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Subject: {ASSM} Fogbound Encounter (Part 3) By Katzmarek (Solo, Hist)
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<1st attachment, "Fogbound Encounter 3.doc" begin>

Fogbound Encounter 3


By Katzmarek.


Historical Note


The last great airship raid on the British Isles took place on
19th October 1917, so a little bit before the story. 11 airships
took part, led by the giant, new L70 and all were destroyed by
wind, weather and anti-aircraft fire. Thus this story is
fanciful.


Part 3

 
Eliza Simpson carried the letter carefully to her room at the top
of the stairs. She re-read the postmark, 'Maidstone, Kent,' and
knew who it must be from.


'Miss Eliza Simpson,' it read. ' I have been asked to pass on to
you a letter from a mutual acquaintance. I only do this in memory
of my dear sister.  Katherine Wilkinson.'


In the envelope was a folded piece of brown paper. Evidently
shortages had hit Holland as well, Eliza thought.
'Dearest E.... I promised to write and here it is. I hope to be
re-joining my ship soon. I miss you and hope to see you soon.
Love K...'


'Love K...' she re-read it several times. Of course he couldn't
say much because it might pass through the censor's office. She
didn't know whether to be happy or sad. If he'd been taken
prisoner at least she'd know he was safe. 'Rejoining his ship,'
means he'll be going back up to fight.


On the train, coming into London she'd seen the blackened
skeleton of a crashed airship in a field. She'd heard the excited
talk in the carriage and someone clapped. She'd held back her
tears then but now she couldn't.


About 60km northwest of Bremen in Lower Saxony is the town of
Nordenham. Just outside of which lay a complex of four giant
hangars. Inside shed 'Dora' were two airships, L68 and the brand
new L70. Huge as the L68 was, the L70 was bigger still.


L70 was the first of the 'X' class. Over 250 metres in length she
was bigger than the Titanic. It's envelope contained 20 gas cells
that took a week to fill with hydrogen gas, 720,000 cubic metres
of it.


Slipping out of England had been surprisingly easy for Motorman
Joachim 'Kimi Kasemann. His Aunt had given him 100 pounds, 'in
her sister's memory' but had not encouraged him to stay. He
understood. At Dover he'd found a Dutch trawler that had put in
for repairs and had negotiated passage to Vlissingen.  A short
train ride brought him to Rotterdam where he turned himself in to
the German Consulate.


So it was that he found himself at the personnel section of the
Navy's Airship service at Nordenham.
"We are crewing L70 at the moment," the rotund 'Unteroffizier' in
charge of enlisted men's allocations, told him.
"It still needs motormen, elevatormen, riggers and gunners, the
more experienced the better. Will fly up to 12,000 metres, you
know, very safe ship."
"With respect, Unteroffizier, can I have my old ship back?" Kimi
asked him, "I would like to be with my friends."
"No chance," the NCO replied, " it is fully crewed. You will have
to go with the L70."


On his way to report to L70 a familiar face intercepted him.
"Chief!" cried Kimi, "good to see you sir."
"Kasemann! I thought we'd lost you, wanting your old berth
back?"
"They've sent me to L70," Kimi said sadly.
"That asshole Boeme? He's been poaching our crew for the last
week. The L70's the flagship at the moment. Boeme's been crawling
up the Komandant's ass by poaching men from all over to crew it.
Everyone's been bitching about it. L46 has no motormen at all;
we've lost three. Come with me, you toss your kit in L68, are
those your orders?"


Kimi handed him the slip of paper he was carrying.
"Look," the Chief said, "that looks like L68 written there to me.
The bastard should brush up on his handwriting."


Because L68 was being charged with gas, non-essential personnel
were forbidden to enter the shed. Thus Kimi and the Chief
Motorman headed into town to the local 'brew house'.
"We have six new motors," the Chief told him over their ales, "
fresh from Maybachs. 400hp high altitude, automatic de-icing, of
the latest type. Should push her along at 120kmh. Faster than
that bag of wind luxury liner parked next to us. Do you know it
has a smoking compartment for the Officers? I ask you." Kimi
caught up with the gossip.


"Do you know that some young Austrian Engineer called Ferdinand
Porsche is developing a Diesel for airships," the Chief
continued.
 "He works for Daimler-Benz, did you hear such a thing? Just like
a submarine, they run backwards as well as forwards, so you can
maneuver, see?"
"It makes sense," Kimi told the Chief, " no electrical system to
spark all over the place. Diesel fuel is less volatile than
Petrol, won't catch fire so easily."
"Fantasy!" the Chief, said, "Diesels are way too heavy for
airships. Porsche will want to put them in trucks next. Imagine
the size and weight of them. Try pulling one of those monsters
out of the mud!"


"I have a girl, " Kimi told the Chief after his third or fourth
ale, "English."
"Really?" answered the Chief, "I see you have not been wasting
your time over there." The Chief dropped his voice, " I tell you
should have stayed there. Germany is fucked."
"How so?" asked Kimi.
"Americans! We should have sued for peace after they joined with
the French and English against us. I was on the Liner Kaiser
Wilhelm der Grosse before the war and we went to New York, many
times. Millions of them, millions and millions and such money!
You need to see it! We're fucked I tell you. Ludendorf and
Hindenburg, they know! They need to have the balls to tell the
Kaiser and Chancellor Bulow, or whoever's in charge now."


After the fifth or sixth ale Kimi was feeling decidedly drowsy.
The Chief however was becoming louder and more incautious in what
he was saying.
"We need a new world order," he said, "this is fucked, it really
is, all of it. The politicians and the Kings and Queens sit up
there all safe and it is the ordinary working men who are dying.
Our women and children haven't enough to eat and what for? So
they can plant their flags a little further east or west, it's
all fucked!"
The Chief bought another round of drinks.


"I heard that man, Karl Liebkniecht at Wilhelmshaven. Brilliant
man! Solidarity of the international working class. The real
enemy are the moneybags, that's who we are really dying for, the
capitalists."
"Chief, quieten down, you'll have us arrested," Kimi warned.
"Spartakist League, I've become a member," The Chief raved on.
"Long live the working class!"
"Chief!"


By now there were howls of protest from the other patrons, things
were getting out of hand. Kimi grabbed the old man and steered
him towards the door.
"Get out of here you old fool," someone yelled.
"You won't call me a fool when the red flag is flying over the
fleet," was the Chief's parting shot, to gales of laughter.


As they staggered through the town on the way back to base, the
Chief was still raving.
"After the Paris Commune in '48," he said, "there was this
anthem, 'la Internationale'."
"No Chief!" Kimi pleaded as the Chief began to sing.


Eliza started work almost immediately at the Royal Bromley
Invalids Hospital, just southeast of London. The Hospital was in
the forefront of techniques later known as 'reconstructive
surgery'. It therefore had a considerable number of people
horribly disfigured from burns. Additionally, men were recovering
from the loss of limbs, shrapnel wounds and the effects of
Phosgene, Chlorine and Mustard gas.


Nurse training was done 'on the job' with formal classes fitted
in when possible. No sooner had she started than she was posted
to a ward.


The ward dealt principally with burn victims. It looked a little
like a mummy exhibition, with all those poor people swathed head
to foot with bandages.
"Just see to their comfort," were all the instructions she
received.


Eliza approached the first bed. Not knowing what to say she
tried,
"How are you feeling today?"
The occupant was bandaged from his waist down. He replied,
"Can't complain Miss. It's only my legs see? Not like some of
those other poor blighters."
"What happened to you?" she asked.
"Ship caught fire Miss. Couldn't get out of the hatch before the
flames got me. Still, I survived, didn't I? Not like some of me
mates. Hun destroyer got us see. Didn't see the blighter till it
was too late."


"I'm out of it now, Miss," the sailor went on, "can't send me
back, can they? Plenty in here's worse off than me. Like old
Fritzie down there, jumped out of a burning Zeppelin, broke his
legs didn't he? They say they couldn't tell him from a piece of
toast when they brought him in, more dead then alive, he was.
Poor bugger! Not his fault though was it? He gets told what to do
like us. He ain't the Kaiser is he? 'Go over London and drop
those bombs,' he's told. Well, he's not going to say no, is he?
What's the matter Miss? You've gone as white as a sheet. Is
something the matter?"


Eliza started to feel light-headed. She felt her legs buckle. A
staff nurse caught her just in time.
"Bit of a shock first time isn't it? You'll get used to it, give
it time."
"I'm sorry," Eliza replied, haltingly, " my boyfriend..."
"Overseas is he love? Still won't be long now eh? With the
Americans and all," said the Staff Nurse, reassuringly.
"Have a seat, cup of tea will set you right," the Staff Nurse
continued, "What branch of the service is he in?" she asked.
"Um... Navy," Eliza told her.
"Better off there than in the trenches eh? He'll be home before
you know it, come on drink up."


The sun broke bright and clear in Nordenham. Kimi crawled out of
his billet, his head pounded painfully, his eyes were burning.
"Good night yes?" one of L68's crewman asked him.
"No! Have you seen the Chief?" Kimi asked him.
"Out cold, in the cookhouse. They tripped over him when they went
to prepare breakfast."
"I need coffee."
"Just brewed. Fresh from the Netherlands." Kimi staggered off in
the indicated direction.


"What kicked me?" moaned the Chief.
"Abbey ale," Kimi answered.
"Bloody priests!" he grumbled.


"Chief, what was all that stuff last night? About the Spartakists
and all," Kimi asked.
The Chief groaned and put his head in his hands.
"Listen, you're a young man, what, 25?"
"21."
"A baby!" the Chief said. "I'll tell you how it is, Kasemann. You
should have stayed in England... with your English girl... things
are going to blow here... soon. I went to Kiel, last leave...
everyone's fed up... really fed up... The fleet's on the point of
mutiny... Everyone's sick of the killing... losing friends. Half
the crews are in U-boats now. 1 in 2, Kasemann, are not making it
home...1 in 2!" the Chief emphasised.


"Look at me!" the Chief continued. "I am 45, look, 45!  30 years
I've been in the Navy. I've seen it grow from nothing. 30 fucking
years, Kasemann, and it's being pissed away. A bunch of stupid
politicians and a dimwit of a Kaiser are fucking it. I'm 45 and I
look 60, no?"
Kimi didn't know what to say.


"Duty, honour and discipline, Kasemann, remember that?" the Chief
continued, " used to mean something. Y'know I saw the boss the
other day... von Dalwig zu Leichtenfels... from a big Prussian
Junker family... owns half of Silesia... I saw him the other day
down by the river... all alone... drunk as a Duchess... raving...
 swearing like a preacher... threw his best Zeiss binoculars into
the water... what do you think of that? We're all in the shit,
Kasemann. Right up to our ears."


Alone in her room at the top of the stairs, Eliza was trying to
imagine what Kimi was doing. She pictured him as she last saw
him, standing on the little pier on the Dee River, his swagger
when he was pretending to be brave. Above all she remembered his
penetrating blue eyes that made her tingle all over.


Tingle as she was tingling now. She recalled his embrace and the
closeness, the warmth of his body and the passion of his kissing.
Her whole body yearned for the feeling of that embrace once
more.


Eliza turned over on her tummy.  The tingling feeling grew with
the contact of the sheet. She started to squirm, the sheet
brushing against her, sending little sparks that zinged from the
nipples on her little breasts to the moist oasis between her
legs.


Eliza recalled lying next to Kimi in the Stavanger, cuddling his
slowly warming body, his smooth chest and his hard sinewy
muscles. She imagined being possessed by him, having his hands
touch her in her intimate places. His mouth suckling her breasts,
his tongue on her nipples.


She was breathing harder now in her desire. Instinctively she
touched herself between her legs and felt the flashes of
indescribable feelings that produced. She squeezed her hand with
her thighs, groped her hot pussy, pushed herself on and on. She
felt the urge to push down with her crotch into the mattress.


Eliza expelled her breath as the jolts from her pussy hit her. 
She moaned into the pillow as it went on and on. She shook with
the power of it.
"Kimi," she cried plaintively.


Some two months later, Kimi watched the L68 emerging from the
shed 'Dora'. 6 airships were already slowly circulating around
the field. They had arrived from Kiel that morning.


5 airships from Nordenham were being prepared for launch, L70,
L68, L64, L43 and L45. Soon they would be joining the Kiel ships
for a great raid on London.


Kimi took a hand with the guy ropes, along with the rest of the
crew. L68 was at nil gravity and floated just a few metres above
the ground, just enough for the Control Car to clear the grass.


Idleness is the soldier's greatest enemy and the crews, to a man,
were anxious to get going with the mission. Even the Chief seemed
to have taken on a new lease of life and was urging his men to
the engine cars.
"Quickly you lot! Start them all up. The boss wants to be in the
air in 15 minutes flat."


Kimi was posted to 'Emil,' still a stern engine. He liked it back
there, 'well away from the officers,' he decided. He climbed into
the engine car and set the ignition at 'retard'. The fuel pump
handle he wound up to full pressure then inserted the crank in
its recess in preparation for turning over the propeller.


He shouted,
"Ready," to the ground crew then moved the valve lifter up a
notch. 
"Rotate," he yelled against the gathering noise. He turned the
crank handle until he could feel resistance.
"Contact," he yelled.


The ground crew then moved the prop back from the compression
stroke then, as Kimi wound on the crank handle they hauled the
12ft two blader through the compression cycle. The Maybach fired
almost immediately, in an immense cloud of smoke, and the
propeller began to spin unassisted. At the right moment Kimi
lowered the valve lifter and the staccato rattling of the engine
began to settle down into a more rhythmic beat.


Kimi adjusted the mixture control until it ran evenly. As the
temperature began to rise he slowly brought the ignition forward
to the neutral position, keeping an ear the motor and an eye to
the Tachometer.


The telegraph rang above his head, 'ahead slow.' Kimi set the
throttle for 600rpm and listened to the beat slowly rise to the
required speed. He felt the car begin to tilt as the airship used
it's dynamic lift to attain the correct altitude. He knew it was
to preserve the tons of water ballast the L68 carried. Dynamic
lift was obtained through the 'planing' effect of the hull
through the air while in a 'nose up' attitude.  Static lift
through the discharge of water ballast.


Through the little window, Kimi could see the L43, not far off.
It was dropping little spouts of water as it trimmed itself for
level flight. No doubt the L68 was doing the same.


After about 20 minutes the airships arrayed themselves in a rough
formation and began to head west. Below the Control car of the
L70, a pole was extended with white and black cloth wrapped
around. It unrolled in the wind to reveal a giant Naval Ensign,
the signal for the start of the mission.




















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