A ZEPPELIN AIRSHIP BEING USED FOR TRAINING PERSONNEL AT THE JOHANNISTHAL AERODROME, NEAR BERLIN
A ZEPPELIN IN THE DOUBLE SHED AT JOHANNISTHAL, WITH THE SMALLER PARSEVAL SHED NEXT DOOR
A TAUBE-TYPE GERMAN MONOPLANE
Then a curious thing happened. The Zeppelin sighted me (I think the searchlights were signalling) and immediately came for me. This was the tables turned on me with a vengeance, and the very last thing I ever dreamt of. It was a regular nightmare. I was only 6000 feet up, and the Zepp, which was very fast, must have been ten. Without being able to get above it, I was, of course, helpless and entirely at the mercy of his maxim guns. I don't think I have been so disconcerted for a long time. We had "some" race! He tried to cut me off from Holland, but I got across his bows. He was a huge big thing, most imposing, and turned rapidly with the greatest of ease. I hung around north of Ghent, climbing hard, and reached 8,500 feet, but the Zepp wasn't having any. He wasn't coming down while I was there, and I, on the other hand, couldn't get up to him, as he had risen to some fabulous height, so after a bit I pushed off home feeling very discontented at such an unsatisfactory ending. What else could I do? I wasn't going back on the chance of spotting the sheds, with anti-aircraft guns waiting for me below and a Zepp ready to pounce on me from above.
I disposed of my bombs in the sea before landing, and got back after three hours in the air—eventually got to bed at something after 6 a.m. Have been in to see the Commander to-day, and he was kind enough to tell me I had done all that was possible. He also gave me a little job, which necessitates my getting away soon after midnight to-night. Pray the Lord my engine holds out!
Love to all.
Ever your loving son,