AIR TORPEDOES AND BOMBSHELLS.
If there is one branch of modern strategy which is likely to be watched with keen interest during the next Continental war it will be that of military ballooning. For some time we have heard of such wonderful preparations in this line on the other side of the Channel that the public, both at home and abroad, will be moved by anxious expectancy to take note whether the steering gas bags and air torpedoes revolutionize warfare by developing a more easy way of striking hostile forces, namely, from a vertical position, in which they are so frequently vulnerable. The aims of those who would merely employ balloons to see what is going on behind the hills, and how their opponents are disposed, seem insufficient to satisfy the ambition of foreign engineers. A Frenchman has supplied the Russians with an air torpedo that can be directed, so we are told, with the accuracy of a submarine machine. It is to take up eight hundredweight of dynamite, which can be discharged on the heads, and on the magazines and fortresses of their foes, so as to make short work with them by blowing them up sky-high without subjecting the attacking party to risk, owing to the remarkable guiding power of their aërial cruiser, which is to strike and glide away with marvellous rapidity, either as it emerges from the clouds, or springs unseen above the smoke of battle, to let fall its destructive cargo when least expected. All this sounds very terrific and smart in theory, but the question is, can it be done with the tact and certainty which we are asked to believe? From an aërostatic standpoint such an enterprise would entirely depend upon aërial navigation having been solved. Certain inventors avow, and perhaps imagine, that this consummation has been settled already by those preliminary canters near Paris of which we heard so much two years since. Now, it is not for me, or any other practical man, to say that the pretensions put forth for “the conquest of the air” are visionary; but this I do say, that the alleged movements of the cigar-shaped balloons have not warranted us in concluding that the art of steering and propelling has been satisfactorily mastered. Had it been otherwise, how is it that so magnificent an achievement has not been forthwith applied to the more noble and remunerative arts of peace and commerce, instead of being shelved for the horrors of war? The moment air ships can be directed, the probability is they will be seized upon immediately to bring about results far more creditable than the annihilation of our fellow creatures.
Secondly. A bombardment from above might, and possibly would, involve a contest in the air. If these agents are available for attack they may be constructed for defensive objects, for retaliation, and for reprisals. One may swoop down like a hawk, but another may rise up like a rocket and bring down its adversary like the stick. And how about the latest arms of precision, chain-shot, and shrapnel? A gas-inflated observatory can often be kept well in the rear in a more secure captive state, but if these flying torpedoes are going in for close quarters, as they must to “spot” their victims, the hazards will be so great that pressed men, rather than volunteers, will have to be forced into the empyrean; and, so far as my experience goes among officers, soldiers, and civilians, I never yet noticed any exuberant bellicose tendency, or display of pugnacity, while exploring in mid-air.
I once took up a gentleman who was said to be very daring, and among his accomplishments was a proficiency with the gloves; a friend of his who was with us thought fit in a moment of pardonable elation to indulge in playful sparring with the reputed amateur boxer. I was rather surprised to notice that he evinced an apparent distaste, and even incompetency, for this sort of thing when aloft. It certainly might have been that the narrow confines of a wicker basket were not sufficiently capacious for manœuvring, or that a passing nervousness took all the fight out of him. He protested against his friend’s familiarity, while casting an appealing glance at me. “Recollect,” he cried, “where we are;” but on reaching terra firma I observed that his facial expression was decidedly more combative, and that he was quite ready then for a friendly exchange of taps; this, with other incidents I could mention, has led me to conclude that the upper air is not altogether suitable or provocative for belligerent performances.
By way of illustration, I may state that Green more than forty years since was engaged to attend with one of his balloons at a park down in Staffordshire, where there was to be an experiment with dropping shells from a battery affixed to the hoop, but no one was to go up, and the aëronaut’s services were only required for the preparatory work, as the long range committee preferred to manage matters themselves, so far as the adjustment and discharge of the petards went. They selected a central spot in a wood as the area for their intended demolishment, but on setting the balloon free they neglected Green’s hint to look out for a veering current, in case they had not provided a remedy, as he had, if his services had been retained for the most critical part of the undertaking. Well, the experimentalists disregarded the expert, but when the missiles were discharged they flew bang at friendly spectators instead of the camping ground of an ideal enemy, thus causing a helter-skelter stampede, including a bevy of policemen—in short, the whole affair was a fiasco; and it might have been so easily prevented, as Green’s foresight had led him to think of a compensating plan to cause the balloon to go straight in the desired course; but the enthusiasts did not believe that a past master was necessary for aëronautic transactions, and it will not be surprising if some of the military adventurers to whom we have been referring find themselves similarly situated.
Last year I read that two intrepid Frenchmen made a trip to our shores from Cherbourg, and threw down as they passed some yachts near the coast a number of cork balls painted white, just, sportively of course, to see how they would act as the lightest and most harmless of grenades, without, as we may charitably conclude, any ulterior designs such as the First Napoleon is credited with when the aërial flotilla at Boulogne was talked about. But, really, in the present day, when the blowing up of ironclads is a recognized feature of warfare, and when torpedo boats can dive and make straightway at a man-of-war to strike below the belt, it is time to be on the qui vive, and though aëronauts may feel no great alarm about an unexpected visit from a torpedo fleet, knowing, as they do, that the air is more than eight hundred times lighter than water, and that the difficulties to be first surmounted are proportionately great, still, there is no denying that the route overhead is open to all nations, and that a scare, lest any unwelcome guests should arrive, has actually been felt as to the possibility of their turning up from beneath the Channel. We know that John Bull and all true Britons would rather face an adversary from above, than if he were to crawl and pounce upon us from below.
But at present we need not quake as to the high or subway route.
MILITARY BALLOONING IN THE YEAR OF JUBILEE.
One of the latest and most interesting phases of this subject relates to Lord Wolseley’s maiden ascent from the grounds at Lidsing, near Chatham, and to various active preparations on the Continent which have a character of their own, and are essentially dissimilar to the experiments in Great Britain.
An illustrious man undergoing his initiation in the balloon car, forms an event which is not of every day occurrence, and must prove very encouraging to the intrepid engineer officers, and also to the general public, who like to see the leading authority go now and again to the front for the sake of thoroughly inspecting, and of obtaining some practical acquaintance with any new branch of science which may be on trial.