“I quite agree that rifles against a Zeppelin are just about as efficacious as firing with pea-shooters,” I remarked.
“The public have not yet realised that a Zeppelin is a very difficult thing to attack successfully,” declared the Flight-Commander, who as one of the best-known of our naval pilots, had done much heroic work, and was now stationed somewhere on the East Coast. “Shells which don’t hit fair to the mark may badly damage one of the eighteen ballonets, but this is not sufficient to bring her down. However, it may partially cripple the machine by upsetting its stability, and it is then highly dangerous to run the powerful engines at speed. To hit either of the gondolas would, of course, do serious harm, but at six thousand feet they are at night an almost invisible mark, and it is only by a lucky chance they would be damaged.”
“And what, in your opinion, is the best means of destroying Zeppelins?” Roseye asked, with a sly glance at me.
“My dear Miss Lethmere,” he replied, “guns and guns alone are at present of any use against these air monsters. We must see to it that the weapons we use are sighted to carry to 12,000 feet, and fire a shell that will not only rip up casing and ballonet, but will at the same time ignite the escaping gas.”
“The newest super-Zeppelins have a sentry posted on top,” remarked Mrs Tringham, a smart little lady, well-known to Roseye, for she had often flown with her husband. “He is separated from the crew far below, but he is in telephonic communication with the commander, so that he can warn him of any aeroplane ascending above for bomb-dropping. I quite agree with Alfred,” she went on, “well-equipped guns and good naval gunners are the best defences against this new peril of the night.”
“Moreover,” Tringham remarked, “I give no credence whatever to the reports that the Germans are circulating, namely, that they are completing two new Zeppelins a week.”
“I agree,” I said. “That story has gone the round of the Press, but is only a piece of clever propaganda sent out to neutral countries with the object of being seized upon by their sensational newspapers. No! Airships are big, unwieldy, as well as very vulnerable things. That the enemy has a number of them is quite certain, but the policy of frightfulness on paper is part of the Teuton plan. I admit that we are behindhand with our air-defences; but I do not support the Press in its shrieking clamours. We shall defeat the Huns one day—never fear. England has never yet been beaten.”
And again I glanced at my well-beloved, whom I saw had already read what was passing in my mind. Our secret was our own.
But I was glad to have the views of such an air expert as my friend Tringham, because he reflected what was just then uppermost in the official mind.
Evidently the “nest of hornets” fallacy had been dismissed.