The loss of two of the very latest ‘r-class’ Zeppelins within a few minutes of each other was a serious blow for the Naval Airship Division. These new vessels were supposed to give Germany the upper hand in the air war over Britain, but the country’s defences had progressed too and were a match for these latest Zeppelins. And British engineers now had direct access to the largely intact frame of L 33 just three weeks after its maiden flight, and her crew to interrogate.
Before that could get underway it was necessary to clear the other site where L 32 had come down. At first the bodies of the crew were removed to a small barn close by. One of those who appeared to have jumped to his death was the executive officer, Leutnant-zur-See Karl Brodrück, initially named as the Zeppelin commander.
Michael MacDonagh, a journalist working for The Times, took a train from London to Billericay to visit the wreck but saw the congested roads before reaching his destination.
On leaving the railway station I avoided the town... and, taking to the fields, walked with thousands of others to the farm. Vendors of mineral waters, fruit and cake, who put up stalls in the fields, did a roaring trade, as we say, for refreshment was not to be had elsewhere and the weather was oppressively hot. In the distance I could see the huge aluminium framework of the wrecked airship gleaming brightly in the sunshine.1
The military cordon around the site prevented the public from getting too close, even so, what lay inside the cordon clearly impressed MacDonagh:
‘The enormous length and spread of the airship astonished me. It is like the skeleton of a monstrous prehistoric reptile, the aluminium girders, corroded by fire, suggesting its bleached bones.’2
MacDonagh then received permission to view the bodies in the barn.
They presented a ghastly spectacle... I could see that the crew had been dressed in heavy warm clothing – thick overcoats, mufflers and long felt boots... They are the first invaders of England I have seen, and they are – defeated and dead... But I confess my uppermost feeling in the barn was sympathy for these ill-fated young fellows... sent, and no doubt gladly accepting the service on an abominable mission and meeting what many will say is a just and ironically fitting end. As the frightfully disfigured bodies lay huddled together on the floor of the barn, smelling foully, I saw in them nothing of the majesty of death; only its gruesomeness and its terror in the most abominable shapes.3
There were no burned and broken bodies to inspect where L 33 had crashed at Little Wigborough, 22 miles away, instead the crew were alive and available for interrogation. Some were prepared to talk freely, although at least two of the men impressed the interrogators as they remained ‘loyal to their officers, and showed a proper reticence in replying to questions’. Others did not.
Certain members of the crew were clearly not enthusiastic about their work, owing to its trials and discomforts, and many seemed unaffectedly pleased at the thought that their participation in the war was over. One prisoner in particular... appeared convinced of the futility of Zeppelin raids and stated that the value of the airship, as a weapon, was greatly over-rated in Germany... Most of the members of the crew appear to be very conceited and advantage was taken of this fact to extract information from them. It is evident that they were regarded in Germany as heroes and encouraged in every way to consider themselves as persons of consequence.4
And while the interrogators drew much useful information from the crew of L 33, specialists from the Royal Corps of Naval Constructors pored over every inch of the wrecks, which in the case of L 33 lasted some months before the removal of the last remnants of the framework. When they studied the fuel tanks they found bullet holes, confirming that Brandon’s attack had been more successful than he thought. He subsequently received the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) to go with the Military Cross awarded for his spirited attack on L 15 earlier in the year. Frederick Sowrey received the DSO too, for shooting down L 32. Like L 33, the burned wreckage of L 32 also had secrets to reveal – a charred but readable copy of Germany’s latest codebook, the Allgemeinefunkspruchbuch (AFB). This had replaced the Handelsverkehrsbuch (HVB) in early 1916, but which had been in British hands since 1914. Military codebreakers remained well informed of German naval communications throughout the war.5
While the destruction of two of the latest Zeppelins, just three weeks after the shooting down of SL 11, caused celebration in Britain, the mood amongst airship crews in Germany was understandably sombre. L 31 and L 32 had both operated from the base at Ahlhorn and Mathy’s men had witnessed L 32 fall in flames to her doom. Pitt Klein recalled: ‘We were all haunted by the terrible spectre of fire; the dreadful sight of our colleagues and their ship going down in flames was etched deep into our minds.’ The day before this latest raid Klein had sat in the canteen with members of L 32‘s crew discussing that very subject – fire.
I could still picture some of their faces, and hear their voices. One man had said: ‘Death will come so quickly that there won’t be time to think or even act instinctively.’
Another had observed: ‘It’s pretty obvious that because of the enormous fire we’d all instantly be rendered unconscious and wouldn’t know anything more about it.’6
Mathy had become good friends with Peterson and was shocked by the loss of his comrade. In a letter to Peterson’s wife he tried to console her, assuring her that her husband had not suffered.
Your husband has found a beautiful quick death. In the instant his ship was hit he was already no more... High in the clear air Werner met his end, an end whose reality his consciousness could probably not comprehend, so suddenly did it happen.7
For Peter Strasser too, the loss of two of his latest Zeppelins and their highly experienced crews was a major setback. Unwilling to show any doubts or weakness, he ordered another raid for 25 September, just a day after the return from the most disastrous attack to date. The older Zeppelins were to focus on the Midlands and industrial North, while the two surviving ‘thirties’, L 30 and L 31, received orders to attack London, with Strasser urging von Buttlar and Mathy to show caution if the sky was clear of clouds.
Nine Zeppelins set out but two returned early, while L 23, commanded by Wilhelm Ganzel, hovered around the Norfolk coast without coming inland. That left four Zeppelins, L 14, L 16, L 21 and L 22 to carry out the more northerly raid.
Both L 14 and L 16 came inland at 10.05pm, about five miles apart, over Bridlington Bay on the Yorkshire coast. The commander of L 16, Erich Sommerfeldt, had little to show for his foray and appears to have dropped only five incendiary bombs. Heading west he passed south of Driffield and at about 10.30pm dropped his first bomb over Middlebridge Farm at Warter. Changing course, L 16 now headed north-west, dropping another bomb 20 minutes later in a hedge at Whitwell-on-the-Hill and a third at Ampleforth before Sommerfeldt turned back towards the coast.8 At 11pm a further bomb burnt out in a field at Langtoft, about five miles north of Driffield. From there L 16‘s wanderings make little sense, moving back and forth within ten miles of Driffield for almost an hour, with a final bomb falling in a field at North Burton (now Burton Fleming) at 11.30pm. Approaching Bridlington on the coast, the crew of an anti-aircraft gun at Bessingby heard L 16‘s engines and at 11.40pm fired a single round towards the source of the sound. Sommerfeldt turned away from the gun, headed north and eventually crossed back over the coast at Speeton at 11.55pm.
Kuno Manger’s L 14 ventured further inland than L 16 but also achieved little. Having crossed the coast, Manger followed a course towards York, approaching the city from the north-east. At 10.45pm, L 14 arrived over Heworth, just a mile from the city centre, where Manger began to release his bombs. The first smashed a few windows after exploding in a field behind Elmfield College on Malton Road.9 Two or three others dropped harmlessly on a golf course and in fields as L 14 headed south, keeping to the east of the city, until seven bombs (two HE and five incendiaries) dropped at Fulford.10 As the first of these fell, a searchlight at Acomb found L 14 and a 3-inch, 20cwt gun opened fire on the now illuminated target. The first shell burst too high but the second was close enough to convince Manger to head back the way he had come, with three more shells bursting before the searchlight lost contact. Free of the light, Manger dropped more bombs. One exploded on vacant land at the back of James Street in the Layerthorpe district, smashing windows in nearby homes.
In one of them a couple had heard the sound of explosions and gone downstairs. The wife, who had a history of heart problems, was tying the laces of her boots when the bomb exploded outside. She fell forward and died. Just beyond James Street, two incendiary bombs set fire to a timber stack at St Lawrence’s brick and tile works, but eager helpers quickly dealt with the conflagration. The next fell close to Layerthorpe Station where the soft ground absorbed the violence of the blast. Returning to Heworth, Manger released three more bombs. The first exploded on open ground alongside Main Avenue, smashing the windows in all 21 houses there and in First and Second Avenues, which led to East Parade. The second of these bombs exploded with terrific force between East Parade and the western end of Holy Trinity Church, the blast ripping off the gable end of the home of Dr Lyth and his family and shattering windows at the church.
The final bomb exploded in a garden at the end of Chestnut Terrace, smashing windows in the row of small cottages. Manger now took L 14 away to the north. The gun at Acomb, allocated to the city’s defences after the raid back in May, had proved its worth. Reaching Stillington at 11.15pm, L 14 commenced a wide anti-clockwise circle, dropping an incendiary bomb at Pilmoor, then a HE bomb in a field at Newby-with-Mulwith, south of Ripon. Moments later, at 11.49pm, four bombs exploded at Wormald Green, three on the army’s rifle ranges and one at Monkton Mains Farm. The range commandant reported the limited damage to a workshop with due brevity: ‘All glass broken, some of contents knocked about.’11 Manger passed within a mile of blacked out Harrogate, attracted instead to flares burning at Dunkeswick where No.33 Squadron had an emergency landing ground. Four bombs cratered the airfield but caused no other problems.
A mile and half beyond Dunkeswick, L 14 approached Harewood where a VAD hospital at Harewood House cared for recuperating servicemen. A light must have been visible because Manger dropped 11 incendiary bombs in the grounds: ‘When day broke most of these were pulled up out of the damp soil like ripe turnips and formed a most interesting exhibition in the coach-house of the Harewood Arms.’12 In the village, close to the entrance to the estate, another incendiary bomb smashed through a cottage roof falling into a water cistern that flooded the bedroom below. A newspaper reporter was not impressed: ‘Such damage can hardly be said to be worth even the cost of the bomb.’ The last of this group struck an empty hen-house.
At this point the darkened city of Leeds lay just six miles ahead, but about four miles to the east a mobile searchlight at Collingham switched on and Manger changed course towards it. As he did so a mobile 13-pdr gun fired nine rounds; Manger replied by dropping three HE bombs. They missed both gun and light but one cut the telephone wire connecting the two. At 12.55am L 14 passed close to Stillington, completing the circle begun at 11.15pm, then on to the coast at Scarborough and back across the North Sea to Hage.
Earlier, at 9.45pm, Kurt Frankenburg’s L 21 came inland near Mablethorpe on the Lincolnshire coast and embarked on a journey that saw her penetrate further into north-west England than any other Zeppelin before, although Frankenburg was not aware of this.
As he headed west his progress triggered the TARA order in Yorkshire where in cities like Sheffield steam hooters on the numerous steelworks, known as ‘buzzers’, alerted the population. At a house in the Highfield district, like many others throughout the city, a family nervously gathered together, as Maggie recounted in a letter to her aunt.
About 10.45pm the alarm buzzers went and within half an hour the streets were empty... I think we all realised it was more serious than ever before as the soldiers, police and specials worked like Trojans... Suddenly we heard a droning sound overhead, which came stronger every minute... and Elsie clutched hold of Harry’s arm and screamed out ‘they are here’ – she trembled like a leaf.13
But L 21 by-passed the city and those fearing the worst could breathe again – at least for an hour anyway.
Twenty minutes after the TARA order, two BE2c aircraft took off from the No.33 Squadron airfields at Coal Aston and Bramham Moor hoping to intercept the raider, but the foggy skies around Sheffield made that impossible and one pilot smashed his aircraft on landing but walked away unhurt.
About 11.15pm, L 21 had skirted to the north of Sheffield, heading west and passing over the sparsely populated Peak District to reach the Lancashire town of Bacup at midnight where Frankenburg prepared to commence bombing as he neared the Rossendale Valley. Two miles from Bacup, Frankenburg dropped an incendiary that landed on Hill Top Farm to the east of Lumb. Heading south-west, L 21 released two bombs over Newchurch but neither detonated: one landed in the grounds of Height Side House14 and the second near Lea Bank House. Just under a mile further on a bomb exploded close to Hall Carr Road where it gouged a large crater but there were no casualties. Crossing the River Irwell, L 21 turned from its westerly course to the south, heading towards Ewood Bridge, dropping a HE bomb in a field on the north side of Green’s Lane and an incendiary on a golf course to the south of the road. A large sewage works occupied the area between Ewood Bridge and Irwell Vale and Frankenburg released perhaps as many as nine bombs over it. Three fell amongst the filter beds and another damaged the railway track running alongside the sewage works, exploding just before the track crossed a viaduct over the River Irwell. Across the river another detonated in a field close to a row of cottages on Hardsough Road, blasting a field wall and smashing cottage windows and doors. Unperturbed, one of the residents stoically told a reporter: ‘That can soon be mended and at least we are still alive.’
From Irwell Vale, L 21 headed south towards Ramsbottom where three bombs exploded on the outskirts of the mill town: two expended their energy in fields and one exploded on the driveway of a large house off Dundee Lane. Then L 21 veered towards the neighbouring village of Holcombe. ‘Five or six shells exploded almost at once,’ villagers explained, ‘It was just like thunder. And then you could hear the windows smashing everywhere. The concussion did the damage.’15
Passing over the church in Holcombe, three bombs fell in fields around the village school. The first exploded adjacent to its eastern end and shattered the field wall, ‘scattering the big stones... like chaff’, pitting the gable end of the school and smashing all the windows. The shock wave stopped the clock in the church tower about 75 yards away. To the rear of the school another destroyed a chicken run, scattering the carcasses of the occupants up the hillside, and one landing on the west side of the school knocked down a wall on Moor Road and smashed the windows and roof tiles of cottages lining Holcombe Road. The last bomb exploded in the road between the village post office and The Shoulder of Mutton, an inn and farm. Mr and Mrs Hoyle, who ran the post office, had quite a shock as shattered furniture flew around their house like matchwood, leaving Mrs Hoyle as the only casualty in the village with a cut to the back of her head. Across the road a barn and an empty cow shed suffered badly, while the inn lost its windows and the main door.
Now over the southern outskirts of Ramsbottom, L 21 dropped two bombs in fields between Holcombe and Bolton Road West before a third struck cottages in Regent Street housing a mineral water works. It caused considerable damage there, wrecked the company’s two delivery lorries and left one particular lasting memory for those who lived nearby.
The most phenomenal feature was a joist from the damaged works, which had been hurled high into the air completely over the premises, and which descended like an arrow from its bow to impale itself in an adjoining field.16
Following Bolton Road West for about 700 yards, Frankenburg dropped an incendiary in a field at Lumb Carr Farm as L 21 approached the village at Holcombe Brook. There another incendiary smashed through the roof of a house at Pot Green on Summerseat Lane, sparking sudden terror inside. The father told a newspaper: ‘...there were flames bursting from the room in which our two little girls were sleeping... It was just a mad dash into the room... confused perception that the children were unhurt... then I was outside, feeling scorched and stifled, with one child in each arm.’17
From his command gondola Kurt Frankenburg could now see what appeared to be a most tempting target. Just five miles away the town of Bolton, with its numerous mills and industrial complexes, was in full production. Frankenburg believed mistakenly that it was Derby, actually some 60 miles away.18 No Zeppelin had previously threatened this area, so air raid defences were not a priority. The area had received a warning but closing down steel production, munitions manufacture and mill output was not a quick process. Leaving Holcombe Brook behind, Frankenburg passed over Old Bates’ Farm near Tottington. There a 70-year-old woman, Elizabeth Cranshaw, died of shock when she saw the Zeppelin.
At 12.19am an observer reported L 21 approaching the north of Bolton.19 Frankenburg commenced his attack a minute or two later, just west of Astley Bridge. Quickly realising he faced no opposition, he flew two loops over the town, dropping 22 bombs.20
The first, an incendiary, crashed into a field at Sharples Park close to Eden’s Orphanage where all the children were evacuated to a safe distance and the fire extinguished. It was only with the detonation of the first HE bomb that the residents of Bolton realised they were under attack. That exploded in Hobart Street smashing numerous windows while an incendiary in Darley Street just missed the Brownlow Fold cotton mill. Mortfield Lane snaked around a series of reservoirs supplying the Mortfield Bleach Works, while amongst the reservoirs stood Lodge Vale, a row of workmen’s cottages. The next bomb exploded on the end cottage. Much to their amazement rescuers found all three occupants alive. Two incendiary bombs that dropped in Waldeck Street and another in Chorley Old Road, just yards from the Halliwell Cotton Works, caused no harm and a worker from the mill dashed out with a bucket of water to extinguish the flames. Passing over Queen’s Park, L 21 began the first of its loops. Frankenburg released two more incendiary bombs as he approached the Bullfield district. If his target was the gas works and the concentration of railway tracks at Bullfield Sidings he was to be disappointed. Both overshot, one landing in Bolton Corporation’s Wellington Yard, between the railway and Wellington Street, where a fire started at a stable, and the second set fire to a house on Wellington Street where a woman and her two children were asleep. Firemen were quickly on the scene and all three escaped without injury.
Frankenburg then released a group of five bombs. They missed the railway complex around Crook Street Goods Station by about a hundred yards. Instead they caused devastation amongst the terraced houses on Kirk Street, with an incendiary bomb also killing a horse in stables in neighbouring Back John Street.
Four bombs, all explosive... had confined their actual violence to six or eight homes, the terrific impact and vibration had a remarkable impact on two streets, probably some two hundred cottages in all.21
Six of the modest homes in Kirk Street ceased to exist, while all around others suffered greatly as did those in John Street and James Street. In Kirk Street the bombs claimed 13 lives. The Irwin family resided at No.58. Joseph Irwin and his wife Bridget had moved to Bolton from Ireland to seek a better life. Four children shared a bed while the youngest, two-year-old Margaret Ellen, slept with her parents. When the house collapsed, the older children managed to escape and Joseph pulled himself free too, but Bridget, clutching their youngest daughter, remained pinned under the bed as more rubble crashed down. When a rescue attempt finally reached them, Bridget was dead and Margaret Ellen died shortly afterwards.
Next door at No.60, ironworker Michael O’Hara and his wife, Martha, died in the wreckage of their home, as did their neighbours at No.62, William and Ann McDermott, along with their five-year-old daughter, Mary Ellen. Their two other children survived after a rescue that took six hours. Four people died at No.64: James and Ellen Allison and their lodgers, David Davies, a 39-year-old coal heaver, and Frederick Guildford, a packing case maker. The final two victims in Kirk Street lived at No.66. Ellen Gregory, a 17-year-old weaver died in the ruins while her mother, Elizabeth, was pulled out alive only to die in a neighbour’s house soon after. Elizabeth’s husband, Robert, and their 10-month-old son were trapped for hours under the rubble but both survived. A newspaper reporter who visited Kirk Street in the hours after the raid summed up the devastation.
What was yesterday the centre of a worker’s colony, rows and rows of cottages is today a scene of woebegone desolation. One walks the whole length of the street without seeing an unbroken window and at the southern end is a vista of wanton havoc.22
Leaving this havoc behind, L 21 began circling anti-clockwise to complete its first loop, dropping an incendiary that struck a fruit warehouse at the corner of Ashburner Street and Old Hall Street.23 From there L 21 returned to Queen’s Park, where a HE bomb buried itself in a flowerbed after failing to detonate.
The second loop over Bolton was on a wider radius than the first. From Queen’s Park L 21 passed over more mills before releasing two bombs as it approached Deane Road. An incendiary fell on a rope works off Washington Street just seconds before a bomb exploded at the Co-operative Laundry located between Washington Street and Deane Road, damaging the water storage cistern and boiler house as well as smashing windows and the roof. Turning now, L 21 released two more bombs as it approached the large Moor Cotton Mills on Parrot Street. One exploded with great force in Back Apple Street, just a hundred feet from the Mill, obliterating outside toilets, damaging the backs of a number of houses, smashing down walls and shattering windows, including those at the Mill. An incendiary bomb broke through the Mill’s roof into a storeroom where a fire started amongst a stockpile of yarn and caused much damage, but the building’s sprinkler system prevented the flames spreading further.
L 21‘s next bomb smashed through the roof of Holy Trinity Church, located between two important ironworks and Trinity Street Station. It broke apart on hitting the ground without exploding, the damage was restricted to the roof, an upper gallery and a number of pews reduced to splinters. L 21 now headed north, following a line about 150 yards east of the Town Hall, where an incendiary that hit Messrs Houghton solicitor’s office in Mawdsley Street received quick attention as the final bomb fell in Mealhouse Lane where it caused no damage. Frankenburg left Bolton on a northerly course, observed about seven miles south-east of Blackburn, at 12.52am. From there L 21 passed Burnley and south of Skipton in Yorkshire at 1.30am. Five minutes later L 21 dropped a bomb in a field at the village of Bolton Abbey but it failed to explode and it was another four days before a farmer discovered it. Frankenburg exited the coast at Whitby at 3.05am.
Many of the children living in Kirk Street attended the Derby Street School. On the day after the raid 60 were absent, yet many others did appear as normal. The keeper of the school’s logbook wrote admiringly: ‘... the calmness and absence of abnormality on the part of the poor children whose homes had been destroyed was a wonderful witness to their ability to undergo emergencies.’24 Then, like in every other part of the country raided by Zeppelins, the visitors arrived, as the logbook continues.
On the two following days the town was visited by thousands – yes, tens of thousands of people from places as far as Liverpool to view the damage and from early morning till late at night the streets near this school were crowded with curious sightseers.
There is also evidence in the logbook of the support given to those who suffered in the raid.
The Mayor opened a fund on behalf of the poor stricken victims, numbers of families were housed and fed in the Flash St Special School and the benevolence of the town was showered upon the unfortunate sufferers in no stinted manner.
Zeppelin L 22 came inland at about 10.30pm, 45 minutes behind L 21 on the same stretch of coast. Her commander, Martin Dietrich, had a clear objective in mind – Sheffield. He dropped incendiary bombs at Maltby-le-Marsh and south of Market Rasen, both probably to get an estimate of ground speed because Dietrich was confused by the effects of a south-east tail wind. When he reached Yorkshire he believed he was still over Lincolnshire. Attracted by lights, which he thought indicated Lincoln, and with heavy cloud cover building, Dietrich decided to attack the city, abandoning hopes of reaching Sheffield. But the tail wind had actually carried him to the eastern edge of Sheffield and at 12.15am the seven incendiary bombs he dropped fell at the Tinsley Park Colliery although without causing any damage of note.25
While Dietrich flew around the outskirts of the city in a clockwise direction, many of the population were still awake after the earlier scare when L 21 passed by. From Hillsborough, north of the centre of the city, Dietrich was drawn towards the north-eastern districts, the seat of Sheffield’s steel and iron industries. This area also contained a great concentration of railways, goods yards and sidings from where, like at Nottingham two days earlier, the lights were shining brightly. The first two bombs, both incendiaries, landed near the entrance to Burngreave Cemetery where they scorched a patch of grass and a notice board.26 More bombs quickly followed. One that exploded in a recreation ground off Danville Street, shattered windows nearby and a bomb fragment flying through one killed 49-year-old Frederick Stratford in his bed. A woman and child also received injuries. In Earldom Road27 another exploded in a yard, ‘driving holes through walls of buildings’, and injuring a man. The next shattered Nos.110 and 112 Grimesthorpe Road. Screams emanating from the shattered ruins of No.112 pierced the air, but before any rescue attempt was possible the remainder of the building collapsed and the screaming stopped. Search parties later recovered the bodies of Ann Coogan, aged 76, and her daughter, Margaret Taylor (59).
Having been flying east over the city, Dietrich now turned south, commencing a series of zig-zags as L 22 reached All Saints Church, dropping another bomb as he did so. It detonated behind houses at the corner of Lyons Street and Petre Street. Woken by the sound of exploding bombs Thomas Wilson, who lived at 73 Petre Street, had gone to the window. As he looked out the bomb exploded, sending razor sharp fragments flying in all directions. One struck him on the chin, killing the 59-year-old engineer’s fitter instantly. About 200 yards away another bomb exploded close to the corner of Writtle Street and Sutherland Road.
A woman who was lodging in Writtle Street woke to the sound of the first HE bomb and, throwing on some clothes, hurried down to the cellar where she found her landlady moments before a bomb exploded outside. As the Zeppelin moved away the terrified pair went upstairs to find that ‘the furniture was all topsy-turvy, whilst large portions of shrapnel were embedded in the doors, the walls, and the furniture’. Then they heard screams for help.28 At 45 Writtle Street, George Ineson and his wife both suffered serious injury. Fragments of the bomb struck George’s head, fracturing his skull and lacerating his brain. He clung to life for five days before dying on 1 October.29 Next door, at 43 Writtle Street, William and Elizabeth Bellamy had woken with a start. They shared their house with their daughter, her husband and the couple’s 11-month-old child. Elizabeth rushed to get her granddaughter but as she passed a window the bomb exploded and ‘shattered the end of the house’. Fragments of the bomb slashed into the room where Elizabeth was and ripped open her back. Her injuries were horrific and she died in hospital three hours later.
Dietrich and L 22 were now just 300 yards from the heart of Sheffield’s industrial centre, where great steel and iron works produced the material of war on a mammoth scale. Before he reached them, however, Dietrich dropped two bombs with disastrous results for those living in Cossey Road. The Harrison family lived at No.26: George and Eliza, their 12-year-old daughter Vera, along with a married daughter, Nellie Rhodes, and her children Phyllis (six) and Elsie (four). On hearing the warning ‘buzzers’ earlier, their neighbours at No.24, William and Sarah Southerington, came to join them and while the women and children took shelter in the cellar, George Harrison and William Southerington remained upstairs talking and smoking. At No.28, the Harrison’s other neighbours, Albert and Alice Newton, were asleep in bed. The bomb hit the roof of No.26, crashed down through the house and exploded within the confines of the cellar where it ‘blew everything to smithereens’. All eight people died. When they found George Harrison he still clutched his pipe and matches.30 The explosion also ripped through the Newton’s home. Searchers found Albert’s body in the back yard while that of Alice, blasted out of the front of the house, lay on the opposite side of the road. That night their six-year- old son, Albert Edward, was staying with his grandparents.
The second bomb exploded ‘like a crack of doom’ on 10 Cossey Road, home to the Hames family. Levi, his wife Beatrice and their 14-month-old son, Horace, all died in the same bed. Extensive damage to property extended into Babur Road and in Forncett Street an incendiary bomb set fire to a house. L 22 now missed a great opportunity as Dietrich released just a single incendiary bomb as he passed over the vast Atlas Steel & Iron Works. It smashed through the roof of a machine shop but only started a small fire. His next bomb overshot the Norfolk Steel & Iron Works by a hundred yards.31
Dietrich now made another turn on his zig-zag course and 450 yards on released two more bombs. One fell directly on the Princess Street Primitive Methodist Chapel, completely shattering the building and leaving just fragments of the outer walls standing. On one of those walls, a line from the New Testament remained legible for those who came to see the wreckage: ‘A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another.’ The second bomb of this pair obliterated a house at 136 Corby Street, home to seven members of the Tyler family. Joseph and Selina Tyler, along with their children, Ernest (11), Albert (eight), Amelia (five) and John (two) all died in the shattered ruins of their home. Their eldest child, 14-year-old Joseph, was extricated from the wreckage after many hours of painstaking and careful work but, suffering extensive injuries, he died later in hospital. Next door, at 134 Corby Street, 11-year-old Richard Brewington had exclaimed ‘The Zepps are here!’ moments before the bomb fell. The house collapsed and although his mother and a lodger escaped, Richard died under the rubble.
On the opposite side of the road, at No.143, there was further tragedy. As the sound of exploding bombs drew closer, William Shakespeare gathered his children from the attic and shouted to his wife Martha to follow them down to the cellar. Just as William reached the refuge the bomb exploded in Corby Street and he heard his wife cry out in shock: ‘Oh Bill, my leg’s off.’ Martha Shakespeare died in hospital three hours later.32 The explosion demolished four houses and damaged 40 more, many of which were considered no longer fit for habitation.
A viaduct carried the Midland Railway alongside Corby Street and L 22 moved parallel to it until the tracks crossed over Sutherland Street where Dietrich engaged in another turn, dropping a bomb as he did so. It destroyed two houses abutting the viaduct but had no impact on the structure itself. Now following Attercliffe Road, L 22 crossed the River Don near the Washford Bridge and dropped two bombs, a HE and an incendiary. Both fell in a yard surrounded by closely packed workmen’s homes and, although there was much damage there and in Trent Street, only three children sustained any injuries when fallen rafters and plaster trapped them in their bed.33
Dietrich now executed his next turn and, crossing back over Attercliffe Road, dropped a bomb that damaged a public house, The Baltic Arms, at 420 Effingham Road. L 22 passed over the Baltic Steel Works, but an incendiary overshot by a hundred yards, causing only minor damage at the Park House Works on Bacon Lane. At the same time a four-man team from Sheffield Corporation was working in Woodbourn Hill. They heard bombs exploding and one of them, William Guest, realised a light was showing in the street. As he approached the building to tell the occupiers to extinguish it a bomb exploded. The explosion damaged 12 buildings and killed Guest, his body found just three yards from the bomb crater. Those in the house where the light was showing had left it on by mistake when they took shelter in their basement. An incendiary bomb then fell on the sidings of the Great Central Railway close to Woodbourn Bridge, setting fire to a storage facility and burning a number of railway sleepers.
Although Sheffield had at least three anti-aircraft guns none of them had opened fire because the atmospheric conditions prevented them locating the target.34 A gun at Shiregreen, north of the city, however, did fire two rounds at the sound of the Zeppelin’s engines and this may have been the reason why L 22 stopped zig-zagging and headed south. Appearing to follow the line of Manor Lane, Dietrich dropped at least seven bombs, some near the settlements at Manor Oaks and The Manor, but the countryside here was open and no damage occurred. At The Manor, Dietrich changed direction to the north-east and commenced his journey back to the coast, dropping an incendiary bomb at Darnell and setting fire to the home of a retired policeman in Britannia Road.35 He was away at the time but neighbours responded quickly to extinguish the flames. The raid on Sheffield was over.
On his flight back to the coast, Martin Dietrich finally recognised the strength of the south-easterly wind and realised he had probably travelled further west than he had first supposed. He came to the correct conclusion that he had bombed Sheffield and not Lincoln. L 22 briefly came under fire from guns of the Humber garrison before passing out to sea east of Hull at about 2.05am. Back in Sheffield, Dietrich’s raid had claimed the lives of 29 and injured another 10, five of them seriously.
After the raid the civic authorities in Sheffield raised their concerns about lighting on the railways, as had happened in Nottingham, and a deputation from 25 towns and cities from the Midlands and Eastern counties went to London to discuss this with the War Office. It, however, refused to sanction the stopping of railway traffic prior to raids. The transportation of munitions and the commerce of the country, the War Office insisted, would face tremendous dislocation, causing the cessation of railway traffic over great swathes of Britain and result in the paralysis of the business of the country. The War Office further pointed out that this was exactly what Germany wanted.36
There were no more attacks in the North and Midlands that night, but in the far south, Heinrich Mathy had opened up a new area to bombing – Portsmouth, with its important harbour and naval dockyard. But his raid did not go well.