While the older Zeppelins, L 21 and L 22, had carried out attacks on Sheffield and Bolton, far to the south the new Zeppelins, L 30 and L 31, had orders to attack London, but to show caution. Having travelled over Belgium, clear starry skies over the English Channel caused them to abandon the capital. Heinrich Mathy, however, had a novel Plan B, he set out along the south coast to strike at the Portsmouth naval base, an ambitious and dangerous idea, something no Zeppelin commander had attempted before.
Observers at Dungeness picked up engine sounds out to sea at 9.35pm, as L 31 passed down the English Channel. At 11.30pm Mathy reached Sandown on the Isle of Wight, remaining there for 15 minutes before crossing the Solent to the mouth of Portsmouth Harbour at 11.50pm. Two RNAS aircraft took off from Calshot in response, a White and Thompson No.3 flying boat and a Short 827 floatplane, but neither was up to the task. Although searchlights picked up L 31 immediately, estimates of her height varied from 12,000 to 15,000 feet. Consequently, when the eleven guns defending the harbour exploded into action, firing 138 shells, observers felt they were all bursting short of the target. L 31 made a sudden climb at full power. As the nose of the airship reared up, Pitt Klein thought she ‘creaked and groaned all over like some living being’.1
Those reporting on the raid all seemed to agree that L 31 dropped no bombs.
The guns continued firing for some ten or fifteen minutes. Flashes were seen in the sky, and the first shell from the anti-aircraft guns appeared to explode in close proximity to the airship, which immediately altered its course and got out of range... It is not known whether any bombs were dropped, but so far as is known no damage was done.2
This is an interesting aspect of the raid. The official report states: ‘Strange to relate, not a single bomb was thrown on or in the vicinity of Portsmouth by this airship as far as can be traced.’3 This differs significantly from the account of Pitt Klein who reported bombs dropping ‘in rapid succession’.4
There is, however, evidence that L 31 did release bombs. On 28 September, Major R.N. Andrews, produced a report collating signals sent during the raid to C-in-C Portsmouth, Admiral the Honourable Stanley C.J. Colville. The conflicting reports from the torpedo school ship HMS Vernon and the destroyers, HMS Angler, HMS Conflict and HMS Hind, Fort Blockhouse, the Royal Naval Barracks and shore establishments on Whale Island, resulted in Major Andrews concluding ‘approximately 10 bombs dropped’. There were also descriptions by three witnesses. Petty Officer William Shales, Coxswain of No.2 Medical Guard Boat, was one who gave a statement.
Came out of Pier Head Mess and saw two bombs in quick succession drop in water and throw up large columns of dirty water about 100 yards high with big flash in the explosions. The second was nearest and was not more than 150 yards from the Magazine at Pier Head off the West Shore.
For some unknown reason Andrews’ report was shelved for two months, by which time the official report stating that no bombs had been dropped was already in circulation.5
Having crossed the harbour, Mathy reached land at Portchester. In his engine gondola Pitt Klein breathed a sigh of relief to be clear of the guns, considering the experience ‘worse than London’.6 From Portchester L 31 passed over Sussex, crossing the coast at Bexhill at 1.45am. Now over the sea, Mathy was off Dover at 2.25am where he dropped three bombs at shipping before heading back towards Belgium, losing a propeller on the way.
While Mathy and L 31 had been over Portsmouth, the movements of Horst von Buttlar and L 30 are again uncertain. Von Buttlar filed another imaginative report, claiming attacks on the Kent coastal towns of Margate and Ramsgate, yet neither was bombed. British reports placed him off the coast of Norfolk but there are other reports suggesting he may have trailed Mathy down the English Channel before turning back.
The raid of 25/26 September was over. It had demonstrated that the naval Zeppelins were not cowed by their recent losses, but it had failed to achieve anything of note, despite bombing two towns producing material for Britain’s war effort, other than killing 43 people, injuring perhaps 31 more and destroying the homes of a few working families.
Later on 26 September, the day the raiders returned to northern Germany, Heinrich Mathy wrote to his wife Hertha and their baby daughter, Gisela. The losses of L 32 and L 33 had taken their toll on him and the impact of the gunfire over Portsmouth was fresh in his mind.
Peterson is dead, Böcker captured. Hertha, the war is a serious business, we two have always kept this in mind and in our happiness we have praised the good fortune of Gisela’s father. It is also my fervent wish that you both may be spared this most difficult sacrifice for the Fatherland and that I may stay with you and surround you with love. And when you put our little daughter to sleep in these days, a good angel will see it and read it in your heart, and he will hurry and guide my ship past the dangers that are in the air.7
This solemn mood extended to the crews too, as Pitt Klein remembered.
Even in the Mess our old banter had gone. All talk was of heavy losses, especially the latest ones. Everyone’s nerves were on edge, and even the most keen and impassioned crew members could not shake off the dark and sombre mood. It was only a matter of time before our turn would come... Our nerves were wasted. If anyone claimed that they weren’t haunted by the spectre of an airship falling in flames, they were a downright liar.8
On 27 September the Naval Airship Division received a boost when the latest ‘r-class’ Zeppelin joined the fleet. Command of L 34 went to Kapitänleutnant der Reserve Max Dietrich, former commander of L 7, L 18 and L 21. Just four days later L 34 rose from Nordholz joining the rest of the Zeppelin fleet on the next raid, scheduled just before the cycle of the moon made raiding inadvisable again.
The raid that set out on 1 October coincided with a change in L 31‘s crew. They had first come together in January 1915 but now the executive officer Oberleutnant-zur-See Kurt Friemel was about to get his own command – L 24 – so a new officer joined on the day of the raid, Leutnant-zur-See Jochen Werner. Friemel remained behind at Ahlhorn as did Pitt Klein – he was due leave.
This was the first time I had been left off a mission; I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or angry about it. The feeling of not taking part in a mission in my own airship, which was such an important part of my life, was so unusual, so strange, and so depressing that it preyed on my mind.9
As Klein said his farewells there was a fatalistic mood amongst the crew. Karl Dornbusch, Klein’s replacement grabbed his hand: ‘Pitt, I have a really bad feeling about this; I’m not sure what it is; I’m really anxious.’ Others had similar worries. The last man Klein shook hands with was Siegfried Körber. ‘Goodbye Pitt,’ he whispered, ‘Something’s going to happen today – just wait and see; we’re not going to come back from this one. I can feel it.’10
Strasser ordered 11 Zeppelins out: L 31 had orders for London if cloud cover permitted while the older ships and L 34 headed for the industrial Midlands. Four did not reach England – L 13, L 22, L 23 and, inevitably, von Buttlar’s L 30. He reached the Yorkshire coast before turning around and heading slowly back to Germany where he reported bombing ‘extensive installations on the south side of the Humber’, an area that was untouched during the raid.11
Despite his personal concerns, Heinrich Mathy did not hesitate to follow orders and, with cloud cover evident, he set out to attack London. L 31 crossed the Suffolk coast near Lowestoft at 8pm and heading south-west steered towards Essex. At Kelvedon Hatch, at 9.45pm, a searchlight found L 31 and Mathy changed direction, first north and then north-west, working around to the north of London.
That night it appears No.39 Squadron were not anticipating a raid because Second Lieutenant Wulstan J. Tempest of ‘B’ flight received permission to fly over from Sutton’s Farm to North Weald from where he went to meet friends at Epping.12 The squadron received the patrol order when Mathy reached Kelvedon Hatch. First off at 9.50pm was James Mackay from North Weald, followed six minutes later by Lieutenant Lionel Payne from Hainault Farm. Meanwhile a phone message reached Tempest whereupon he leapt upon a motorcycle ‘and drove like a lunatic to his aerodrome’.13 A breathless Tempest took off from North Weald at 10pm. By the time all three pilots had made the slow climb up to patrol height there was no sign of L 31.
From Kelvedon Hatch, Mathy reached Buntingford in Hertfordshire at 10.30pm, Stevenage 25 minutes later then Hertford at 11.10pm. There observers reported that L 31 shut down her engines, drifting with the wind towards Ware, before resuming under power again at 11.30pm, and heading south towards Waltham Abbey with London beyond. Reports of L 31‘s progress resulted in No.39 Squadron sending up a fourth aircraft at 11.25pm, Second Lieutenant Philip McGuiness taking off from North Weald. None of the pilots saw anything until the searchlights of the Waltham Abbey Sub-Command came into play. At 11.37pm the light at Newmans, a farm about two and a half miles north-east of Waltham Abbey, located L 31, after which the lights never lost their grip on her. A minute later the two 3-inch, 20 cwt guns at Newmans opened fire, soon joined by the gun at Temple House. All four pilots now saw antiaircraft shells exploding in the sky and then the unmistakeable sign, searchlight beams drawing together on a single spot, and pinned at their apex the elusive Zeppelin.
With shells now exploding close to L 31, Mathy dropped his entire load of 57 bombs (30 HE and 27 incendiary) in three salvoes as he zig-zagged over the Hertfordshire town of Cheshunt. The first 11 fell behind houses on Turner’s Hill causing serious damage to four properties as well as other damage to 58 more. The shock wave rolled over fields inflicting additional damage in Blindman’s Lane, Prospect Road, High Street, Church Lane and Windmill Lane. After a sharp turn to starboard L 31 dropped 27 bombs around College Road, near to the junction with Aldbury Walk, smashing windows, doors and ceilings in Lordship Lane and College Road. A sharp turn to port brought L 31 over the vast Walnut Tree Nursery, one of many horticultural establishments in the area. The sound of shattering glass filled the air as six bombs destroyed 40 greenhouses extending for six acres. More windows were shattered in Aldbury Ride and Crossbrook Street. The last 11 bombs fell in a line across Cheshunt recreation ground destroying the sports pavilion and inflicting injuries on a pony from which it did not survive. The local police reported that a 16-year-old girl, Catherine Bouette, received cuts to her hand, the only casualty of the attack. Lightened by the release of the bombs, L 31 gained height but continued to weave as Mathy now headed west, hoping to escape the guns and the lights. But any respite would be brief – the pilots of No.39 Squadron were closing in. Leading the chase was Wulstan Tempest.
Wulstan Joseph Tempest was working in Canada when war broke out. He returned home and in November 1914 received a commission as a second lieutenant in the 6th (Service) Battalion, King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry. Following a wound in May 1915 at the Second Battle of Ypres he recuperated in England before a posting to garrison duty in Newcastle. But Tempest had seen and admired the men of the Royal Flying Corps while serving on the Western Front and applied for a transfer. After gaining his pilot’s licence and further training he transferred to the RFC General List on 17 June 1916 before joining No.39 Squadron. This was his first encounter with a Zeppelin.
Homing in on the illuminated airship, Tempest pushed his engine to the maximum. By the time he had closed to five miles, he became aware of the anti-aircraft guns: ‘Above the roar of my own plane I could hear their boom, see the gleam of bursting shells.’14 L 31 was over Cheshunt when Tempest closed in.
I must have been seen, for she suddenly turned about and began to climb. On I flew in pursuit and, finding she could not shake me off, she suddenly shed all her bombs, which helped her to climb even quicker.
At that moment Tempest’s petrol pressure pump failed: ‘If I was to maintain height, I would have to keep the supply going. There was nothing for it but to use the hand pump.’ At that moment he was flying slightly higher than L 31, estimating her at 12,700 feet and, reluctant to let her climb out of reach, furiously hand-pumping fuel he made his move.
I made a dive straight at her and, passing under her enormous envelope, which seemed to overshadow me, I put in a burst of fire from my Lewis gun... Turning about, I flew under her in the same direction she was going and let her have a further burst.
Tempest thought his bullets might have pierced a fuel tank during the attack and he may be right.15 Major Charles Lloyd, R.G.A., commanding the Waltham Abbey guns, saw ‘Two thin pencils of white flame’ falling from the forward part of the Zeppelin. ‘They had the appearance,’ he concluded, ‘of two streams of petrol flowing from the ship and blazing up as they fell.’16
Those manning the machine guns on L 31 were also in action ‘blazing at him hammer and tongs’, but Tempest appeared out of the darkness too quickly for them to hope for accuracy.17 Coming around behind her, Tempest sat under her tail, beyond the reach of the machine guns and fired again.
I had almost begun to despair of bringing her down, when suddenly, after letting her have another burst, I saw her begin to go red inside like an immense Chinese lantern. And then I knew it was all up!... Flames burst from her glowing envelope and licked her bows. Brighter they grew, ruby, orange, yellow, paler. And then she seemed to be coming straight for me. I did a frantic nosedive with the wreckage tearing down on me. Only by putting my machine into a spin did I manage to corkscrew out of the way as the blazing mass roared past me... There was a smell of burning everywhere in the sky.18
For those watching from below the destruction of Zeppelin L 31 was a ‘magnificent yet awful spectacle’ that would last in their memories forever, but ‘an eternity of torture’ for the crew.
There, in the western sky, an oval of bright flame, hung the doomed airship casting forth a flush of pure light which illuminated fields and hedgerows and houses for many miles around... And as she dipped so her back broke, with the result that she fell in two pieces, side by side, slowly, and burning with immense fierceness, for all the world like a fiery comet falling to earth, with threads of fire trailing behind and around her.19
Immediately after the flames engulfed L 31, Tempest confessed to his father that ‘he went mad’, shouting, yelling and swooping down. Having regained his composure he watched the fall of L 31: ‘Far below that white-bright mass was receding, till a cloud of sparks told me it had hit the ground.’
For the crew of L 31, Tempest’s attack meant their journey had run its course. When the time came to make that final, fateful decision – to jump or burn – Heinrich Mathy threw himself from the doorway of the command gondola and fell to his death. His body, and the wreckage of his airship, smashed into the earth at Oakmere Park, Potter’s Bar, just two and a half miles from Cuffley, where SL 11 had crashed a month earlier.
While L 31 met its date with destiny, six other Zeppelins were already over Britain or on their way. Their impact was minimal, with heavy clouds and mist hampering navigation. Two of the older Zeppelins came inland over the Lincolnshire coast, L 16 just after midnight and L 14 about 40 minutes later. Erich Sommerfeldt in L 16 circled over south-east Lincolnshire dropping 16 bombs over ten villages. They killed a cow and injured two horses on Mr Clarey’s farm at Hameringham. L 16 crossed back over the coast near Wainfleet at 2am.20 The raid achieved nothing of value to Germany, yet it was matched in futility by the progress of L 14.
Kuno Manger brought L 14 inland over south-east Lincolnshire and remained near Boston for almost an hour, before penetrating about 25 miles inland. The first of his 38 bombs dropped at 2.40am. They killed a horse and two sheep at Blankney, smashed a window at Woodhall Spa, killed another horse and three sheep at Stixwould, finally breaking a window and killing a rabbit at Hemingby, yet most had no effect at all. At 3.10am a final bomb fell in Burwell Wood, about four miles south-east of Louth, before L 14 crossed over the coast at Mablethorpe and returned to Germany.21
While L 16 and L 14 had been wandering over Lincolnshire, Hermann Kraushaar brought L 17 inland over Weybourne on the north Norfolk coast. At 1.35am he dropped a parachute flare, which illuminated the coast from Sheringham to Cromer, then meandered around north-eastern Norfolk for almost an hour and a half before dropping two bombs at Marlingford, six miles west of Norwich, followed by one at Easton, but they caused no damage. At 3.35am L 17 went back out to sea at Caister.22
The experience that night, however, was a little different for the remaining three Zeppelins who, between 9.20 and 10.15pm, all came inland over an eight-mile stretch of the north Norfolk coast. The first of these, Kurt Frankenburg’s L 21, crossed at Weybourne from where he headed west until reaching The Wash at Heacham where he dropped two incendiary bombs. Following the shore of The Wash, L 21 reached Kirton, south of Boston from where he commenced an erratic path to the south-west as though London was his target. He dropped an incendiary over Kirkby Underwood at 11.20pm but 35 minutes later, when L 21 had reached the Rutland village of Manton, the crew saw a distant fireball illuminate the sky. Although it was 68 miles away, Frankenburg, who had witnessed the destruction of SL 11, knew it was a burning Zeppelin. He abandoned his plans and turned back, eventually flying the length of Lincolnshire but dropping only one more bomb, at South Kyme at 12.30am where it killed a sheep. L 21 passed over the coast at Donna Nook at 1.10am and a few minutes later the lighthouse crew at Spurn Head heard the sound of bombs exploding at sea.23
The second of this group of three Zeppelins, the new L 34 on her first mission, crossed the coast at Overstrand at 9.42pm. Her commander, Max Dietrich, set a course to the south-west but a parachute flare and three requests for wireless bearings, at 10.40pm, 11.20pm and 11.32pm, suggest he was unsure where he was. At 11.45pm, L 34 was heading towards Corby when a searchlight uncovered, trying to locate the Zeppelin through the mist and clouds. It was operating with two mobile 6-pdr Nordenfelt guns positioned at Shire Lodge Farm on the road between Corby and Rockingham. Presuming he had found a worthy target, Dietrich began dropping the first of 17 HE bombs as he passed over Kirby Hall. The line of bombs ran for about two miles through fields and woods, ending near the southern end of the Corby railway tunnel. To the gun crews, who had fired eight rounds at fleeting glimpses of the Zeppelin, it seemed as though it was heading directly towards them but it suddenly veered away to starboard. The time was approaching midnight – it was also the time L 31 took fire 60 miles to the south. Turning onto a north-east course, L 34 dropped 13 incendiary bombs in fields alongside the Rockingham to Gretton road. The only damage caused by all 30 bombs was a broken telegraph wire. Max Dietrich gradually turned on to an easterly course and reached the coast again just south of Sea Palling in Norfolk at 1.40am.24
The last of this trio of Zeppelins came inland at Weybourne at 10.15pm. Her commander, Robert Koch, set off across Norfolk taking a south-west direction into Cambridgeshire and heading for London. But just before midnight, when passing over Wicken Fen, Koch saw an unmistakeable flare of light in the sky about 45 miles to the south that could only be a burning Zeppelin. Over Waterbeach, Koch changed course to the north-west but, after progressing 12 miles to St Ives, he had a change of heart and resumed his course for London. At 1.05am L 24 reached Shefford in Bedfordshire from where he observed an urban area with a concentration of lights east of it. Koch believed he had reached north London where, he reported, ‘the whole bomb load was dropped with good effect on the districts of Stoke Newington and Hackney’.25 But he never reached London; the urban area he saw was the Hertfordshire town of Hitchin and the lights were landing flares burning at an RFC emergency landing ground south of the village of Willian.
Private William Hawkes of No.56 Protection Company, Royal Defence Corps, was on the landing field when L 24 approached at 1.14am. Nine bombs exploded in quick succession. Private Hawkes had nowhere to hide when one burst just five yards from where he stood, a wound near the heart proving fatal.26 In all, L 24 dropped 54 bombs (28 HE and 26 incendiary) along a straight line from the landing ground to Tilekiln Farm, south of the village of Weston, a distance of two and a half miles. The bombs all fell on open ground. With his attack on ‘London’ over, Koch turned L 24 back towards the coast, exiting at Kessingland in Suffolk at 2.35am.
* * *
Back in the sky above Potter’s Bar, Wulstan Tempest had lost all sense of time and direction after his attack on L 31, but felt a curious calm: ‘It was a sensation I shall always remember... it was almost as though I came from another world.’27
Eventually he sighted the landing flares at North Weald airfield and began his descent but as he came in to land he fainted for a moment and his BE2c struck the ground with a crash, wrecking the landing gear, smashing the propeller into the ground and cracking his head against his Lewis gun. Those on the airfield rushed to his aircraft to congratulate him then, carrying him in triumph on their shoulders, they took him to the flight office where he made out his report. With just four sentences it was understated, but actions speak louder than words. Tempest received the Distinguished Service Order for shooting down L 31.
In Potter’s Bar the townsfolk watched nervously as the falling Zeppelin, with flames streaming in her wake, roared down towards them but to their great relief it crashed on farmland on the Oakmere Estate. Rushing to the spot, the farmer, M.W. Bird, found much of the burning wreckage stacked around or hanging from a stout British oak tree. He also found Police Constable Herbie Pyne who had just had quite an experience. He was about 50 yards from where the wreckage smashed into the field when a burning propeller broke free and began to cartwheel towards him. Pyne lay down and with great relief saw the propeller bog down in the mud.
Fire now ignited machine gun bullets, which whizzed and zipped in all directions while the two men ran around desperately trying to round up Bird’s cattle, which appeared drawn towards the flames.28 As more people arrived, including the fire brigade and doctors, some order was restored before the army appeared and secured the area. The bodies of those who had jumped from the doomed airship were lying in the field away from the wreckage, the impact of their bodies making indentations in the soft earth, while others were terribly burned and disfigured. Stretcher-bearers carried them all to Farmer Bird’s barn. A linen tag on his clothing identified the body of Heinrich Mathy. Although rumours that he was alive for a short period soon made their way as fact into the newspapers, a doctor who saw Mathy’s body vehemently denied this at the inquest, as did a police inspector.
The following morning the London journalist Michael MacDonagh travelled out to Potter’s Bar and trekked ‘over the miry roads and sodden fields’ to Oakmere Park. His newspaper office had received confirmation that the commander of the downed Zeppelin was Heinrich Mathy. MacDonagh gained permission to enter the makeshift mortuary specifically to see Mathy’s body.
The sergeant removed the covering from one of the bodies which lay apart from the others. The only disfigurement was a slight distortion of the face. It was that of a young man, clean-shaven. He was heavily clad in a dark uniform and overcoat, with a thick muffler round his neck.29
MacDonagh pondered Mathy’s role in the death of many British civilians, Mathy ‘the destroyer of humble homes, this slayer of women and children!’ But then his own feelings towards Mathy mellowed.
Mathy is a soldier of Germany. He had but obeyed orders. In his own land he is esteemed, no doubt, for his daring, resolution, fortitude. He is our enemy, and we are glad he is no more. But apart from that, it is hardly for us to judge him for his particular military service to his country... War, even at its best, is barbarous. This war is wholesale murder of the most hideous kind. Mathy is dead, and for us, as a doer of terrible things, he is not dead for nothing. So may he rest in peace.30
It was less than a week since Mathy had written the heartfelt letter to his wife, Hertha, in which he conveyed an unmistakeable sense of foreboding. A feeling shared by many amongst the crew prior to the raid.
* * *
On this, Mathy’s final raid, for the loss of L 31 and her highly experienced crew, the 200 bombs dropped by seven Zeppelins killed just one man, a cow, four horses, six sheep, a rabbit and shattered a lot of glass. It was a high price to pay for such a paltry return.
Back in Germany, the news of the loss of L 31 with all hands had a devastating effect on Pitt Klein, the mechanic left behind. Those men were his comrades, his friends, with whom he had shared countless dangers. Now they were all gone but he was alive. Provisionally posted to the crew of L 14, who were due to transfer to one of the latest Zeppelins in January 1917, he never joined them. A medical report declared him unfit to fly, with Klein admitting that his ‘nerves were so shot’. Instead he worked in the engine workshop at Ahlhorn until an accident left him unfit for military service. For the rest of the war he taught engine maintenance on a training ship. When he wrote his book in 1935 he dedicated it to the memory of Heinrich Mathy and the crew of L 31, whose loss, he confided, ‘tormented and ate away at me’.