The Art of War – Aerial Assaults, part 2

 

It looks like a fanciful poster from a travel brochure.

Calm ocean waves lap green and russet seaside cliffs.
A steamship glides past on the distant horizon.  
It's an idyllic seascape lit by a blue sky filled with
fluffy white clouds, a biplane,
and one gigantic dirigible airship.
Who wouldn't want to go there for a summer break?

Except that this picture was advertising war.

This is the second of a two part series which I started last weekend.
I recommend reading The Art of War – Aerial Assaults, part 1  
to pick up this history on the postcard art

 that promoted the first aerial assaults of World War One:

Graf (or Count) Ferdinand von Zeppelin (1838–1917) was a German general who designed and produced the first successful lighter-than-air rigid dirigibles that became eponymously known as Zeppelins. His first airship, the LZ-1, made its first flight over Lake Constance on 2 July 1900. It carried five people to an altitude of 410 m (1,350 ft) and managed to cover a distance of 6.0 km (3.7 mi) until mechanical problems forced to land after 17 minutes aloft. But Zeppelin doggedly persisted despite the inherent obstacles to building a flying machine that could overpower the laws of gravity. 

In 1906 his third airship, LZ-3, proved that a lighter-than-air dirigible powered by petrol engines had viable commercial and military uses. The LZ-3 successfully demonstrated controlled flight in all directions, at different altitudes, and for a significant distance. In 1908 the Imperial German Army bought it and ordered another airship. The following year the Wright brothers were demonstrating their iconic aeroplane in France, Germany, and the United States. Aeroplanes and airships quickly became the next important topic for military planners along with battleships and artillery. 

In 1908 Ferdinand von Zeppelin founded a company, Luftschiffbau Zeppelin, which would manufacture his airships. And in 1909 his company established DELAG, an acronym for Deutsche Luftschiffahrts-Aktiengesellschaft, the world's first commercial airline. By July 1914 at the the start of World War One, Graf Zeppelin had built 25 airships since his first one had flown above Lake Constance. Over 34,000 passengers had already traveled on DELAG's Zeppelin fleet for 1,588 commercial flights that altogether covered 172,535 kms over a spam of 3,176 hours of flight time. Zeppelins were no longer an experimental aircraft. To the German people Zeppelin was a great visionary who advanced the new German Reich into the forefront of modern aviation. 

The portrait above was painted by a very skilled artist but his signature is unclear and the only caption on the back is just: Zeppelin. The postcard was sent 12 April 1916, 11 months before Zeppelin's death on 8 March 1917 at age 78. 

I've written several stories for this blog about early postcards of Graf Zeppelin's airships, The Art of Zeppelins, Zeppelin Kommt!, and At, on and over Lake Constance. Not surprisingly his airships were as inspiring to artists as well as to the general public. 

Zeppelin's face, his walrus mustache, and his gentle grandfatherly appearance made him the subject for many portraits, so his likeness was well known. This second postcard is typical of his portraits but it includes a wartime element of seven menacing airships ascending into the dark sky behind him. This postcard was printed in half-tone for the Deutscher Luftflotten-Verein, a.k.a.: 

German Air Fleet Association

for the creation of a strong German air fleet

and promotion of the aviation school!

Annual membership fee: including the association magazine

"The Air Fleet" at least 3,— Marks.

 

The card was sent by a soldier on 24 January 1916 using the free military post. 

By this year Zeppelin's airships were no longer just a wonder of aeronautics. They had become intimidating monsters of war.

This picture depicts a group of Catholic monks standing outside their abbey watching as a zeppelin drops bombs on the Belgian city of Liege in 1914. A caption in the upper corner reads:

Mönche beobachten die furchtbare
Wirkung der Beschickung Lüttich
durch ein Zeppelin Lüftschiff.
~
Monks observe the terrible effect
of the bombing of Liège
by a Zeppelin airship.

Like the previous card, this one was also produced by the Deutscher Luftflotten-Verein. Such huge conflagrations were beyond the ability of cameras of this time, but skilled artists were adept at using their imagination to reduce a complex event into an illustration that conveyed the turmoil, noise, and horror of this new warfare of aerial assaults.

 

The other nations at war had their own versions of airships. This postcard depicts a British airship on convoy duty, flying relatively low above three cargo chips or possibly ships of the Royal Navy. This airship is a semi-rigid dirigible with an outer shape maintained by a lifting-gas envelope under pressure, just like non-rigid blimps and balloons. Inside the envelope are smaller ballonets or bags that are filled with normal air. Pumps and valves on the ballonets control the pressure of the lifting gas (mainly hydrogen) which balances the aircraft and changes its altitude. The semi-rigid component is a partially flexible metal keel which runs under the envelope and supports the attached gondola for the engine and crew. 

The back of the card shows that the picture was "supplied bu the Ministry of Information, Design No. 6, Passed by Censor, Printed in England" and was a "War Bonds Campaign Post Card issued in connection to the National War Savings Committee's Campaign." Breaking some rules, a message was carefully written across the dividing line:

DEAR DADDIE, MANY HAPPY RETURNS
OF YOUR BIRTHDAY.  AND WE HOPE YOO
WILL SOON BE BETTER. LOVE FROM
HUGHIE AND KATHLEEN.

 

A drawing of the downing of LZ 37
on 7 June 1915 over Ghent, Belgium
by the pilot, Flight Sub-Lieutenant Rex Warneford,
originally published in The War Illustrated, Vol.2, № 44
Source: Wikipedia

As military commands on all sides began using aircraft to observe combat operations, it did not take long before airplanes and airships were weaponized. Initially this was for air to ground attacks but it quickly changed into aerial battles between airplanes. When Zeppelins were used for bombardment of cities they were also armed with machine guns to defend against enemy fighter planes. 

The thrilling picture above shows a Zeppelin exploding in air after being attacked by a mono-wing airplane. It's a rare example of a scene recreated by the man who actually experienced it. He was Reginald (Rex) Warneford (1891–1915), a Sub-Lieutenant and pilot in the British Royal Navy. He made this sketch in June 1915 shortly after he succeeded in destroying the German airship LZ-37 as it was returning to its homebase in occupied-Belgium after a bombing raid on England. 

The sketch appeared in a British magazine, The War Illustrated, a few days later on 19 June 1915. The caption reads: 

The Great Aerial Exploit of Lieut. Warneford: For skill and daring the magnificent exploit of Flight Sub-Lieut. Warneford, V.C., has rarely been equaled. While flying at a great height between Bruges and Ghent he encountered a Zeppelin. Quickly rising above it, he swooped down and launched bombs on the massive airship. A loud explosion followed, and the Zeppelin caught fire and fell to earth. The explosion caused the British machine to turn several somersaults, during which the petrol escaped from the rear tank and the pilot had to descend in the German lines. He managed to refill the empty tank, restart his engine, soar again into the air, and return safely to the British lines. Within thirty-six hours after his heroic deed the King had conferred the Victoria Cross on the young aviator.

Tragically on 17 June 1915, just hours after Lt. Warneford received the Légion d'honneur from General Joffre, the French Army Commander in Chief, Warneford and a passenger died in an accident during a routine flight tp transfer an airplane to another aerodrome. A wing collapsed, causing a catastrophic failure of the airframe. Warneford was just 23 years old.

This postcard offers a similar frightening scene. High above a city and a river two dirigibles pass each other. The higher and larger Zeppelin uses a searchlight to illuminate the other airship which has just burst into flames. A caption reads:  

Unsere Gefürchteten.

Zeppelin im Kampf mit einem
feindlichen Luftschiff.  
~

Our Feared Ones.

A Zeppelin in Combat with
an Enemy Airship.

As far as I can determine this kind of airship vs airship action is a fantasy, as it never occurred. The smaller airship is a semi-rigid dirigible, likely a British airship, which was used for daytime reconnaissance. In this early age of aviation, night flying for airplanes was particularly dangerous as pilots could only navigate by sight. 

 Zeppelins encountered the same problem, too, but they were also very large and relatively slow so they were very visible in daylight. This problem was more difficult to solve, so, instead, these behemoths of the air staged nighttime bombing raids when a dark sky would give the best concealment, allow better observation of bomb explosions, and also inflict the most terror on civilians. 

It did not take long before cities in France and Britain mandated blackout restrictions in their cities. This created another problem for Zeppelin navigators. Maps were useless if you could not see the ground. Most of the first raids resulted in lost Zeppelins that never got close to their targets. In this illustration we get a view captioned:  In der Zeppelin-Gondel ~ In the Zeppelin's Gondola, though to be accurate the view is not inside but outside and more like what a passing seagull might see. The crew use searchlights to ascertain their position. A Zeppelin might reach an altitude of 10,000+ feet but determining a factory from a school, in the dark, with binoculars, and while in motion was extremely difficult. Not surprisingly, the accuracy of a Zeppelin's bombs was very imprecise.   

After the first raids ground searchlights and anti-aircraft guns were quickly developed by the allied forces. Though airships were very vulnerable to incendiary shell fire igniting their hydrogen lifting-gas, they were more at risk from ordinary bullets tearing small holes in the gas cells. The loss of even a small percent of gas would cause the airship to quickly lose height and steering control. Many Zeppelins during the war never made it back to their home airfield. 

In this postcard an artist creates a colossal armada of six Zeppelins and four naval ships heading across the English Channel. The caption reads: Nach England! ~ To England!   This was another postcard put out by the Deutscher Luftflotten-Verein with a postmark of 18 February 1915 from Erfurt, Germany. This was just one month from the first aerial assaults on the night of 19/20 January 1915. 

The plan had been proposed in August 1914 just as the war began. The Zeppelin force was under the command of the Imperial German Navy. Grand Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz supported the plan and wrote:

The measure of the success will lie not only in the injury which will be caused to the enemy but also in the significant effect it will have in diminishing the enemy's determination to prosecute the war. 

In fact this first raid only used two Zeppelins which were to attack targets near the Humber estuary, 170 miles north of London. However strong winds forced the German airships southward where they dropped bombs on Great Yarmouth, Sheringham, King's Lynn and surrounding Norfolk villages. Four people were killed and 16 injured. The damage was estimated at £7,740 (equivalent to £860,700 in 2024). Two British fighter aircraft took off but failed to find the airships in the dark.  

This dramatic picture depicts two Zeppelins high in a dark sky seen from a dock at a harbor. There is fire, smoke, explosions, anti-aircraft shells, and searchlight beams on the airships. According to a printed caption on the back the painting is by A. Hubert and titled Luftangriff auf Londoner Hafenanlagen ~ Air Raid on London Port Facilities. It was produced as a "Welfare Card for Members of the Imperial Navy, for the Purposes of Family Support and the Recuperation of Personnel on Leave". It cost 10 pfennig with 3 Pfennig going to the charity.

When Germany first began bombing Britain in 1915, Kaiser Wilhelm II initially prohibited any attacks on London for fear it might harm his relatives in the Royal Family. (The Kaiser's mother was Victoria, Princess Royal (1840–1901), the eldest child of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.) But by Spring he expanded bombing targets east of the Tower of London and on the night of 31 May 1915 the airship, LZ 38, struck the capital. Two months later in July 1915 authorization was granted to target the entire London metropolis.  

This cartoon shows a another pair of Zeppelins flying over London's Trafalgar Square. Like so many ants, people flee in all directions, hide under umbrellas, or leap from double decker buses. We may not see explosions but we can see  fear, and it is not amusing.

 

Because of the wartime blockade and censorship the German public had practically no news about the war since all military information was controlled by the German government. Postcards like this that promote strategic bombing were propaganda used to reassure Germany's citizens. 

This censorship and restraint on casualties and damage caused by aerial bombing was also applied to news reports in Britain, France, and later the United States. The truth was deemed contrary to recruitment, military and labor morale, and considered potentially provocative of civil unrest.        

This scene is similar to the German card taunting Londoners but this cartoon comes from a defiant French perspective. It shows two Zeppelins (the one on the left is viewed from its tail) attempting to carry away one of the celebrated symbols of France. The caption reads:

Enlèvement de l'arc-de-triomphe de l'étoile

par le Zeppeli K.K.100
~

Removal of the Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile

by the Zeppeli K.K.100

It is plainly silly which must have given many French people a brief smile or laugh. The card was sent from Paris on 4 August 1915.

                                tu vois d'ici le

                                continuel danger

                                que nous courerons

                                ournellement dans

                                la Capitale

                                    Sincères Salutations

                                        E. Bedutson

                                        ~

                                                    You can see from here the

                                                    continual danger

                                                     that we will run

                                                     daily in the Capital

                                                         Sincere Salutations

                                                                E. Bedutson

The preceding transcription and translation of the message on this postcard
was provided by Claude.AI which was given only an image of the message's French text and the year, 1916. It provided this note:

**Notes:** This is clearly the closing portion of a longer message — the text begins mid-sentence. Written during wartime Paris (1916), the writer's reference to "continual danger… daily in the Capital" almost certainly alludes to German Zeppelin and Gotha bomber raids on Paris, which were a source of real anxiety for Parisians during the war. The signature *E. Bedutson* may be a foreign name (possibly Scandinavian), which would explain the slightly non-native French phrasing — *courerons* is an archaic/dialectal future form of *courir* ("to run/face"), and *journellement* is an uncommon adverb meaning "daily."

The last aerial assault on London by Zeppelins took place on the night of 19 October 1917, over 12 months since the last Zeppelin raid. The latest German airships were larger and had increased their ceiling altitude to be above the reach of aeroplane fighters. That night eleven Zeppelins approached London from the north using the prevailing wind to carry them silently across the city without using their engines. The British commander of the London Air Defense Area, Lt-Col. Alfred Rawlinson, recognized the German strategy and ordered all of London's searchlights to be turned off, since they would otherwise 'give the game away' and reveal the geography of the city. 

Though a few bombs hit near the city, Rawlinson's deception to stay dark worked and London avoided up to 200 bombs which fell outside the metro area. Later that night an unexpected gale blew the Zeppelin squadron off course as they tried to return to their home bases in Jutland. Not one of the eleven airships made it back.  One was shot down by French anti-aircraft guns near the German frontier at Luneville. Another was forced to land in western France by pursuing aeroplanes. Two Zeppelins were destroyed by fire in south-west France. Three more were taken out to sea and lost with all hands in the Mediterranean when their fuel ran out.

Following this failure the German military decided that airships were incapable of achieving their mission goals. Each Zeppelin cost the equivalent of several million dollars. The fatality rate for Zeppelin crews in WW1 was an appalling 40%. Of the roughly 80–90 airships deployed, over 30 were lost to enemy action or accidents during operations, resulting in the deaths of over 400 flight crew members.

So the Imperial German Army command withdrew Zeppelins from attacks on Britain and France and instead placed their bet on their Gotha heavy bombers.

French postcard illustration, circa 1917
of Imperial German Gotha G. heavy bomber
Source: Wikimedia

British recruiting poster from 1915
Source: Wikipedia

According to the Wikipedia entry for German bombing of Britain, 1914–1918:

Airships made 51 bombing raids on Britain during the war in which 557 people were killed and 1,358 injured. The airships dropped 5,806 bombs, causing damage worth £1,527,585. Eighty-four airships took part, of which 30 were either shot down or lost in accidents. 

Aeroplanes carried out 52 raids, dropping 2,772 bombs of 73.5 long tons (74.7 t) weight for the loss of 62 aircraft, killing 857 people, injuring 2,058, and causing £1,434,526 of damage. 

The German bombing has been called, by some authors, the first Blitz, alluding to the Blitz of the Second World War. The defense organization developed by the British foreshadowed the ground-controlled interception system used in the Second World War.

The First World War supposedly ended 108 years ago on 11 November 1918, but that was just the date for the Armistice, a cessation of hostilities. It would take another seven months to conclude the official peace treaty, the Treaty of Versailles, which was signed on 28 June 1919. That document divided the old European empires into many new sovereign nations, while retaining other vast regions of the world in colonial subjugation. It would take decades and an even more terrible world war to change that dynamic.    

Wikipedia has a page, of course, on the last day of WW1. Under the section "Last casualties" of the Armistice of 11 November 1918 is this short report about what happened in the last minutes before the 11th hour of the 11th day: 

Many artillery units continued to fire on German targets to avoid having to haul away their spare ammunition. The Allies also wished to ensure that, should fighting restart, they would be in the most favourable position. Consequently, there were 10,944 casualties, of whom 2,738 men died, on the last day of the war.

An example of the determination of the Allies to maintain pressure until the last minute, but also to adhere strictly to the Armistice terms, was Battery 4 of the US Navy's long-range 14-inch railway guns firing its last shot at 10:57:30 a.m. from the Verdun area, timed to land far behind the German front line just before the scheduled Armistice.

My purpose in collecting these grim examples of the Art of War was partly because I'm fascinated by the way early aviation was depicted in its time. What did people think when they first saw a Zeppelin airship or Wright brothers' Flyer? In this collection I sought to answer a different but related question. What did people feel when those airplanes and airships first dropped death and destruction? 

I'm sure that Wikipedia has a very, very long list of all the wars that have occurred since those final shots on 11 November 1918. It is deeply depressing and disturbing to me that mankind seems to have learned nothing in all those years. What pictures will artists paint about our time in 2026?  

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where everyone, except me,

is singing along in perfect harmony.

The Art of War – Aerial Assaults, part 1

 

It was the dawn of a new day for these soldiers, gallant cavalrymen on noble steads chasing an extraordinary new symbol of military power—an airship. This huge flying machine sails through the air faster than a horse or even an automobile. What it lacks in elegance it makes up in gigantic amazement. What power drives it to move so effortlessly through the clouds? What can the crew see from that height? Is this not the most brilliant achievement of our great nation?

The artist of this painting was Anton Hoffmann (1863–1938), a very prolific painter, illustrator, and commercial artist from München whose specialty was creating scenes of military valor, partly inspired from his experience serving in the Bavarian Army from 1880-89. Sometime around 1913 Hoffmann painted this dashing picture of horsemen of the 2nd Silesian Hussars Regiment, a distinguished cavalry unit of the Prussian Army. It was printed as a benefit postcard for Germany's "Crown Prince and Crown Princess Foundation of the German Warriors' League". On the back under the imprint for the league is a facsimile inscription of its late chairman, Prussian General Alexander von Spitz (1832–1910), "Stand firm always / Stand still never!"

In the summer of 1914 the shocking assassination of Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg pushed Europe's great powers into war. It was a complicated conflict that many people had feared and many others had planned for. Government officials, military experts, and political pundits predicted this war would be brief, a few weeks perhaps, no more than a couple of months. The streets of capital cities like Berlin, Wien, St. Petersburg, Paris, and London filled with the clamorous noise of soldiers marching and people cheering with nationalist fervor. They could not know that this struggle between nations would drag on for four more years becoming a horrific conflagration that would consume millions of lives.

Beginning in August 1914, as opposing troops mobilized, attacked, and defended across Europe, artists like Hoffman were called upon to illustrate this war and promote their country's patriotic views. Photographers too were engaged, but many subjects were much easier for an artist to depict than what a camera could achieve. One theme was on the new vertical dimension brought to warfare by the introduction of military aircraft, both lighter and heavier-than air. 

In this postcard from 1916 an unknown artist depicts Imperial German troops, cavalry, and artillery neatly arranged on a rolling landscape. It is a scene of an army that Bismarck or Napoleon could have admired except that floating in the sky above is an immense rigid airship, a smaller semi-rigid airship, and a single wing airplane. 

In the first decade of the 20th century the advent of powered airships and airplanes enthralled the public's imagination by opening up seemingly limitless possibilities of human flight. But Europe's military commands were more cautious, even skeptical, of any practical military value for aircraft. Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin's first successful airship flew over Lake Constance on 2 July 1900. But the Imperial German Army did not contract for a Zeppelin airship until 1909. A second airship was commissioned in 1910 from the Schütte-Lanz company, a competitor to Count Zeppelin's company.

In August 1908 Wilbur and Orville Wright first demonstrated their heavier-than-air Flyer in France. The German army negotiated a license agreement with the Wright brothers to have a German factory build their airplane. By 1913 the Imperial German Army Air Service had established five aviation battalions using improved designs from German airplane manufacturers. Not to be outdone, the French, British, and Russian military also formed their own aircraft units, In 1914 the Imperial Russian Army had the largest air fleet with 263 airplanes, followed by Germany with around 250 and France with 156.  

At first armies and navies assigned them to reconnaissance and artillery spotting, just as tethered balloons had been used in previous wars of the 19th century. Observation of enemy forces always provided an important tactical advantage during any battle. A man standing on flat land or on a ship at sea might see as far as the horizon 3 to 4 miles away. Atop a tall 180-foot mast or hill, the distance improved to over 16 miles. Yet in an airplane at 1,000 feet a pilot could see a radius of 38 miles and in an airship at 6,000 feet the circular distance might be 200 miles across in all directions.    

But as Europe's belligerent forces clashed along hundreds of battlefronts it did not take long before aircraft were modified for weapons and combat. It began simply enough when it was noticed that pilots communicated with ground forces by dropping their handwritten messages in weighted bags. Instead of a sack of notes, a grenade or bomb could just as easily be released over an enemy.    

In this German postcard an artist named Roland shows how it was done. A pilot holds a bomb the size of a wine bottle outside his biplane's open cockpit as he flies low over a city.  In the lower corner is a caption of dark humor: Fliegergrüße ~ Aviator's Greetings. The card was sent in June 1915 but I think it depicts one of the first efforts to bomb a city in Russia, possibly Poland, on the Eastern Front.

This vivid picture shows a Schütte-Lanz airship over a city as smoke and fire emanate from buildings below. Printed on the back of card is the painter Hans Rudolf Schulze (1870-1951) and a description, the "Bombardment of Warsaw."    

The Polish city of Warsaw was subjected to bombing from German airships and airplanes from 26 September 1914 through February 1915. The first airship reportedly "dropped two bombs, one of which did not explode, and the other destroyed a booth and a telephone pole." Similarly a German airplane dropped a single bomb on a fortress in Warsaw but caused no damage. Subsequent raids did kill or injure people, almost all Polish civilians, but the raids were not as destructive as Herr Schulze would have us believe.  

Warsaw in October 1914.
The Seed of Highest Culture.
Source: Wikipedia

Polish defiance resulted in a Political cartoon that depicted German Emperor Wilhelm II as a batwinged monster lobbing cannonballs at the city. At this time the Polish people were divided into three regions, each controlled by the German Empire, the Austrian Empire, or the Russian Empire. Warsaw was then joined to Russia but the city fell to the German army in August 1915.

Meanwhile the main thrust of the German army was westward against France. But first it had to cross Belgium. The city of Liege was the first to fall during the first weeks of the war, 5–16 August 1914. The Germans bombarded a ring of Belgian fortresses defending the city, mainly with heavy artillery. On 6 August the Germans conducted the first aerial bombing of a European city when a Zeppelin airship released bombs over Liege which killed nine civilians. 

This arresting painting shows German soldiers (in gray uniforms) scrambling over a smashed fortress wall as Belgian soldiers (in blue uniforms) mount a futile defense. On top a busted artillery emplacement a soldier plants the black/white/red flag of the German Empire. In the background a city explodes in flames as a menacing airship hovers above. The artist's name is unclear, perhaps Bürger? On the back is printed a small image of German General Otto von Emmich (1848–1915) with Lüttich Erobert: 7 August 1914 ~ Liege Conquered: 7 August 1914. The card was sent on 4 Mat 1915 by military free post.

This painting gives a different birds-eye-view of an enormous airship over a city aglow with erupting bombs. The back has a caption that reads "Zeppelin over Antwerp". The artist was Themistokles von Eckenbrecher (1842–1921), a German landscape and marine painter. 

The port city of Antwerp was the second major city in Belgium to be attacked by aerial bombing. On 25/26 August 1914 a German airship released bombs which killed 10 Belgian civilians. But the destruction failed to weaken Belgians' spirits and Antwerp's defensive forts held out through two more attacks. However from 28 September to 10 October 1914 Antwerp became surrounded and besieged by the German army. Days of relentless shelling from German siege guns, accurately directed by observation balloons, forced the remaining Belgian, British, and French forces to flee across the border to the Netherlands.  

 

In this grim sepia-tone illustration a terrifying black airplane flies around Paris's iconic Eiffel Tower. Its summit shines a bright search light's beam. Below it and in the background are a half-dozen intense fires, doubtless caused by bombs. At top of the postcard is a caption: Deutscher Flieger über Paris ~ German Aviator over Paris.     

At the end of August 1914, a German monoplane, ironically called a Taube ~ dove/pigeon, flew over Paris, not at night, but just after noon. The solo pilot  dropped around two to five bombs by hand, just like the Fliegergrüße postcard above. Most did minimal damage but one killed an elderly woman and wounded three persons. The pilot also dropped a bag of leaflets demanding that the French surrender. The bag failed to open and French authorities confiscated the leaflets suppressing all reports on casualties. Nonetheless the raid disturbed all Parisians, changing war preparations in the city and reinforcing the army protecting it. Over the next month more German airplanes targeted Paris resulting in more civilian casualties, facts which were also concealed from the public. The first Zeppelin raid over the city was not until 21 March 1915 when seven people were wounded and one killed. 

Longtime readers of my blog should recognize the title of this humorous postcard: Zeppelin Kommt!   It was the same title I used in February 2021 for my story on a series of postcards created in 1910 by the German artist Arthur Thiele. Here Thiele reprises his joke about the German public's manic enthusiasm for Count Zeppelin's airship, only now he is mocking the French public's confused ruckus when a Zeppelin is spotted over the Eiffel Tower. Firemen blow alarm trumpets, their firetruck crashes into a fruit cart, Parisians are falling all over themselves. In the background are two airships illuminated by searchlight beams. There are no explosions. Yet.

This postcard was sent from a soldier to a young woman in Little Wittenberg on 20 December 1916. On the back is printed a short descriptive poem which was a common feature of Arthur Thiele's humorous postcard series, though I don't know if he was the author or if it was someone from the publisher. The  poem is in a Fraktur typeface, a then common typesetting style for the German alphabet. 

                Kommt ein Zeppelin geflogen,

                Kreist kühn um den Eiffelturm:

                Schreckensrufe, langgezogen . . .

                Die Trompeten blasen Sturm.

                Alles bebt, als nah' entsetzlich

                Sich der Tag des Weltgerichts.

                Und im tiefsten Dunkel plötzlich

                Liegt Paris, die Stadt des Lichts.

                                A Zeppelin comes flying in,

                                Circles boldly around the Eiffel Tower:

                                Cries of terror, drawn out long . . .

                                The trumpets sound the alarm.

                                Everything trembles, as though dreadfully near

                                Were the Day of Judgement.

                                And in the deepest darkness suddenly

                                Lies Paris, the City of Light.

This typeface is difficult for me to read for a variety of reasons, so I used Claude, an A.I. service  I uploaded just a clipped image of the text, cleaning up unnecessary marks and improving the contrast. I gave instructions to Claude to transcribe the poem and translate it. I also told it that it was from a German postcard from December 1916. Claude completed this task in less than 10 seconds and included the following comment:

Notes: This is a piece of German wartime propaganda, celebrating the Zeppelin raids on Paris with a triumphalist and darkly poetic tone. The final line is a pointed rhetorical flourish — inverting Paris's famous epithet "la Ville Lumière" (the City of Light) by plunging it into literal darkness during a blackout. The poem has a driving, ballad-like metre (trochaic tetrameter) that gives it a martial, almost gleeful energy. The reference to the "Tag des Weltgerichts" (Day of Judgement) frames the bombing in quasi-apocalyptic, almost divine terms — typical of wartime propaganda on all sides.

I find these details amazing since I did not describe Thiele's postcard or give it  any other context other than date and language. I also tried it on some more postcards for this story and it produced very acceptable work on messages written in German handwriting. I think Claude will prove a very useful assistant for the kind of research I do. I recommend it to anyone who needs similar services. 

In WW1 The Eiffel Tower performed an important service taking advantage of its great height to function as a giant radio antenna. Early radio technology could not yet handle voice or sound but did well with messages transmitted in Morse Code. The Eiffel Tower also had search lights to spot enemy planes but positioned them at lower levels. Fortunately it never suffered any damage during the war.  

The French produced their own sophisticated propaganda during the war, too. This photo of bomb destruction has a caption:

Les Zeppelins sur Paris — Crimes odieux des pirates Boches 

Côté de maison ébouié  
~

Zeppelins over Paris — Heinous crimes of the Boche Pirates

Side of a House Collapsed

This second photo postcard shows a two story building cut in half by a bomb explosion. A bed hangs precariously from a demolished second floor bedroom. The card comes from the same series as the previous card but has a different identifying caption: 

La maison du brigadier Bidault
~
Brigadier Bidault's House 

The image is identified in French archives as: "Damage caused by bombs dropped by a Zeppelin on the home of Sub-Brigadier Bidault, 34 Rue du Borrego, 20th Arrondissement, Paris, on January 29, 1916."

There is no mention of casualties at this house but that raid in January 1916 killed 75 people and wounded 33. 

My final example of the Art of War is also from France. It is a sketch of a man bent over in a chair, weeping as a young girl tries to console him. Beside him is a covered body in a hospital bed. A nurse and doctor stand at the back of the room. The card has a caption:

Triomphe de Zeppelin.
~
Zeppelin's Triumphs. 

To recognize tragedy we need few words
and only a picture to understand grief.

After January 1916 the German command discontinued sending Zeppelins to bomb Paris. The giant airships were proving too vulnerable to anti-aircraft fire and becoming too expensive to build and maintain. So there would be no attacks on Paris that year or the next. The next aerial assault was not until 30 January 1918 when the Imperial German Air Service introduced the new Gotha G5 heavy bomber. 

Gotha G.V heavy bomber
Source: Wikipedia

This large two-engine biplane was 12.36 m (40 ft 7 in) long and had a wingspan of 23.7 m (77 ft 9 in). It required a crew of 3 men (sometimes 4) and was capable of carrying 14 × 25 kg (60 lb.) bombs over a range of 840 km (520 miles). It was used principally as a night bomber and squadrons of Gotha bombers would make 8 sorties over Paris in 1918 that resulted in many people killed and injured. 

 CODA 

My interest in collecting aviation history started a few years ago when I discovered old postcards depicting the first pioneers of human flight and their flying machines. The images were usually grainy and often absurdly silly. Pilots seated in flimsy aeroplanes flew low over crowds of hundreds of spectators. Squads of men wrestled with long guide ropes to secure a gigantic dirigible to a pylon. One could not help but admire the great courage and single minded determination of these first aviators. 

But I also became fascinated with how flying machines of all kinds inspired a new kind of wonder in mankind which had never been felt before. What was it like to fly like a bird? How far could you see through clouds? How fast and how far could you go? The answers to these questions called for a special imagination that I think added a new 3rd dimension to the world. No longer was the Earth defined by just north-south-east-west, but now there was Up and Down, too. How high could you fly?

From 1900 to August 1914 all this energy of invention and enterprise in aviation was positive, full of hope and optimism. But the Great War changed that and aviation was forced to advance following bellicose military requirements. After 1914 the art of war began presenting flying machines differently. The glamor of flight was still an essential element of a picture, but pilots now earned new respect as brave warriors. Their exploits took on new risks in addition to defying the laws of gravity. Yet as aircraft were armed with guns and bombs they became flying weapons of death and destruction.  

They were also advancing a terrible new moral dilemma for mankind—sanctioning indiscriminate bombing of civilians. Over the next 100 years military aircraft would be used for the most unimaginable horrors and reprehensible atrocities in the history of the world. 

Sadly over the past few weeks we have seen the start of yet another senseless war in Iran. And death and destruction are dispensed from new flying machines in the same cruel random fashion as was done in World War One. Predicting the outcome of this war is also no different than it was in 1914. Anyone's guess is as good as another.

Because I think this story
resonates with our current time
I will continue next weekend
with more pictures on this aviation theme.

Stay tuned for The Art of War – Aerial Assaults, part 2.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where it's a good idea to always check your fuses.

Chamber Music

 

Chamber music is a phrase usually associated with classical music. But it's a very broad term that really just means music for a small place. It can be a parlor room or a cafe lounge or any chamber where a small musical group can make music for themselves or entertain a few friends or patrons. It doesn't require many musicians. It doesn't even have to be played indoors. A solo busker on a street corner is still playing a kind of chamber music. (Unless they are using an amplified Karaoke accompaniment!) 

But two—a duo—makes a nice mix for listeners.

These two young women, a violinist and a guitarist, posed for a beautiful portrait in Emporia, Kansas. They look like sisters to me, around age 16 to 20 maybe? Their cabinet card photo has only the photographers name so we have to guess the era. I think their slightly puffy shoulder sleeves suggests sometime in the 1890s. 

Emporia KS Weekly Gazette
25 July 1895

The photographer was the Cottage Studio of L. G. [Lyston G.] Alvord. Mr. Alvord began advertising in the Emporia newspapers in 1895. His studio was at the very top of a full page business directory for the city. "Finest retouching, finish and expression, making in all the finest photos..." There were three other photographers listed as well and a music dealer who specialized in "pianos, organs, violins, mandolins, guitars, and banjos." Emporia was also home to the Western Musical Conservatory that offered instruction and certificates for "vocal and instrumental music, also elocution and dramatic arts." 

A trio of two violins and a guitar opens up a larger variety of chamber music, since a guitar has the ability to provide chords, rhythm, bass line, and melody too. These three young men were arranged in a photographer's studio into a neat triangle. They have the look of friends not brothers. 

This postcard photo was taken at the Fritz Studio, 852 Penn St., Reading, Pennsylvania but was never posted and has no message to provide clues to date it. Unfortunately men's fashions are less specific to determining a decade much less a year. When did striped socks and polka-dot bowties first become a fad? I guess mid-1900s is a fair timeframe.  

When another instrument is added to a trio we get a quartet, which invites the classic voicing of soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. This quartet even thought their numbers were sufficient to call themselves the "Big 4 Orchestra" written on a label beneath their photo. Two violins are balanced on bass by a cello but the true soprano in the group is a piccolo. That musician with his ivory-head piccolo would stand out even in a band of 100 musicians.

The photographer of this cabinet card photo was C. A. Schnell of Troy, Ohio. Coincidently "Schnell" is the German musical term for fast. Unfortunately I could find no information on this group, but their name may have a subtle meaning that could be a clue. Back in the time before air travel when people used trains, one of the dominant railroads in the Midwest was the Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railway, also known as "the Big Four". According to its Wikipedia entry: 

The railroad was formed on June 30, 1889, by the merger of the Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati and Indianapolis Railway, the Cincinnati, Indianapolis, St. Louis and Chicago Railway and the Indianapolis & St. Louis Railway. The following year, the company gained control of the former Indiana, Bloomington and Western Railway (through the foreclosed Ohio, Indiana and Western Railway and through an operating agreement with the Peoria and Eastern Railway). 

Map of Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railway
Source: Wikipedia (OpenStreetMap)

Perhaps this quartet took their name from the four men's association with the railroad company. Maybe they worked on the railroad or at a depot. Troy, Ohio is just north of Dayton and was once a station on the Big Four railway. Maybe they each came from Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis?

With five instruments a quartet becomes a quintet. This group is a true string quintet with two violins, a viola, a cello, and a double bass. The men wear formal style suits with long frock coats that i think marks them as professional musicians. They may be the principal string leaders of an orchestra. Four of the men appear to be in their 30s or 40s but the cellist on the right is a few decades older I think. He plays a cello without an endpin following the old traditional method.

This small carte de visite photo was produced by Aug. Röthig of Ebersbach and is typical of photos from 1870-1880. However this placename is hard to pin down as there are five historic towns called Ebersbach. My hunch is that it is the town now called Ebersbach-Neugersdorf in the district of Görlitz, in Saxony, Germany. It is on the border with the Czech Republic, just across from the Czech town of Jiříkov and in the 19th century would have been near the major music centers of the region like Dresden, Prague, and Berlin.

To finish this post on chamber music
here is the St. George Quintet

performing an arrangement
of The Beatles' hit song "Eleanor Rigby." 

Technically they seem to be
in a great hall or a nave in a church
but it's still music with class.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where soothing sounds of music play all weekend.