On the morning of 28 November, while Peter Strasser was still coming to terms with the loss of two more Zeppelins, an audacious plan was underway to bomb the Admiralty building in central London. A plan not carried out by Zeppelins after dark but by a single two-seater aeroplane – in broad daylight.
The enterprising Leutnant Walter Ilges, who had made the raid on Sheerness a month earlier, with his pilot, Deckoffizier Paul Brandt, had plans to engage in a photo-reconnaissance mission in their aeroplane, a LVG C IV, before making an attack on the Admiralty. Flying at around 13,000 feet, no one saw the aircraft pass over the Thames Estuary, giving Margate, Westgate and the Isle of Sheppey a wide berth. Once past the familiar town of Sheerness, Brandt turned inland, keeping west of the River Medway as Ilges began taking photographs. Near Maidstone at 11.15am, the aircraft turned west and, shortly after passing Reigate, it turned north near Dorking and followed the railway line towards London’s Victoria Station. Ilges had taken about 20 photos, amongst which he believed there were images of a new aerodrome, army camps and munition works.
Just before midday, the LVG appeared over the fashionable Knightsbridge area of London, still unnoticed in a hazy sky by those on the ground two and a half miles below, and began the bomb run that Ilges and Brandt aimed at the Admiralty. They carried six 10kg HE bombs and the first of these stuck the premises of Spiking & Co, bakers and confectioners, at 108 Brompton Road, a mile and a half short of the target. Inside, Henrietta Simmonds and two other girls were working in an upstairs room.
By a lucky chance, the bomb, instead of striking the roof direct, spent its force against a chimney stack 14ft high, and, also by good fortune the stack fell outwards into an empty yard. The three girls were thrown off their feet. They behaved very pluckily, said a foreman. They calmly made their way downstairs unaided, and then the injured hand [of Henrietta] was quietly attended to, afterwards receiving six stitches in hospital.1
As the aircraft passed over Brompton Road, the next bomb struck a building at 15 Pavilion Road, running parallel with Sloane Street, premises occupied by the London Pure Milk Association.
A bomb came hurtling through the roof of an office in which a young woman [Joan Farnborough] was employed. She was slightly injured, her hand being cut, besides which she was thrown against the wall and suffered some shock. She escaped from the noxious fumes with which the apartment became charged, and emerged covered with a fine dust – ‘white as a miller,’ a colleague expressed it.2
Minor damage extended to the building next door and to 12 Sloane Street, while smashed windows were evident in Basil Street. Crossing over Sloane Street into Belgravia, the LVG dropped a third bomb on 13 Lowndes Square where it wrecked half the roof and damaged the contents of the rooms at the back of the house. Now passing over Belgrave Square, the next bomb detonated in the roadway at Belgrave Mews East (now Montrose Place), punching a hole in the cobblestones and breaking windows at Nos.6 to 8 on one side of the road and at Nos.43 to 46 on the other. One woman was slightly hurt and four coachmen and stable staff sustained minor injuries from bomb fragments and flying stones: Albert Emery, John Tate, Albert Taylor and Frederick Morley.
The fifth bomb, which struck the rear part of 112 Eaton Square, also impacted on neighbouring houses and in Eccleston Mews and Eaton Place. Most bomb damage in Britain had generally affected the homes of the working class, but this bomb struck at the homes of a lieutenant general, a lieutenant colonel and a colonel, all of them knighted, and one a baronet, as well as one owned by a lord and another by a lady. Although 13 properties suffered damage, in most cases it was restricted to broken windows. There were only two injuries, both in Eccleston Mews. At No.16 a coachman’s wife, Sarah Bidwell, suffered cuts to her face and an arm, while at No.14, Yvonne Boucquey from Brussels received a cut to her neck. The final bomb fell on the Victoria Palace Music Hall near Victoria Station. Here the bomb smashed through a roof over dressing rooms and injured a cleaner, Louisa Cameron. The police summed up her injuries: ‘2 wounds on upper part of chest & back; larger lacerated wound at bottom of ribs and numerous bruises on right leg, side & arm; considerable shock but injuries are not considered serious.’3
Their last bombs dropped, Ilges and Brandt made off towards the south-east. On the streets in this part of London, the sound of the sharp reports led to some confusion as to their cause, but little appeared to suggest they were the sound of exploding bombs. A man working in the street near where one of them fell thought it sounded like ‘the bursting of motor tyre’. A woman who was just 50 yards from another was surprised when she learnt later that it was a bomb: ‘She thought it was a ‘bus back-firing, so did not trouble to turn around.’ And at the Victoria Palace, those present initially thought the blast was a gas explosion. In fact, it was not until an hour after the attack that official advice went out that it had been a raid, and it was 1pm when the RFC and RNAS ordered pilots to take off and search for the lone raider. By then it was too late.
Having reached the Maidstone area, Ilges and Brandt changed course first to the south-west then south, crossing the coast just west of Hastings and avoiding any aircraft that might intercept their path. They planned to cross to Abbeville, then pass over the front line at height, but things did not go according to plan. While over the English Channel, their engine’s oil feed pipe became blocked and the crew began to throw excess weight overboard – including Ilges’ precious camera and photographic plates. By the time they reached Abbeville they were down to 2,000 metres, too low to cross the front line safely. Instead, they decided to follow the French coast northwards, keeping out to sea, and hoping to reach Belgium that way, but their engine failed and they were forced to come inland, touching down about three and a half miles north-east of Boulogne. The two men managed to set fire to their aircraft and documents, except a map of London, before French soldiers appeared and took them captive.
In the subsequent interrogation, Ilges explained he was aiming his bombs at the Admiralty building but had found it difficult through the haze, although he believed his last bomb had exploded about 300 yards from the target. The report of the interrogation states that Ilges ‘expressed some disappointment on being told that this was not the case’. That final bomb fell about a mile short of the Admiralty building, but it raises an interesting possibility – had Ilges mistaken it for another building? The Admiralty was a large square building on the edge of a park. About 400 yards from where that last bomb fell there was a large square building on the edge of a park – Buckingham Palace.
* * *
Back in Germany there was much to consider. 1916 had started on a high, with the great raid over the Midlands continuing the largely unopposed procession over the British countryside that had begun in the previous year. With the long-awaited arrival of the ‘r-class’ Zeppelins, known to their crews as the ‘Big 30s’ and in Britain as the ‘Super Zeppelins’, with their greater carrying capacity and ability to fly higher, Peter Strasser expected even greater results from the naval airship fleet. The greater the height, however, the more difficult navigation became, and Britain was not standing idly by. Finally, some level of co-ordination in the nation’s air defences saw anti-aircraft guns and searchlights working effectively together, and her aeroplanes armed with the new bullets, both explosive and incendiary, provided a lethal antidote to the Zeppelin menace. Their introduction at the same time as the appearance of the new ‘r-class’ Zeppelins had an immediate impact. In 1915, the loss of only one Zeppelin had resulted from the actions of Britain’s air defences.4 In 1916, however, those defences brought down six naval Zeppelins and an army Schütte-Lanz, all but one of these lost after the introduction of the new bullets (see Map 8). And other Zeppelins failed to reach home from raids due to engine problems or lack of fuel. This became more of a problem as Zeppelins ventured further inland than they had done in 1915.
In 1915 German airships made 20 raids on Britain, involving 35 vessels. In 1916 there were a similar number of raids, 21, but the number of appearances by individual airships rose significantly to 121.5 Those 35 airships in 1915 dropped an estimated 34.9 tons (35,467 kg) of bombs on land, causing material damage valued at £815,406 as they roamed freely over Britain, while inflicting 740 casualties (208 killed, 532 injured). In 1916, as the defences tightened, the far greater number of raiders dropped 119.5 tons (121,442 kg) of bombs over land but inflicted less damage, estimated at £594,543, but with casualties rising to 988 (300 killed, 688 injured).6 Britain’s blackout in towns proved effective, but far out in the countryside, beyond the areas covered by lighting regulations, many isolated farms and country houses attracted Zeppelin bombs as they often provided the only source of visible light in an otherwise darkened landscape. Zeppelin commanders wasted a huge weight of bombs on agricultural land.
In addition, the stinging seaplane and aeroplane raids in 1916, which culminated with the attack on London at the end of November, had little overall impact other than to serve as an irritant. At least 26 aeroplanes and seaplanes dropped bombs over England in 14 raids, causing damage estimated at £10,937 and inflicting 79 casualties (18 killed, 61 injured), but this was a marked increase over 1914-1915 when five raids inflicted eight casualties (two killed, six injured) with damage estimated at just £570.
While in the autumn the German Army had concluded that raiding Britain in airships now carried too much risk, the Navy, however, remained committed to Strasser’s strategy. On 18 December he took delivery of their latest Zeppelin, L 39. Strasser now had 14 Zeppelins and four Schütte-Lanz airships available, although five of the Zeppelins were of the old ‘p-type’ introduced in May 1915. Of these 18 airships, 12 Zeppelins and a Schütte-Lanz operated over the North Sea and two Zeppelins and three Schütte-Lanz in the Baltic region. At the end of the year the personnel of the Naval Airship Division numbered over 5,000 men.
While Strasser pondered the changes needed to give his Zeppelins the advantage again over the British defences, he sent out a raid on 28 December against southern England to attack, if possible, London. But there was caution evident in his orders: ‘Attack only with cloud cover, otherwise turn back’7 Six airships set out for England: L 13, L 14, L 22, L 30, L 39 and SL 12. In addition, Strasser sent out L 35 and L 38 to attack Russian positions in the Baltic region, while two Zeppelins, L 16 from Hage and L 24 from Tondern, undertook scouting duties with the fleet’s minesweepers. Having sent ten airships out, Strasser anticipated some success but he was to suffer yet more disappointment as his losses continued to mount. Once out over the North Sea, the main force encountered a strong rising wind, prompting their recall. As SL 12 came in to land at Ahlhorn, a strong gust of wind pulled the landing ropes away from the ground crew and carried SL 12 towards a hydrogen gasometer. Her commander, Waldemar Kölle, managed to lift the nose clear of impending doom but the trailing ropes caught, tipping the airship forward and smashing in the nose. The ship had escaped one disaster but now, having broken free, was taken by the wind until her crew managed to unceremoniously force it down a couple of kilometres further on. An approaching storm broke up the airship where she lay and battered SL 12 to a wreck.
And there was more. Over the Baltic, L 38 encountered horrific winter weather, with snow and ice forming on the envelope and control surfaces. Her commander, Martin Dietrich, abandoned the mission and turned back but, flying nose up and with failing engines, he deliberately landed in a wood at Seemuppen (now Ziemupe, Latvia) so the trees would prevent the heavy ship smashing into the ground. Having saved what they could, the crew had no choice but to abandon the wreck. And yet there was still more heartbreak for Strasser. L 24, one of those scouting for the minesweepers, returned to her shed at Tondern, which she shared with L 17. As the ground crew pulled L 24 into the shed, she broke free, smashing against the entrance and into lighting equipment. The impact ripped open a gas cell and a spark did the rest. The flames that erupted from L 24 quickly spread to L 17. There was nothing anyone could do as fire engulfed both airships in another great inferno, their girders twisting and screeching in the airships’ final agonising moments. Strasser had lost four airships in a day – the only redeeming feature being that all four crews survived. But it was a not an end to the year that he could ever have imagined after the success at the beginning of 1916.
In those 12 months, Strasser had lost 16 airships (14 Zeppelins and two Schütte-Lanz). He had also lost nine commanders and their crews: Karl Hempel (L 7 - killed), Joachim Breithaupt (L 15 - captured), Odo Loewe (L 19 - killed), Franz Stabbert (L 20 - interned), Kurt Frankenburg (L 21 - killed), Heinrich Mathy (L 31 - killed), Werner Peterson (L 32 - killed), Alois Böcker (L 33 - captured), Max Dietrich (L 34 - killed). After absconding from internment in Norway, however, Stabbert returned to take command of L 23 on 20 December 1916.
Despite the high cost in men and airships, Strasser remained fully committed to the cause but needed to fight his corner as questions raised at a high level probed the value of continuing the raids in the face of mounting losses. He put his case to Reinhard Scheer, commander of Germany’s High Seas Fleet. Scheer recognised the important role Zeppelins played in long-range reconnaissance for the fleet8 and Strasser managed to convince him of the value continued raiding would bring, but his bullish mood of August, when he claimed that ‘airships offer a certain means of victoriously ending the war’, had taken on a more pragmatic tone.
It was not on the direct material damage that the value of the airship attacks depended, but rather on the general result of the German onslaught upon England’s insularity, otherwise undisturbed by war. The disturbance of transportation, the dread of airships prevailing in wide strata of society, and above all the occupation of very considerable material and military personnel were considered outstanding reasons for continuing the attacks.9
Scheer and Strasser shared a mutual respect and the commander of the High Seas Fleet later wrote:
It was our business to make as much use as possible of our superiority in airships, and to increase their efficiency so fear of them might be a contributory cause in inducing England to make peace possible.
Such an ideal of perfection can only be attained if it is perseveringly sought in spite of the set-backs we endured, and although the opposition we had to overcome was increasingly great.
That is the right warlike spirit – not to give in, but to redouble one’s efforts as our airship men did in an exemplary way.10
To Strasser, however, it was starkly clear that if Zeppelins were to continue raiding Britain, a new improved type was needed, one that could reach heights far above those attainable by British aircraft and beyond the range of her guns. Strasser would get his new Zeppelins in 1917 – the ‘s-class’ – as he led them to new heights. By the end of the war, Zeppelin development had progressed through the alphabet to the ‘x-class’.
Strasser’s claims that the Zeppelin raids had affected vast numbers of the population is undeniable, and there was an impact on industrial output, but the morale of the British nation was never broken nor its production dangerously curtailed by German bombing raids. Throughout the war London remained a prime target, yet reaching that target became increasingly difficult as defences improved. When bombs did drop on London’s streets the results could be shocking and costly, even so, critical damage was limited. Yet, even as the bombs fell, the government resisted calls for a public air raid warning system for the capital. There were concerns that great numbers would congregate in the streets to watch if they knew a raid was likely, and that would put those people at greater risk than if they had stayed at home, while their presence would also hinder the efforts of the emergency services. There was also a fear that munitions workers, amongst others, would not return to work once the raid was over. After the raid on London by L 31 and L 33 on 23/24 September, sections of the population had taken matters into their own hands by finding shelter in the Underground stations.
Many thousands of people flocked to the tube railways without waiting for any warning. Many of them began to take up their places about 5.30pm prepared to camp out until the danger, real or imaginary, was over. They went in family parties and carried with them pillows, bedding, provisions, and household treasures.11
When no more raids on the capital materialised in the following days, those people gradually forsook the Underground and resumed their normal night time routines. Away from London, where many towns did have their own warning systems, often alerted by hooters at industrial sites known locally as ‘buzzers’, many would leave their homes and trek out to seek safety in the surrounding countryside.
The perceived vulnerability of the working population in industrial areas, where production of vital war materials continued throughout the day and night, had an impact on production, in some cases for days after raids had taken place – even in places where no bombs dropped. Areas of iron production that received warning of a potential raid were required to douse blast furnaces. This was costly as it could take eight or nine hours for the furnaces to return to full output. In just one district in the north-east, the Cleveland area, there were 13 weeks in 1916 when Zeppelin warnings sounded. This resulted in a fall in production of pigiron on average of 30,000 tons per week, or 390,000 tons in total, about 17 per cent of the region’s annual production.12
At Palmer’s Shipbuilding and Iron Company in Jarrow, itself subject to a Zeppelin attack in June 1915, there were three Zeppelin warnings in early April 1916, causing great concern amongst the management.
In this department, on the alarm signal being received, practically everybody leaves the place. Metal is left in the large furnaces and also in ladles, or in whatever manner the circumstances find it. The whole aspect of these air raids on a steel works is one of extreme gravity... and it is our opinion that in the event of a sustained number of such raids, sooner or later much material harm will be done to the plant.13
The raids induced absenteeism amongst the workforce too. On the day after a raid, it was not unusual for only 10 per cent of the workers to arrive at the beginning of the morning shift, and although more would arrive later, about 20 per cent would stay away completely. There was also a reluctance to work overtime after a raid.14
Strasser’s claim that his raids caused ‘the occupation of very considerable material and military personnel’ is also true. By the end of 1916 there were 11 Home Defence squadrons, as well as the RNAS flights, distributed the length of Britain, from the south coast all the way up to Scotland, as well as a Depot Squadron in Essex. The 11 regular squadrons should have mustered 222 aircraft, but they were just under half strength when the year ended. The total strength of those committed to defence against aerial attack amounted to 17,341 officers and men, of which 2,200 manned the Home Defence squadrons, 12,000 the anti-aircraft guns and searchlights, with the remaining 3,100 allocated to the Observer Companies who reported the raider’s progress overland. While this number is swamped by the vast numbers who served in the war, these were all specialists and would certainly have proved valuable assets if deployed at the Front. The numbers, however, were probably far less than that estimated in Germany.
The outcome of the Zeppelin and aeroplane raids over the night of 27 November and the daylight hours of 28 November, gave a huge boost to those involved in Home Defence, as well as to the public. The fact that the defences beyond London were equally as capable of inflicting a killer blow as those around the capital was something The Times newspaper thought should be applauded.
The public may legitimately feel satisfaction at the results of the Zeppelin raid on England on Monday night. The destruction of two German airships – a destruction of the completest possible kind for both fell into the sea in flames – at points far removed from the London area shows that our anti-aircraft measures have not only maintained the effectiveness revealed by the bringing down of the previous four since September 3, but have largely increased their scope...
Equally satisfactory is the news which reaches us at an early hour this morning. We are familiar with German claims to have dropped bombs on London itself when they have as a matter of fact fallen well outside that extensive target. Yesterday, however, a raid shortly before noon by a single aeroplane did succeed in landing half a dozen bombs in London proper. In this case again the damage was insignificant... Moreover there seems no reasonable ground for doubt that the raider has also paid the penalty...That makes an excellent finish to a thoroughly successful day.15
Those concerned with Home Defence approached the final days of 1916 in buoyant mood. Back in February, when the War Office had assumed responsibility for the air defence of Britain, there was much work required to develop an efficient and co-ordinated defence system, but German raiders now appeared over Britain at their peril. There was an undeniable sense of confidence in the air. The Times sagely raised a note of caution amidst the wave of enthusiasm that followed these successes at the end of November, particularly in reference to the lone aeroplane that bombed London.
We and our Allies have every reason for congratulations, and we would only add a warning to our own public that, like all fresh portents of the kind, this isolated visit is by no means to be ignored. It may have been largely an act of bravado, or it may have had some definite object of reconnoitring or destruction. In any case it is wise to regard it as the prelude to further visits of the kind on an extensive scale, and to lay our plans accordingly. We have always believed that the method of raiding by aeroplanes, which are relatively cheap and elusive, has far more dangerous possibilities than the large and costly Zeppelin.16
The writer had hit the nail on the head, but it appears that those commanding Britain’s air defences were not quite so perceptive and did not anticipate Germany’s evolving strategy in 1917.
By the end of 1916, despite Strasser’s endless optimism, the Zeppelin campaign was all but over. Airships had menaced Britain on 41 nights in 1915 and 1916 but their heyday had passed; they would make only nine more raids in the final two years of the war. In their place Germany was planning to unleash a new terror in the skies over Britain, the Grosskampfflugzeug, better known as the Gotha bomber. Instead of raiding furtively under the cover of darkness, it would arrive in swarms in the daylight hours with devastating effect. In time it would spawn a new aerial defence system and even force the Royal Family to change its name. It was a technological and strategic shift that Strasser and his Zeppelins were unable to compete with.