In the World War

by Graf Ottokar Theobald Otto Maria Czernin von und zu Chudenitz

"Last night a Zeppelin did come. About three o'clock we were roused by the shrill police whistles giving the alarm. The telephone notified us that a Zeppelin had crossed the Danube, and all the church bells began to peal. Suddenly darkness and silence reigned, and the whole town, like some great angry animal, sullen and morose, prepared for the enemy attack. Nowhere was there light or sound. The town, with a wonderful starry firmament overhead, waited in expectation. Fifteen, twenty minutes went by, when suddenly a shot was fired and, as though it were a signal, firing broke out in every direction. The anti-aircraft guns fired incessantly, and the police, too, did their best, firing in the air. But what were they firing at? There was absolutely nothing to be seen. The searchlights then came into play. Sweeping the heavens from east to west, from north to south, they searched the firmament, but could not find the Zeppelin. Was it really there, or was the whole thing due to excited Roumanian nerves?

"Suddenly a sound was heard: the noise of the propeller overhead. It sounded so near in the clear, starry night, we felt we must be able to see it. But the noise died away in the direction of Colbroceni. Then we heard the first bomb. Like a gust of wind it whistled through the air, followed by a crash and an explosion. A second and third came quickly after. The firing became fiercer, but they can see nothing and seem to aim at where the sound comes from. The searchlights sway backwards and forwards. Now one of them has caught the airship, which looks like a small golden cigar. Both the gondolas can be seen quite distinctly, and the searchlight keeps it well in view, and now a second one has caught it. It looks as though this air cruiser is hanging motionless in the sky, brilliantly lit up by the searchlights right and left. Then the guns begin in good earnest. Shrapnel bursts all around, a wonderful display of fireworks, but it is impossible to say if the aim is good and if the monster is in danger. Smaller and smaller grows the Zeppelin, climbing rapidly higher and higher, until suddenly the miniature cigar disappears. Still the searchlights sweep the skies, hoping to find their prey again.

"Suddenly utter silence reigns. Have they gone? Is the attack over? Has one been hit? Forced to land? The minutes go by. We are all now on the balcony—the women, too—watching the scene. Again comes the well-known sound—once heard never forgotten—as though the wind were getting up, then a dull thud and explosion. This time it is farther away towards the forts. Again the firing breaks out, and machine-guns bark at the friendly moon; searchlights career across the heavens, but find nothing. Again there falls a bomb—much nearer this time—and again comes the noise of the propellers louder and louder. Shrapnel bursts just over the Embassy, and the Zeppelin is over our heads. We hear the noise very distinctly, but can see nothing. Again a sudden silence everywhere, which has a curious effect after the terrible noise. Time passes, but nothing more is heard. The first rays of dawn are seen in the east; the stars slowly pale.

"A child is heard to cry somewhere, far away: strange how clearly it sounds in the silent night. There is a feeling as though the terrified town hardly dared breathe or move for fear the monster might return. And how many more such nights are there in prospect? In the calm of this fairylike dawn, slowly rising, the crying of the child strikes a note of discord, infinitely sad. But the crying of the child—does it not find an echo among the millions whom this terrible war has driven to desperation?

"The sun rises like a blood-red ball. For some hours the Roumanians can take to sleep and gather fresh strength, but they know now that the Zeppelin's visit will not be the last.

"Bucharest, September, 1916.

"The Press is indignant about the nocturnal attack. Bucharest is certainly a fortress, but it should be known that the guns are no longer in the forts. It was stated in the Adeverul that the heroic resistance put up in defence was most successful. That the airship, badly damaged, was brought down near Bucharest, and that a commission started off at once to make sure whether it was an aeroplane or a Zeppelin!

"Bucharest, September, 1916.

"The Zeppelin returned again this evening and took us by surprise. It seemed to come from the other side of Plojest, and the sentries on the Danube must have missed it. Towards morning the night watch at the Embassy whose duty it is to see that there is no light in the house saw a huge mass descending slowly over the Embassy till it almost touched the roof. It hovered there a few minutes, making observations. No one noticed it until suddenly the engines started again, and it dropped the first bomb close to the Embassy. A direct hit was made on the house of the Ambassador Jresnea Crecianu, and twenty gendarmes who were there were killed. The royal palace was also damaged. The Government is apparently not satisfied with the anti-aircraft forces, but concludes that practice will make them perfect. Opportunity for practice will certainly not be lacking.

"Our departure is being delayed by every sort of pretext. One moment it seems as though we should reach home via Bulgaria. This idea suited Bratianu extremely well, as the Bulgarian willingness to grant permission was a guarantee that they had no plans of attack. But he reckoned in this without his host. E. and W. are greatly alarmed because the Roumanians intend to detain them, and will probably hang them as spies. I have told them, 'Either we all stay here or we all start together. No one will be given up.' That appears to have somewhat quieted their fears.