Zeppelin Mania: R34’s Flight Home Day 4

The Route Map of the R-34's Historic Double Trans-Atlantic Crossing in 1919.

The Orange Line is the Crossing from Scotland to New York and the Blue Line is the Crossing from New York to Pulham.

Saturday, July 12, 1919 began beautifully. The weather began clearing and the sea was visible at 2500 feet.

At 5 am, General Maitland recorded: “Magnificent sunrise; the sun slowly appears above the cloud bank ahead of us in a blaze of golden light, and we head straight into it.”

An hour later, the ship is running on three engines only as the after engine is being repaired. The airspeed is 32 knots. Major Scott takes the ship down to 900 feet to sight the water. Ground speed is only 15 knots at that altitude, so he returns to 2800 feet where the ship’s ground speed is 36 knots, or 41 mph (67 kph). The R-34 is approximately 760 miles from her base — and home.

General Maitland wrote, “Breakfast this morning is a festive meal, as we reckon it should be our last breakfast on board, and we are rather lavish in our issues.”

Wives, families, and sweethearts are gathering at East Fortune in Scotland awaiting the ship’s homecoming. But at 10 am, the Air Ministry instructs the R-34 to land at Pulham in Norfolk, England instead. The message is not understood as the weather is better for landing at East Fortune then it is at Pulham.

By noon, the weather has turned very cold and once again the R-34 is fighting a headwind. Everyone realizes they will be breakfasting on board ship tomorrow morning and feel disappointed.

In the evening, the ship runs into two sudden squalls. Maitland notes the ship is very steady. Then at 7:25 pm land is in sight off the starboard bow and at 8 pm the R-34 crosses the coastline a little to the north of Clifden, County Mayo, Ireland. From the coast of Long Island to the coast of Ireland, flight time was 61 hours and 43 minutes.

The euphoria is dampened however, when at 11:30 pm the Air Ministry repeats the message to land at Pulham. Major Scott increases altitude to 5000 feet and sets course for Pulham.

No explanation has ever come to light as to why the R-34 was redirected to land at Pulham instead of East Fortune. Especially when the weather, critical for airship safety in landing, was better at the Scottish base.

Patrick Abbott, in his book Airship: The Story Of R-34, gives the following possible explanation:

Those who supported only an aeroplane programme may have contrived the altered destination in order to avoid the publicity of the great welcome that was being planned at East Fortune. Pulham, by contrast, was comparatively isolated… so ensuring the minimum fuss and excitement. If this theory is true—and it accords with later policy development and the shabby treatment soon meted out to everyone on board—then the manoeuvre was an unworthy affront to servicemen who could neither disobey nor complain.

I think Mr Abbot makes a valid point. Given the subsequent history of the British government’s bureaucratic antipathy towards building and maintaining an airship fleet, it seems only logical the R-34 and her crew ended up as victims of bureaucratic politics and cost-cutting excuses.

Britain was in an admirable position to seize the day and exploit the commercial possibilities of the airship. However, as with their American cousins, the British largely saw the airship as a military craft. However World War I had clearly shown the future of the giants was not as a weapon of war, but as a tool of peace. Only Doctor Hugo Eckener of the Zeppelin company realized this and was intent on pursuing the true future of the rigid airship. If he’d had the capital and didn’t have the animosity of the Allies and their wreaking of vengeance on the German people, he would have succeeded.

Stay tuned! Tomorrow the epic voyage comes to an end. Prepare to give the memory of those brave men the recognition they truly deserve. A recognition denied them in their day due to petty politics.

Zeppelin Mania: R34’s Flight Home Day 3

Control Car

Flight-Sergt. Watson steering. Flight-Sergt. Mayers at the elevator wheel. Altimeter (large dial) needle shows the ship is at about 1,200 feet above the sea.

Friday, July 11, 1919 started out with clear weather and a moderate sea. A planned flyover of London had to be abandoned when one of the two engines in the rear car broke down and could not be repaired. Later in the day, the forward engine had to be shut down to replace broken valve springs.

Otherwise the day was uneventful. The airship made good and rapid progress towards home base in Scotland.

Below are extracts from General Maitland’s log to give a first-hand flavor to the idyllic world of airship travel, even in a military ship.

10.30 pm—Beautiful cloudscapes on port beam. Cloud formations, in so far as they indicate whether, are like an open book profusely illustrated, and with a story that changes almost completely every few hours.

12.30 pm—Lunch. Meal-times are always most welcome, as they give the more responsible members of the crew a much-needed interval.

The new gramophone [given by Edison, himself] is going strong after lunch and, as I was descending the ladder into the forward car, I caught a glimpse of Luck and Harris doing quite a nice one-step together!

3.30 pm—Still at 3000 feet; in and out of the clouds. We have not seen the sea since 8:30 am.

4.30 pm—Scott brings his ship down for a glimpse of the sea, and so get an idea of our speed; but at 900 feet [the clouds are] still quite thick and he abandons the attempt.

Coming down from the 3800-foot level to the 900-foot level, we pass through no less than five distinct and separate layers of cloud, of which every two layers contain a world in themselves, with separate sky above and cloud horizon beneath. A most fascinating spectacle, and one which impresses me more, perhaps, then anything I have yet seen on either journey.

4.45 pm—We emerge above the clouds for a few blissful moments, and see a beautiful cloud panorama—range upon range of alternate white and slate colored mountains with wide deep valleys, and an occasional glimpse of bright blue sky immediately above.

The glare is almost blinding, and we can only look at them for a moment moment or two at a time.

7.05 pm—Passing through wet rain cloud—it has been raining very heavily since five o’clock.

Scott tries the 5000-foot level in the hopes of getting out of it, but with no success, so returns to the 3000-foot level. Very cold and dark, and all doors and windows shut.

8pm—Supper, and a very good one too. We are well equipped with little luxuries, having learnt from experience on the outward journey exactly what is necessary and what isn’t.

Delicious fresh honey, also “candies”, and chocolates… The gloom does not affect our appetites in the very slightest.

Crew Space Inside Hull

One of the crew peeling potatoes for dinner. Lieut. Shotter and Sergt. Gent in background.

11.25 pm—On long journeys like these, it is the engineers upon whom the heaviest strain falls and, on the outward journey, some of them had difficulty in sleeping when off watch. On this return journey we issue them a “tot” of rum before turning in, with very beneficial effect. [Note: an engineer on an airship is a mechanic and had responsibility to keep the engines running smoothly at all times, as well as perform any other mechanical repairs that were needed.]

12 midnight—Still pouring with rain… the whistling of the wind completely deadens the distant hum of our engines. It is indeed a “dirty” night at sea. For some reason or other I cannot get off to sleep, and lie awake in my hammock with a feeling of complete confidence and security…

I think the General summed up flying by airship quite wonderfully: “a feeling of complete confidence and security”. Especially in 1919, when a one- or two-seater open cockpit airplane, flying in “a ‘dirty’ night at sea”, would have been an experience worthy of a new level in Dante’s Inferno.

Stay tuned! The R 34’s voyage continues tomorrow!

Zeppelin Mania: R34’s Flight Home Day 1

R 34 Flying Just Above Dense Clouds On The Outskirts of a Depression.

This illustration shows a typical cloud horizon.

(From the published log of General Maitland.)

All good things must come to an end, so it is said. For 3 days the crew of the R34 have partied hearty. However, bad weather was on the horizon and Major Scott must make the decision to take off and head for home before the forecast storm hits.

From General Maitland’s log:

Time 11.30 p.m. (New York summer time)—It is very dark, and the wind is gusting up to thirty miles per hour on the ground.

Our final preparations are made in the ghostly light of powerful searchlights.

We have made hosts of friends during our three wonderful days in America, and they are all here on the ground to see us off.

11.40 p.m.—Last farewells. Crew are all aboard and Scott releases ballast to ensure the ship being light when starting. At the last moment another bag of mails and a case of rum are thrown in through the open window of the forward car.

11.54 p.m. (July 9th, New York summer time, or 3.54 a.m., July 10th, Greenwich mean time).—Away.

A great cheer comes up to us as we rise into the sky and steer straight for New York…

Again that strange feeling of loneliness—as sudden as it is transient.

And the R34 is away! Motoring into the night sky on her way from Long Island to the heart of the Big Apple.

[Note:—While in the midst of last minute research, I made the most wonderful discovery: The Log of H.M.A. R34: Journey to America and Back by Air-Commodore E.M. Maitland.

What an exciting find! The book is available online and in ebook form at https://archive.org/details/logofhmajourney00maitrich

General Maitland, with wit, humor, and an eye to the poetic, gives us a most extraordinary travelogue. This book is his actual log that he kept almost minute by minute on the R34’s voyage to America and back. The publishing of he log in 1920 is made all the more important by the fact General Maitland died in the R38 tragedy the following year. His death was a huge blow to the British rigid airship program.

For me, having relied on a host of secondary sources for my accounting of the voyage, the discovery of his log emphasized the importance of primary sources in research. For according to General Maitland, the rough journey depicted in the secondary sources of the flight to America simply wasn’t the case. There were only a couple episodes of violent movement, according to Maitland. At all other times the ship’s movements were slow and deliberate. Nothing like a storm-tossed ship on the sea. He makes numerous comments of never feeling “seasick” or more appropriately, as he noted, “airsick”.

However, not being able to find the source of the “rough” journey stories, I must consider the political aspects. General Maitland was a dyed in the wool airshipman. He wrote numerous times of the future airliners and what the R34’s flight demonstrated was needed in them. His job was to make an assessment of the feasibility of long-distance airship travel. Could it be the General “softened” his account of the actual conditions? Possible. After all, he needed to convince the Air Ministry bureaucrats that airliners were not only possible but desirable.

So where did my secondary sources get their “rough” journey information? Perhaps newspaper accounts drawn from the crew members, who may have exaggerated the dangers to make themselves look even more heroic and to please the journalists looking for a hot story.

Whatever the case, and hopefully I can find out by the time of the R34’s centenary in 2019, do read the log. It is an exciting and extraordinary travelogue. An adventure back in time as well as to a fantasy land that exists above the clouds.]

There is more to come as the R34 makes her way home to Britain. So stay tuned for tomorrow’s adventure!

R34 moored out at Mineola. Viewed by searchlight.

(From the published logbook of General Maitland.)

Zeppelin Mania: R-34 Day 3

July 4 (a Friday in 1919) brought with it a beautifully wonderful sunrise and a very welcome reprieve from the rough winds of the night’s stormy weather.

The fog still obscured a view of the sea, although the occasional break did occur which revealed bluish-green patches of water and large number of icebergs.

General Maitland remarked that the airship liner of the future will be immune from the risk of hitting one of those floating ice mountains. It must be remembered, a mere seven years earlier, the Titanic had struck one and sunk with a terrible loss of life.

Shortly before 1 PM a celebration broke out in the control car. From the log book:

Land in sight. Hooray! First spotted by Scott on starboard bow. A few small rocky islands visible for a second or two through the clouds and instantly swallowed up by them. Altered course S.W. to try and get a closer look at them. Eventually make them out to be north coastline of Newfoundland. This is quite the most thrilling moment of our voyage — great excitement on board. Whether or not we now succeed in getting through to New York, we have at any rate successfully accomplished the first stage of our adventure, and are the first to bridge the gulf from east to west by way of the air.

However, not all was bliss. Mineola Field on Long Island was still many miles away and the airship’s progress was reduced to a crawl due to strong head winds. And to make matters worse, the R-34 was running out of fuel.

More to come, so stay tuned!