THRILLS ON AN AIRSHIP

Dominion, Volume 22, Issue 79, 27 December 1928, Page 14

THRILLS ON AN AIRSHIP

GRAF ZEPPELIN’S VOYAGE

HELMSMAN’S ERROR

A PASSENGER’S STORY

Karl 11. Von Wiegand, Special Correspondent of the “Springfield Republican,” declares that Dr. Eckener has demonstrated with the Graf Zeppelin the feasibility and practicability of commercial trans-atlantic air traffic. It would be unfair to this giant silver ship of the air, for which I have come to have a genuine affection for havingbrought us from Europe to America through storm and stress, he says, not to tell the truth about the storm incident which damaged the ship and brought us into peril.

In part, at least —how far, it will be difficult to establish —it was due to the helmsman on the wheel which controls the elevator fins. When the first shock of the heavy squall, into which we went at 70 miles an hour, struck the ship, the elevator helmsman lost his head, and, instead of countering and correcting the downward depression of the bow of the ship, he threw over the wheel the wrong way, thereby accelerating the dive downward. Almost immediately he discovered his blunder and then so strongly threw the wheel in the opposite direction that he brought; up the nose of the ship so suddenly and so sharply that one of the stabilizing fins, which carry the greater part of the aerodynamic load and, so to speak, is the “hinge” on which the airship moves upwards or downward, could not stand the strain. Both Staff Captain Ernest Lehmann, though on duty at the time, aud Comdr. Rosendahl, saw the mistake, but too late to interfere in time. The loss of the British R-3S was attributed to some such error on the part of the helmsman. The strain and stress- of buffeting winds that the Graf Zeppelin stood successfully after the accident demonstrated beyond doubt the structural strength and stability of the great ship of the air. The epoch-making voyage revealed certain weakness, too. The wireless station should have a greater radius. Because of the vital necessity of weather reports, the wireless is of vastly greater importance to airships than to seagoing vessels. Energy for the wireless should not be dependent on an automatic generator that runs only when the airship has considerable speed. When the accident to the stabilizer occurred and the ship had to stop, it was impossible to send a call for help, until the emergency set was got ready. The administration of the wireless room left much to be desired. The feeding of passengers and crew was wholly inadequate. No inexperienced cook and amateur steward, however willing, can cook and wait on 60 peo-

ple with hearty appetites. We looked upon it as a “picnic” party and few of us minded it. At 9.30 came the cry from the control bridge “land.” Everybody rushed to the windows. Eyes sparkled, voices had the resonance of joy. Only Lady Drummond Hay said almost sadly: “I shall be sorry to leave our silver ship. It has carried us safely, through winds and storms and at that being handicapped by being crippled like a bird. It has given us an experience that never again will we have in life.’ She meant it, too. Fifteen minutes later we reached the coast line of Virginia between Cape Charles and Machipongo light. A lighthouse tender saluted us with

her siren. We crossed the sandy shore line at an altitude of 1700 feet. An airiflane greeted us a few minutes later loping and spinning like a bird trying to express the joy that we felt. Comdr. Rosendahl came to the bridge and remarked to Eckener, -“Look out for fog,” for now Rosendahl, the ablest airship man in America and as I have had opportunity to learn, one of the ablest in the world to-day, was at home In the air here. Sure enough, within 10 minutes a blanket of fog blotted out Virginia from us as we headed up Chesapeake Bay.

As we crossed the coast line the commodore handed the wireless operator a telegram of greeting to President Coolidge:—

“At the moment of arrival on the American coast line on this diversified and .very interesting crossing of the Atlantic ocean by airship with passengers and mail from Germany to America, in which we have had as comrade and experienced friend, LieutComdr. Rosendahl of. the United States navy, the commander and crew of the Graf Zeppelin beg to extend to the President of the United States their most respectful greetings.’ The reaction among the passengers was strong. At least one or two, perhaps more, had at one time or another reckoned with the possibility of never reaching this side of the Atlantic. One, Frederick Gilfallen, even wished he had brought a revolver along because it would be easier to

die that way than by drowning. Another passenger expressed his conviction to me more than once, “We will never get there.” Eckener has been the personification of calm and confidence throughout the ilight—even his eyes showed a new light. His son, Knut.

has been one of the real heroes of this great achievement in the air. No man’s heart on this air voyage was at the stage of such drama as that

of the commodore. When so large a part of the vital stabilizing flu was torn away Knut Eckener was the first volunteer to crawl out Into that perilous place to begin repairs. With him wore Ladewig, one of the wireless operators. Helmsman Samt and Navigation Officer Marx. A little later when the stern of the ship began to'l sag under the deluge of rain and other causes, Capt. Flemming. . then in command on the bridge, turned to the commodore and said, “We must start two engines.” The ship was practically standing still. The motors were partly stopped, partly idling Eckener knew that his son was on that fin. He knew, too, that if he ordered the motors to be started that in all probability the wind would tear his son, perhaps others, oft.' that perilous place and hurl them into the angry sea below. “I must have two motors,” again said Flemming. Eckener’s face suddenly aged. He looked out of the window from his favourite place in the corner of the bridge. He swallowed hard. Huskily came the command. “Start the motors.”

There is no telephone communication from the bridge to where that fin is. What Eckener lived through in the minutes before word was brought to him that his son Knut and the others were safe, only he and his God know. On the entire trip since we left Friederichshafen Thursday morning, Eckener had had but about eight hours’ sleep. I was on the bridge at all hours of the night and day, sometimes sitting with him there, always I found him on his post of duty. Always he took his meals there. Saturday night after the accident, he laid down once but could not sleep. The night Sunday to Monday was critical. I was so worn out that I threw myself in my berth without any dinner at 9. Even a glass of champagne and some caviar was no temptation. Soon I was awakened by the ship dipping and rolling. We were fighting with buffeting winds. One could feel how the big ship struggled bravely to overcome the elements. There was nothing dangerous or critical in that. The danger lay, however, in that crippled “wing,” if I may so call it. Report came to the bridge that a part of the upper surface had been carried away. Knut Eckener, Ladewig, Knorr, Samt and others worked like trojans fastening the remainder so that it would not go. About 10 we were through. Eckener laid down and slept for a short time. Toward morning a south easterly wind drove us along at increased speed. When we heard. “Land in sight,” all knew that the pioneer blazing of a path through the air over the Atlantic from Europe to America for commercial traffic had j been achieved.