A flight in a tethered balloon
Event ID: 578
17 February 1918
Source ID: 55
“On a beautiful February day, I finally realised my long-held plan to ascend in a tethered balloon. A young gentleman from my squadron who shared the same desire joined me. We drove to the Cambrai area to visit an aeronaut we didn’t know and presented him with our request. After all, there is no such thing as absolute life insurance in war, not even a tethered balloon, because the pilot is also after your life. Gas balloons generally don’t rise very high. They don’t do this out of fear of the evil enemy, but because they can’t do otherwise. One thousand five hundred to one thousand six hundred metres is about the norm. In calm weather, such an ascent is fairly easy; I wouldn’t say uninteresting, but there is little thrill involved.
The day I flew was absolutely calm. In strong winds, it is said to be very easy to get seasick. On command, the gas bubble was released by a large number of people and rose into the air at a fairly rapid pace. You stand in a small basket inside and look out over the area. I always believed that you could see much more in the ‘eye of the army’, as airships are often called. I saw very little. It’s similar to flying in an aeroplane at an altitude of a thousand metres. I can’t see anything clearly either. I could see the front English lines, the enemy’s artillery positions and far beyond. But the whole picture is distorted. As a pilot and former observer, I am used to better visibility. However, the airship pilots were completely reassured by what they saw and said that it was not possible to see any more. The photographs they took, however, offered a truly wonderful view. The most interesting thing about the tethered balloon is, of course, when it is attacked and the occupant has to jump out: the famous leap into the unknown. The decision is made relatively easy for him, as the gas above him slowly begins to burn off, and if he does not decide to jump, he is a sure candidate for death. Then better the ‘unknown’ than certain death. Incidentally, the matter is not so uncertain, because accidents hardly ever happen. The young man I was with couldn’t resist and had to jump out. He did this not out of recklessness, but simply out of passion. He thought it would be too beautiful and romantic a moment to miss, and that a young man should not pass up such an opportunity. He climbed up alone for this purpose, looked around the area for a while, then I saw him vault over the edge of the basket through my binoculars, and, to make the most of the romantic moment, he dangled his legs outside the basket for a while; then he made a quick decision and jumped. The fall did not last long, however, because after a few metres the parachute had already unfolded. He described it to me as only a very short free fall, which of course had not been very pleasant. Suddenly there had been a colossal jolt, and he was hanging, strapped under his arms, from the parachute cord, feeling completely safe. And now, as he said, it would have been too romantic as he slowly approached the ground. Since there was no wind at all, he came back to earth very close to where I was standing. When I could already compare the descending figure to the horizon, I noticed that the parachute was coming down very quickly. I thought I was mistaken, but my feeling was correct. He hit the ground quite hard and sprained his left leg, as expected, but he was still happy. I actually found it quite unnecessary. If the parachute hadn’t opened, he would have broken his neck for nothing. But deeply satisfied, we said goodbye to our ridiculous competitors, boarded our plane and flew home.”
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