LIEUTENANT W. K. TEMPEST, D.S.O.
Concerning the raid over England by hostile airships which took place
on the night of October 2, 1916, the official report issued by Lord
French was to the effect that ten hostile airships crossed the East
Coast between nine p.m. and midnight. One airship approached the north
of London about ten p.m., but was driven off by gunfire and pursued
by aeroplanes. She attempted to return from the north-west, but was
attacked by guns and aeroplanes and brought to earth in flames in the
neighbourhood of Potter’s Bar shortly before midnight.
[Footnote 1: The _Times_, Oct. 3, 1916.]
An eye-witness of the fall of the airship writes[1]: ‘I live in the
country just outside the fringe of the great searchlights which guard
the London area. From the verandah of the house one can obtain a
wonderful view of any “pyrotechnic” display within a distance of
twenty odd miles. The household is most familiar with Zeppelins,
aeroplanes, bombs, guns, and searchlights. We have seen all the raids,
we have seen three Zeppelins destroyed, and bombs have fallen all
round us; but happily our little district has so far escaped damage.
So accustomed are we to all these aerial affairs that we seem to
know instinctively when a raid is due. And it was so on Sunday. The
sky at eight o’clock looked very ominous. Some time later came the
warning to the special constables, and at the same time the sky in our
immediate neighbourhood was lit up by powerful rays from searchlights.
I rightly surmised that the Zeppelin would attempt to reach London
from the north. By now (I live close to the railway) the searchlights
were sweeping the cloudless sky, and the air was quite still. About
half-past ten we heard the beat of the Zeppelin engines; she was due
north of the house. Then she sailed towards the east. The night was so
clear that she was seen quite easily. With the aid of a night glass she
appeared about a yard long.
‘By the sound of her engines we could tell she was circling the
fringe of light, for she gradually altered her course from east to
south-east. Then we heard her wheel round to the left. She made a
circle of some miles, and finally went south-east again, when we heard
the engines no more. Meanwhile my children, two girls, aged eight and
eleven, insisted on dressing: they wanted to “see the show.” With
their mother they made themselves comfortable on the verandah. About
half-past eleven, away to the south-east, we saw flashes from falling
bombs, and the bursting of shrapnel, with the boom of heavy guns
firing. The children were getting very interested. Suddenly a score of
searchlights seemed to concentrate at one point, and quite distinctly
we saw the Zeppelin “held.” Shrapnel was bursting all around her. Then
the guns ceased, and we could see no Zeppelin. We thought she had
managed to slip away. But our airmen were on her track, and soon there
appeared a yellow light; it became larger and larger, until we realized
that it was the Zeppelin alight. From yellow the flames changed to
ruby; they seemed to spread from the centre to each end of the airship.
When she was aglow from end to end she tilted, gradually became
perpendicular, and fell slowly to earth. The flames lit up the country
for miles; the framework of the machine was plainly visible. You could
see smaller portions of her ribs, loosened by the heat, falling like
small sparks. She fell five miles from my house, but I thought I heard
the whole of England cheering.’
Another witness, who watched the coming of the raider from the
north-east, has given the following account: ‘What struck me was
the evident uncertainty of the crew as to where they were, or where
they wanted to go. They stopped; they turned this way and that; they
manœuvred in every direction in order to avoid the searchlights which
were darting about all round them. But it was all to no purpose. The
way in which the great beams of light followed the airship in all
its desperate efforts to escape was really wonderful. A few moments
passed, and the guns began to shell the Zeppelin. The shells burst all
round—some of them so near that it seemed as though hits had been
scored. Then, in a moment, a bright light burst out in the body of the
airship, and in another moment she was a mass of flame from end to end.
She seemed to turn over on her side, and then gradually sink to earth.
While coming down, she broke into halves, and during the descent
she threw off huge bunches of some flaming material. From the great
height at which she had been floating it was impossible to tell where
she would come down, and for some moments the onlookers did not know
but that she might fall upon them. But the blazing remains plunged at
length behind some trees, and that is the last we saw of her.’
The nearest view of this fourth airship débacle on British soil was
enjoyed by a farmer at Potters Bar, on whose farm the Zeppelin came
down. He has given the following interesting account: ‘We were awakened
by the sound of the guns, and we got up. I went into my garden, and
from where I stood the Zeppelin seemed to be right overhead. Thinking
that she might be preparing to drop bombs, I brought my wife and two
children into the garden away from the house. We had not been watching
it many moments before the airship suddenly burst into flame. It was
then apparently right over my house, and looked as though it would
fall right across the roof. It was burning furiously, and blazing
masses were flying away from it during its descent. I shouted to my
wife to be prepared to run out into the road in case it should fall
upon the house. But as it got lower and lower—it did not seem to
fall very quickly—I saw it would fall into the fields behind my farm
buildings. I ran through the stable yard and down a by lane leading
to some grass fields. In the corner of one of these were some large
haystacks, and I was afraid that these might be set on fire. When I
reached the spot I found they were all right; but about 200 yards away
the remains of the Zeppelin lay blazing furiously. I dared not go very
near to it for two reasons: one was that the heat was very great, and
another was that ammunition of some kind was exploding at intervals.
I afterwards discovered that this was machine-gun ammunition, a large
quantity of which seems to have been carried, for some was found in
boxes unexploded. I only saw one bomb drop before the Zeppelin came
down, but others were found among the débris. The Zeppelin had broken
into two pieces. The larger half was hanging over a big oak tree, which
stood in the middle of the field. I saw some dead bodies lying about.
One appeared to be that of an officer, for I could see gold stripes on
the arm of his coat. Another was wearing the Iron Cross. Some of them
had wrapped themselves up in blankets, evidently trying to avoid the
flames. I had a herd of valuable dairy cows in the field, and these
were very much alarmed at the blazing Zeppelin. They galloped round the
field in terror, and one of them seemed determined to rush into the
burning mass. I had some difficulty in keeping her away, and I was very
glad when the fire brigade came on the scene and began to throw water
on the ruins.’
There were many interesting incidents connected with the fall of this
airship. An Iron Cross was picked up close by. The commander of the
airship was wearing a wrist watch which had stopped at 1.20 (German
time). One member of the crew, whose body was recovered, appeared to be
a boy of sixteen or seventeen years of age. The heat of the wreckage
was so great that full search was impossible till over twelve hours had
elapsed after the fall. No less than thirty-nine bombs were dropped
over one small area to the north of London. Most of the bombs fell,
however, in fields and meadows.
The airship was thwarted in its evil designs by our heroic airmen.
In the course of a few days it was officially announced that
Second-Lieutenant Wulstan Joseph Tempest, General List and Royal
Flying Corps, had been appointed a Companion of the D.S.O., in
recognition of conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty in connexion
with the destruction of an enemy airship.
On the fateful day Lieutenant Tempest had finished his regular duties,
and was spending the evening with friends at a dinner party. Before the
meal was over a call reached him, and a few minutes later he was back
at his aerodrome.
He made a speedy start, with the idea of intercepting the airship,
which was reported to be approaching. He had soon reached a height of
upwards of 10,000 feet. He manœuvred around unwearying in a protracted
vigil. At the end of two hours a searchlight picked out the airship
and persistently stuck to it, despite its efforts to get beyond the
focus of the beam. Soon other searchlights added to the volume of
illumination, and anti-aircraft guns began to pepper at the airship.
In a moment a great sheet of fire swept along the airship, and it began
to fall at a speed increasing as the law of gravitation came into play.
Immediately after the Zeppelin caught fire Lieut. Tempest travelled
the complete length of the airship from stem to stern, being parallel
with it all the time. Then he began to descend. But the falling airship
hampered his movements very considerably. Once or twice he narrowly
escaped collision with the flaming mass, and in order to avoid this he
was compelled to resort to nose-diving.
The work had been done under tremendous strain, but Lieut. Tempest
fortunately escaped injury of any kind. The spot where he landed was
miles away from the place where he had first taken the air. Without
troubling to examine the burning airship, which had fallen not far
away, Lieut. Tempest was driven back to his home station in a side-car,
arriving about 2.30 a.m. Here he received a tremendous welcome from his
brother-officers as the third man of the same flight who had brought
down a Zeppelin.
Lieutenant Tempest was born on January 22, 1890. He was educated at
Stonyhurst, and afterwards entered the Mercantile Marine and received
training on the _Worcester_. He learned to fly at one of the military
schools, taking his pilot’s certificate on May 22 of the year of
his heroic deed. He had previously been attached to the King’s Own
Yorkshire Light Infantry, and was invalided home after fighting in
France last year at Ypres. For nearly twenty-four hours he was buried
in a dug-out, and as a consequence he is still liable to attacks from
rheumatic gout. The experience also left him a little lame, but he
still retains great skill and courage, and certainly takes high rank
amongst our heroic aviators.