared off Kilnsea, just north of Spurn Head, but spent little more than an hour overland. Her commander, Martin Dietrich, approached the instantly recognisable spit of land from where a searchlight was sweeping the sky. Three bombs fell in the sea before Dietrich dropped five more hoping to disrupt the searchlight and a 3-pdr Vickers anti-aircraft gun that had opened fire. One landed within 100 yards of the gun. Crossing the mouth of the Humber, Dietrich targeted Grimsby with three bombs but they all fell in the sea followed by three more off the coast at Donna Nook where he crossed into Lincolnshire. Dietrich took L 22 about 20 miles inland, dropping 11 incendiary bombs, but he was unable to find any worthwhile targets and none of his bombs caused damage. Two landed at North Somercotes, five at Grainthorpe, one at Fulstow, two at Utterby and one at Caistor, this last bomb recorded at 11.10pm. Dietrich then returned to the coast, reaching Donna Nook at 11.35pm having achieved nothing.
At 10.30pm another Zeppelin came inland just north of Skegness. The British report identified this as L 13, but again, when comparing timings with German reports it appears probable that this was Kuno Manger’s L 14, which the British had mistakenly reported attacking east of Lincoln.21 Twenty minutes after coming inland the Zeppelin was located between Boston and Sibsey, but Manger appeared uncertain as to his whereabouts and half an hour later he remained only four miles from Boston. By 11.50pm L 14 had pushed westwards and was south of Sleaford from where she came under fire from two mobile 6-pdr Nordenfelt guns at Rauceby. The guns defended the RNAS station at Cranwell from where five minutes later a BE2c took off, but L 14 was gone before the pilot could reach its altitude. In response to the guns Manger dropped five incendiary bombs. One landed at the village of Silk Willoughby and four around Holdingham but none caused any damage. He then released 13 HE bombs over Rauceby where damage was restricted to a house and some farm buildings. Passing north of Sleaford, L 14 released seven incendiary bombs over Leasingham, again causing no damage, before Manger returned to the coast, going out to sea at 12.15am near Wainfleet.
The last to come inland over Lincolnshire was Kapitänleutnant Franz Eichler’s L 13.22 It was the first time he had commanded a Zeppelin over Britain and like others that night he struggled to find a target. L 13 headed inland from Mablethorpe at about 11pm, travelling for about 30 miles before Eichler manoeuvred around northern Lincolnshire, dropping an incendiary bomb at Glentham at 11.45pm and two more at Kingerby, only three miles away, 40 minutes later. Eichler eventually decided to attack Grimsby on the Humber.
At 12.35am, as L 13 neared Grimsby, anti-aircraft guns at Scartho Top and Cleefields burst into action. Due to poor visibility the guns only fired seven rounds but Eichler described it as an ‘extremely violent bombardment’ to which he responded with ‘an attack on two batteries’. His 30 bombs (19 HE and 11 incendiary) fell between the villages of Scartho and Weelsby. ‘A dozen or more bombs fell in meadows,’ a newspaper reported, ‘scooping out great circular holes at regular intervals in a straight line across country.’23 But there was damage at Scartho where the first bomb exploded in a field on the south side of Carr Lane (now Springfield Road), about 80 yards west of the junction with Waltham Road.24 The next half-wrecked a cottage on Penfold Lane, opposite the village school and close to the junction with Louth Road. Fortunately the two elderly occupants were in the undamaged part at the time. The school suffered too, but not the pupils. One of them, Charles Cocking, later expressed the views of many a schoolchild: ‘A near miss by a Zeppelin bomb closed the school for a short period whilst broken windows and fallen plaster were repaired, much to our delight. We even loved Zeppelins after that.’ From there L 13 passed over St Giles Church. A bomb exploded in the churchyard about 25 yards from the church, another just beyond the boundary hedge, then a third about 80 yards further on in a field, ‘scattering sods and [bomb] fragments in all directions’. There was minor damage recorded at the rectory but more at the church.
The vibration smashed the windows of the church, falling fragments broke many slates, and wrecked part of the roof of the building, and a tombstone was cut cleanly in two by the impact of a bomb fragment.25
Other bombs fell near Scartho Hall and alongside the Great Northern Railway as L 13 made for the coast. The only casualties were four dead chickens.
While these six Zeppelins had been in action, three ‘Super Zeppelins’ were on their way across Belgium to attack London. They were Heinrich Mathy’s L 31, Werner Peterson’s L 32 and Alois Böcker’s L 33. The first to cross the coast, L 33, did so over Foulness in Essex at 10.40pm while the other two approached the Kent coast near Dungeness around five minutes later. Mathy dropped 10 bombs as he crossed the coast to lighten his ship, hoping to hit the Dungeness lighthouse but only four exploded on land.26 They wrecked two cottages, one unoccupied but the other home to Mr and Mrs Austin and family. Six people were in the kitchen at the time, the only room untouched by the explosion. Following a north-west course, Mathy was south of Tunbridge Wells at 11.35pm.
While Mathy headed inland, Peterson appears to have had problems. He manoeuvred L 32 for 45 minutes within a few miles of the coast and only moved off at 11.45pm.
L 33 had joined the airship fleet on 2 September. Her experienced commander, Alois Böcker, and his crew had previously served on L 5 and L 14 and now proudly manned the very latest Zeppelin to emerge from Friedrichshafen. Böcker, however, had a new executive officer, Leutnant-zur-See Ernst Schirlitz, one of the six men repatriated after the crash of Zeppelin L 20 in a Norwegian fjord back in May. At 11pm Böcker dropped an incendiary bomb over South Fambridge and a parachute flare south of Brentwood at 11.35pm. She was now only seven or eight miles east of No.39 Squadron’s airfields.
The aircraft defending London were in for a busy night. Four pilots of Kent based No.50 Squadron took off between 9.30 and 11.30pm but failed to locate the raiders. At 11.30pm the three flights of No.39 Squadron received orders to commence patrolling. They followed the same routes as the night William Robinson shot down SL 11, but this time, much to his frustration, he was unable to take part, his value to the public morale considered too great to risk.27 Lieutenant Clifford Ross went up from North Weald, Alfred Brandon from Hainault Farm and Frederick Sowrey from Sutton’s Farm. At 12.20am James Mackay replaced Ross who had returned early with engine problems. But with L 33 so close, none of the pilots had time to climb and intercept the raider before she had passed on her way to London.
After his delay at the coast, Peterson reached Tunbridge Wells at 12.10am, about 30 minutes after Mathy had left there and progressed to Caterham. From there he saw another Zeppelin about 17 miles away over London. Mathy reported: ‘At [12.15 a.m.] the attack by another ship was observed, followed by two raging fires.’ Pitt Klein, on board L 31, looked on with concern.
We could see our comrades over the urban sprawl, already under heavy fire. My heart was literally pounding, watching our friends in action over this inferno. They were illuminated as bright as day by searchlights. Curtains of anti-aircraft fire closed in around them, forming a great dome of fiery trails.28
They were watching Böcker’s L 33.
From Brentwood L 33 released bombs over Upminster Common and others aimed at landing flares burning at Sutton’s Farm airfield but all failed to hit anything of importance. At 11.55pm Böcker was south of Chadwell Heath and four minutes later the Thames appeared off the port bow; Böcker made a turn towards the river knowing it would guide him to London. Passing between the silent guns at Beckton and North Woolwich, Böcker was about to poke his head into a wasp’s nest.
At 12.11am searchlights of London’s North-East Sub-Command at Victoria Park and Wanstead found L 33, followed a minute later by West Ham. Then three lights from the Central area locked on as did four from the Woolwich area. With L 33 illuminated the guns opened fire, from Wanstead, Beckton, Clapton, West Ham, Victoria Park, Tower Bridge, Blackwall, Deptford Park, Meath Gardens and Shooter’s Hill.29
The gunners found the atmospheric conditions difficult as smoke deflected the searchlight beams but the consensus was that L 33 was flying at about 11,000 feet. While the gunners adjusted their fuzes, Böcker ordered the release of his bombs. The first seven all dropped within a 90-yard radius of a point where St Leonard’s Street crosses the Limehouse Cut, a canal connecting the River Lea navigation with the Thames.
The first bomb landed with deadly impact, killing at least five people as it wrecked houses from 130 to 136 St Leonard’s Street. Amongst the dead were Harry Brown, a French polisher, 71-year-old widow Mary Lunnis and George Jones, a porter at the Poplar Casual Ward. He was standing outside, about 160 yards from the bomb, when a metal fragment struck him in the face and killed him. The houses closest to the bomb came tumbling down with other buildings in the locality suffering to a lesser extent. Two incendiary bombs caused small fires at the Sun Flour Mill on St Leonard’s Street and on a barge moored on the Limehouse Cut, before four fell in Bell Road causing a major fire at a timber yard. A girl living with her family in St Leonard’s Street had been unable to get to sleep due to a noisy party a few houses away and witnessed the aftermath of the explosion.
I was listening to the music when there was an enormous crash, the house shook, and [mother] and I were hurled from our bed and down the stairs, amidst falling bricks and plaster and a cloud of dust. Neither of us was hurt. My mother placed me in the cellar. She ran upstairs to get my brothers, who were all safe.30
When L 33 moved on, the family went to their door and looked on horrified as the woman who had hosted the party was standing beside the ruins of her house while rescuers extricated the ‘terribly mangled’ body of her unconscious daughter.
Böcker had turned onto a westward course, as though intending to attack the City, but was under intense gunfire, which also affected those on the ground. One anti-aircraft shell smashed down in Victoria Dock Road. Discharged from the army in March 1916 due to ill health, Frederick Monk told his family to go to the kitchen when the guns started. Moments later, as his mother remembered, the shell exploded just outside the house.
The next thing there was a terrible explosion, falling of glass, screaming and moans and cries... With the aid of a policeman and his lantern, what was the first thing I should see but my soldier son lying in the washhouse?... His eyes glanced at me, and he said, ‘Mother, they have got me this time’; and so he died. Shrapnel had penetrated his lungs.31
Five other people suffered injuries and a man living next door, Edward O’Brien, a 43-year-old stevedore, died when shell fragments fractured his skull.
In Hoxton, five miles away, another anti-aircraft shell exploded outside a house in Myrtle Street, killing Alfred Fletcher, and injuring two men and a child.
The next group of five bombs fell within the space of 200 yards. In Empson Street two incendiaries caused limited damage and a HE bomb struck a business premises. An incendiary bomb started a fire at 7 Gurley Street and another fell in Brickfield Road. At about the same time, some eight miles away, Alfred Brandon, who was patrolling between Hainault Farm and Sutton’s Farm, caught a glimpse of L 33 in the searchlights before losing her again. But L 33 was in trouble.
Anti-aircraft shells were now bursting all around her, then one passed right through a gas cell behind the command gondola. It did not ignite the hydrogen but it did fracture one of the main ring girders, while other shell fragments slashed into gas cells and one damaged a propeller. Böcker turned back to a northerly course and dropped more bombs helping to counter the loss of hydrogen. Directly below him lay the London & North West Railway goods yard and the huge North London Railway Loco and Carriage works. Buildings suffered, railway carriages and trucks smashed and tracks ripped up. Damage at the first site extended into Violet Road, Devons Road and Shephard Street, where four people sustained injuries, and at the second site two men were hurt as the effects of the blast spread down Burdett Street, Campbell Road and Swaton Road.
While the crew battled to prevent further hydrogen loss, L 33 progressed another 500 yards before releasing the next bomb. Falling at the corner of Botolph Road and Eagling Road, it ripped through a Baptist Chapel, damaged 20 houses in Botolph Road, six in Devons Road and the Devons Road School.
Lieutenant W.G. Roberts, an army officer home on leave, reported the next bomb exploded ‘with an awful roar which seemed to rock our house on its foundations’. The blast ripped open the front door and smashed all the windows.
After making sure my family were safe, I went to Bow Road, a few yards away, where a large public house, the Black Swan, had been wrecked. Only the carcase of it was left standing, and a heavy pall of black dust hung over the ruins.32
The Black Swan stood at 148 Bow Road, on the corner with Bromley High Street, and was home that night to the landlord, Edwin John Reynolds, and eight members of his family. Lieutenant Roberts joined in the rescue.
I and others groped our way amongst the debris, searching for any victims who might be alive. Lifting some flooring, we discovered the wife of the licensee, Mrs Reynolds, lying in the cellar, where she had been blown by the bomb. It had struck the house dead in the middle, taking all the floors to the basement.
As well as saving Mrs Reynolds, the rescuers pulled out her husband, their two sons, aged 11 and nine, and son-in-law, Henry Adams. But Mrs Reynolds mother, Mary Potter, was dead, as were her two daughters, Queenie Reynolds (aged 19) and Sylvia Adams (20). Firemen found Henry and Sylvia’s baby daughter, also called Sylvia, hanging from a rafter by her nightdress. She died shortly afterwards. The explosion also wrecked the house next door, killing four-year-old Henry Taylor.
Continuing northwards for about 350 yards, Böcker released the next bomb. It exploded on the footpath in Wrexham Road, at the junction with Old Ford Road, injuring three women, destroying a gas main, wrecking six houses from 746 to 754 Old Ford Road and smashing many windows. From there L 33 crossed the River Lea, dropping a bomb on Cook’s Soap Works on Cook’s Road, but it failed to detonate. Then, passing over the Midland Railway’s Bow Goods Yard, a bomb at the Home Light Oil Company’s works set a huge fire blazing. Four bombs exploded amongst industrial buildings on Marshgate Road and Carpenter’s Road33 causing damage to factories, a laboratory and offices, while a large fire destroyed the greater part of Judd & Bros. match factory. Four other bombs lay undiscovered on Stratford Marshes for a week. As L 33 drew away from the guns she dropped a final bomb on waste ground at the Great Eastern Railway marshalling yard at Temple Mills. Böcker released a cloud of water ballast to lighten his ship further, whereupon the guns lost sight of the Zeppelin. The bombing run had only lasted about four minutes but caused the deaths of 11 people, in addition to the three killed by anti-aircraft shells, and injured at least 39 (13 of these by AA fire).34
At 12.19am, L 33 passed Buckhurst Hill, her engines emitting a pounding noise, possibly due to the damaged propeller. But Böcker was not yet clear. Four minutes later the searchlight at Kelvedon Common found L 33 and a 13-pdr, 9cwt gun opened fire, estimating her height at 9,000 feet. The gun fired four rounds as Böcker released more water ballast to escape. Any respite, however, was temporary because at about 12.30am, Alfred de Bathe Brandon of No.39 Squadron spotted L 33 again. Brandon, who had attacked L 15 almost six months earlier but failed to bring her down and was unable to locate LZ 97 during a raid in April, now had the ailing L 33 in his sights. Once more, however, his attack did not go according to plan. Free of the searchlight, darkness shrouded L 33 as Brandon struggled to keep her in view while both manually pumping fuel because his automatic pump had failed and working the cocking handle on his Lewis gun. The ensuing engagement was frenetic.
I came up behind the Zeppelin and on raising the gun jerked it out of the mounting, the gun and the yoke falling across the nacelle. I managed to replace the gun but in the meantime had passed under and past the Zepp. I turned and passed along it again, but from the bow, but we passed each other too quickly for me to aim. On turning I came up from behind and fixed a drum of ammunition. The Brock ammunition seemed to be bursting all along it but the Zepp did not catch fire. I was using Brock, Pomeroy and Sparklet. I turned again and put on a fresh drum and came up from behind and fired again. The gun jambed [sic] after about 9 rounds.
With his Lewis gun out of operation, Brandon, who had retained his Ranken darts, attempted to get above L 33 but lost her in the clouds before he could get into position. His attack, which had lasted just three or four minutes, was over. While L 33 escaped to the east, for her crew a bad situation just got worse; bullets fired by Brandon had pierced fuel tanks and Böcker noted that ‘fuel flowed out in the gangway’.35 And with no more water ballast to jettison to lighten the ship, Böcker feared the end was in sight.
Watching from far away and with no telltale fireball in the sky, the crews of L 31 and L 32 could only conclude that L 33 had completed her attack on London, avoided the intense anti-aircraft fire and escaped. It was now time for them to make their own attacks, unaware of the predicament their comrades in L 33 now faced.