The defenders of London relied upon three things: (1) the large number of anti-aircraft guns which had been placed on the high places round about the city; (2) the searchlights which gave the gunners their chance to aim properly; (3) the airmen who had learnt a great deal about this strange kind of fighting since Warneford brought down the airship in Belgium.
The task of these airmen was a very difficult one and they were exposed to more dangers and risks than many people imagined. It was, in the first place, a severe trial of strength and nerve-power to remain in the air so long before the Zeppelins arrived. Then they were in danger from the guns of the airships which had often sent aeroplanes toppling nose foremost to the ground, while they usually carried only one machine-gun apiece, as well as a small supply of bombs.
It was further necessary that an airman should rise to a very great height to get above a Zeppelin; for without getting some distance above it he could not make any use of his bombs at all. At this great height it is very cold even on a summer morning, and this increases the difficulty of the airman’s task.
Moreover, it was a fight between the skill and endurance of one man against about twenty-eight, which was the usual number of a Zeppelin crew.
Robinson was, however, equal to the task. He boldly attacked the first monster which came within his range, but had no success for several reasons. So he turned to the other, and by skilful management of his machine contrived to get above it in such a position that he could drop a bomb on the envelope. By this time many thousands of people were gathered together in the open spaces round about London; but the fight took place at such a great height that they only saw the effect of Robinson’s work.
What they saw, however, was stirring and exciting enough. Suddenly a light appeared on the Zeppelin. At first some of the watchers thought it was the searchlight of the airship. But as they gazed they saw the light grow larger; and soon they were aware that the envelope of the ship was in flames.
A tongue of fire swept up the structure which then turned on end and fell to earth in a curve like that of a meteor. And as it fell there rose from thousands of British throats such a cheer as man had never heard before. It was a sound to be remembered to one’s dying day; a shout of triumph mingled with awe and wonder, as if men watched the very judgment of God.
The airship fell into a field at Cuffley, not far from London, and it was fortunate that the blazing mass did not come down in a crowded district. It burnt for nearly two hours, watched by a crowd of people, and every few moments there was an explosion as the flames reached a store of machine-gun cartridges.
There was some danger of greater explosions, for the bombs might take fire at any moment; but this did not prevent the men who were watching from trying to put out the fire. The last of the flames were extinguished with water from the village well. Such was the end of Count Zeppelin’s splendid ship, one of the fleet with which he had vowed he would destroy London.
After a time the watchers saw an aeroplane wheeling round in graceful flight above their heads. It came to earth some distance away, and the airman alighting, walked quickly to the place where the wreck of the Zeppelin was lying. He looked carefully at the wreckage and then turned away. And no one knew at the moment that this was Lieutenant Robinson himself.