Fogbound Encounter 4


By Katzmarek


It was the night of 12th July 1918 in the Irish Sea. About 50kms southwest of the Isle of Man, U151 ‘U-
Kreuzer Oldenburg’ rolled heavily in the rising swell. The waves were starting to break around the forward 
150mm-deck gun mount, swirling over the gratings before running off the deck or through the scuppers.


The submarine was the largest produced by Germany during the Great War, with the greatest endurance. It 
was designed first of all to be an undersea gunboat, to be fought principally with its powerful gun 
armament.


It was a miscalculation, however. It ignored the greatest asset of the submarine, its stealth. By surfacing to 
use it’s guns, it put itself on the same footing as any surface vessel, most of which had greater speed and 
firepower.


Ill-suited for its intended role, therefore, the U-Cruisers became first supply ships for other, smaller U-boats 
and as weather ships, U 151’s role.


Meteorologist Benny Sajer half climbed, half fell down the ladder to the control room below. Landing 
heavily in a shower of inky black water he told his Captain,
“Got it!”
“Good, give it to Radio and let’s get under,” replied the Captain.


‘WW…W50NW… S3… D,’ Radioman Schultz scribbled on the pad. 
“You’re going to tell me what that means?” said Unterleutnant Lander, looking over his shoulder.
“Yes sir. WW, means West Wetterschiffe (Western Weathership), W50NW, means Wind 50kms from the 
Northwest. D means Dunk (Dark) or low visibility.”
“Thank you,” grumbled the Officer.


Lander passed the weather information to L68’s Captain. Von Leichtenfels accepted the message with a 
nod.
“A storm is brewing. The Commander will no doubt seek shelter. We should run before it into the ‘Bight’,” 
he announced.


The raiding force of 11 airships was lingering off the East Anglian coast for nightfall, before proceeding on 
to London from the Northeast.


The timetable, however, was not their own but the Army’s. The Army’s air force, the Luftstreitkrafte, were 
having trouble with it’s own strategic bombing campaign. Using twin engine LVG and Gotha bombers 
their initial success was now being hampered by increased anti-aircraft and searchlight defenses forming a 
ring around London.

The LSK were now introducing the new R class 3 or 4 engine bombers being produced by Zeppelin-
Staaken. (R= Reisenflugzeug = Touring or cruising aeroplane). They hoped for immediate and spectacular 
success and pressured the Navy to assist the operation by a coordinated attack with its airships.


The airships would hopefully distract the defenses long enough to allow the bombers to slip in over their 
targets.


The operation depended on exact timing and communications between the forces using flares and radio. 
Base stations in France were suppose to communicate with the airships who were then to signal by flares to 
the aircraft that carried no radios. Naturally it had to be a clear weather operation.


Alarmed by the worsening weather forecasts the bomber ‘staffeln’ remained on their fields in France. The 
army communications centre was supposed to then call the navy communications centre and pass on the 
news. No one knows at what point the communications broke down. Suffice to say the ‘Luftschiffe 
Geschwader’ (airship flotilla) floating off East Anglia never received a recall message.


Captain von Dalwig zu Leichtenfels ordered the L68 to be brought into the wind. It had increased in 
strength the past ½ hour causing too much side drift.
“What is the old man waiting for?” he grumbled to none in particular. “Surely we will turn southeast.”
“Signal from flag,” announced Lander, squinting at the flashing light from the giant L70’s control car.
“That or they’re lighting their cigars,” someone grumbled.


“West by south 110’ speed 50,” Lander read, “there must be a mistake.”
“Signalman, send ‘repeat’,” ordered the Captain. The confirmation arrived back. They were heading for 
London.
“We’re fucked!” the captain responded quietly.


Eliza read the ‘London Illustrated News’ on the bus as she rode home from the hospital where she worked. 
Typically it was filled with war news. The Americans held at Belleau Wood, Germans expected to advance 
on the French in the Marne area. Russia was collapsing into chaos, the Austrians and Germans were 
nearing Venice in Italy and the Bulgarians had the Allies pinned down at Salonika. The war’s end seems as 
far away as ever.


“You come with us, Lizzie girl. You need a night out. We’re going down to the club. There’s lots of 
Yankee Doughboys there now. Well, we have to show them a good old London welcome now, don’t we,” 
Rosy, the girl in the room opposite suggested to Eliza as she arrived home.
“I don’t think so, “ she told the redhead, “I’m tired and I have letters to write to my family in Oslo.”
“Oslo?” Rosy said in surprise, “what are they doing in Oslo. That’s Norway isn’t it?”
“My father is junior Consul at the British embassy. I came back to England to do my nurses training.”
“Oh, I see! If it was me, love,” Rosy said conspirationally, “ I would have stayed put and found myself a 
tall blond Norwegian called Lars or Gunnar or something.” She chuckled to herself. “Always fancied them 
blondies,” she added.


Rosy and Eliza sat down together for their dinner. Eliza picked at her plate, seemingly disinterested. 
“Eat up girl,” Rosy told her, “don’t look so glum. The war can’t last forever, can it? Come with me to the 
club, grab yourself a handsome farmboy from Idaho or somewhere. Never know! He’ll take you back to 
America eh? Better weather, no rationing, streets paved with gold and all that,” she chuckled.


“I’m going to grab someone called Chuck,” Rosy added, “he’ll be from New York and we’ll live in a big 
house, with servants. Do you suppose they have servants over there?”
“I don’t know, Rosy,” Eliza replied.
“You got a bloke overseas I hear?” Rosy asked.
“Overseas? Yes.”
“Navy eh? Least that what I heard,”
“Yes, Navy,” Eliza answered.
“Jane’s Freddie is on Destroyers. Based in Harwich, but we’re not supposed to know that, of course. He’s a 
Lieutenant, you know. Trust her to bag an Officer, eh?”
“An Officer? Yes,” Eliza answered, distractedly.


Eliza felt her big secret suddenly weighing her down. She hadn’t been able to tell anyone the truth about 
her Kimi. She hadn’t been able to prattle on like the other girls about boyfriends. 
“Can I tell you a secret,” she suddenly blurted out to the other girl, “ a really big one!”
“Oo love! This sounds good! I won’t tell a soul, you can trust old Rosy,” the girl leaned closer.
“You won’t get angry with me?”
“What for, love? I’ve got no time for that!”
“Well, my boyfriends name is Kimi, for short,” she told her.
“Unusual name? Kimi, kind of nice though.”
“He’s in the Navy, but not ours.”
“Foreign eh? I thought so, with a name like Kimi. Who’s Navy is he in then, French? I do like the French, 
they’re more polite than English men. Know how to treat a lady.”
“No, he’s not French.”
“Kimi, hmm, C’mon don’t keep me guessing?”
“German,” Eliza told her in a small voice.
Rosy’s mouth remained open, soundless.


Kimi and the Chief listened to the superstructure above them creaking and groaning. 
“That frame will start to buckle if we’re not careful,” the Chief warned Kimi. “Hear that! The wind is 
picking up.”
Kimi listened for a moment to the whistling around them. A piece of loose canvass began flapping 
somewhere over head.
“The gunners came down from the top of the hull a few moments ago,” Kimi told him, “couldn’t remain up 
there. They were soaked to the skin.”
“Feel that!” the Chief warned, “ she starting to rock with the wind. You’d better be careful on the ladder to 
the car. You’ll get blown away.”
It was becoming hard to talk against the noise of the storm.


“We should turn back,” complained Lander to the Captain, “this weather is impossible.”
“Our orders are to carry on,” the Captain replied.
“But there’ll be no aeroplanes up in this. Surely the operation’s cancelled.”
“Radio, anything?” 
“L43, sir. Losing altitude… broached to the wind… out of control… Flag replies… save yourselves… good 
luck. One of the Kiel ships in trouble… L50… shit… broken her back, sir… going down,” Schultz called 
out.
“There’s something down there…” Lander warned. “Below us… an airship broaching… there!”
The Control car crew followed Lander’s finger. A flash of lightning revealed the grey hull of an airship, 
slowly spinning in the wind.
“Who the fuck is it?” someone asked.
“Full ahead port,” ordered the Captain urgently, “ we’re falling off course.”


Hearing the orders, Kimi braced himself for the short journey down the ladder to the motor car ‘Emil.’
“Here, put a rope around you, tie it to your belt,” said the Chief, “if you slip, I’ll pull you back, ok?”
“Ok Chief,” Kimi replied, doing as he was told.
“Don’t fuck about, get down there and get back, ok?”
“Ok Chief.”
Bracing himself against the frame, the Chief opened the hatchway and made to play out the rope as Kimi 
descended the ladder.


In the control car, a pair of legs appeared through the top hatch.
“Stresemann,” Lander said, “What’s the matter?”
“Fabric’s come loose between frames 3 and 4. There’s a hole the size of a Berlin bus opening up.”
The Captain let out a big sigh.
“Take her down, Lander, let’s find some shelter.”
Cranking the telephone, Lander yelled,
“Alarm, alarm. Open the vents… 10 degrees down plane… we are going down to the deck… that’s right… 
all engines ahead full.”
On the other telephone, Leutnant Schneemann, second watch officer gave the general order,
“All hands… we are venting gas… observe fire precautions… gunners off the top… quickly.”


Above the airship Hydrogen gas, so painstakingly pumped into the gas cells the week before, began to 
stream out of the top of the hull to be instantly carried away by the storm.


Far below them, near the village of Sudbury, in the county of Suffolk, unobserved by L68 a large flare, 
growing in intensity was lighting up the stormy night sky.


“A German!” Rosy said to Eliza in astonishment, “are you joking with me. Y’know, it ain’t funny Eliza.”
“No,” replied Eliza, “I’m not joking. He’s in the German Navy. He’s… he’s in Zeppelins.”
“No! Eliza… is this for real? Have you seen what they did to the West End? With them bombs… and 
Fenchurch Street… have you seen what they did, Rosy? How could you? I mean… how did you meet? Is 
he a prisoner? I don’t know what to think, Lizzie,”


“He’s not a prisoner, Rosy,” Eliza said dejectedly, “he’s on a Zeppelin called the L68, at least that’s his old 
ship. You won’t say anything?”
“I said I wouldn’t didn’t I? I… just didn’t expect… I’ mean it’s a shock, Y’know? A German, well I 
never!”


As Rosy was leaving she tried once again to persuade Eliza to come down to the club with her.
“C’mon, love. Find yourself a nice American,” she said, “a lot less trouble than… Y’know.”
“I’d rather not, Rosy, thanks.”
“Suit yourself, bye.”


Eliza woke in the middle of the night to the sound of voices. Rosy was giggling and another voice, male 
and American.
“Get off, cheeky,” she heard Rosy say.
“Now Honey… just a little…” came the male voice followed by more giggling.


Eliza could hear footsteps on the stairs and Rosy’s voice coming nearer,
“Through the kitchen, to your right love,” Rosy said. There came a tapping on Eliza’s door,
“Are you awake, love?” Rosy asked.
“Yes, come in,” Eliza said.


Rosy stood in the doorway, swaying slightly, her face flushed.
“Y’know what they are saying… a bunch of them Zeppelins tried to reach London… They got the 
bastards… they reckon one when up in flames… a couple crashed in the storm… good job, I say.”
Eliza gasped.
“I’m not sorry, Lizzie… not sorry… Y’know, what your trouble is? You have been dancing with them 
Swedes… while we get bombs dropped on us… Friends and family getting killed in France… coming 
home blinded and all shot up… There’s not a family in Camden who ain’t lost someone… and you trip out 
with a Hun, Lizzie… they’re murdering bastards… all of them…You’re a good kid Lizzie, wouldn’t wish 
ill of you… but I’ll be honest and say, I won’t shed a tear over any Hun, honest I won’t.”
“Norway, Rosy,” Eliza said miserably.
“What?”
“I was in Norway.”
“Whatever.”


Heavier footsteps sounded behind her,
“Oops, here he comes, goodnight!”


Eliza couldn’t get back to sleep. She couldn’t get out of her head the German Zeppelin crewmember lying 
in the burns ward at the hospital. When she shut here eyes, Kimi’s face transposed itself onto him. ‘Her’ 
Kimi, with the penetrating blue eyes and that swagger.


The noises now coming through the paper-thin walls did not help either. The giggling of Rosy and the 
answering murmur from her American ‘friend’.
“Do you like them?” she heard Rosy say.
“Mmm,” came the answer.
“Ooh, so I see!” she said followed by more giggles.


Eliza heard the bedsprings next door creaking for a while accompanied by heavy breathing.
“That’s right, love, suck them… harder… ooh,” Rosy murmured. Eliza could even hear the smacking of 
lips.
“Oh… rub it harder… ooh… C’mon love… now… Go easy love… Don’t get me preggie now… oh 
Frankie…”
Eliza mused that Rosy didn’t find a ‘Chuck’ after all, as she had to endure the rhythmic groaning of the 
bedsprings. 


At last, Eliza heard the shrill cries of Rosy as the springs squeaked faster and faster. Finally the ‘oh gods’ 
and the squeals ceased and the house became quiet. At some point Eliza fell back to sleep.


“Ach, I can’t see a thing!” Lander said peering through the window of L68’s Control Car. “Is that a river… 
maybe a bay… I think I see a gleam of water.”
“Which, Lander?” demanded the Captain.
“A river, I think… we’re over land.”
“Altitude?”
“1000 metres,” answered Schneemann.


Kimi remained in the motor car ‘Emil’. The Maybach behind him was roaring at full throttle. Kimi kept 
watch on the oil pressure gauge and the Tachometer, watching for any drop in the oil feed or cavitations 
from the notoriously cranky airship engine.


“There’s a town! Look see those lights,” announced Lander in the Control Car.
“Colchester!” announced Schneemann, “we’re drifting southeast. That must be Colchester.”
The L68 blundered over the town at what seemed like dizzying speed.
“There’s water ahead! A river estuary perhaps,” cried Lander.
“Yes, yes,” answered Schneemann, “Colne estuary. See I’m right! We’ll be out to sea soon.”
“Captain! We’re swinging around!” yelled the Steersman.
“Broaching!” cried Lander.


Suddenly the stern began to fall as the airship bobbed in the wind currents. Everywhere on the ship 
crewmen were grabbing hold of whatever they could as the airship swung crazily. In the Control Car, the 
Officers were holding on to the handrail that ran around the inside of the car.
“Trees! I see trees!” someone yelled.
“Let go ballast!” the Captain ordered.


In ‘Emil,’ Kimi was holding-on to stop being thrown onto the whirling machinery. Suddenly there was a 
loud bang from the engine and it began to vibrate badly. Kimi immediately cut the ignition and put his head 
out the hatchway. He saw that half the propeller had gone.


Something passed his head and hit the hull of the airship with a crash. He made to climb the ladder back 
into the ship but saw the Chief’s face in the hull door. He was shouting and waving his arms. By the 
flickering light of the lightning flashes he saw the desperate look on his face.
“Go… Jump!” he thought he heard the Chief yell over the wind.


Kimi climbed towards the Chief. The Chief was still shouting when he grabbed him. He brought his face up 
to Kimi’s and yelled.
“Jump… this is your chance… go.” A shower of water deluged them. “The ballast,” the Chief yelled and 
suddenly threw Kimi off the ladder into space.


L68 was never heard of again.


The cold rain stung his face. Kimi couldn’t remember how long he’d been lying there. He just knew he was 
soaked to the skin and very cold. Something was watching him, something big. Turning his shivering face 
to the side he found himself staring at the large head of an Aberdeen Angus. Casually it moved away 
leaving Kimi to the mercy of the wind and the rain.





 




















