The Last Airship (3 page)

After
a couple of minutes the Magdalena seemed to return to her normal flying
capabilities, and, with the exception of a faulty compass, they were on their
normal route for the night. They might still make it.

Their
planned route was going to take them east, over Lake Constance at the base of
the Alps. Then, by maintaining a more northerly route, they would avoid the
Alps and enter Switzerland over Mount Uetliberg. At the entrance to Zurich, in
northeast Switzerland, Mount Uetliberg rose to an elevation of 2850 feet above
sea level.

A zeppelin
had a maximum ceiling height of 650 feet. The Magdalena was not a zeppelin, and
Peter had specifically engineered her for travel through Europe which has a
number of high mountains. As the airship rises, the helium expands, and
contracts when it descends. In order to maintain a constant pressure within,
a ballonet is installed, which is simply a bag of air, which is inflated or
deflated in order to maintain a constant pressure inside the envelope despite
changing air pressures. This, in turn, allows the helium to expand and
contract. When the ballonet is completely empty, the airship is said to be at
its "pressure height."

The
initial design of the ballonet size determines an individual airship's maximum
change of altitude capability. The Magdalena had a maximum change in altitude
of 4000 feet, but it could, in theory, continue to rise indefinitely if the
expanding helium was constantly released. The problem was that by doing so, you
would waste a lot of helium.

Peter
set his course at a dead reckoning.

“Okay,
Franck. I’d better get back there and make sure our guests are all right. Keep
the nose between those two stars there,” he said, pointing in front of him.

“Copy
that.” Franck said, as he gripped the steering wheel and then added, “Don’t
take too long. I might need you up here.”

“You’ll
be fine.”

Peter
opened the door of the forward pilot gondola and stepped out onto the open air
gangway to the primary gondola. The cool air was refreshing. He looked at the
trees, which looked more like grass, scattered over the hills far below. There
were no lights on. Concerns over British air raids still prohibited the use of
lights during night time hours. Behind him, he could just make out the center
of Berlin.

He
loved it up there.

Many
of the people he studied with were interested in building faster and more
powerful planes. They said that after the Hindenburg disaster, airships would
become antiquated. It was a shame, he thought, since this was the way he wanted
to see the world.

He
wondered if he’d built the last airship.

Like
all engineers, Peter inspected the frame of his precious canopy first, before
checking on his human cargo. From the outside it appeared intact, although he
dared not shine a flashlight on any of it in case he exposed the Magdalena to
attack. He was certain that some of the bullets had placed little holes inside
her canopy, and the subsequent loss of helium would be insurmountable. He
opened the hatch above his head and climbed inside the canopy.

He
shined his flashlight through each helium bladder, one by one, listening for
the telltale hissing of a gas leak.

Peter
barely prevented himself from crying out when he first saw it.

If
there was a small hole in the helium bladder in compartment number fourteen, at
the bow of the Magdalena, he could fix it, but there was no way he could
possibly repair the three foot tear he saw before him.

Without
wasting more time, he climbed back down to the air gangway and then opened the
door to the primary gondola and his guests.

Everyone
inside the gondola was so quiet that, at first, he didn’t even realize what had
happened. Then he saw her. It was young Sarah. Her skin was so white, that he
wondered whether she might be dead. Then, he noticed that the professor had
torn part of his shirt and used it as a tourniquet to wrap around her arm.

She
was still breathing.

“Is
she going to be all right?”

“Yes.
She’s been shot in her arm, and has lost a lot of blood, but I believe she will
make it – so long as we get her to a doctor before morning.”

“Peter,
what happened?” Margaret, Sarah’s mother, asked as she accosted him.

“We
were fired upon.” To Peter, it seemed like such an obvious answer to a question
that barely required one.

“But
of course we all realize that. What I want to know is, are we okay? I mean,
will we make it?”

“One
of the bullets tore a hole in compartment number fourteen, and we’re venting
large amounts helium. Also, our magnetic gyroscope has been shot to pieces, so
we’re flying somewhat blind, but yes, I believe we will indeed make it.”

Peter
looked at Margaret.

The
edge of her lip curled as though she had just bitten something pungent, “This
is your fault for waiting so long before taking off!”

There
was nothing he could say in response. It was true, if he’d left earlier, Sarah
wouldn’t have been shot. “I’m very sorry. Now, I must continue making
inspections of my ship.”

He
then walked to the back of the gondola and stepped out of the door and into the
open air gangway to check on the motors in the rear gondola. Ordinarily, he
would have a team of at least five mechanics and an engineer on board, to
constantly assess the engines. Tonight, they would simply have to make it on
their own.

Before
Peter shut the door, Fritz followed him through it and said, “Thank you for
waiting for me. Let me assure you, it was important.”

Peter
imagined that every passenger aboard thought that their life was important. He
knew damn well that they would have made a clean getaway if he hadn’t waited
for Ribbentrop. “Let’s just hope we make it, Fritz. If we don’t, their deaths
will be on your head.”

“Of
course, they will,” Fritz replied with a shrug of his shoulders, seemingly
comfortable accepting such responsibility.

Again,
Peter wondered how it was possible that such a senior member of Hitler’s regime
to feel the need to escape tonight, and hoped that he hadn’t misjudged his old
friend. Peter didn’t consider it for long. He still had a job to do, if any of
them were going to make it out of Germany safely.

All
four engines in the rear gondola seemed to be in fine working order.

He
listened to the pitch of their hum. Like any good engineer, his ears told him
all that he needed to know.
They’re fine. At least that’s something.
He
then walked back, through the primary guest gondola. Everyone was quiet this
time, and he didn’t wait around to hear them voice their complaints again.

No
, he thought.
He’s not like any one of them
.

He
then opened the door to the pilot gondola, and asked, “How are we looking,
Franck?”

“Good.
Nothing’s changed. The slope is increasing, and I’ve raised the angle of our
nose by one degree to maintain our rate of ascent.”

“Really?
It seems a bit early to do that.” He checked his watch. They had been in the
air for just under an hour. “Are you certain?”

Peter
could already see the mountain up ahead.

They
had apparently made a mistake with their dead reckoning, but, like all fools,
Peter decided to continue, lost. He took hold of the large wooden steering
wheel again and said, “Okay, I have command. Let’s start our ascent.”

He
pulled the lever which changed the angle of the four rear propellers and then
tilted the elevators, built into the side of the canopy, so that the angle of the
ship increased to eight degrees. It was a little sharper than was normal, but
he didn’t want to waste any helium. It might be uncomfortable for some of the
passengers who would be unaccustomed to it.

They
started to climb.

He
watched as his altimeter increased.

Every
thousand feet they ascended took them closer to the Magdalena’s ceiling. Soon,
they were flying at 3500 feet.

In
the distance, the mountain continued to rise ahead of them.

“Where
are we, Franck?”

“Your
guess is as good as mine, sir. Could it be St Gallons?”

“No,
too high for St Gallons.”

Peter
calmly got out the book of maps, which contained aerial photographs of the
landscapes and mountains. None of them seemed to match the area over which they
flew. When he got to the last of the maps, frustrated, he handed the book
across to Franck, and said, “Here, see if you can find anything you recognize.”

They
were approaching the Magdalena’s maximum ceiling height of 4000 feet, and their
altimeter reading kept rising. The mountain ahead of them showed no signs of
leveling off.

There
was no point in trying to turn the airship around, they just had to keep on
going.

Then
they attained their final possible height, and the mountain looked as though it
was going to go on forever.

“Okay,
Franck. I need you to vent some of that helium. It’s the only way; we’ll just
have to refill the compartments once we start to descend again.”

“But
we’re almost out of helium already.”

“I
know that. God damn it, but we don’t have any other choice, do we?”

“No,
sir.”

Peter
listened as the distinct sound of gas being released by the blow off valves,
which were designed to avoid rupturing the hull, were each opened.

And
still they climbed.

At
10,000 feet, Peter noticed his dizziness.

It
was one of the first signs of hypoxia and he couldn’t ignore it. There simply
wasn’t enough oxygen up there to breathe, at that altitude.

He
looked at Franck, who was concentrating on taking slow, deep breaths, in order
to help his oxygen starved brain continue to function.

“How
are you doing there, Franck?”

“I’m
all right, but if this mountain is much taller, we’re all going to die of
hypoxia long before the Magdalena runs out of helium.” He didn’t sound
frightened, he was simply stating the facts.

“Well,
that’s one thing going for us, isn’t it?”

Neither
of them had the strength or breath to laugh.

“What’s
that, straight ahead?” Franck asked.

Peter
strained his older eyes to try to just see clearly.

“My
God, I think that’s the top of our mountain!”

“Thank
God!”

Far
up ahead he could see the lights of a town.

“Thank
goodness, we made it.” Peter pointed at the lights. “Look at that!”

The
lights confirmed that they were finally out of Germany.

“We’re
out of Germany, but where?”

“I
have no idea.”

Peter’s
dizziness subsided as they made their descent, but his headache seemed to hang
on.

The
slope was riddled with rocky ledges, snow, and enormous pine trees. Peter was worried
about where they might safely land the Magdalena when they ran out of helium,
and drew blank on a solution.

“We’re
out of helium,” Franck reminded him, as his worst fear was realized.

“Okay,
we can do this. We’ll have to adjust for it by increasing our angle of attack
and the RPMs of our fine Daimler-Benz.”

Peter
did just that, but the Magdalena seemed to keep falling.

He
watched, as the altimeter dropped at the rate of 200 feet per minute.

“Okay,
Franck, we’re going to need to lose some of our weight, or we’re going hit the
ground pretty hard.”

“Copy
that. I’ve already dumped our water ballast and our air. What else do we have?”

“Franck,
I want you to go back to the passenger’s gondola and see what else we can dump
from there. You’d better let them know we’re going down, too. Throw out their
precious cargo, if you have to.”

“Okay,
I’ll try.”

“And
Franck, don’t take too long. We’re going to need to find somewhere to put her
down soon, and I’m going to need your help.”

*

Professor
Fritz Ribbentrop watched as the engineer opened the door from the open air
gangway. There was nothing casual about his movements.

“Quick,
we’ve run out of helium and we’re losing altitude fast. I need everyone to help
me throw out anything that isn’t bolted down.”

He
noticed that the men seemed to comprehend what he was asking much faster than
did either of the women or young children, who simply stared blankly back at
him, as though he’d just issued a completely mad order for them to jump out of
the airship.

“Should
we dump the alcohol?” asked one of the older gentlemen, who was holding his
wife’s hand, and whose face seemed to maintain a perpetual scowl.

“Yes,
that would help very much.”

Himself,
the two other men who appeared to be in their fifties, and the engineer, all
quickly got to work throwing the expensive wines and other spirits off the
ship. It almost made him laugh to think that he was destroying more valuable
liquor than he would ever have had sufficient funds to consume under normal
circumstances.