A Nation of Fliers: German Aviation and the Popular Imagination

A

NATION OF FLIERS

Harvard University Press

Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England

1992

A NATION OF FLIERS GERMAN AVIATION AND THE POPULAR IMAGINATION

PETER FRITZSCHE

Copyright © 1992 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 This book is printed on acid-free paper, and its binding materials have been chosen for strength and durability. Library of Congress cataloging information is on last page of book.

For my parents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It is impossible for me to look at this book without thinking of the collective efforts, private silences, and unexpected encouragements that shaped its completion. Karen Hewitt and Andy Markovits prompted me to turn funny ideas into grant proposals, and the generous support of the Wiener Library in Tel Aviv allowed me the time to read books and the intellectual companionship to sort out ideas. Saul Friedlander, Shulamit Volkov, George Mosse, Gordon Horowitz, Mario Sznajder, and Elisabeth took my ideas seriously and returned them much improved, I think. Support from the American Council of Learned Societies and the Research Board and the Program for Arms Control, Disarmament and International Security at the University of Illinois enabled me to travel to Germany and conduct archival research in 1989 and 1990. Librarians and archivists helped me in all sorts of ways; my thanks to Herr Werner Bittner of Lufthansa's Firmenarchiv, Herr Buschmann of the Duisburger Stadtarchiv, Dr. Flamme of the Staatsarchiv in Hamburg, Manfred Sauter of Metallbau Zeppelin, Dr. Schneider of the Stadtarchiv in Frankfurt, Dr. Wustrack and John Provan of the Luftfahrthistorische Sammlung at Frankfurt airport, and the staff of the Staatsarchiv in Bremen. Great efforts were also made by the genial staff of the interlibrary loan office at Illinois. It would have been much more difficult to write this book had it not been for a fellowship at the Center for Advanced Studies at the University of Illinois in 1990. I am also very grateful to Chip Burkhardt, Tom Childers, Gerald Feldman, Jonathan Huener, Rolf Italiaander, Mark Leff, John Lynn, Walter McDougall, Maria Makela, Henry Cord Meyer, Wolfgang Natter, John Provan, Werner Strumann, Frank Trommler, Bill Widenor, and Robert Wohl for all their help. Additional thanks to Victor Libet, Harry Liebersohn, and David Prochaska for early readings. Victor Libet, in particular, enhanced the book in all sorts of important ways, and I am very much in vii

his debt. Aida Donald and Camille Smith of Harvard University Press were extremely helpful and encouraging; authors and books need editors and publishers who care. Around Monticello, at the Embassy, and elsewhere, Karen discussed this project with me, put me in a glider, showed me things that I did not see, and recalled to me one reason for creating things, which is love. That history cannot be written without judgment and partisanship I know from my father and mother, Hellmut and Sybille Fritzsche, to whom this book is dedicated.

CONTENTS INTRODUCTION 1

GIANT AIRSHIPS AND WORLD POLITICS

9

The Miracle at Echterdingen I I The Meaning of the Zeppelin Craze 22 Popular Nationalism and the Zeppelin 30 To a Place in the Sun 35 The Zeppelin in Combat 43 2

THE IMAGE OF THE WAR ACE Building the Ace 64 The Folklore of the Ace Chevalier of the Skies?

3

74 82

GLIDING AND THE REVIVAL OF NATIONALISM Origins 103 The Discovery of Thermals Small Nationalist Republics

4

59

103

113 119

MODERNIST VISIONS, NATIONAL DREAMS

133

The Spectacle 135 The Century's New Person 153 Germany Reenvisioned 162 A Nature Subordinate? 170 The Geopolitical Eye 173 5

THE NAZI DISCIPLINE OF AIRMINDEDNESS Airmindedness and Community 190 Educating an Airminded Generation 200 Civilian Mobilization and Civil Defense 203 ABBREVIATIONS NOTES 223

222

BIBLIOGRAPHY INDEX 279

263

185

ILLUSTRATIONS page 10

The zeppelin over Lake Constance. From a book entitled Das Zeppelin 1ferk (1913).

19

Crowds around the zeppelin. From Das Zeppelin 1ferk.

21

Berliners greet the LZ 6 in 1909. Ullstein photograph.

26

The zeppelin races a train. From Das Zeppelin 1ferk.

28

Photograph emphasizing the length of the zeppelin. From Das Zeppe-

lin 1ferk. 39

The zeppelin's shadow over England. Simplicissimus, 16 November 1908 .

42

The kaiser inspects his zeppelins. From Ulk, 18 June 19°9. Staatsund Universitatsbibliothek Hamburg.

45

"Barbarian girls." Simplicissimus, 1June 1915.

47

The zeppelin hovers over wartime London. Staats- und Universitatsbibliothek Hamburg.

52

Zenith advertisement: air raids sell carburetors. Deutsche Luftfahrer Zeitschrift, 15 March 1917.

54

The Deutschland wrecked near Dusseldorf in 191 I. Suddeutscher Verlag.

68 Fokker advertisement: the ace as killing machine. Deutsche Luftfahrer Zeitschrift, 22 October 1917. 77

Boelcke. Die Gartenlaube, no. 45 (19 16).

81

Boelcke's death. Simplicissimus,

83

Richthofen. Die Gartenlaube, no. 16 (19 17).

84

An evening with Richthofen. Bundes-Militararchiv.

95

"Burned!"

99

Richthofen's death. Simplicissimus, 14 May 1918.

II

July 1916.

105

"Versailles

19 1 9."

106

War planes being dismantled. Staatsarchiv Hamburg.

110

Consecration of the Ring of German Fliers memorial.

I 12

The glider as guardian of German national dreams.

xii

Illustrations

116 Thermals over the Wasserkuppe. I

17

Thermals at the edge of a forest.

119

Glider flights across Germany. Flugsport, 1938.

121

Gliding at its height.

128

The group pulls a glider into the air.

129

The communal spirit of gliding.

140

The ZR III. Photograph by Lazlo Moholy-Nagy. Luftfahrt, October 1924.

20

148 A warning against transocean flights. Simplicissimus, 16 April 1928. 159

Marga von Etzdorf. Miinchner Illustrierte Presse, 13 September 193 I. Photo Deutsches Museum Munich.

160

The new air person depicted in a 1932 advertisement for the flying club Fliegerhorst Nordmark in Hamburg. Staatsarchiv Hamburg, 37 1- 1 I, A49/6.

167

The zeppelin over the city. Die Woche, 13 October 1928.

168 The airplane symbolizes modernity. Reclams Universum, 20 June 1935· 180 Luft Hansa's 1937 route map. Die Luftreise, October 1937. 182

The zeppelin over the South Atlantic.

188 The Hindenburg under construction in the Third Reich. 192

The Nazi sun over the Wasserkuppe. Flugsport, 10 January 1934.

194

The militarization of gliding.

201

Maps show Germany's supposed vulnerability to air attacks. Lufifahrt und Schule, no. I (1935). Photo Deutsches Museum Munich.

209

Schoolchildren during an air-raid drill. Die Gasmaske, May-June 1937. Staatsbibliothek Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin.

210

An incendiary bomb on public display.

216

Airminded vigilance. Die Gasmaske, February 1931.

A

NATION OF FLIERS

INTRODUCTION Of the newfangled machines that heaved and whirled across the long and prosperous industrial century after Waterloo, the airplane enjoyed special favor. Its qualities were deeply spiritual, as well as obviously practical, because it seemed to make possible a previously unknown freedom from earthly limits. Aviators took giant leaps that cleared physical confines, social labyrinths, and emotional prisons, motions of transcendence that myth-makers had imagined in the flight of birds since antiquity. Modern flying machines realized age-old dreams about power and freedom in the unbounded airspace. In Greek legend, Icarus desired to fly unhindered among the gods but was cast down for his hubris; he flew too close to the sun, his wax and feather wings melted, and he tumbled into the sea. In the newspaper copy and sentimental poetry of a more contemporary generation, however, Wilbur and Orville Wright, Louis Bleriot, and Charles Lindbergh all accomplished what had eluded Icarus. Motoring in the air, twentieth-century aviators avenged the legendary aeronaut and thereby redeemed what had been the sin of human pride in the spectacular triumph of Western technology. Machine flight restored a Promethean dimension to the individual. Lifting off from the face of the earth, flying over mountain ranges, traversing vast oceans, and thereby upending conventional notions of distance and time, airplanes expressed the very consequence of the modern age. This technological capacity reaffirmed what so many turn-of-thecentury Europeans cherished: confidence in their singular ability to remake the world. That aviation's red-letter dates clustered around the century's turn (the first glider flight by Otto Lilienthal took place in 1891, Graf Zeppelin's motorized lighter-than-air tours began in 1900, the Wright brothers' heavier-than-air takeoff at Kitty Hawk occurred in 1903, and Louis Bleriot crossed the English Channel in 1909) seemed to underscore the future promise of technology. Airplanes announced that the new century would be a century of plenty and its mechanical sons

2

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

and daughters the most capable masters of the natural world. Beginning in 1908, airshows broadcast this gospel across Europe, from the Irish Sea to the Sea of Marmara, featuring a colorful international fraternity of aviators, including the American Orville Wright, the Peruvian Geo Chavez, and the Frenchmen Louis Bleriot and Adolphe pegoud. But the banners and parades of the aeronautical millennium were diverted into nationalism. Competition and contest quickly came to regulate the advance of aviation. Against the background of European disputes in the Balkans and growing tensions between France and Germany after the 191 1 Moroccan crisis, airshows became increasingly patriotic affairs. Performances by foreign stunt fliers such as Pegoud, perhaps prewar Europe's most able pilot, were harshly criticized in Germany, for example. More ominous were the first steps European powers took toward arming their air forces. In the name of national defense, Germany, France, and Russia launched public subscriptions to purchase airplanes and train military pilots. In Germany, the massive Nationale Flugspende or National Air Subscription, headed by Prince Heinrich, the kaiser's brother, collected more than 7 million marks in six months during 1912, invoking as it did the menacing aerial threat allegedly posed by France. Even though airplanes played only very subordinate parts at the outset of the Great War-their tactical and strategic roles were improvised and enlarged only as the war dragged on-aviation had become a matter of obsessive national interest by 1914. From behind the figure of Icarus, the solitary dreamer, emerges that of his father, Daedalus, the master builder, who designed weapons for King Minos of Crete before he fell out of royal favor and constructed wings to flee to Sicily. Daedalus serves to remind us that aviation is not simply an inspiring story about the release from earthly bounds. It is also a rough chronicle about state building and nationalist ambition. This was particularly so in Germany, where Graf Zeppelin's marvelous airships were quickly depicted as the Wilhelmine Empire's "wonder weapons"; where chivalrous aces ended the First World War as ruthless killing machines; and where even the youthful and unpretentious gliding and soaring movement of the 1920S eventually served as an appealing model for Nazism. I Metropolitan newspapers in imperial Berlin worried about dazzling flying performances by Pegoud because they took aviation to be an index of national vitality and thus national destiny. Nationalism and technology

Introduction

reinforced each other; progress was widely perceived as a great scramble among states in which there were unmistakable winners and losers. The various aeronautical world records-height, speed, endurance, distance, load~which Germans strained to capture from the French in the pre1914 period, provided an exact tally of national performance. If machines were the measure of men in the modern era, as Michael Adas argues, airplanes and airships were the measure of nations at the beginning of the twentieth century, distinguishing not only European genius from an African or Asian mean, but also the truly great powers among the European nation-states. 2 The histories of modern nationalism and modern technology are inexorably intertwined. Far from diluting nationalist passions, once thought to be ancient and mean, industrial prosperity and rational purpose gave them shape and sturdiness. Aviation, perhaps better than any other field of technology, clarifies the links between national dreams and modernist visions. And Germany, the least satisfied among the great powers and the most dynamic capitalist state in Europe at the beginning of the twentieth century, is the most suitable ground on which to explore this troubled intersection. To account for the unexpected affinities between technology and nationalism we must understand how the belief in universal progress remained qualified and distorted after the Enlightenment. Confidence in Western progress rested on the conviction that the world could be shaped according to the industrial arts. This was the heritage of Francis Bacon, whose seventeenth-century science, in d~_e words of one scholar, marked "the death of nature." Bacon's mechanistic worldview overlooked nature's nurturing aspects, undertook the subordination of its threatening obstacles and storms and uncertainties, and prepared for the domination and alteration of the earth by design.3 Enlightened Europeans busied themselves with projects and ventures of all kinds. Sure that their efforts served the general cause of improvement, they dug mines, dammed streams, drained swamps, cleared forests, and surveyed wilderness. But this confidence could easily give way to unease. To recognize the plasticity of the material world or the historicity of circumstance was, at the same time, to ascertain the enduring instability of all things-material edifices, market relations, moral persuasions, national security. The constructive optimism of Bacon did not seal off the darker, more nihilistic realism of Charles Baudelaire. Nineteenth-century Europeans worried

3

4

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

obsessively about the imminence of revolution, the breakability of the social order, the disease and poverty of the new cities, and the degeneration of the individual as much as they loudly celebrated the application of scientific laws or cheered the exploitation of nature. The eye that identified improvement also discerned destruction. For this reason, the acknowledgment of instability-Karl Marx's sobering vision, "all that is solid melts into air"-rather than belief in the march of progress-"up and up and up and on and on and on," in the words of Ramsay MacDonald-is the more accurate hallmark of modemity.4 Instability did not preclude reform or improvement, however; on the contrary, it gave those projects their impulse and sense of urgency. In the face of cholera epidemics, social upheaval, and military challenge, the modern experience added up to a relentless struggle to regulate and to renovate civil society. According to the nineteenth-century reformist agenda, cities had to be cleaned up and redesigned, populations educated into virtuous citizens, and hinterland empires won. At the end of the nineteenth century, forward-looking statesmen envisioned society as a factory in which all hands worked together for the common good. They accordingly propounded ambitious programs of national efficiency, protectionist economics, political enfranchisement, and social hygiene. Not to embark on liberal reform was to renounce economic prosperity and even to risk social disintegration. Insofar as technological change was seen in terms of struggle it seemed to validate the contest among nationstates. There is even reason to believe that states were the most economical units to carry out reforms. 5 Thus it was the dangerous future which bound technology and nationalism together. Nation-states were invigorated not so much by the accountable benefits of machines as by the apprehension of their costs. This ceaseless activity of renovation and dismantling-the operations of the architect, the engineer, the social reformer, and the geopolitician-properly belongs to the modernist tradition, alongside the more well-known representations of painters, novelists, and poets. What distinguishes Europe in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is the technocratic imagination, the impulse to work on and tinker with society in order to forestall disaster and to meet opportunity. Aviation made this venture more imperative. The coming twentieth-century "a:ir age" was regarded as at once prosperous and perilous. The precision and power of the engine, the sophisticated instrumentation in the cockpit, and

Introduction

the durable yet lightweight streamlined metal frame all described the vast potential of the second industrial revolution. Transocean flights anticipated a new era in global communication and transportation. But, at the same time, the reach and load of multiengined bombers foreshadowed unknown wartime horrors. Aviation introduced a previously unimagined sense of vulnerability and hopelessness to the age. Those nations which did not meet its harsh demands, by putting in place extensive air defense measures, building deterrent air forces, and teaching technical competence, would miss the imperial opportunities that global aviation extended and would play merely subordinate roles in the world order. Not to have an air capacity was to lapse into passivity and dependency. A host of new "scientific" nouns and classifications, which mixed Darwinian imperatives with technological positivism, described this brave new world. National survival in the twentieth century seemed to be a matter of accepting the novel terms of the "air age," preparing for the prosperous "air future," fashioning a new generation of clear-thinking "airmen," and adhering to the tough prescriptions of "airmindedness." Seen in this way, aviation is a crucial part of the modernist experience. Because of the fearsome dangers it posed and also the unexpected opportunities it presented, the "air future" was inscribed with all kinds of reforms, plans, and projects. What Detlev Peukert has termed Machbarkeitswahn, that heady sense of possibility at the turn of the century, spurred the technocratic impulse. One hundred years of rapid technological change made the nation-state the subject of its own renovation and of its own ambition. National history became a matter of self-construction, and technological achievements, in turn, upheld a durable sense of common national purpose. The doctrines of the air age found a particularly fertile ground in Germany. The Nazi slogan "We must become a nation of fliers," broadcast repeatedly by Air Minister Hermann Goering to generate public support for the Third Reich's military buildup, suggests the way Germans talked about aviation from the beginning of the century. Aviation suited the bold ambitions of the recently unified German Reich. Rather than a disadvantaged latecomer to the exclusive club of great powers, Germany, once outfitted with technologically audacious machines, belonged more properly to the "young" nations, an emerging generation ofworld leaders better able to fashion themselves as prosperous states than an "older" Great Britain or France. For this reason, the colossal zeppelins that began to

5

6

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

make their appearance in the southwest German skies in 1900 generated immense patriotic fanfare. In the most fantastic visions of Wilhelmine nationalists, battleships would give way to airships, naval powers to air powers, the established British Empire to its insurgent German challenger. Even after Germany's defeat in the First World War, the promise of aviation continued to preview the grand technological future by which Germany would spite the Allies. Gliding, an immensely popular movement in the 1920S, came to symbolize Germany's resistance to the Treaty of Versailles. And once Allied restrictions on German civil aviation were lifted in 1926, a new generation of technically superlative airplanes and airships charted the revival of Germany's national fortunes. "Airmindedness," that buzzword of the interwar years, was based on the premise that Germany could prosper in a dangerous world if it accepted the harsh strictures of the technological age. Both the diagnosis of the modern age-instability and malleability-and the therapy applied-restless technical renovation-served to legitimize and spur German ambitions. A study of German aviation suggests how broad the intersection of nationalism and technology was both before and after World War I. A new breed of German nationalists recognized that world power required embracing a modernist vision, as the well-researched example of the importance of Admiral Tirpitz's oceangoing navy shows for the pre-1914 period. 6 Indeed, in the last twenty years, more and more historians have rejected the notion that Wilhelmine Germany was exceptional for its preindustrial political and social structure and have emphasized the modernity of the empire. Given its achievements in science and technology and its experiments in municipal reform, social welfare, and state administration, Wilhelmine Germany was considered by many European contemporaries to be the most modern state in the world. 7 That national unification and industrialization came only at the end of the nineteenth century gave Germany the additional advantage of building itself anew more easily. The Germany which Zeppelin's airships and Junkers's airplanes surveyed was not a Biedermeier patchwork of farms, heath, and forest-the bucolic landscape of Blut und Boden has been overworked by historiansbut a vast Faustian workshop of machines and masses. In a fundamental, if still largely overlooked, shift, twentieth-century German nationalism became more and more compatible with industrialism and more and more popular in scope and temperament. It outlined vast imperial ambi-

Introduction

tions, to be sure, but it also rejected the social hierarchies of the Hohenzollern monarchy or the Prussian conservatives, celebrated the efforts of workers and artisans, and foresaw a more inclusive community of patriots based on a stern order of loyalty and discipline. To become a nation of fliers was to move toward this German future. The story of German aviation begins in 1891, the year Otto Lilienthal first launched a primitive rigid-wing glider that he and his brother had constructed in Lichterfelde, near Berlin. Lilienthal's flying machine eased his free-fall descent and thereby carried him forward in the airstream. It was the first controlled glider flight. Lilienthal, who died from injuries suffered in a crash in August 1896, is all but forgotten today, although aeronautical pioneers such as Orville and Wilbur Wright and Octave Chanute carefully studied his essays and acknowledged their considerable debt to him. Even at the time, Germans paid little attention to the careful but undramatic experiments of the Lilienthal brothers. Like so many other inventors, Lilienthal kept his passion for flight private; he did not seek public support and did not try to fit his endeavors into the larger purposes of the state. The sport of gliding, which was Lilienthal's legacy to aeronautics, became popular only in the context of the spirited revival of German nationalism after World War I. It was not until the first airship flights after 1900 that aviation caught the interest of the German public, and then only gradually. After a decade of technical preparations, Ferdinand Graf von Zeppelin, a retired Wiirttemberg officer in his sixties, successfully flew a long cigar-shaped rigidhulled dirigible on 2 July 1900. The flight lasted twenty minutes and barely made progress against a light headwind. Before the year was out, Zeppelin undertook a second and a third flight. A stringer for the Frankfurter Zeitung observed the last launch on 18 October and described the event as a nonevent, a diverting provincial comedy but not a practical invention: 8 To be sure: the "airship" proved dirigible. It ascended majestically and quietly over the hurrahs of Friedrichshafen, which had assembled itself along the shore. It hovered purposefully and nicely in the air, made little twists on its vertical axis, perhaps even small turns. It also executed small turns on its horizontal axis, but pretty much stayed happily in the same place. There was no evidence of real movement back and forth or of ascents and descents to higher and lower altitudes. I had the sense that the airship was delighted to balance so

7

8

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

nicely up in the air; and the spectators shared this enthusiasm, for the nice balancing act was the only successful part of the whole affair.

Dismissive assessments like this one and mounting financial worries forced Graf Zeppelin to dismantle the airship in the spring of 190 I. It took Zeppelin another three years to persuade the king ofWiirttemberg and several industrial sponsors to fund further trials. Once again the airship, the LuJtschijfZeppelin or simply LZ 2, featured a rigid 128-meter duraluminum hull inside which sixteen smaller internal gas cells were hung, a contrast to the single semirigid or nonrigid gas bag that constituted French dirigibles at the time and anticipated the present-day Goodyear blimps in the United States. The rigid frame was Graf Zeppelin's singular contribution. He believed it was what made the airship easier to control and more durable in inclement weather. Yet heavy winds forced the new zeppelin down near Kiesslegg, in Bavaria, on only its second flight on 17 January 1906, and later that night destroyed the crippled ship completely. Fragile construction and persistent mechanical breakdowns plagued the zeppelin project from its inception. That Graf Zeppelin eventually built two more airships, the LZ 3 and LZ 4, is testimony to his perseverance. Still zeppelins were not taken seriously by most competent observers until the long-range trial flights of the LZ 4 in the summer of 1908. Only in August 1908, when the LZ 4 attempted a twentyfour-hour circuit of southwestern Germany, the successful completion of which was the condition for military purchases, did Germans conversing about technological progress and national prowess energetically take up airships and airplanes. It is in 1908, then, that this book about how and why Germans found aviation so good to think-to paraphrase LeviStrauss-properly begins.

GIANT AIRSHIPS AND WORLD POLITICS

1

Tuesday, 4 August 1908: the German nation was putting on a production on a scale seldom seen before. Old-timers compared the patriotic hoopla to the excitement that had accompanied the declaration of war against France in the summer of 1870. The two, three, and even four daily editions put out by metropolitan newspapers at the time narrated the unfolding drama in the breathless prose that suited the brash new century. Telegraph reports on the front page of the Wiesbadener Tageblatt tracked the progress of a giant gas-filled airship as it made its way north. Accumulating "like a brush fire," telegrams were posted outside the newspaper building as soon as editors received them, giving passersby almost instantaneous coverage of the historic flight. After leaving Friedrichshafen, on Lake Constance, LuftschiffZeppelin or LZ 4 passed over Basel, Miilhausen, and Colmar, then over the small towns of Lahr and Markotshain, and finally over the Alsatian capital, Strassburg. Wiesbaden's burghers, who lived just beyond the northern end of the zeppelin's twenty-four-hour circuit around southwestern Germany, devoured news accounts that told about thousands of onlookers who crowded Strassburg's streets and clambered onto the city's roofs. Touches of detail drew attention to the tumultuous activity: apparently "even chimneys had been scaled" by excited sightseers. Wiesbadeners wealthy enough to own a telephone but not patient enough to wait for the evening edition harassed newspaper editors with their calls, asking for the latest news, busying the lines almost uninterruptedly. 1 As the zeppelin approached-appearing over jubilant crowds in Mannheim, Worms, Darmstadt, and, "just now," in neighboring Nierstein, on the Main River-as many as a quarter of a million Germans streamed into Mainz, where city officials expected a sighting between four and five o'clock in the afternoon. In Bieberich, a Wiesbaden suburb across the Rhine from Mainz, thousands of curious onlookers formed a compact "wall of people." Toward Mainz "the crowds became denser." Ludwig 9

10

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R S

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Flying over Lake Constance, the zeppelin was a strange and immense addition to German machinery.

Anders, a Wiesbaden reporter, stood on the Rhine bridge and "took in the huge parade of people, trolleys (all full! all full! all full!), cars, vehicles of all sorts." A happy carnival mood prevailed. Sadly, the zeppelin never arrived. A defective motor and the loss of hydrogen forced the airship to land near Oppenheim, about fifteen kilometers upriver. But for Anders, standing on the bridge at Bieberich, this day, even though it had passed without a view of the zeppelin, had not been a disappointment. In automobiles and on streetcars, the faces in the crowd looked familiar, but they also expressed something uncharacteristic and unusual. As Anders put it, "all materialistic sensations" had been overwhelmed by a prevailing "spiritual enthusiasm." 2 Publicists, politicians, and academics repeatedly returned to this imagined moment of idealism. For them, the zeppelin became a national treasure that was far more appealing and better suited to Germany's indus-

Giant Airships and World Politics

trious burghers than the Hohenzollem crown or the Prussian army. The immense public excitement in Bieberich and Strassburg and even beside the damaged airship in Oppenheim, where burghers rallied throughout the evening singing the national anthem, "Deutschland, Deutschland tiber Alles," celebrated not only the imposing technical accomplishments of the zeppelin but also the construction of a heart-felt and popular nationalism. Zeppelin enthusiasm served the grand idea of a nation in which all social classes were reconciled. Just as the Eiffel Tower stood as a monument to French republican virtue and the Brooklyn Bridge attested to the excellent industry of ordinary Americans, the great duraluminum dirigibles displayed the technical virtuosity and material achievements of the German people, not the German state. At the same time, the people's zeppelin was an affirmation of German prowess and overseas expansion. For Wilhelmine Germany's middle-class nationalists, empire went hand in hand with reform at home. Even as it was stranded near the village of Oppenheim, surrounded by marveling sightseers, the zeppelin was a proud restatement of the thirty-odd prosperous years since unification and also a boisterous statement of intentions and ambitions to come. The Miracle at Echterdingen The next day, Wednesday, 5 August, with the ship's motors repaired and its gas cells refilled, the festive scenes of the previous day repeated themselves as the LZ 4 finally passed over Mainz and then returned south. A triumphant flight was planned over Stuttgart, the capital ofWiirttemberg, whose king had steadfastly and often alone supported Graf Zeppelin's aspirations for more than a decade. "The streets filled" with people, reported Stuttgart's leading newspaper, the Schwiibischer Merkur. By now a zeppelin story without prominent reference to crowds and crowding was unthinkable: 3 The streets filled up, people clambered onto rooftops. And one waits, patiently waits for another hour! And then after the long silence, the crowd cries out. Above the hilltops, just to the right of the Bismarck Tower, a silver, glimmering, wondrous entity appears. At first it seems to stand still, but then pushes itself slowly but steadily against the fresh morning breeze. One feels its power; we are overcome by a nervous trembling as we follow the flight of the ship in the air. As only

11

12

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

with the greatest artistic experiences, we feel ourselves uplifted. Some people rejoice, others weep.

But the crowds were not simply composed of passive onlookers and sightseers. By their own testimony, Germans were also changed by the zeppelin, as Wiesbaden's Gustav Anders had suggested at the Rhine bridge in Bieberich. Seen from the air, the crowds below assumed an active, even leading role in this national drama. In city after city, Germans seemed to be revealing themselves as an indivisible, patriotic whole. The story unfolding below, frame by frame, must have appeared extraordinary to the LZ 4's crew: farmers stopped and waved from their fields; villagers greeted the passing zeppelin from paths and lanes in the rural countryside; townspeople crowded onto market squares and gabled roofs. Georg Hacker, an airshipman, remembered: ''At 12:08 we glided past the tower, just below the spire, on our port side . . . The tower and spire were adorned with flags, to the very top. People crowded on top of the tower. Handkerchiefs, parasols, hats, and flashing sabers were waved to and fro ... The entire city was filled with people." Despite the hammering noise made by the LZ 4's two los-horsepower Daimler engines, the dull explosion of mortars and the shrill whistles of steamers and factories were clearly audible. "Rows and rows of white dots illuminated the streets ... as people turned their faces up to greet us." Lines from a poem by Alfred Wolfenstein caught the same image: ''Airship over the city, covered with hot faces." 4 The view from the zeppelin as it passed overhead showed Germans coming together in common purpose. Both Hacker and journalists such as Anders sawall this excited activity as the spontaneous expression of national unity. After an hour of motoring above Stuttgart on the morning of S August, the LZ 4 disappeared behind the Degerlocher hills to return southeastward to Friedrichshafen. As soon as the ship passed from sight, journalists scrambled to file their stories. "Not without first looking through the available extra editions for specifics on the trip so far," the reporter for the SchwiibischerMerkur worked quickly to meet the deadline for the noon edition. 5 Noon editions, extra editions: newspapers provided an almost uninterrupted narration, which wove a single flyover into an emerging and larger story of national achievement. Another glance at extra editions, as the reporter walked to lunch, revealed the airship's forced landing just south of Stuttgart, near the village

Giant Airships and World Politics

of Echterdingen. In a single motion, "all of Stuttgart" seemed to be on its feet to reach the crippled ship: At 2 o'clock a train departs. So off to Echterdingenl With a little bit of shoving I still manage to get a seat on the crowded steetcar ... At the train station, everything is jam-packed as well, but I get one of the last tickets and just then the train pulls in. I am the last one to be shoved onto the running board ... In Degerloch more agitation; with pushing and shoving, and almost coming to blows, I reach the train to Mohringen. In Mohringen the same scene: the quickest way to get to the train to Echterdingen on the next track is right through the windows ... Echterdingenl You don't have to ask where the airship is stranded, a stream of humanity clearly shows the way. It is difficult to move ahead in this unbelievable confusion of people and cars. At the church square, the masses make for the country road. We march along a lane, across fields and meadows, always in the same direction.

The stream of curious sightseers making their way to Echterdingen that afternoon recalled the thousands who had taken extra trains to Oppenheim the night before to examine the disabled ship. Indeed, it was really only on the ground that the monumental size of the ship-the LZ 4 was 136 meters long-could awe observers; Wiirttemberg's congenial policemen allowed visitors, perhaps as many as 50,000 at Echterdingen, to approach the ship quite closely. 6 As Stuttgart's reporter walked through Echterdingen's cabbage fields to the landing site, a "not inconsiderable wind" suddenly kicked up dust and dirt, which irritated his eyes and ears. A kilometer away, the same wind ripped the anchored LZ 4 from its moorings. Spectators watched in horror as soldiers gripping the anchor ropes were lifted up into the air before they jumped to safety at the last moment. The huge airship rose higher and higher and raked its anchor through the crowd. At the same time, it began to keel over, stern over bow. After a few moments the dangerously inclined ship slipped to the ground. A dull thud sounded and then "flames shot up from the hull, a second, a third detonation . . . a column of fire rose to the sky, immense, horrible, as if the earth had opened up releasing the flames from hell. Huge flames ate their way up the balloon, piece by piece ... an enormous cloud ofblack smoke marked the spot where the elements had sacrificed the creation of man. It was all over in three minutes." 7 Fortunately, only one airshipman was slightly hurt.

13

14

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

The LZ 4 was a total wreck. Rips of twisted aluminum recalled a prehistoric dinosaur, unfit, oversized, incommensurate with the cabbage patch. The zeppelin's intended military purchasers, whose main condition, an uninterrupted twenty-four-hour flight, had not been met, agreed that the disaster revealed the rigid airship's unsuitability to adverse weather. 8 Surrounded by confused well-wishers in holiday dress, Graf Zeppelin's airship venture had come to a pitiful end. The fiery destruction of LZ 4 was the Graf's third disaster in as many years. All of Zeppelin's hopes and confidences had been invested in the destroyed LZ 4. At Echterdingen, the trajectory of government commissions, military evaluations, and preliminary funding had finally come to an end. As he inspected the wreckage, there was no reason for the seventy-year-old Graf to expect to continue his life's work. Tentative motors and delicate construction made the zeppelin flights always uncertain adventures, as the forced landings in Oppenheim and Echterdingen testified. The ships' vulnerability to storms and high winds was apparent as well. But the crowds gathered on the Echterdingen meadow did not regard the explosion as the logical conclusion of faulty design, as did military calculators in Berlin. On the contrary, witnesses to the "misfortune" 9 cried out in "wild frustration"; "curses, sobs, tears, threats" followed. Io Stuttgart's reporter, arriving at the scene late, observed "teary eyes" and a quiet, broken demeanor. The disaster at Echterdingen was a tragedy because it was at odds with the airship's dazzling performance, first across Switzerland on 1 July in a trial flight and then over southwest Germany on 4 and 5 August to meet the army's conditions; thus "frustration," "curses," "threats." At a time when the very first airplanes had only just begun taking off from European soil (Henri Farman had won 10,000 francs for staying in the air a mere twenty minutes in early July) and when the pretensions of the rickety Drachenfiieger or dragon fliers were widely mocked (it would be several years before this term gave way completely to the more trustworthy Flugzeug or Aeroplan), the leisurely, self-assured flight of the lighter-than-air dirigible over hundreds of kilometers made a powerful impression. Even before the explosion, the authoritative voice of the Frankfurter Zeitung credited Graf Zeppelin with solving "the problem of airship travel." 11 "Friend, brother ... do you completely understand," the Schwiibischer Merkur buttonholed its readers, human flight, "the dream of millenia!" had been realized. 12 As news of the catastrophe spread, the first sense of desolation gave

Giant Airships and World Politics

way to unprecedented public commitment to sustain Graf Zeppelin's airship project after all. A spontaneous and popular subscription was launched virtually overnight, a massive patriotic effort that put the zeppelin works in Friedrichshafen on a firm financial foundation. After nearly a century, the scope of public reaction still seems remarkable, "improbable," in the words of one historian. 13 According to the sober Frankfurter Zeitung, "to a man, the nation stood behind the inventor." 14 What quickly came to be called the "miracle at Echterdingen" disclosed not only broad public confidence in zeppelin technology and its "conquest of the air" but also a vigorous public spirit at the grass roots which few observers had previously identified. Without the encouragement of the state, stepping in when the Reichstag and the War Ministry had been reluctant to do so, the German people proved to be at once self-reliant and patriotic. According to inflated press reports and popular histories, it was at Echterdingen that a broad, grass-roots nationalism revealed itself. Ernst Heinkel, a twenty-year-old witness to the Echterdingen disaster who later, after war and revolution, became one of Germany's foremost aviation designers, recalled in his memoirs that as Graf Zeppelin inspected the wrecked airship a workingman shouted "courage, courage" and threw a purse of money into the open car. This small act set off a flood of contributions: "This word 'collection' rang in my ears all the way to the train that took me back to Stuttgart," Heinkel remembered. IS Within twenty-four hours enough money had accumulated to replace the LZ 4. Heinkel's story is probably apocryphal; local newspapers in their reports from Echterdingen do not mention collections taken up at the disaster site itself. But the fictional incident is instructive. The accent on the workingman and his spontaneous gesture points to the effort to cast the spirit of Echterdingen as an embracing people's nationalism that included all social classes. Stuttgart's Schwiibischer Merkur took the lead in sponsoring the "Zeppelin-Spende" and the morning after the disaster reported that it had already collected 5,359 marks. 16 Although the influential Frankfurter Zeitung at first hoped to prod Reich authorities to provide Graf Zeppelin with the necessary funds to rebuild, the paper changed its mind and no longer addressed the state so as not to obstruct the "beautiful efforts" of the German people. The paper quickly launched a municipal fund drive, to which it contributed 2,000 marks and its publisher Leopold Sonnemann another 3,000 marks. Businesses and individuals added donations,

15

16

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

swelling the fund to over 62,000 marks in four days.17 At the same time, the Wiesbadener Tageblatt, which two days earlier had reported the Mainz flyover so enthusiastically, opened a collection with 500 marks. Whoever had "all-Germany" as a friend need not despair, the editors boasted, because "town and village" stood faithfully behind the Graf. 18 Newspapers organized collections across Germany: in Cologne, Munich, Braunschweig, Leipzig, Osnabriick, Pforzheim, and Plauen. Elsewhere, municipal representatives took the lead, offering thousands of taxpayer marks to Graf Zeppelin. Dozens of cities throughout southern and western Germany and beyond sponsored civic collections. Even the tiny Hessian village of Haigen earmarked 50 marks for Graf Zeppelin. 19 At first glance the airship appears as iconic of Wilhelmine manners as the infantryman's Pickelhaube, but at the time zeppelin enthusiasm registered how bourgeois and metropolitan Wilhelmine public life had in fact become. By all accounts, Germans gave readily. In Cologne, for example, more than 33,000 marks had been collected by the liberal Kolnische Zeitung at the end of the first day, 6 August. This total had increased to over 80,000 marks three days later. Twenty thousand marks were collected in Osnabruck, a smaller city of only 60,000 inhabitants. Long lists published in the newspapers reported daily totals, named patriotic contributors, and narrated touching faits divers: a Wiesbaden bowling club, for example, made do without its annual summer outing and turned 150 marks over to the Graf; a "woman and child" in Bremen gave 7 marks; employees at Bremen's Old German Bierstube collected 2 marks; the weekly Stammtisch Schlagseite in the same city added 56 marks; a hastily organized "Zeppelin-Konzert" raised funds in Darmstadt on 10 August. In Hessian Friedberg, children collected 2 marks simply by playacting on the local schoolyard. A poor boy from a proletarian district in northeast Berlin contributed 10 pfennigs, a newspaper reported. Indeed, it was not the thousand-mark contributions but the small pfennig donations to which newspaper editors happily drew Graf Zeppelin's attention. 20 Ambitious in scope but attentive to detail, the entire campaign was cast by patriotic boosters as an appealing display of civic spirit and national unity. Within six weeks, the German public had contributed 5 million marks, twice as much as the army had initially offered Graf Zeppelin and many times more than the paltry 8,000 marks collected in an earlier subscription effort in 1905. Work began almost immediately to repair the drydocked LZ 3, which had been badly damaged in a storm in December

Giant Airships and World Politics

1907, and to construct a new ship, the LZ 5. Thanks to the public subscription, the zeppelin works in Friedrichshafen were reorganized and incorporated. The financial future of the zeppelin venture looked secure for the first time. Graf Zeppelin received not only money but an outpouring of everyday supplies and neighborly cheer that any disaster victim might expect. According to Alfred Colsman, business manager of the zeppelin enterprise, sundry sausages, hams, liqueurs, and even woolen socks piled up at Friedrichshafen. Bremen's Ratskeller delivered a selection of its finest wines. Ordinary Germans also sent hundreds of poems and songs, a cultural side of the Volksspende that anticipated the immense literary production generated by the onset of war in August 1914. A favorite subject in the people's prose and on ten-pfennig postcards, Graf Zeppelin emerged as one of the most recognizable faces in Wilhelmine Germany. The kaiser himself, on a November 1908 visit to Friedrichshafen, where he awarded Graf Zeppelin Germany's highest civilian decoration, the Order of the Black Eagle, referred to Zeppelin as the "greatest German of the twentieth century." In the eighth year of the new century, this declaration illustrated typical Wilhelmine overconfidence, but Zeppelin was certainly the most popular personality in Germany at the time, possibly rivaling the late chancellor, Bismarck, and surely overwhelming Kaiser Wilhelm II in the public's affection. With his bald head and walrus moustache, Ferdinand Graf von Zeppelin cut an agreeable figure that invited private admiration and public commercialization. Almost overnight, quick-witted entrepreneurs marketed Zeppelin postcards, Zeppelin medallions, and other Zeppeliniana. Graf Zeppelin himself strenuously resisted commercialization. He refused to permit the manufacture of Zeppelin cookies, Zeppelin perfume, or Zeppelin beer. Nevertheless, in marketplaces and carnival fairs, hundreds of cigars, pencils, spoons, suspenders, firecrackers, cheeses, cleaning agents, and even cans of boot polish bearing Zeppelin's name and displaying Zeppelin's face were hawked and sold. At Christmastime of 1908, one Berlin baker manufactured an edible airship out of gingerbread, wafers, and chocolate, confidently linking his own culinary arts with Zeppelin's technical achievements. An amusement park featured an "airship carousel" with rides in the familiar cigar shape. Zeppelin became an all-purpose adjective denoting "grand," "superlative," and "reliable." It was to this sort of zeppelin kitsch that one appalled art critic pointed to indict Wilhelmine

17

18

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Germany for its bad taste, but Germans-street hawkers, trinket buyers, and carnivalgoers-claimed the airship as their own. Graf Zeppelin and his dirigibles had literally become Volksgut. 21 The Graf had become that recognizable modern figure: a celebrity. By summer's end of 1 g09, two new airships, the LZ 5 and the LZ 6, had been completed. In the years before the outbreak of the First World War in August 1914, twenty more zeppelins were built. Most of these were delivered to either the army or the navy, but six were built solely for commercial purposes and sold to the newly founded German Airship Company, which booked leisurely day journeys from major cities. More than 17,000 wealthy but otherwise ordinary Germans flew in zeppelins before the war. Like the first models, the new zeppelins remained fragile titans and required frequent repairs. Three ships were lost in just three years, 1910-1912, but thereafter the fortunes of the company revived. 22 On national tours, the zeppelins often limped along at 20 kilometers per hour, a far cry from the 120 or more kilometers per hour achieved by airships later in the 1920S. Even so, huge crowds collected to watch the zeppelin's progress and tens of thousands assembled wherever it landed. The first big airship display after the Echterdingen disaster took place in early April 1909, when Graf Zeppelin flew the newly repaired LZ 3 to Munich. Both the size and the behavior of the crowds were remarkable. On 2 April 1 g09, thousands of Bavarians gathered and waited for hours to view the giant ship. Infantry and cavalry units cordoned off the landing site, but as the airship descended and the prince regent moved forward to greet Graf Zeppelin, anxious sightseers broke through the barriers. The prince suddenly found himself closely surrounded by an excited populous, which pushed cavalrymen so far forward that their lances threatened to poke the ship's hull. The unseemly incident unsettled authorities. Police reports condemned Bavarians for showing a "loss of discipline" and displaying the "psyche of the masses." A number of spectators had been trampled; bicycle riders, it seems, were especially reckless. 23 Against these indictments, however, city editors, championing the civic enthusiasm rather than criticizing the lack of social deference of their readers, pointed out that it had been the German people, not the German monarchs, who had rehabilitated the airship project. Ordinary Germans had a justifiable "right to the streets" to see "their zeppelin," the newspapers concluded. 24 Munich's Neueste Nachrichten reported seeing only "joyous appreciation" and "upstanding enthusiasm" among

Giant Airships and World Politics

the crowds, and applauded the social mixing that the zeppelin landing had unwittingly created. 25 The rough zeppelin enthusiasm witnessed in Munich contrasted with the usual order of Wilhelmine festivity that prevailed on the Reich's Founding Day or the kaiser's January birthday. So when Graf Zeppelin announced a visit to Berlin, Prussian officials were especially careful. Millions of Berliners were misled when police officials remained purposefully evasive as to where the LZ 6 would land on 28 August 1909. Many chroniclers still have the zeppelin landing at Tempelhof, where immense crowds viewed the LZ 6, which passed over the site several times, but the ship actually landed near Tegel, where the imperial party and a select group of dignitaries waited. At Tempelhof the mood was festive: "what all creeps and crawls, huffs and puffs" was on its way to the meadow; "what life!" The "huge expanse" of Tegel, on the other hand, was occupied by "only a small group of the privileged, journalists and people with good connections." And whereas there had been very little military presence at Tempelhof-only a few guards directing traffic-at

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Germans crowd to see "their" zeppelin, stranded here in Goppingen in 1909.

19

20

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Tegel "Prussianism was apparent ... The military surrounds [the kaiser] like a fortress." The newspaperman's point was obvious: the people's nationalism was not the same as Wilhelmine patriotism, but rather more populist, more spontaneous, more valuable; and Graf Zeppelin was not a stand-in for the kaiser, but a popular figure in his own right. Indeed Wilhelm II never attracted the crowds that greeted Zeppelin and was reportedly disturbed by the Graf's sudden stardom. 26 On Berlin's main thoroughfares, Zeppelin pictures and Zeppelin busts peered out of shop windows. Toy stores stocked hundreds of miniature airships; one department store even featured a replica of the LZ 3 fifteen meters long! Street peddlers sold Zeppelin hats and Zeppelin ties, as well as pocket watches with a portrait of the Graf, commemorative scarves that were "too colorful," and cheap cigars, in which one witty biographer imagined "lots of air." A songwriter composed a zeppelin song, which sold briskly. Perhaps Berlin's municipal band included the new arrangement as musicians played their brass instruments on top of the Rathaus tower to greet the airship. Zeppelin Day was a holiday, a time for marketplace hucksters and Sunday outings and brass bands and, as the Berlin police warned, an international gang of pickpockets that allegedly followed the zeppelin to ply their trade among the crowds that invariably gathered. 27 Zeppelin Days punctuated the summer of I gog. The LZ 5 visited the International Aviation Rally in Frankfurt at the end ofJuly and made a triumphant landing in Cologne on 5 August. But it was not only big cities that saw popular enthusiasm spill unregulated into the streets. Across Germany, schoolchildren quit school when the zeppelin flew by, taking their own "Zeppelinfrei." 28 One humorless legislator in Hamborn wanted to prohibit the zeppelin from passing overhead; local industrialists had lost thousands of marks when workers walked out of factories to view the airship.29 A series of postcards entitled "Zeppelin kommt!" depicted the hilarious tumult that supposedly ensued whenever the airship flew by; burghers appeared on the streets half-dressed to witness nighttime flights; daytime traffic snarled; and on weekends, overawed grooms had to be forcibly returned to their wedding ceremonies. 3D "Zeppelin tiber Plauen ... bringt alles aus clem Gleise," went one poem: 31 the soup is getting cold, the dumplings are hard the roast is bu rnt to a crisp!

Giant Airships and World Politics

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Curious Berliners greet the LZ 6 in August 1909.

the housewife runs, the cook jumps, the milk spills into the fire, that great disrupter, Graf Zeppelin, it's all quite unbelievable!

Perhaps a cheerful and frivolous mood prevailed at zeppelin mishaps because the unexpected landing allowed people a happy opportunity to inspect their airship in unrestricted intimacy, without police cordons or civic fanfare. After the LZ 5 made a forced landing in Goppingen on 30 May 1909, for example, the local paper remarked that the "workday had turned into a holiday," but one dominated by "colorful carnival bustle" rather than "Sabbath quiet." 32 Had Graf Zeppelin's public demonstrations taken place only a few years later it is not certain that his airships would have commanded the attention they did. By the end of 1908, a year often called the annus mir-

21

22

A

NAT ION

0 F

F L IE R 5

abilis of flight, heavier-than-air craft were taking Europe by storm. The Kitty Hawk flight, which had been initially dismissed on the continent as a tall American tale, had long since been superseded by hugely successful airshows near Washington, D.C., and by 10o-kilometer flights across France, accomplished not only by Wilbur Wright himself but also by the French pilots Henri Farman and Louis Bleriot. Only a year later, on 25 July 1909, Bleriot crossed the English Channel to immense public acclaim. By the time the Brescia airshow was held in September 1909, with Gabrielle D'Annunzio, Max Brod, and Franz Kafka among the spectators, airplanes had captured the imagination of European intellectuals. These aeronautical accomplishments, however, did not completely overshadow the airships in Germany, which over the same period ferried dozens of passengers, imperiously visited one metropolis after another, and could stay aloft for a day or more at a time. Given this superior record, German observers could be excused for seeing zeppelins as the most technically expert means to conquer the air, an achievement "inscribed in the guest book of eternity," although most scientific commentators, unwilling to be partisans of either airplanes or airships, temporized and agreed that both heavier- and lighter-than-air craft had vital roles to play in the mechanical future. 33 That German pilots and German airplanes performed poorly at Frankfurt's 19°9 international air rally only reinforced the German public's preference for airships over airplanes and for Germany's aeronautical Sonderweg over other ways. The Meaning of the Zeppelin Craze

The zeppelin craze was as interesting to contemporaries as the giant airship itself. Standing along the Rhine, Ludwig Anders made the excited spectators the subject of his dispatches to the Wiesbadener Tageblatt. Stuttgart's reporters could not keep their eyes off the rushing crowds. And just a month after the disaster at Echterdingen, the first "mass psychological study" on "zeppelin enthusiasm" appeared. 34 Most observers agreed that some combination of awe at the immense size of the ship, satisfaction that the air had been conquered, and pride in Germany's achievement drew people to the zeppelin's side. The sheer physical impact of the gargantuan airship was noted again and again. Its "marvel" drew out and seized the crowds. As it appeared over the heights above Stuttgart on 5 August 1908, the cries of spectators were followed by a "powerful still-

Giant Airships and World Politics

ness." 35 The zeppelin's languorous speed-five to ten seconds passed before it made up its own length-did not detract from but enhanced the sense of its power. It glided overhead "slowly, as becomes a ruler who reveals himself to his people." 36 Unchecked, purposeful pace seemed naturally to accompany dominion. Hugo Eckener, in 1 goo a skeptical reporter of the first airship ascents for the Frankfurter Zeitung but by Ig08 a close advisor to Graf Zeppelin, remembered the queer fascination with the zeppelin: 37 It was not, as generally described, a "silver bird soaring in majestic flight," but rather a fabulous silvery fish, floating quietly in the ocean of air and captivating the eye just like a fantastic, exotic fish seen in an aquarium. And this fairylike apparition, which seemed to melt into the silver blue background of sky, when it appeared far away, lighted by the sun, seemed to be coming from another world and to be returning there like a dream-an emissary from the "Island of the Blest" in which so many humans still believe in the inmost recesses of their souls.

For Eckener, the zeppelin acquired its force by suggesting the supernatural and otherworldly. The ship was singular, as exotic to humankind as it was to nature. Yet these descriptions of earthbound spectators, awed by the airship's dimensions and enchanted by the appearance of something completely foreign, obscure the immediacy with which Germans seemed to recognize the zeppelin, as if they followed common scripts that revealed basic turn-of-the-century dispositions about the power of humans against nature and also about the power and ambition of the German nation. Eyewitnesses habitually referred to the zeppelin flights as elements of a great "drama" in which humankind was locked in battle with nature. The terms of engagement were often physical and strenuous. But the ultimate decision, which was the victory of the human spirit over unruly natural elements, was not in dispute. The first decade of the twentieth century was a time when Europeans still happily attached active, heroic verbs to technological undertakings such as the opening of the Panama Canal, the journeys to the North and South Poles, and the electrification of the cities. In this regard, German celebration of the zeppelin was thoroughly conventional. Without any sense of foreboding about the mingling of technology and power, the populace quickly came to see zeppelins as familiar extensions of the sovereignty of culture over nature. Just twelve

23

24

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

hours aloft in the zeppelin on a summer's day in July 1908 was enough to convince Emil Sandt that the biblical notion "you shall subdue the earth" had been largely realized. The flight was one in a series of cultural accomplishments that gradually empowered humans: "To crawl along the earth was the beginning. To crawl into the depths of the earth was only an extension of this. But now we are on our way to achieve the greatest: to fly in the air." As a result of this advance, nature lost its terror and its awesomeness. In the coming air age, "impassable expanses, desolate plains, inaccessible plateaus" would disappear; humans would "come to feel at home on earth." In very much the same vein, Kurd Lasswitz, Imperial Germany's most popular science fiction writer, pointed to the August 1908 flight as "the most longed-for advance" in the "domination of nature." Lasswitz depicted a future in which nature would become entirely familiar. What previously had been blind forces would be transformed by technology into humankind's purposeful creation. 38 The prospect of a completely humanized nature gave Lasswitz "a giddy sensation of power." 39 Repeatedly, Lasswitz and other observers testified to feeling empowered and enfranchised by the zeppelin. The literary image of the landscape giving way to human advance, "unfolding" below the passing airship, now commonplace, must have seemed audacious at the time. 40 Machine-making people were striding over a previously inaccessible landscape with a new swagger. "Sonn' auf," by Casar Flaischlen, put this confidence to popular music: 41 Laugh, laugh if you want! It doesn't bother me! I am doing it, and will do it, If it doesn't bend, then it breaks, but I bend it. I get it. I am flying after all! I say: it flies! it flies to the right and it flies to the left! I wager my last money and persevere and make it work.

Bending nature to human design, people had finally become the properly realized subject of history. This heady sovereignty found its epigram in Sophocles-"There are many powerful living things, but nothing so powerful as man" -and did so without a trace ofirony that might indicate

Giant Airships and World Politics

how far the empire of human folly extended into the realm of technological achievement. To be sure, some narratives lingered at the site of battle between people and nature, describing the disaster at Echterdingen as an incident in "the ceaseless alternation of wild offensives and bitter defeats." 42 The popular designation of the zeppelin as "Bezwinger der Luft," or subduer of the air, evoked the physical effort necessary to restrain nature. It struck a more ominous and embattled note, but at the same time drew attention to the muscular, almost visible subordination of the elements. In the end, however, the result was invariably the same: the "happy end" of progress saw nature conquered and a new quality of power delivered to humankind. Once this narrative was learned, then catastrophes such as the explosion at Echterdingen could easily be accounted as the price of progress. This was acknowledged quite explicitly by the Viennese writer Hugo von Hofmannsthal, who recognized Echterdingen as a necessary dramatic device: 43 A completely unblemished success could never have crowned the genius of this man in the same way as this stranger-than-fiction combination of triumph and catastrophe. Only the half-minute burst of flame was able to impress millions with the heroic figure of this brave, old man and the pathos of his struggle. The material, over which he triumphed, knew how to honor him: there is no other way to describe it.

Of course, Hofmannsthal beheld the dramatic suitability of Echterdingen in hindsight, after the airship had been destroyed and the public subscription launched. But he drew attention to the ways in which accidents were comprehended and invested with meaning. Echterdingen was not only seen as part of a strenuous struggle that would eventually be won; the disaster itself identified the (difficult) road to progress. A monument erected at Echterdingen soon after the explosion served as a signpost along this road. It quickly became a popular destination for Sunday outings. Two years later, when the Deutschland (the LZ 7) crashed at Bad Iburg, local civic leaders knew exactly what to do. They marked the site with a small stone and the confident inscription "Forward, despite all." It is not surprising that one child, asked to draw the stranded LZ 5 in a Goppingen art class, depicted the damaged zeppelin in commemorative postcard form. 44

25

26

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

The zeppelin expressed the last word in technology, a "sure sign" of "the ultimate triumph of rationalism," according to Germany's Social Democrats,45 but, at the same time, it unified the disparate claims of the arts and technology. Commentators expressed their satisfaction on two counts. On the one hand, the airship achieved the technical mastery of flight and thus ranked as one of the great accomplishments of the modern era, an act of will and idealism. On the other hand, the airship demonstrated that the price of technological progress was relatively benign. Those who condemned the "age of technology" as decadent and superficial earned the ridicule of one Stuttgart journalist. The beauty and power of the airship represented not "just technology," he asserted, "as if something like that is nothing more than energy ... and work." "This deed was envisioned by an artist ... with intuition." An age with zeppelins in the sky could never be "impoverished," the newspaperman con-

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Racing against a train, the zeppelin is depicted as the last word in Wilhelmine technology.

Giant Airships and World Politics

cluded. 46 Elegant and simple in design, the zeppelin married technology and art in a happy, uncomplicated union. The zeppelin even conformed to the new century's stem eugenic prescriptions. Its "virginal and blinding cleanliness and beauty" made the machine a welcome harbinger of the healthy hygienic future. 47 One enthusiast found the sound of zeppelin motors comforting and pleasing, so much so that in cafes he always sat near the ventilator, "which tries so pleasantly to imitate that lovely sound of motors." 48 For a fin-de-siecle generation troubled by the aesthetic and spiritual poverty of modernity, airships provided a powerful affirmation that the path of German industrial development was agreeable, even wonderful, and led unmistakably toward a new dominion over chaos and nature. Lines from a poem by Hans Brandenburg convey an image of restless power: the "giant, slender torpedo ... lances the subdued air." 49 Hans Brandenburg, and also Kurd Lasswitz, Emil Sandt, and dozens of journalists, produced an array of evocative images of dominion and manipulation. But these pictures of power over nature were not simply celebrations of an Enlightenment ethos in which all peoples and cultures could share. The images were drawn in Germany and spoke to more exclusively national concerns about the sovereignty of the German people and the global ambitions of the German state. The zeppelin realized universal hopes and technical aspirations, but also enlarged Germany's arsenal and stoked Germany's fantasies. The real miracle at Echterdingen was not the technical achievement of the mastery of the air, but the fullness of public spirit which German citizens displayed in their subscription of the zeppelin project. Stuttgart's Neues Tageblatt editorialized a day after the popular campaign had gotten under way: "The miracle has occurred: German idealism, long since pronounced dead, is alive and well, and is taking our fatherland by storm." Germans had left behind their daily worries and parochial conflicts to stand up for Graf Zeppelin and his dreamy idea. The image was as ordinary as it was prevalent: the flame at Echterdingen burned brightly against the grey everyday world. But Stuttgart's editors continued. From one sentence to the next, the beautiful, wondrous moment was armed and dangerous: "For us it is a moment of deep moral value; abroad, it is a warning." Suddenly readers were reminded that German idealism had international relevance and a military aspect. Zeppelin enthusiasm provided a glimpse of the "power that our fatherland will mobilize if it has to

27

28

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Photographers loved to accent the sheer length of the zeppelin. This camera angle became virtually prototypical over the years.

struggle for its survival!" The editors then turned their attention to statesmen at home. "The iron-clad armament of our people is good and necessary, but would be only a plaything if it were not animated by people's power [Uilkskraft], if a spirit higher than that of uniforms and drills did not move the sons of the fatherland." 50 In these last lines, what seemed to be a conventional restatement of Wilhelmine hurrahpatriotism suddenly gained complexity. The declaration of Uilkskraft against Germany's enemies abroad was also directed against Prussian authoritarians at home. The three elements comingled and reinforced one another: the quick flash of idealism and national unity; the bold assertiveness of the people

Giant Airships and World Politics

against the official state; and the intemperate statement of German ambition in a dangerous world. Poets used fewer words to forge the same links. Strassburg's Friedrich Lienhard opened his poem with a greeting to "the masters who glide over the parties' narrowness and discord" and "spray the peoples with bright thoughts." These happy images gave way to rougher talk, however: "The smoke of this iron century surrounds us / the threat of the armored fist surrounds us." In this hostile world, the zeppelin provided a powerful deterrent: "Show us the Third Reich! / Tear through the clouds!" 51 As the inhabitants of the capital craned their necks to watch the zeppelin passing overhead, Adolf Petrenz imagined that all "Berlin has only one single neck today ... one cheering mouth, one eye, one heart." But this German unity did not simply cheer a "silver fish" or a "skyscraper on its side," newly minted wonders of the industrial age, but also the "steel-blue fortress," the "Luftlohengrin," and the "Air Field Marshal," which was distinctly German weaponry.52 All this talk about Germany's Luftlohengrin was characteristic of the time. The twenty years before the outbreak of the First World War witnessed a growing nationalism and chauvinism in Germany. Kaiser Wilhelm II's resolve to find "a place in the sun" struck a responsive chord, particularly among Germany's prosperous and confident commercial classes, though they did not always approve the methods he chose. Even a critical thinker like Max Weber saw Germany's global aspirations as an index of bourgeois self-confidence. An increasingly powerful radical nationalist movement championed both expansionistic Weltpolitik and political reform at home. After the turn of the century, an array of middleclass nationalist associations and special-interest groups struggled to attain greater political voice in what remained an authoritarian, elitist state, to dissolve the codes of privilege and deference that still determined social standing, and to construct a genuine people's nationalism out of the achievements and efforts of the Yolk itself. Historians have typically pointed to groups such as the Navy League to distinguish the crystallizing political ambitions of Wilhelmine Germany's radical nationalists. Unfortunately, they have neglected popular enthusiasm for the zeppelin, which is a particularly instructive symbol. It expressed Germany's international ambitions in an imposing way, but, since the zeppelin itself was a product of public subscription, the airship also congenially represented the insistent claims of a popular, people's nationalism. 53

29

30

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Popular Nationalism and the Zeppelin Ernst Heinkel's story about the humble workingman throwing his purse to Graf Zeppelin is almost certainly apocryphal, but it adhered to a widely followed view of Echterdingen as casting a fundamental unity among the German people, embracing commoner and aristocrat. Even though it constituted a highly distorted and simplistic reading of political attitudes, the belief that this basic unity existed suggested the wide appeal of the idea of a more solidaristic, fraternal Germany. Even after forty or fifty years, contemporaries attested to the popular exuberance and sense of public spirit that the zeppelin disaster pulled together. Theodor Heuss, a prominent German Democrat in the Weimar period and the first president of the postwar Federal Republic, recalled that during the public subscription '''the Yolk' felt itself as a single whole." He added: "Nothing like this had ever happened in Germany before." 54 Heuss, like many other witnesses, hinted at the novel sense of nationhood which the zeppelin generated. Popular nationalism introduced a new aesthetic sensibility and staged the prominent role the masses played in overrunning police cordons and crowding streets and airfields to view the zeppelin: "People of Berlin," wrote the Berliner Tageblatt on the morning after the zeppelin visit in the summer of I gog, "yesterday you were simply beautiful, you as a mass, as a whole." 55 Zeppelin Days were almost plebiscitary affairs, composing as they did a mystical union of the people that resisted official Wilhelmine management. The supposed unanimity of zeppelin enthusiasm impressed observers no end. "'Zeppelin,' one person screamed, soon it was thousands, soon a whole nation of sixty million screamed." 56 The Frankfurter Zeitung agreed: "to a man, the nation stood behind the inventor." 57 And we know that under the zeppelin Petrenz's Berlin was a single outstretched neck, a single cheering mouth. Small villages tucked into remote valleys were caught up in the zeppelin drama in August I g08 as well. "One takes the district newspaper from the hands of the sweating postman as soon as he reaches the first house in the village and as if on signal the curious collect-zeppelin, and again zeppelin." 58 This all-German chorus of approval had finally assembled the nation's diverse and contesting classes. "In this endeavor" to raise funds for Graf Zeppelin, the Kolnische Zeitung remarked, "the differences between parties, and religions, and estates have faded into the background," a "completely singular" occurrence.

Giant Airships and World Politics

Even Social Democrats cooperated, the paper added. Again and again, socialists and workers, so often tarred as the internal enemy of the Reich and denounced as "journeymen without a fatherland," served bourgeois commentators as happy affirmations of the genuine and popular character of the public subscription. 59 It is not difficult to deflate the self-satisfied estimations of Germany's metropolitan press. The entire nation did not stand behind Graf Zeppelin. Predominantly liberal and well-to-do contributors in southwestern Germany were not representative of the nation as a whole. Given the prominent role of daily newspapers, business associations, and civic clubs in the subscription (ffort, zeppelin enthusiasm was surely more developed in metropolitan precincts and more tepid in rural Prussia, which was far removed from the airship's illustrious circuit. 60 Along with museums, zoological gardens, and charities, the zeppelin fund flourished mainly in cities. Its contributors were mostly though not exclusively middle-class Germans. Depictions of zeppelin enthusiasm among socialist workers and proletarian children were especially valuable to bourgeois commemorators. They indicated that Germany's divisive class differences could be bridged and thus suggested a new social quality to the nation. Despite the disdain of Germany's leading socialist newspaper, Vorwarts, which found the "fever of contribution" after Echterdingen "laughable" and remarked that German militarism would make sure the zeppelin project survived even without public subscription, there is considerable evidence pointing to working-class support for the airship, especially in southwestern Germany. Local socialist newspapers in Stuttgart, Karlsruhe, and Heilbronn, for example, established fund drives, and Social Democratic Landtag deputies in Baden and Wiirttemberg lent their names to the effort. Zeppelins could be found as popular emblems on working-class calendars and handbills, and they figured in the verse and song of proletarian folk culture. 61 Enough workers must have joined the exuberant crowds for socialist newspapers to take special pains to explain the "real" motives for the massive scale of zeppelin enthusiasm. Again and again, at the time of the initial twenty-four-hour flight of the LZ 4 in early August 1908, during the April 19°9 visit to Munich, and on the occasion of the LZ 6's triumphant arrival in Berlin in August 1909, socialist editors underscored the pacific basis of the zeppelin's popular appeal. Stuttgart's socialist Schwii-

31

32

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

bische Tagwacht persistently defended the zeppelin on the grounds of its "postimperialist" future: "What remains undeniable is that an invention which enables us to sail through the air is cultural progress, under any circumstances, even if the bourgeois class state claims it for militarism for the time being." Eventually Vorwiirts came to admit the airships' wide cultural appeal.62 For some Social Democrats, the upward and free motion of the zeppelin evoked social emancipation and ultimately the victory of socialism itself. According to one, the zeppelin "teaches us the contingency and ultimate untenability of limits, even more than steam or electricity." Indeed Graf Zeppelin battled elements of nature which were "as insidious as a beast and as cunning as a reactionary." 63 With Graf Zeppelin's airships flying about, socialists imagined a new empire of the air without policemen, tax collectors, or border guards. 64 Socialists also pronounced Zeppelin Day in Berlin, 28 August 1909, "a genuine people's festival" and made the most of its "anti-Prussian" aspects; it did not resemble "a military parade or an imperial inaugural ceremony." Breaking the "official order," the crowds represented an authentic "people's movement." 65 There is a great deal of wishful thinking to this socialist appraisal, but it is not entirely off the mark. To both bourgeois and socialist commentators, the zeppelin appeared to reassemble the nation on a new, populist ground, a patriotic union which made the most of the contributions of ordinary people and mocked the elitist pretensions of Wilhelmine notables. Workers as much as burghers were drawn to this patriotic ground. To understand Wilhelmine Germany's "zeppelin cult," Bernd Jiirgen Warneken reminds historians of the "divided loyalties" of many workers. Workers felt allegiance to a Social Democratic subculture, as has been expertly documented, but also to the nation, a bond that is often overlooked. Like the integrating nationalism of August 1914, the popular patriotism behind the German zeppelin, Warneken postulates, resolved this conflict. It did not compel workers to abandon their political identity as socialists. At the same time, it allowed a celebration of the nation without requiring the adoption of authoritarian and monarchical designs.66 Critics on the Left and the Right distinguished the genuine people's movement from Wilhelmine officialdom, and both were enthralled at the free, spontaneous movement of citizens. Of course, bourgeois commentators went on to laud German imperialism while socialist critics looked forward to social emancipation and world peace. Nonetheless, the ideal

Giant Airships and World Politics

of a more egalitarian amd self-reliant polity, in which ordinary Germans composed the dramatic centerpiece, tugged at the affections of bourgeois and socialist observers alike. This unusual and powerful vision of political community is what makes Germany's raucous zeppelin craze particularly noteworthy. Zeppelins revealed the multiple identities of burghers and workers and underlined how tenuous official Wilhelmine patriotism had become. The populist aspect to the zeppelin movement was drawn out sharply by Berlin's attempt to manage the subscription effort. Two days after the Echterdingen disaster, when the extent of public support had become clear, newspapers reported the formation of a "Reichskomitee zur Aufbringung einer Ehrengabe des gesamten deutschen Volkes ftir den Grafen Zeppelin zum Bau eines neues Luftschiffes," under the protectorate of the crown prince. "Reichskomitee"-the haughty signature of the imperial court was evident already in the cumbersome name. The royal family's protection, a typical means of validating the legitimacy of public endeavors during the Second Empire, along with the long list of prominent Germans drawn from the aristocracy, the civil service, and the business world who agreed to serve with the crown prince, underscored the official character of the committee. At the same time, proposals were made to the kaiser, probably by Walther Rathenau, the chairman of Germany's General Electric Corporation, to establish an experts' "Kuratorium" to administer the millions of marks collected on Graf Zeppelin's behalf. 67 News of the crown prince's Reichskomitee and Rathenau's Kuratorium loosed a storm of indignant criticism throughout Germany that revealed a defiant, unexpectedly republican political opposition. A long letter by "Doctor W. R." in the liberal Bremer Nachrichten spoke for many Germans dismayed by the imperial court's uncalled-for sponsorship of the zeppelin subscription. What was so "beautiful, glorious" about the Volksspende, the correspondent asserted, was that rich and poor gave money "without being asked." In their spontaneous gestures, the German people had shown "confidence in their own power." And what was Berlin's reply, the doctor asked? "You pathetic entrepreneurs; you want to have a collection? Without proper leaders? You want to give expressions to your feelings? Without directives from above? No!" The spirit ofPrussia prevailed, wrecking the joy of the undertaking. All that was left now, the doctor continued sarcastically, was for the Reichskomitee to organize

33

34

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

"charity balls for the upper ten thousand," with "low-cut gowns" and "gentlemen in tuxedo a la Ostmarkverein." An unprecedented national demonstration had been cut down to the size of a "normal German fundraiser with honorary presidents and protectorates." Those "at the top" simply never understand, the doctor concluded, that "it works without them too, if the people want." 68 This passionate declaration of popular sovereignty, made in the typically anti-Prussian Hansa city, was intemperate in tone but representative in substance. According to Frankfurt's Das freie Wort, the fact that there are "a few people in Berlin who believe that nothing is worthwhile ... if they don't have their say" provoked "endless bitterness and rage." Reichskomitee and Kuratorium-these were "textbook examples" of how to generate "bitterness" among south Germans. Frankfurt's message was loud and clear: "Berlin: hands off." 69 The influential SchwiibischerMerkur honored the spontaneous patriotism and resolution of zeppelin enthusiasts and noted that the subscription had taken place without "help from above." Germans want to feel "self-reliant" in their patriotic activity, the editors concluded. Critics also blasted Rathenau's suggestion, which "all of public opinion opposes." What did Graf Zeppelin need experts for, after seeing his plans rejected by technical commissions in 1894, in 1900, and again in 1905, the Konstanzer Zeitung asked incredulously. "Who is this Rathenau who intervenes in a glorious demonstration by the people in order to reduce the people's enthusiasm to the level of bureaucratic tutelage?" On this point there was unanimity: nothing should obstruct the people's wish to fund the zeppelins without conditions. 70 Once Graf Zeppelin incorporated the airship works in Friedrichshafen, talk of an experts' Kuratorium ended abruptly. But the claims of popular sovereignty were not exhausted and would take even more hazardous political form three months later in the Daily Telegraph Affair, in which the kaiser came under sustained attack for his erratic and highly personal style of government. In the shadow of the zeppelin and in patriotic associations such as the Navy League, middle-class Germans experimented with new notions of sovereignty and new ideas about what constituted national glory. Graf Zeppelin, the septuagenarian aristocrat, came to incorporate these populist aspirations. Promotional pictures and advertisements generally showed a genial man. Instead of the stern eagle-like gaze with which so many other Germanic heroes were outfitted, Zeppelin's eyes twinkled

Giant Airships and World Politics

playfully.71 Zeppelin's disdain for Prussian officialdom added to his volkstiimlich, man-of-the-people image. Numerous biographers made the most of Zeppelin's troubled relations with the Prussian War Ministry. Anti-Prussian attitudes attached themselves easily to the zeppelin. Portrayed in the popular press as a man of enormous energy and resolve, Graf Zeppelin was quickly elevated to the rank of Volksliebling, "the people's favorite." 72 Die Woche declared him "the most popular man in Germany" in 1913.73 Even Social Democrats portrayed the indefatigable Graf Zeppelin as an exemplary worker, who despite defeats and setbacks always looked forward. 74 At a time when court scandals and the kaiser's erratic foreign policy dismayed the German public, Graf Zeppelin took on the proportions of a ganzer Mann,75 a new Bismarck,76 and even a "people's emperor." 77 Far more plausibly than the somewhat comic kaiser, Graf Zeppelin represented what many Germans took to be their national virtues: skill, purposefulness, and idealism. Zeppelin the Tatmensch more nearly fitted the aspirations and ambitions of the young empire. Perhaps no contemporary in Wilhelmine Germany enjoyed as much public esteem, as countless Zeppelin plays produced by small-town literary societies, Zeppelin poems published in provincial newspapers, and Zeppelin songs sung on playgrounds attested. One day, on Niirnberg's Aegydienplatz, schoolgirls played a German version of London Bridge, rhyming zeppelin verses, circling this way and that, falling down and getting back Up:78 Zeppelin to, Zeppelin fro, Zeppelin has no airship more. Zeppelin up, Zeppelin down, Zeppelin has his airship now. Zipp-Zapp-Zeppelin The airship's down again.

In the people's archive-in children's games, family magazines, songbooks, advertisement layouts, and tavern photographs-only Bismarck occupied as much room as did Graf Zeppelin.

To a Place in the Sun Genial patriotism at home did not exclude adventurous nationalism abroad. The robust political roles that Wilhelmine populists sought in-

35

36

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

eluded acquiring and developing colonies and extending German influence worldwide. Middle-class nationalists regarded the technological and economic achievements of the Second Reich with pride-the gleaming white airship proudly announced that "Made in Germany" now stood for quality; the oceangoing Imperial Navy was an additional source of satisfaction-and consequently grew more assertive in their demands for political power, which still remained securely in the hands of Wilhelmine notables and a small upperclass of industrial and financial elites. At the same time, they vigorously supported the assertion of German power around the world. The objects of lavish praise by Berlin's smart boulevard newspaper, BZ am Mittag, which readers snatched up along the busy streets of the capital at noon, zeppelins registered the technological prowess and political enterprise of the Second Reich. The populist commotion in support of Graf Zeppelin served as a heartening demonstration of patriotic resolve that would enhance Germany's capacity to wage war. Just a day or two after the Echterdingen disaster, big-city newspapers were already issuing warnings to the enemies of the empire. Zeppelins revealed a furor teutonicus. The drama of European international relations, made increasingly tense by the Boer War and the first Moroccan crisis in 1905, was rarely off the front pages and easily admitted Graf Zeppelin and his airships as new factors in the hostilities. It was not only public demonstrations of German patriotism that added to German military might. The airship itself promised to provide the Reich with a weapon of unprecedented mobility that could challenge the continental might of Russia or the sea power of Great Britain. It was a heady feeling of sovereignty, conceded zeppelin passenger Emil Sandt, to know that "high or low, north or south, east or west, we are where we want to be." 79 In the mind's eye, the trajectory of airship flights around Europe and into the North Sea provided a radius of action, a projection of power, so many hundreds of square kilometers of Raumbeherrschung or dominion over space. The airship allowed strategists to conceive of France, Great Britain, and Africa as plausible theaters of German operations in a way that not even Admiral von Tirpitz's navy allowed. The shifting scale of zeppelin parlor games is revealing. An early board game (1906) featured Lake Constance, around which players would "fly" their airships. After the August I g08 flight, a game called "Conquest of the Air" rehearsed the LZ 4's loop from Lake Constance to Mainz; al-

Giant Airships and World Politics

ready much of western Germany lay at the feet of the players. The same year, another board game asked players to choose from among various modern conveyances, including a train, a ship, an automobile, and a zeppelin, to compete in a race around Europe. (By 1929, players moved zeppelins across the entire globe in the "Zeppelin Game above the World," for which the geographical center was the North Pole.) Over Friedrichshafen, to Konstanz, to Luzern, to Mainz, to the North Sea, zeppelins steadily reduced the world to a more human scale. A journalist rushing from one zeppelin story to another reflected on this diminishment: 8o During the most recent zeppelin flight, it was not only reporters but also photographers and anxious spectators who rushed ahead to get an early look. Things can't happen quickly enough ... That is what the public wants. It has been trained by rivalry and competition. Things that occur in the morning halfway across the globe are discussed offhand in taverns in the evening. There are really no distances anymore. Given the conquest of the air, it will not be long before the whole world becomes one big village.

Rearranging global perspective and promising to reduce the world to the size of a village, Germany's zeppelins facilitated Germany's Weltpolitik. Already in his earliest reports, Graf Zeppelin promised his patrons unprecedented global mobility. Again and again, Zeppelin raised the possibility of exploring the polar regions and the African interior and linking far-flung colonial outposts. His examples, drawn halfway across the globe from Germany, are explicit references to the geography of European imperial rivalry at the time (Africa, China, the race to the North and South Poles). In a speech to scientists in 1908, the Graf maintained that his airships could operate within a radius of 850 kilometers. This area included all major European capitals. Zeppelins, he suggested, could also link Germany's colonies in East and West Africa. 8t More ambitious estimations Graf Zeppelin left for secret sessions with military strategists. On 13 February 1909, he spoke of an "action radius" of 1,200 kilometers. Given this "conquered space," what exactly would the airship would do? Here he was quite explicit. Airships would be able to operate deep within enemy territory and hamper mobilization efforts. Hovering above railway stations, for example, the zeppelin would bomb entraining troops and rolling stock and destroy barracks, arsenals, and factories. Although his airships would be vulnerable to counterattack, Graf Zeppelin conceded, direct hits were "improbable" because small-engined airplanes

37

38

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

could not attain the altitudes of the airship. He did not allow for the possibility that this might change. 82 Energetic, resourceful, and often hyperbolic as he was, Graf Zeppelin was not alone in imagining vast operations for his airships, which were nothing less than Wilhelmine Germany's wonder weapon. "Zeppelin! Zeppelin! Why not fly over to France," went one children's song, published in 1912: "Why not fly over to Serbia," and to Russia, London, and Japan, places which composed a rather accurate list of Germany's enemies two years later. The zeppelin should "drop something on the head" of whoever "scolds Germany," the lyrics concluded. 83 Fantastical forecasts of how the zeppelin would reorder great-power politics circulated widely in the popular press as well as in popular song. Rudolf Martin, a government councillor and a prolific essayist, published a wide array of promotional articles in influential journals. Even before the triumphant flight to Mainz in August 1908 or the appearance of the German translation of H. G. Wells's hugely successful War in the Air the next year, Martin was fighting the next European war with imaginary zeppelins. Highly mobile and presumed largely immune to attack, a fleet of airships could menace the slower battleships and cruisers of the English navy. They would provide superior reconnaissance, threaten hostile ports, and break the sea blockade which Germans anticipated in a coming war. Moreover, Martin argued, airships were relatively inexpensive: eighty could be built for the forty million marks that it cost to build a single modern battleship.84 The impact of a fully developed air arsenal would be nothing less than revolutionary, claimed Martin. It would tip the European balance of power in Germany's favor. In boldface type, Martin presented his main thesis: "To the extent that motorized air travel develops, England will cease to be an island." As a result, England would be forced to invest in an air force, which would put Germany and England on an equal strategic footing. In addition, as an air power, Germany would be able to apply pressure around the globe-Persia, Turkey, and Morocco were Martin's examples-without running the risk of British naval intervention. Indeed Martin came back to Morocco again and again, in both his essays and his novels, as if German zeppelins could undo the shame of the Algeciras Conference and revive German influence in North Africa. Martin envisioned a future in which German airships would permit the global extension of German power and secure the Second Reich its coveted "place in the sun."

Giant Airships and World Politics

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

~uf

bem

6ur'l'al~'

~u(\)erfClB jtonfam.'.'fb

The zeppelin's shadow looms ominously over England as early as 1908 in this Simplicissimus cartoon.

39

40

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

Two years later, in 1909, Martin elaborated his thesis in a novel, World War in the Air. The novel takes place in the near future, but zeppelin technology is already so advanced that regular air service links Berlin and Peking. China has evidently fallen into the German sphere of influence, which is protected by the hundreds of airships which Friedrichshafen builds annually. This air arms race takes place against the background of growing imperial tensions in Morocco, which finally lead to war between France and Germany. But German victories against both France and Russia leave Europe financially wrecked and Germany vulnerable to rising socialist agitation. Economic and political collapse is averted, however, by the successful air invasion of England. Huge "vacuum airships" ferry thousands of men to England and destroy the British navy in the channel. In a matter of days England sues for peace, and London bankrolls a German empire in Europe. 85 Martin gives loving attention to the bombardment of Paris: The most important task after the destruction of the airship field was the destruction of the War Ministry, at Boulevard St. Germain 231. Admiral Graf Zeppelin steered his ship to the ministry ... the rest of the 150 airships were deployed over army barracks, the Bank of France, the Foreign Ministry, the Ministry of Finance, and the presidential palace, the Palais d'Elysee ... A minute later, the immense block housing the War Ministry, from the Boulevard St. Germain to the Rue St. Dominique, lay in ruins.

The airships move across the Seine toward the Place de l'Opera. Moments later, "most of the French infantry was lying bleeding on the street. Buildings on Avenue de l'Opera began to collapse." Martin does not fail to add a human touch: "Even at the high altitudes, I heard the sound of hundreds of people crying for help." Place de l'Opera, Palais d'Elysee, Boulevard St. Germain 23 I-this sort of detail accented Martin's immense confidence in the technical precision and overwhelming power of the zeppelins. They were truly Wunderwaffen, wonder weapons. At the same time, the closely examined destruction of Paris seemed to reflect a German fantasy, turned over in the mind's eye again and again. One imagines Martin bent over a map of Paris spread out on his writing desk: ''As the German airships, at an altitude of 1,200 meters, took up an eastward course, the whole of the inner city of Paris was in flames. Not a single house was standing from the Magasin du Louvre to the Opera and from the Opera to the Palais d'Elysee." 86

Giant Airships and World Politics

The defeat of England was less specifically gory, but no less prominent in German air fantasies. It provided the dramatic centerpiece to Martin's novel, to a short story by Graf Bernstorff about an unsuccessful enemy blockade that is clearly meant to be English, and to the dangerous musings of Graf Zeppelin's numerous correspondents. ''Albion-Check Mate!" screamed the title of a January 1912 appeal in which Leonar Goldschmied urged the aerial bombardment of London in the event of an English attack on the German navy. Whereas Martin saw the need for at least eighty airships and perhaps as many as five hundred, Goldschmied believed that ten would do the trick: "Using radios, a force of ten zeppelins could hover over London with a cargo of death." Other fantasts were more specific. At the end of 1912, the year in which the great powers were almost drawn into war in the Balkans, a Leipzig correspondent emphasized the need to "load the zeppelins with bombs so that railway bridges, railway embankments, and even whole railway stations are reduced to a rubble heap." To make sure no one would be left alive on the field of battle, "it is our duty" to manufacture "poisonous atmospheric" or gas bombs. 87 In England itself, zeppelins loomed in overheated imaginations. Civilians reported a rash of zeppelin sightings over the English coasts, beginning with one near Cardiff on 19 May 1909, and consumed countless stories with titles like "The Airship Menace," "Foreign Airships as Nocturnal Visitors," and "The Black Shadow of the Airship." 88 Fantasies such as these were the stuff of serious conversation. Martin, for example, received considerable publicity and held numerous public meetings throughout 1909. Even more alarming were the arguments presented by Alfred Colsman, business manager of the zeppelin enterprise, who negotiated the Imperial Navy's purchase of airships with Admiral von Tirpitz in the summer of 1912: "I asked Tirpitz to imagine not one but twenty airships hanging over London in the case of war." This show of force would force England to accede to German ultimatums, Colsman argued. Tirpitz was not convinced, sure that the zeppelins would provide easy targets and simply be shot down, but he eventually bought two ships.89 On the whole, Tirpitz was unwilling to sacrifice additions to his "risk navy," which was measured in gun power, to purchase airships, or to contemplate the benefits of superior scouting against superior firepower. The army's General Chief of Staff, Helmuth von Moltke, was not an enthusiastic supporter either, although after 1913 he regarded the zeppelins more positively and continued regular purchases so that at the out-

41

42

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

U/k, an illustrated newspaper, pokes fun at the airborne kaiser inspecting his arsenal of zeppelins and battleships.

Giant Airships and World Politics

break of World War I in August 1914 the army possessed six working airships, in addition to the three remaining commercial ships that could be requisitioned during mobilization.

The Zeppelin in Combat Before 1914, the ambitious designs of the zeppelin supporters contrasted with the cautious and, to some extent, unimaginative plans prepared by the military establishment. Indeed, military historians indict both naval and army officials for failing to recognize the strategic usefulness of the zeppelin, particularly in reconnaissance. A small number of zeppelins were acquired but not put to proper military use. 90 Although there were dissident voices in the military, most farsighted zeppelin supporters were exuberant civilians, who were enthralled with the ship's range, mobility, and potential bomb load and virtually convinced that the immense airship provided Germany with a weapon of "singular" power. 91 After 1914, these ambitious forecasts would be tested in practice, as patriotic enthusiasm steadily overwhelmed military caution and eventually generated the energy and funds to build more than one hundred wartime airships. The immense popularity of the zeppelins confounded sober military calculations. This was the case in August 1908, when military observers were prepared to terminate further support of Graf Zeppelin, and again in August 1914, when military strategists hesitated before using the airships offensively. It frustrated Graf Zeppelin no end that in the early weeks of the First World War his zeppelins did little more than scout enemy positions in northern France. In his view, the only suitable field of action for the dirigible was England, and he urged the General Staff to initiate a ruthless bombing campaign against the island kingdom. 92 According to Oskar Wilke, who played chess with Zeppelin on 29 July 1914, the old man repeatedly emphasized that Germany had to push England into war. Not to do so would be to permanently block Germany's political ambitions. 93 It was as if the Graf completely believed the fictions of Rudolf Martin. Not to break English sea power would leave the airship venture incomplete and unrealized. Graf Zeppelin, who emerged as a feverish annexationist and leading critic of Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg, might be ignored by the high command, but the public, which clamored for zeppelin attacks on England in the face of the Allied sea blockade and which subscribed to war

43

44

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

bonds, was more difficult to dismiss. Germans expected great things from zeppelins-a weapon "only we Germans possess"; "airships can do the impossible. In one moment they are in the extreme west, the next in the deepest east."94 In 1914, a new song could be heard on German playgrounds: 95 Fly, Zeppelin, fly Help us win this war, Fly to England, Burn down England, Fly, Zeppelin, fly!

Throughout the autumn of 1914, the General Staffwas inundated with fantastic plans for the aerial defeat of England. Diplomats and politicians added their voices. Already at the end of August 1914, von Reichenau, Germany's ambassador in Stockholm, envisioned a string of airfields and airship hangars "from Cherbourg to Ostende" from which German bombs would keep England "in continuous quaking terror." Walther Rathenau and the Catholic Center Party leader Matthias Erzberger added pressure as well. 96 Armchair strategists reckoned that given its overpowering navy, Britain could only be defeated "under water," by submarines, or "in the air." 97 According to Ernst Lehmann, the proposition of air attacks against England "progressed to such a point that it was subjected to expert opinion." Lehmann does not give a date, but it seems that before 1915 "a plan for razing London was worked out in unofficial quarters." Twenty zeppelins would be armed with 300 incendiary bombs each. Even given the loss of six or seven, the remaining airships would ignite thousands of fires. "When asked for my technical opinion, I agreed that it was entirely feasible," Lehmann remembered. 98 Growing pressure from the public, which for six years had carried on a romance with the sleek, powerful zeppelins, was critical in forcing the hand of the high command, which authorized the first zeppelin raids in early 1915. An anonymous Ullstein book, Zeppelins over England, described the public mood after the first air raids: "The German people have waited patiently for the day when an airship would drop the first bombs on England's 'sacred' soil ... Now the war in all its horror will be brought home to this land of lies and slander." 99 What would have happened if the raids had not taken place? Would the patience of the people have worn out and, given the Allied blockade of German ports and French bombing along

Giant Airships and World Politics

~or6orenmab~en

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

"Barbarian girls." In this 1916 Simplicissimus cartoon, German women pore over a map of London, pointing to St. Mark's Square, which will soon be bombed by the zeppelin. One callously mourns the loss of pigeons, but not people.

45

46

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

the Rhine, ended in demoralized grumbling about Germany's disproportionate share of the domestic horror of the war? It is impossible to know, but domestic propaganda, composed at once to stiffen homefront patriotism and to pressure the General Staff, contained a veiled threat. Zeppelins were vital weapons of war, explained Gottlob Mayer, not simply because of the blows they inflicted on the enemy but also because the German people believed in them and made "the continuation of patriotic enthusiasm and willingness to sacrifice dependent on their ruthless deployment against England." 100 Raids on England sold the war. One airshipman imagined the boost to morale after a successful raid: 101 "Bucharest successfully bombed," and the response "message received" returned from the reception station. Lieutenant R. composed and coded the telegram with joy and extra care. He imagined the news in big letters headlined in the German morning papers. How pleased the German fatherland will be with us.

Zeppelins were widely regarded as Volksgut, and the popular confidence and enthusiasm they inspired on the home front were vital factors in the formation of Germany's zeppelin strategy. "You just have to listen to the common people-what kind of zeppelin miracles they report and anticipate," noted Adolf Saager in his wartime biography of Graf Zeppelin. 102 Zeppelin himself justified the raids against England because their magnitude and horror would bring the war to a more timely end. This was the reasoning he provided in the famous 1915 interview with Hearst correspondent Karl von Wiegand. 103 But the popular appeal of the bombing missions lay elsewhere. Patriotic Germans badly wanted to bring the war home to England. For "the first time in England's thousand-year history, English blood will flow on English soil ... that is the main accomplishment of the zeppelins in the world war!" wrote one enthusiast. 104 Naval strategists agreed that airship raids would destroy vital war materiel, undermine the morale of the English people, and, most important, force Great Britain to maintain large numbers of troops at home. 105 All the components of total war already figured in the calculation of air raids, particularly the psychological and propaganda aspects which were intended to assuage German patriots as much as to terrorize English civilians. One of the first big raids against England was carried out on 8 September 1915, under the command of Heinrich Mathy. Carrying thousands

Giant Airships and World Politics

of kilograms of bombs, the navy zeppelin L 13 scored direct hits in the warehouse district north of St. Paul's and elsewhere in the City. Although Mathy, who had visited London for a week in 19°9 and recognized the geography below him, missed his targets (the Bank of England and other financial houses), the damage toll was the largest of any of the wartime raid and added up to one-sixth of the financial cost inflicted by zeppelin air strikes during the entire war. As the German press quickly learned, mostly through neutral sources in Sweden and Holland, Londoners reacted to these first attacks with shock and anger. Substantial damage

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

In a picture postcard, the zeppelin appears to be a creature from another planet as it hovers over wartime London.

47

48

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

had been inflicted by just a single airship. Presumably the toll of a concerted attack would be even greater. German strategists were jubilant and imagined for subsequent raids the singular success of the L 13. 106 Germans took what had been panicky responses to an unprecedented attack to be revealing displays of civilian vulnerability and what had been lucky hits to be the result of precision bombing. Since then considerable scholarship has established that the overall damage inflicted by the zeppelins was light (about £3 million) and that the attacks boosted rather than diminished civilian morale. But German proponents of air power misled themselves and committed scarce wartime resources to build more and more ships, each class larger, more powerful, and better able to reach the extraordinarily high altitudes necessary to evade pursuing enemy fighter planes. A raid in April 19 I 6 earned a special report prepared for the kaiser: At Grimsby, in addition to the post office and several other houses, a battleship in the roadstead was heavily damaged by a bomb, and had to be beached. At Kensington an aeroplane hangar was wrecked, near Tower Bridge a transport ship damaged, in Great Tower Street a factory wrecked, and north of the Tower a bomb fell in George Street only 100 meters away from two anti-aircraft guns. It was reported that a big fire had broken out at West India Docks, and that at Tilbury Docks a munition boat exploded (400 killed).

At first glance, the fiery destruction was impressive. However, according to Douglas Robinson, an expert on zeppelin attacks, the report was a complete misrepresentation. No such damage was ever inflicted. "But the fact that it was believed," Robinson comments, "not only by the deluded populace, but also by the Supreme War Lord and his responsible advisors, underlines the role of wishful thinking in determining national policy. Count Zeppelin and his giant creations still held the adoration and devotion of the German people." 107 After more than a year of raids, Peter Strasser, the commander of the naval airships, was only strengthened in his "conviction that England can be overcome by means of airships, inasmuch as the country will be deprived of the means of existence through increasingly extensive destruction of cities, factory complexes, dockyards ••• "108 Strasser's sober military reports soon came to resemble wishful propaganda tracts. In this war of machines, zeppelins were depicted as Germany's wonder

Giant Airships and World Politics

weapon. For seaman Richard Stumpf, the turnip winter of 1917 was bleak. As he was putting his thoughts to paper on 8 February, one of our zeppelins flew over with a thunderous noise. It blew away all my sad thoughts and worries. Its proud shape refreshed my heart and renewed my courage. let the enemy copy this plane (if he can)! ... our factories have excelled themselves in producing something so grand and overwhelmingly powerful ... I fluctuated between two extremes. My imagination and the power of suggestion changed what had earlier seemed so difficult and depressing into dreams of victory. o Zeppelin, please come more often to banish my sadness!

Seamen like Stumpf often saw zeppelins on their way to England and, standing along the rails of their battle cruisers, regarded them as most valuable helpmates. "The enemy is as good as defenseless" against zeppelins and submarines, averred a confident Gottlob Mayer. 109 "Wind raging-waves crashing-motors thundering-machines stamping": the rendezvous of these two killing machines at sea was a favorite image to convey the technological face of the war and the awesome power assembled by the German Reich. 110 Deeper, farther, faster, higher, "tiber alles in der Welt," Germany's arsenal of machines declared German superiority. Pictorial counterparts to already colorful prose, paintings by war artists such as Zeno Diemer depicted zeppelins as virtually invincible weapons. Reproductions in Illustrirte Zeitung, the popular Leipzig weekly, or Illustrierte Geschichte des Weltkrieges, the annual editions ofwhich accompanied the progress of the war, showed the distinctive zeppelin shape looming, hovering over the field of battle. In one Diemer painting, the zeppelin completely dominates the foreground. It is an immense floating platform from which machine gunners easily shoot down attacking biplanes as if simply swatting dragonflies. The town visible below appears utterly helpless. That the streamlined zeppelin itself seemed inaccessible, closed, without showing even a trace of the crew, added to the sense of unknowable, possibly extraterrestrial power. Its path of destruction lit up by glaring one-eyed searchlights, a zeppelin on the cover of Luftwaffe appeared to German readers otherworldly, all-seeing, all-powerful. 111 The reality of the airship venture was much more prosaic than the colorful images of wartime propaganda suggested. Bombing raids were separated by long stretches of inaction while zeppelin crews watched for

49

50

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

better weather. Airshipmen mostly waited. All the German navy's bombing missions against England, France, and Belgium over the course of the entire war took place on just forty days. lIZ The huge expense of maintaining mostly grounded ships fed growing doubts in the army as to their overall efficiency. Losses at sea due to inclement weather mounted as well. And even at 4,000 meters, zeppelins remained vulnerable to the night-flying pilots of the Royal Air Force. On the night of 1 October 1916, for example, Mathy's high-altitude L 31 was shot down over London and the famous commander and his crew killed, a particularly demoralizing blow. By the end of the year, the army wisely decided to cut its losses, and eventually it discontinued zeppelin attacks entirely. The navy, however, embarked on an ambitious program of outfitting the zeppelins for even higher, more extreme altitudes, up to 5,500 and finally 7,000 meters. More vulnerable to the vagaries of storms and temperature, the colossal "height climbers" inflicted a horrible toll on their shivering, oxygen-starved crews, but did little damage to Britain. Moreover, planes still reached the airship's dizzying altitudes. At 5,500 meters, a twoseater De Haviland 4 shot down the monstrous L 70 at twilight on 5 August 1918; Strasser was aboard and among the 22 men killed. 113 When the war ended, the navy had lost 389 men and 53 of 73 airships, the army 52 men and 26 of 52 ships. About 1,000 men served on airships during the war. The death rate was therefore closer to one-half than one-third; almost as many airshipmen were killed as English men, women, and children (556, according to the London Times of 13 January 1919).114 Given these death rates, which were worse than those among submariners or airplane crews, and the minimal damage inflicted on the enemy, the balance sheet for Germany's airship service was dismal. Few military observers in the 1920S gave the effort high marks; Ernst Lehmann was an exception, arguing that damage to Allied railroads alone justified wartime expenditures on zeppelins. He added an ominous note: "had Germany been set on the wholesale extinction of the British people, had she concentrated her energy upon more zeppelins and submarines, she would have ... very nearly accomplished that purpose." 115 The suggestion was that the overly cautious Bethmann-Hollweg or an irresponsibly temperate Reichstag had blocked an all-out offensive against Allied supply lines and industrial centers. Although a series of concerted surprise attacks might very well have caused considerable damage in 1915, when English defensive measures were limited and the service ceilings of

Giant Airships and World Politics

airplanes still quite low, the potential impact of bombing on a city was greatly exaggerated in the First as in the Second World War. As a strategic air weapon, especially in northern Europe, the zeppelins were not so much the "aerial leviathans" of Lehmann's assessment as fragile, oversized giants, vulnerable to puny "dragon fliers" and North Sea storms, useful only at the beginning of the war as long-range scouts. Most scholars are in substantial agreement with General Ernst von Hoeppner, who was appointed commander of Germany's air force in mid-1916 and quickly dismantled the army's airship service, and suggest that Strasser should have done the same. Perhaps the most ambitious postwar survey was written by Georg Paul Neumann in 1920. Though Neumann was careful to honor the strenuous efforts of airshipmen, he underscored "the vast waste of materiel and personnel" which stood "in no relation to the success that could have been achieved" after 1917. Zeppelin bombing added up to a heedless and wasteful campaign. But Neumann refused to state this explicitly. In his conclusion, he expressed the hope that the tragic story of the zeppelins would show "what German courage and will, (Jerman strength, German endurance and German ability" had achieved. For Neumann and many other postwar commemorators of the airship venture after 1914, virtue gathered only where technology failed. 116 The war years badly frayed the image of the zeppelins as technically perfect (vollkommen) instruments of control. A brave front was maintained. Patriotic sketches rehearsed the confident lines of the prewar years: "This mass! This size! This power! This security! This invincibility!" 117 And as before the war, manufacturers anxiously linked themselves to the technical accomplishments of the zeppelin. "During the most audacious air raids, the absolute reliability of the Zenith carburetor leaves you feeling completely calm and secure," the Zenith Carburetor Company promised in 1917.118 But the actual record of the airships led more and more experts to doubt their military usefulness and technical versatility. Not only were the zeppelins vulnerable to bad weather and high winds over the North Sea or the English Channel and even over landing fields at home, but they offered easy targets to high-flying combat planes. Dissenting voices, easily overlooked in the chorus of enthusiasm for the giant airships, had already expressed doubts about the safety and sturdiness of the zeppelins before the outbreak of war in 1914. Two fatal naval airship disasters in the fall of 19 I 3 should have alerted authorities.

51

52

A NAT ION 0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

\Sibf bei ktihnen I..u.itan\Sriffen dutdt seine unbedin{>fe

luverlMsi~bii das 6efiihI

«ler Rul\e und Sicherheii in hod:tstem Ma.6e

ZENITH -VERGASER- GESELLSClI.AFr MIT auc:HRXI'lKTEA. IUSTUN(~

BERLIN-HJU:.£F:1SElE :JOAOilM- fRIEDll.IC11·Si ~7

The Zenith Carburetor Company used the audacious zeppelin raids to sell its products.

Giant Airships and World Politics

But at the time most responses were uncritical and resigned: "Progress does not seem possible without the sacrifice of valuable lives," commented newspaper editors in Duisburg. 119 The inability to admit mistakes, accidents, and tragedies into the worldview of Wilhelmine Germany's confident burghers is what drew the ire of Maximilian Harden, Berlin's lonesome muckraker: 120 Emperor and princes, chancellor and ministers, even newspaper publishers-ali were supposed to be grievously wrong and have actually sharpened the scythe which cut down youth in its prime? In nooks and crannies, doubt lurks ... But there is no will to admit the truth. After all: Berlin is the most beautiful city in the world, Unter den Linden has the best opera house in the world, the Kurfurstendamm the most magnificent movie theater, Behren Street the most elegant bar and the tastiest girls. In this sort of glitter only the most beautiful, the strongest, the most secure, the fastest airship is suitable.

Harden brilliantly exposed the unwillingness of Germans to examine the pretensions of their newly kindled patriotism and demote the "people's favorite," the zeppelin. National esteem and nationalist dreams sustained the airship, after it burned at Echterdingen in 1908, tumbled into the Teutoburger Forest near Bad Iburg in 1910, exploded above Johannisthal in 1913, and ferried hundreds of airshipmen across the North Sea to their deaths in raids against England after 1915. The zeppelin's journeys in the airstream turned increasingly complicated and hazardous during the hardships of war. Even on the ground, the wartime airships, ready at an hour's notice to scout positions or, on exceptional days, to raid the English countryside, required careful care. Large ground crews maintained greedy supplies of water, fuel, and hydrogen gas, serviced the 24o-horsepower Maybach motors, and ceaselessly repaired the aluminum ribbing, gas cells, and fabric exteriors. To refill the gas cells required as much as sixty thousand cubic meters of hydrogen, which had to be manufactured, usually at the airship base itself, and at such a slow rate that bottlenecks often delayed flights. Treacherous winds made landings difficult, although revolving sheds reduced the airships' vulnerability to gusts when crews pulled them in and out. Even so, a number of ships were destroyed by landing crews, and the LZ 60 simply blew away from its moorings in Wilhelmshaven. Once pulled into the giant sheds, the zeppelins were still not completely safe. British air raids destroyed several berthed ships; accidental explosions

53

54

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

A fragile titan, the Deutschland crashed in Dusseldorf in 1911.

wrecked many more, including five at once in a fiery explosion at the Ahlhorn base in January 1918. Most of the time, the zeppelins sat in their sheds. Short nights made summer raids risky, and fog and inclement weather severely limited the number of winter flights. Northern Europe's mostly overcast skies helped to protect zeppelins from air attacks, but made it difficult to observe stars and take bearings. Radio navigation was still in its infancy, and distortions such as "night effect" were unknown, with the result that the airships were as much as one hundred kilometers off course. One scholar, Jonathan Provan, has carefully charted the night flights of the zeppelins; the plotted courses twist and loop across England. Airship captains usually had no idea where they were. In one instance, Captain Kuno Manger dropped bombs near Birmingham when he thought he was attacking Manchester, 120 kilometers away. Given three different locations (all wrong) one night in September 1916, an exasperated Captain Martin Dietrich learned that "the only certain thing about airship travel is uncer-

Giant Airships and World Politics

tainty." "Back then we dealt with geography in a pretty arbitrary fashion," he admitted. 121 Lost over the English countryside, zeppelins dropped bombs haphazardly, in farmers' fields, on suburban streets. Airshipmen frequently saw fires below, leading them to believe they had scored direct hits on industrial targets, but just as often they had only set fire to the heath. The problem of navigation in heavy clouds was so serious that Freiherr von Gemmingen, Graf Zeppelin's nephew, designed the famous Spiihkorb, a reverse periscope to see below the cloud cover. This compact unit, which hung almost a kilometer below the veiled airship, was manned by an observer who called up sightings by telephone. Although rejected by Strasser on account of its weight, the Spiihkorb indicated how technically baroque the airships turned out to be. Their elegant cigar shape broken up by weird additions, zeppelins hardly resembled the "last word" in aviation technology. Without accurate weather forecasts, which only came with the development of regular airline routes later in the 1920S, zeppelins set out blindly on flights that lasted twenty or more hours. Unexpected storms lashed at the airships, forcing many to turn back. If a zeppelin encountered strong winds on its return trip from England, the lives of the crew were endangered, since fuel reserves were kept as low as possible to reduce weight. Even moderate winds from an unfavorable direction menaced the success of flights. Ice or heavy rain also added weight, occasionally forcing airships to perilously low altitudes where they were vulnerable to attack. Given this record, the zeppelins were seldom masters of the air. Bitterly cold winter weather at three or four thousand meters turned gruesome as the zeppelins ascended higher and higher to escape counterattacks by English biplanes. In 1917, the L 55 reached an altitude of 7,300 meters, a world record. But at these altitudes, the Maybach motors functioned only at two-thirds capacity, crippling the mobility of the zeppelins. High-altitude northerly gales wrecked or forced down five slowmoving zeppelins one night in October 1917. Winter temperatures at 6,000 meters fell below - 33 degrees centigrade. It was so cold it was impossible to provision the crew of twenty properly. Chocolate and bread, which froze rock-solid at high altitudes, had to be broken into small bits before each flight and each piece later melted slowly in the mouth. Brandy was occasionally made available once a certain height had been reached. Even so, airshipmen constantly struggled to stay warm and rigged their own "height suits." First they

55

56

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

rubbed their bodies with frostbite ointment and then pulled on woolen underclothes, a windbreaking garment of tissue paper, the navy's blue uniform, a leather overcoat, perhaps a life jacket, and finally a fur coat. For all this effort, cold, stiff joints continued to slow reactions and impair performance. The altitude itself also took its toll on the crews. At 5,000 meters, compressed oxygen was made available to airshipmen, but it was often so impure that men became violently ill, gasping for breath at perilous heights. Compressed oxygen was eventually replaced with liquid air. The flasks were placed at one or two stations, to which fatigued crew members had to grope in the dark. Moreover, the mouthpiece often tasted like fuel and caused bouts of vomiting. Men lost consciousness in the rarified air, and they bled from their noses and ears. Misery did not end when the ship descended. Terrified crew members did not even remember thinking of their bodily functions in flight. But once the ships landed, the crew ran to the toilets; the warmer air had begun to melt the clump of excrement and blood that the cold had hardened during the long flight. I22 The suffering crews not only endured twenty-hour flights but had to constantly maintain the hard-pressed machinery. Cold weather mauled the motors. First Lieutenant Hans Eisenbeck remembered one winter flight to the eastern front just after Christmas 1916. Subzero temperatures thickened the machine oil so that it no longer flowed into the engines. The L 38's flight machinist decided to haul the heavy oil containers to the gondolas where they could be warmed and to supply the Maybach engines with oil by hand, a strenuous job in the dark bitter cold. However, the intake of oil was so irregular that the spark plugs had to be replaced. To do this, the crew shut the six engines off, which caused the coolant to freeze in two of them. The captain had no choice but to bring the zeppelin to a lower, warmer altitude. But in the cloud cover a heavy sheet of ice, 15 to 25 centimeters thick, formed against the hull, weighing down the airship even more and impairing the altitude rudder. Slowly the L 38 made its way back to Ahlhorn, tilting at 15 degrees. The forward propellers whipped pieces of ice against the ship, puncturing gas cells in the stern. Ice also fragmented one propeller, so that a third motor fell out of service. With only three motors left, the ship no longer had the power to move forward and only slid upward at a steeper and steeper angle. To avoid a catastrophe, the remaining motors were shut off, causing the ship to descend rapidly; the crew threw all possible ballast overboard to regain the ability to steer. The descent was still too fast, and the ship hit the

Giant Airships and World Politics

water hard before becoming airborne again. The L 38 finally crashed into an East Elbian pine forest and was abandoned. These sorry circumstances were relieved, however, when the crew was transferred to Friedrichshafen to pick up the L 42, on which they made "a series of nice journeys to England." 123 Enemy fire was as dangerous as winter storms. One airshipman recalled hovering over an English city. Hundreds of artillery shells exploded, mostly below the ship. Caught by a half-dozen searchlights, Pitt Klein's ship was lit up so brightly that the crew could easily have read books. Suddenly the ship lost power in two engines and fell 1,000 meters into the sea of shrapnel and only barely escaped. 124 Night skies were also illuminated by the eerie explosions of friendly airships. Crew members on the L 42 witnessed the fiery destruction of the L 48:125 The airplane appears to slither over the zeppelin. It is as certain of its task as a spider waiting in ambush. Then we hear what sounds like the long rat-a-tat-tat of the machine gun. It is impossible; no more miracles. Those guys have to start making out their wills. Now! Now! The airship suddenly begins to glow bright yellow-red. A darting flame shoots out of the hull. Then a fine smoke creeps over the ship, the stern drops, and the ship plunges down into the depths. It is a column of fire, like a meteor hissing out of the heavens. They are finished over there.

In fact, the L 48 fell slowly, kept buoyant by gas cells that remained intact. In a harrowing story that sounds more like an unbelievable turn-of-thecentury carnival attraction, three men survived the free fall of 55,400 cubic meters of burning hydrogen from 4,000 meters. 126 The zeppelin flew at the very edge of technological possibility. There was a certain romance in exploring this borderland. More than a dozen books recollected the zeppelins' wartime adventures and echoed the same refrain: "the audacious maneuver is successful!" or "it worked!" But success was only partially a question of skill and fortitude. Again and again, airshipmen agreed that they had simply been lucky. Survivors telling their harrowing stories invariably concluded: "It is a wonder that ..." Even for a fully functioning airship, conceded one veteran, "London is a race against death." 127 Rolf Marben called raids across the channel a "lottery with our lives." "Everyone knew that in the next hours a single, tiny incendiary bullet could turn the ship into a flaming torch." To Mar-

57

58

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

ben, the destruction of the L 48 was somehow foreseen; he described the airship as doomed and floating in the air like a corpse. Rather than exercising dominion over nature, zeppelins fought a losing battle against not only enemy fire but the North Atlantic's inclement weather. The story of their wartime service is one of unequaled vulnerability and failure: nights were "pitiless"; battles were "horrible"; "heaven and earth are alive to destroy us." 128 The failure of technology bred its own heroism. Participation in the flights was entirely voluntary, and, veterans report, the crews clamored for action, sustained by nervous excitement and "intimate comradeship." Not even the heavy losses at the end of 1916 demoralized the crews. Pitt Klein remembered their fervor: "Success is still possible if we commit ourselves completely to duty and demand of ourselves even more discipline, composure, and cold-bloodedness." Precisely because they were technologically imperfect, airships demanded will and perseverance and thus made possible the display of German virtues. Werner von Langsdorffbelieved the missions were "difficult, but wonderful," wonderful because difficult. 129 One scholar even argues that Strasser, the admiral in command of the navy's airship service, was aware of the zeppelins' severe limitations but believed they still offered Germany a small advantage in 1916 and 1917. Strasser believed it was his duty to wrestle this advantage, despite all difficulties. This is a heroic picture of Strasser, battling the failure of technology for the sake of duty and fatherland. In this view, Germany's wonder weapon is not the airship, but the sharp minds and courageous spirits who serve the obsolete, breakable machines. The evidence is entirely circumstantial and relies on the memoirs of Strasser's correspondents. Official memoranda, by contrast, all show a Strasser fanatic in his confidence in the airships. Nonetheless, the overall argument makes sense. By the end of the war, the value of the zeppelins rested not in the mastery of men over nature and not in the harm inflicted on the English, but in the virtues of service and courage that the airships called forth. At the end of the war, Germany celebrated airshipmen, not airships; resolve in the face of technology, not the power of technology; the aesthetic of struggle and defeat, not dominion; and so had completely reversed itself on the zeppelins. The giants regarded as the zenith of modernityafter 1908 had become the very measure of Wilhelmine exaggeration by 1918.130

THE IMAGE OF THE WAR ACE

2

If Germany's immense zeppelins ended the war as mastodons, doomed to extinction, highlighting the bravery of German airshipmen but also revealing the false confidence and bravado of the Wilhelmine years, airplanes seemed to belong to a more prosperous epoch of technological precision and enterprise. In the postwar years, planes and pilots served as forceful images of national prosperity. It was the First World War which completely recast the way Europeans looked at airplanes. The prewar flying machines that had been regarded as wondrous, so out of the ordinary that the overhead drawl of a wooden propeller sent people rushing into the streets, eventually came to be accepted as everyday. But wartime aviation gave that acceptance a new sensibility. By the end of the war, pilots and passengers took the reliability of 200horsepower motors for granted, merchants and statesmen eagerly awaited the day when regular airline links would stitch together the continents, and neighbors feared the eerie whistle and siren announcing the aerial bombardier. The coming air age posed tough requirements, to be sure, but also offered a regenerate and auspicious future for those nations willing to meet its terms. In the first year of the war, Georg Wegener, war correspondent for the Kiilnische Zeitung, flew as an observer over the western front. In rapturous, dramatic detail he described the biplane's turbulent takeoff. The mechanic threw the propeller into gear; "the machine shuddered all over," shaking Wegener "to his fingertips." Then, "all at once, the motor turned over," but "with angry impatience." Wegener could hear nothing except the "wild roar" of the propeller. For all this noise, the plane strained to take off. "The contraption swayed back and forth a bit," efforts which reminded the bemused passenger of a young stork learning to fly. But, "as if he sensed my disrespect, he raised his voice ... it was thunder! It was tremendous ... the noise and power of a hundred lions." The airplane began to leap in long strides along the grass runway, this time like a 59

60

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

"leopard hunting antelope." The wheels hit the grass two or three more times before the plane finally left the ground. Exhilarated, a little frightened, Wegener took off when flying was still an uncertain adventure, and his overworked language struggled to suit the proud achievement. 1 Two years later, Adolf Victor von Koerber recounted a very different flight. His smooth-running machine bore little resemblance to the wild, impetuous beast described by Wegener. Firmly in the hands of the pilot, its power was regulated and constant: "The motor belts out its song of iron, drowning out everything else, and the propeller ... pulls the machine in a tearing flight onto the plane of battle." 2 Koerber's Albatros was the shape of things to come. In the last two years of the war, squadrons of fighter pilots took off in reliable and highly maneuverable one-seater AIbatros biplanes. A compact and streamlined plane, outfitted with a 160horsepower water-cooled Mercedes engine, the Albatros D was "a perfect fighting machine," according to one historian. 3 Built to the stern requirements of aerial warfare, it could roll, climb, and dive at high speeds and cruise at 170 kilometers per hour at 7,000 meters. And like the Fokker monoplane it replaced, the Albatros featured a forward-firing machine gun that fired through the propeller. Rather than an airborne ship, from which warriors might fire a gun or drop a bomb, the fighter plane had evolved into a specialized and deadly flying missile for which the direction of flight and the trajectory of fire were the same. This economy was a far cry from the frail planes with which belligerents made do in the summer of 1914. For the first year of the war, the worst enemies of German pilots were not Allied planes or artillery fire, but inclement weather and the structural weaknesses of the planes themselves. Pilots did not dare execute certain maneuvers for fear of damaging the rudder, shredding the canvas exterior, or ripping the stay wires between the wings. The 1910 death of Geo Chavez, the Peruvian airman whose wires snapped during a steep glide moments after he became the first person to fly over the Alps, reminded fliers how close to mortal catastrophe technical accomplishment remained. For the first year of the war, German military aviation was little more than cautious and haphazard reconnaissance, carried out in the 250 planes (including scores of antiquated Taube monoplanes) that were fit for active service. At first, airmen did little more than observe, though many packed along rifles and pistols to take potshots. Even after machine guns were mounted in the rear, several problems remained. Communication between pilot and gun-

The Image of the War Ace

ner proved difficult, the structure of the plane obstructed the line of fire, and direct kills of enemy aircraft were therefore infrequent. In the first seasons of the World War, the airplane did not have an offensive capacity. Technologies of bombing also began in a primitive state. The war had opened with German pilots dropping hand grenades and small explosives over the sides of their Tauben, more to irritate than decimate enemy troops below, but it ended with wings of four- and five-engined "Giants" unloading thousands of kilograms of bombs over London. By the last year of the war, multi-engined, steel-hulled bombers were the last word in war technology, and their size awed observers. One visitor to the air base at Doberitz stressed the novelty and precision of the machines. Despite rain and fog, the "Giant" "rolled soundlessly into place with military exactness, to the centimeter." "There it stands, massive, and doesn't move at all in the gusts of rain that lash against it." "Giant" was no misnomer. Its wingspan was over forty meters and it could carry a crew of up to nine men. It was almost as large as World War II's "Flying Fortress," the B 17. This sight was as fearsome as it was overwhelming: "My thoughts are racing around," the visitor reported, "and always return to England." Powered by four 24s-horsepower Maybach engines, the monstrous bomber had a range of 500 kilometers and carried up to 1,000 kilograms of bombs, which in the last year of the war did more damage and killed more civilians than Strasser's zeppelins. Standing on the cold, rainsoaked airfield, Walter Ostwald imagined the terror of the victims. "It must be terrible to be powerless, impotent against these monsters, which are like giant bats escaped from the underworld. In the black night, they are invisible, inaudible." "Giants" provided yet another confirmation that "German science and German ability" are "victorious over the entire world," Ostwald concluded. Militarism required technology.4 It was in the years 1917 and 1918 that Germany inaugurated strategic bombingalthough shortages of raw materials and fuel limited the reach of bombardiers and left Ostwald's bold assertion unrealized-missions that burrowed into the black nightmares of the twentieth century. Thanks to the industrialization of the ways and means of killing, the Great War became the first in which most soldiers who died were killed in combat, choked by specially designed poisonous gases, raked by automatic machine-gun fire, torn apart by bombs and shells. In the decades to come, crippled veterans along streets in Paris, Berlin, and London lingered as brutalized reminders of the technology of war. English "Pal"

61

62

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

battalions aptly dubbed the war the "Great Sausage Machine." Although the happy marriage between technology and progress was not completely wrecked at the war's end, since the promise of technocracy was widely accepted in the 1920S and 1930S, images of technology no longer conveyed unalloyed beneficence. Largely as a result of the war, feelings of dread and helplessness now mingled with optimism, and temptations of social engineering and domination impinged on more conventional visions of progress. In August 1914, the war mobilized not just men but also machines. Pointing to the thousands of motorized tanks, precision machine guns, and fighter planes that had been deployed during four years of war, Ernst Junger described the conflagration as a "storm of steel." These machines had changed the nature of war and would recast the nature of postwar society. In what amounted to a shelf of books written during the 1920S, Junger explored how the war had hammered and retooled the continent and had given new shape and harsh rationality to metropolitan space, industrial organization, and political power. He returned again and again to aviation and aviators in his reporting of this new and vigorous barbaric face of the twentieth century. Europe's warriors were modern-day conquistadors, discovering and making a New World. Behind German lines, the noise of this conquest was clearly audible to Junger: "It is a wonderful June night. The sky is black and pricked out with a thousand stars ... The rifles and helmets clink together in the lorries. The engines sing the wild song of energy and tune our nerves more sharply than any march." The assembled power was overwhelming. A plane buzzed overhead. In a moment, "the searchlights' trembling arms explore the dark vault ... light rockets are discharged one after another, and even machine guns send out swarms of deadly glow-worms." As it was, the airplane, "dancing like a pretty butterfly among flame-throwers," eluded the artillery fire. Nevertheless, that June night Junger recognized that armies had never been "more dangerously, more terribly armed." 5 What struck him was the immense realm of possibility that the war had opened up. As Junger's botanical metaphors suggested, technology had evolved into a natural order or "second nature." It was literally alive and invested with insurgent, living power that would shape and reshape postwar Europe; the therapy of machines had left the material, political, and spiritual constructions of the continent labile and unstable. ''A new ardour, a new energy inspires life," Junger asserted; "the men who today are behind the machine guns will tomorrow

The Image of the War Ace

be in industry, carrying their tempo into the markets and the large towns, creating the political situation and giving the world a new face." 6 Jiinger conceded that most soldiers were passive victims in this "demoniac strife," unable to help themselves or master the machines that destroyed them. He subscribed to the conventional notion that industrial war reduced men to unheroic victims. For this reason, he had little sympathy with Frontschweine in the trenches. They were powerless and therefore not completely realized beings. But to focus only on mass armies and anonymous death, the dominant images of the Great War, was to obscure the most consequential products of the conflict, the minority of machine builders whom war had invigorated and empowered: "the men who lead the storm troop, and manipulate the tank, the aeroplane, and the submarine." 7 For Jiinger these men constituted "a new and commanding breed ... fearless and fabulous ... a race that builds machines and trusts machines." 8 Machines required workers, mechanics, and engineers to engage them and demanded from these masters a new measure of skill and courage. It is clear that Jiinger did not see a contradiction between machines and the masculine ideal. Air forces or oceangoing navies themselves were not as important as "the fire, the might, the pitiless will that machines have created" in twentieth-century men. 9 This comprehension of modem technology is distinctly Jungerian. It not only reconciled Nietzsche with industry but made Nietzschean virtue dependent on the mobilization of the industrial arsenal. The new face that war had given to Europe was represented perhaps most faithfully by the pilot and aviator. Airmen were the new men whom Jiinger celebrated in the 1920S: "this ideal type in overalls, with a face hewn in stone under a leather cap. Duty and service, intelligence and talent, character and heart gave this young face its features early on." 10 ButJunger was ambivalent about exactly what sort of men pilots were. On the one hand, he lauded the aristocratic virtues that war in the air preserved. Only in the air, he pointed out, was a chivalrous duel still possible, and only in the air did virtues of honor and respect among warriors still prevail. The life of airmen was also privileged. Short battles interrupted a pleasant routine on the ground. Junger imagined victorious pilots "leaving their machines to the mechanics and throwing themselves into easy chairs, having breakfast and reading the paper." On the airfield and in the casinos there was little of the "daily wearisome labor" that brutalized infantrymen in the trenches. 11 On the other hand, Junger recognized the sons of workers among air-

63

64

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

men. Many pilots had been "reared in the centers of modem industry ... [their] faces have the imprint of hard fact. The ardour of speed, the tempo of the manufactory, the poetry of steel and reinforced concrete have been the natural surroundings of their childhood ... They are thoroughly accustomed to the enhancement of life by the machine." 12 Combining "hearts of fire" with "brains of steel," a "burning fever" with the "agile and iron clarity required to master complicated hundredhorsepower motors," these worker-warriors did not at all resemble less Spartan, less barbarous, less interesting aristocrats. 13 Both images, however, attracted Junger's attention. Indeed, nostalgia for imagined preindustrial virtue may even have prompted Junger to undertake his careful exploration of the industrial landscape. And both images, the familiar knight in the air and the steeled machine-man, figured in popular ideas about the fighter pilot. Building the Ace

The Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen; Billy Bishop; Eddie Rickenbacker; Georges Guynemer: the names of World War I flying aces are more familiar today than those of World War I generals. The ace in combat is an immediately recognizable image. In control of his fate, handling his airplane with great courage and skill but also with an envied recklessness, the aviator appeared to be a genuine war hero, comparable to cavalrymen in Napoleon's era or chivalrous knights in the Middle Ages. Beginning in 19 I 5, aces found themselves lionized as hugely popular celebrities, particularly in France and Germany. And after the war, a steady stream of hagiography enhanced their heroic status. To this day, myths opposing the individual, distinctive combat of the aces to the industrial mass war on the ground remain deeply embedded in Western folklore. But young pilots did not simply climb into a biplane, fly above the anonymous death of trench warfare, and land glamorously in the history books. Many aviators were not pilots but mechanics and observers, and most pilots did not fly one-seater fighter planes. The demands of military reconnaissance required hundreds of heavier biplanes, which carried an observer as well as a pilot. Air forces also included artillery spotters, infantry strafers, heavy bombers, and training machines. Indeed, it was not until 1915 that individual aces really began to make their mark. And by

The Image of the War Ace

1918, solo sorties were much too dangerous and had given way almost completely to carefully executed group missions. Despite their enduring fame, aces were the creation of a specific stage of air war. Boelcke, Immelmann, and the others were not prototypes of a new twentieth-century aerial chevalier. Strategists devalued their importance in the doctrinal debates in the 1920S, and solo aces did not return to play the same role or enjoy the same adulation in the Second World War as they had in the First. Already by the end of the Great War it was clear that airmen were as much the products of industrial warfare as the masses of infantrymen in the trenches. Like the other great-power belligerents, Germany entered the war deprecating the value of the airplane. Ignoring the recommendations of the General Staff, the War Ministry did little to explore the military applications of aviation. Berlin's "almost mystical" confidence in the Prussian infantry overlooked the usefulness of air forces, and when strategists thought about air war they usually thought about airships. As a result, in August 1914, planes were regarded as little more than secondary helpmates of the cavalry in tactical reconnaissance. Here and there, prewar military theorists recognized the airplane's potential for carrying out long-distance scouting and strategic bombing missions, but these ideas were not widely accepted. 14 Given these conditions, it is not surprising that mobilization orders in August 1914 did not define the precise role that military aviators were to play. The result was ill-conceived placement of airfields in August 19 1 4, which led to costly accidents and unnecessary casualties, and to illdefined or wasteful scouting missions. Army corps often simply filed away the reconnaissance information that intrepid pilots managed to discover. As the fall offensive progressed, however, corps commanders came to rely more and more on aerial reconnaissance. Airplanes also usefully served the artillery, spotting targets and directing fire, especially once the introduction of the wireless in December 1914 facilitated ground-to-air communication. At the same time, the Germans organized a strategic bombing wing in Ostende, although its promise was never realized. 15 At the end of 1914, by the time the immobile war of attrition ended the usefulness of the cavalry, military aviation had established itself as a vital and necessary technology. The General Staff accordingly reorganized the command structure of aviation units and rationalized purchasing from the aviation industry.16 The Allies mobilized as well. French aerial scouts

65

66

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

provided critical reconnaissance during the Battle of the Marne, and British bombardiers targeted industrial centers and even bombed the zeppelin works in Friedrichshafen. Given the rapid deployment of planes as scouts, artillery spotters, and bombers, both sides became increasingly concerned with shooting enemy aircraft out of friendly skies. By the beginning of 1915, machine guns were standard equipment on a new series of more stable and powerful biplanes, the first step toward a specialized fighter capacity. The sturdy German C-planes featured a ring-mounted machine gun for the observer in the rear. Although the gun was both stable and highly maneuverable, its line of fire was obstructed by the structure of the plane. To get an enemy plane in his sights, the gunner constantly had to shout abbreviated directions to the pilot, who was usually a lower-ranked noncommissioned officer and merely served as "chauffeur," an arrangement which quickly proved cumbersome. As a result, the Germans were outclassed by the Allies, who in early 1915 depended largely on slower "pusher" planes, whose advantage was a free-firing machine gun mounted in front of the propeller. Both the Allies, whose Vickers Gun Bus and Farman pushers sacrificed speed to achieve forward firing, and the Germans, whose faster machines made awkward fighters, continued to cast about for a single-seater that would combine a forward-firing gun with aircraft speed and maneuverability. The morale of German airmen dipped in the winter of 1915 when the Allies plucked more and more observation planes out of the sky. In the first spring of the World War, in early April 1915, a single Frenchman, Roland Garros, brought down three German planes in two days. His unprecedented fifth victory a few days later electrified Paris, and publicitymakers in the French capital awarded him the accolade "as." From then on any pilot with five victories earned the unofficial designation of "ace." Garros achieved his rapid-fire kills not in a pusher plane but in a speedy one-seater Morane-Saulnier monoplane specially fitted with a forwardmounted machine gun that shot through the revolving propeller. In a flash of insight, the manufacturer Raymond Saulnier had calculated that only about one in thirteen bullets would strike the propeller blades and ricochet away from the target. To keep the blades from splintering, Saulnier wrapped the edges with steel, which deflected the bullets. The result was a prototype of a specialized fighter plane in the hands of a single pilot who aimed the machine gun by aiming the aircraft.

The Image of the War Ace

Combat planes no longer had to be slow pushers or shuddering platforms for wild, badly aimed bursts of machine-gun fire, but evolved into missiles of unprecedented and deadly accuracy. Lighter, more maneuverable one-seaters replaced two-seaters, a change that greatly enhanced the role of the pilot, who was now more likely to be an officer responsible for both the plane and the gun. A lone airman entered combat, fought with skill and luck, and if victorious won the accolades of a patriotic public. A combination of technology and tactics created the legendary war ace. Garros's celebrity status was short-lived, however. He was shot down as he passed over enemy lines on 19 April 1915, and his Morane was retrieved by German troops before he had a chance to set it on fire. The only industrialist in Germany who built lightweight one-seater monoplanes like the Morane was the Dutch engineer Anthony Fokker, and it was therefore Fokker whom the General Staff asked to copy Saulnier's gun device. Convinced that the exposure of the propeller to even a small percentage of bullets was too dangerous, especially if the number of revolutions or machine-gun rounds per minute increased, Fokker set to work on an interrupting device which would keep even a single bullet from hitting the fast-moving blades. Aviation buffs debate whether it was Fokker, his mechanic, or an earlier inventor who conceived of the synchronizing gear, but it was Fokker who constructed it, and little more than a month after Garros was shot down he demonstrated the new weapon to military officials. Fokker's device was remarkably simple. When the pilot fired, a cam on the revolving propeller shaft tripped the machine gun, keeping the bullets clear of the blades; the gun and engine had become a single machine. By August 1915, two young pilots, Oswald Boelcke and Max Immelmann, had tested Fokker one-seaters fitted with a sychronized forward-firing machine gun in combat, had brought down a number of Allied planes, and had earned for themselves the "wildest enthusiasm" of the German High Command. 17 Even though the Fokker E.I, with its 8o-horsepower Oberursel engine, achieved a top speed of only 130 kilometers per hour and cannot be considered a high-performance plane, the forward-firing gun gave it a margin of maneuverability and invincibility which the Allies could not match. Assigned only to the best pilots, one-seater Fokkers were distributed along the front to protect slower two-seater observation planes. But a number of pilots also used Fokkers more offensively, breaking away

67

68

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

This 1916 Fokker advertisement shows the pilot, the gun, and the airplane as parts of a single machine.

The Image of the War Ace

from escort missions in ones and twos, stalking Allied bombers and observation planes, and drilling them with machine-gun fire from behind. It was these victories that made Boelcke and Immelmann popular heroes before the year was out. Deadly only because the Allies had not yet discovered the secret of the synchronizing gear, the Fokkers gained a menacing reputation out of proportion with their numbers or technical virtuosity. This unhappy state of affairs led one Member of Parliament to describe British airmen as "Fokker Fodder." For the rest of I 9 I 5 and the first months of 1916, as long as they monopolized the forward-firing gun, the Germans enjoyed superiority in the air. 18 Despite the best of precautions to keep the Fokkers behind German lines lest they crash and fall into Allied hands, early in 1916 a Fokker stumbled westward across the front in heavy fog and landed undamaged on a French airfield. Twenty-four hours later the plane was in Paris. In a matter of months, a new series of Allied biplanes, the highly maneuverable Sopwith I Yz Strutter and the Nieuport, both vastly superior to the Fokker monoplane, featured synchronized machine guns. Their appearance in the spring and Immelmann's death in a Fokker that broke up in the air on 18 June 1916 ended the almost year-long ascendancy of the slow, unstable monoplane. Although the Germans quickly constructed maneuverable biplanes, the Halberstadt D-2 and later the sleek Albatros D- I, which was perhaps the best one-seater of the war, industrial output lagged, and by the summer of 19 I 6 the more numerous British and French machines easily regained air superiority. The dramatic reversal of German fortunes was confirmed during the Battle of the Somme. In July and August 1916, hundreds of Allied planes strafed German trenches and bombed munition dumps and transportation networks in the rear. German morale frayed badly. "One hardly dares to be seen in the trench, owing to the English aeroplanes," wrote one German infantryman at the Somme. "They fly so low that it is a wonder they do not pull men right out of the trenches." The infantry felt under constant observation and grew panicky and nervous. Wild rumors spread through the trenches. Artillery gunners regarded Allied planes as invincible and gave up shooting at them altogether. All the while, the soldier continued in a voice heavy with sarcasm, "nothing is to be seen of our German hero airmen." 19 Every plane that passed overhead was identified as hostile. Men ran for cover even when the plane had German markings, which were taken to be an Allied ruse. What most worried German military observers was not the material destruction Allied aircraft caused be-

69

70

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

hind the lines, but. the demoralization their flyovers generated in the ranks of the infantry. 20 In the words of Hans Ritter, a historian of air power in the 1920S, the Battle of the Somme was a crucial turning point. It "hammered the importance of air superiority" into the considerations of the German General Staff. Without a capable air force, friendly artillery could not be properly directed, hostile artillery positions were left undetected, and the infantry was exposed to grueling rounds of enemy strafing. Under these conditions, Ritter argued, the "crisis of nerves" among the troops had been "unavoidable." 21 Accordingly, the General Staff moved quickly to bolster Germany's air forces. On 8 October 1916 it appointed Ernst Wilhelm von Hoeppner, formerly the army's ChiefofField Aviation, as General in Command of the Air Forces, responsible only to the General Staff. Hoeppner's promotion was the culmination of the development of an independent air arm, to the consternation of both the army and the navy. At the same time, Chief of Staff Hindenburg committed Germany to a massive buildup of the air forces. The General Staff, convinced that superiority in the air was vital to victory on the ground, approved production plans to increase the air force by half, to some 2,322 planes, with emphasis on the manufacture of new one-seater fighters and heavier bombers. Factory capacity expanded dramatically, reaching 900 deliveries in December 1916, but slipped to 400 in January 1917 as a result of persistent shortages of coal, raw materials, and skilled workers. Although the Hindenburg Program fell short of its goals, it delivered the Albatros biplane 0-5, Germany's new standard fighter, in sufficient numbers to maul the British air force in "Bloody April" 1917. Poor planning and material shortages kept Germany from fighting a total war in the air, but these inadequacies should not obscure the fact that Germany had largely achieved strategic parity with the numerically superior Allied forces in 19 17. 22 The restoration of parity was not simply a matter of building more machines, but also of deploying them properly. Already during the Battle of the Somme, Oswald Boelcke, the Reich's most famous ace, argued that the only way to throw back the hundreds of Allied planes making their way in ones and twos across German lines was to bunch five or six fighter planes into hunting squadrons or Jagdstaffeln (Jastas). Not chained to a particular area or reconnaissance mission, a highly mobile fighter squadron could achieve local air supremacy, moving from one airfield to another as circumstances demanded. Such mobile groups of one-seater

The Image of the War Ace

fighters, Boelcke believed, could counter the superior Allied numbers. His arguments persuaded Hoeppner, and by the end of 19 16 33 Jastas along the western front had contained the Allied air barrage. The responsibility of Jasta fighters was exclusively offensive. Their purpose was to seek out and destroy enemy aircraft. Whereas Boelcke and Immelmann had hung about in the skies in 1915 and early 1916, waiting for British or French planes to pass, Jastas patrolled particular areas or remained on the ground until observers on the front lines identified hostile aircraft and telephoned in their bearings. Air superiority was no longer a matter of coincidence and luck, but the result of careful calculation. 23 The creation ofJ astas in the late summer of 1916 marked the beginning of classic aerial warfare. The business of fighting, now distinguished from that of bombing or reconnaissance, quickly developed characteristic weaponry, the one-seater biplane outfitted with two synchronized forward-firing maching guns, and a specialized combatant, the fighter ace. The Jastas bred a new kind of airman. Rudolf Stark remembered being transferred into a Jasta. Stark had previously flown heavy two-seaters: "The battles we fought were defensive ones, thrust on us by necessity." For a fighter scout, however, "battle is the main objective. He rejoices in battle." 24 Boelcke hammered the tactics of aggressive aerial warfare into his squadron again and again. The primary responsibility of the J astas was to destroy observation planes and bombers as well as the scouts that accompanied them. Attacks were best carried out from above and behind enemy aircraft. To shoot down an artillery spotter or observation plane was not difficult. The Albatros biplanes which made up most Jastas by the second half of 1916 were faster than any two-seater, especially in diving and climbing. Encounters with enemy one-seater scouts demanded more skill, however. Since the fixed machine guns on fighter planes faced forward, airmen always attempted to attack the rear and, at the same time, took care not to expose their own defenseless tails. To adjust the line of fire or evade a pursuer, scouts would dive and turn and climb in an attempt to get behind their attacker. Aerial combat frequently turned into a classic duel between two pilots who circled, looped, and climbed around each other. Richthofen described a dramatic confrontation with the British ace Lanoe Hawker: It did not take long before one dove for me, trying to catch me from behind. After a burst of five shots the sky fellow had to stop, for I was already in a sharp left curve. The Englishman attempted to get behind

71

72

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

me while I attempted to get behind him. So it went, both of us flying like madmen in a circle, with engines running fullout at threethousand-meter altitude. First left, then right, each intent on getting above and behind the other ... He had a very maneuverable crate, but mine climbed better, and I finally succeeded in coming in above and behind him.

In the end, Richthofen forced Hawker down to his death, about fifty meters behind German lines. 25 For Jasta pilots, the sky took on new meaning as a realm of ambition and destruction. Above the western front stretched an immense hunting ground, "a real EI Dorado" for fighter pilots, marveled Boelcke. 26 The autumn of 1916 was an exuberant time, recalled Richthofen, who joined Boelcke's Jasta 2 that August: "the first Englishmen came very early in the morning, and the last disappeared long after the sun had gone down." 27 Even clouds were viewed from a fighter's perspective. Reconnaissance pilots, who flew direction to a particular destination, hated clouds. For Georg Haupt-Heydemarck, "flying through thick clouds is the most fearsome business I can imagine. After a little while one loses all sense of equilibrium." 28 More mobile scouts, on the other hand, sought refuge along the edges of cloud formations, using them as cover for surprise attacks. Once assigned to a Jasta, Heydemarck described clouds as a fighter pilot would see them-as friendly "pads" or "formations" and "veils" to hide behind: "When we had climbed above the belt of haze I had a good view of the cloud ceiling that was forming. The wisps were thickening into soft veils, but the wind tore them apart again and pounded their fragments into loose balls. These ... could not retain their forms, but coalesced into huge pads." 29 To stay alive, pilots required not only considerable skill and a fightingman's eye but also a reliable machine that could maintain speed and stability in tight maneuvers. Pilots had to know the capacities of their machines: how fast the plane could be pushed in a variety of dives before a wing or tail broke off; how fast it climbed; or how well it handled in controlled spins and sideslips. Airmen also had to know how to quickly repair jammed machine guns, even in the heat of battle with heavy clothing and gloves. Squadron leaders such as Boelcke tried to reproduce the conditions of battle on the ground and trained their men repeatedly. It was not surprising that scouts quickly developed an almost personal relation to their machines. To Erwin Bohme one-seaters seemed "alive, sentient

The Image of the War Ace

beings, who understand what the pilot wants." "One no longer has the feeling that one is sitting at the controls of a plane," he added; "rather it is as if there is spiritual contact." 30 Again and again, fighter pilots were defined by their intimacy with the one-seater that had given them such a distinctive role. Richthofen acquired his nom de guerre, the Red Baron, after he painted his Albatros D-3 bright red. Boelcke regarded his Albatros as like a "brother," wrote panegyrist Rudolf Gottschalk. Man and machine merged into one, each lending qualities to the other. One journalist described Boelcke as half terrifYing machine, halfwarm-hearted German. The eyes of the ace drew his attention first: "Two clear blue eyes fastened themselves on me ... examining me ... like searchlights." Then Boelcke's face unlocked and he became a recognizable German: "The handsome, brave, and proud face suddenly breaks into a smile ... he shakes off all the honors and the praise I want to bestow with a little movement of his head, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, with a wonderful, graceful motion of his hands." 31 As for Richthofen, he was described by one poet as "half knight and half scythe." 32 Air war in 1916 had created a single weapon out of pilot and machine, the modernfuror teutonicus. 33 The bold, simple lines of a Fokker advertisement illustrated the complete realization of the World War I ace, in which the machine enhanced the man. 34 Jasta tactics made the pilot a self-reliant fighter and turned the skies into a hunter's paradise. Almost every mission ended in an air fight; for a time, in September 1916, Boelcke was shooting down one or two English planes every day. In the five weeks between the formation ofJ asta 2 and his death on 28 October 1916, Boelcke brought the number of his victories from twenty to an astonishing forty. Bohme, Richthofen, and other Staffel members swelled their totals as well, though not nearly as rapidly as their squadron leader. Once again, the morale of the Allied air forces buckled. In September, for example, the British and French lost 123 aircraft over the battlefields of the Somme, while the Germans lost only 27. The next month, the figures remained lopsided: 88 Allied planes to 12 German. Given the greater than two-to-one numerical superiority of the Allies, the Germans did indeed seem to fight quantity with quality, as Richthofen boasted. 35 Writing just three years after the war, Ernst von Hoeppner concluded of the Battle of the Somme: "If the Entente was not able to drive us from the air ... it was due to the devoted and heroic spirit of our aviators." Air war demanded self-reliance and skill, but also

73

74

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

"nerves of steel and youth's scorn of danger, together with a deep sense of responsibility." 36 It was this notion of quality, not simply better J asta machines and Jasta tactics, but superior character somehow inhering in the new airmen themselves, that lent itself to war propaganda and provided the building blocks to construct the mythical figure of the ace. The Folklore of the Ace The ace was the product of the changing terms of air war, in which a single airman flew a one-seater scout as an airborne gun. There was no such thing as an "ace" until 1915, the year when the forward-mounted machine gun permitted one-seaters to play an offensive role and a single individual to assume the roles of both pilot and gunner-observer. And it was not until the fall of 1916, after Boelcke laid out the specialized tactics of aerial warfare, that the classic duels between recognizable, highscoring aces took place. Once the ace emerged, however, he became one of the most popular figures in wartime Germany. With three, four, then five victories in April 1915, Roland Garros was the first airman the public claimed as a hero. And although the term "ace" was not used in Germany until after the war, Max Immelmann, the "Eagle of Lille," was already an acknowledged "flying hero" with five victories in October 1915. "It is incredible how much I am honored," he reflected, "I simply cannot describe it. My mail has swollen vastly since I have become a famous man." Georg Queri, a war correspondent from Munich, quipped that the army would 'soon have to assign orderlies to open Immelmann's mail, decipher the hand-written poems composed in his honor, and reproduce his signature in reply. On leave in Leipzig in late November, Immelmann was shouldered by enthusiastic crowds upon arrival at the local airfield and mobbed on the streets in town. 37 Immelmann had become a celebrity, that distinctive twentieth-century type. The army quickly exploited Immelmann's popularity to sell war bonds and to advertise the success of the war. Reenacted in short films, which were distributed to field theaters along the front and metropolitan cinemas at home, his aerial victories served as instantly recognizable demonstrations of German prowess and German superiority. Aces previewed victory and thereby sold the war. 38 Before long, the Deutscher Luftflottenverein or German Air Fleet League assisted the government by rallying supporters to promote Germany's new air arm and to raise money to aid

The Image of the War Ace

wounded flyers and their families. The Luftfiottenverein's park concerts, plays, and patriotic evenings were held throughout the Reich. An afternoon charity event in Hamburg in July 1918, for example, featured a "flyin" and lecture by a military pilot, the delivery of "air mail," and a grand ballet in which 139 dancers depicted an epic air battle between the French ace Pegoud, who was portrayed as the better fighter, and Richthofen, who eventually emerged victorious after receiving help from the elements: lightning, thunder, and storm. 39 The message was clear: Germany would overcome the massive material advantage the Allies enjoyed after the entry of the United States into the war because God stood at its side. Oswald Boelcke quickly matched Immelmann's skills. By Christmas 1915 the two aces were locked in a friendly competition that captured the public eye. Throughout December 1915, Boelcke and Immelmann bested each other, running up their Fokker monoplanes and shooting down their fifth, sixth, and seventh Allied planes. Berlin's newspapers made the most of the contest and published clever poems lauding one or the other ace. Finally on 13 January 1916, the kaiser awarded both pilots, each with eight kills, the Pour Ie Merite, Germany's highest award for individual gallantry, which a total of 83 airmen, the great majority of them fighter pilots, eventually received. A day later, Boelcke won his ninth victory, "his answer" to the medal; the show of German invincibility continued, to the delight of the nation's poets: 40 Record

The record in that daring sport Our airman play in heaven Was held by Immelmann, who fought And vanquished victims seven. But Boelcke was a valiant wight, Who did not sit down sighing; He quickly put the balance right, As so one should in flying. But who'd be first with number eight? That left us all surmising. The answer "Both," I'm bound to state, Was really most surprising. They dished up two on one same board'Twas quite an innovation-

75

76

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

And each received as his reward A noble decoration. Then one day later-you'll avow It's rather hard to swallowFriend Boelcke shouted "Nine! How now! I've nine, I've licked you hollow!" And thus these busy airmen climb, Each day new laurels storing, The ladder of fame to heights sublimeAnd business still is roaring!

"With looks to kill, young and handsome. You wouldn't believe how good the Pour Ie Merite looks on him ... And dancing, he dances like an angel." 41 Boelcke was perhaps the most beloved German airman during the war, though today he is almost forgotten, overshadowed by his pupil Manfred von Richthofen, the Red Baron, whose legacy was glorified by the Nazis, reappropriated by the West German Air Force, and fixed for Americans by the cartoonist Charles Schulz. But in 1916 it was hard not to hear about Boelcke, as the young ace won victory after victory, mostly against French opponents. Small-town newspapers and metropolitan weeklies such as Die Woche, Die Gartenlaube, and the Berliner Illustrirte gave him prominent coverage. Dozens of books appeared, recounting the exploits of Boelcke, Immelmann, and other aces in a popular style. 42 Wilhelm Kranzler, for example, promised a volkstiimlich depiction of Germany's aerial triumphs. 43 Like Immelmann, Boelcke was accorded all the honors of celebrity status. Deluged with mail, "attacked" by autograph hunters, the air heroes more resembled the movie stars of the 1920S than the medieval knights or Napoleonic generals with whom they were often compared. 44 In Frankfurt to attend a meeting between officials of the Inspectorate of Flying Troops and Oberursel engineers, Boelcke felt as if a warrant had been issued for his arrest: people "stared at me all the time in the streets." Attending a performance of E. T. A. Hoffmann's Undine at the Frankfurt Opera, Boelcke was besieged by spectators during intermissions-"it was terrible." At the end of the second act, an opera singer stepped forward and sang a hastily written song for Boelcke. "I could hardly believe my ears," Boelcke remarked. "But then you should have seen the audience going raving mad; they clapped, shouted, and tramped their feet ... I saved myself from further ovations by speedy flight." 45 Similar incidents

The Image of the War Ace

BUder

GUS

grober 3dt

J

( 'I,

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

1 "

J

Unfer erfolgrdd>fter ftampfflleger ljauplmann Boddle

t.

Germany's favorite ace, Oswald Boelcke, on the cover of Die Gartenlaube, one of the biggest weekly magazines.

77

78

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

occurred in Boelcke's hometown, Ziebigk, a suburb of Dessau, which he visited in late May 1916, after his seventeenth and eighteenth victories. Well ahead of Immelmann in the number of kills and unexpectedly promoted to captain, an astonishing success for a twenty-five-year-old pilot, Boelcke found himself feted by an honor roll of Dessau's social clubs. One Dessau burgher, Professor Gerhard Heine, conveyed the excitement and civic pride prompted by Boelcke's visit in verse: 46 Hail, Captain Boelcke! Today was a special day in Ziebigk. Lieutenant Boelcke was there. And was promoted to captain. He stepped out of the skies and sat in the house on the corner like any ordinary mortal. Then sounds of marching feet could be heard from Dessau. The youth brigade had arrived. And in the breast of every young man the silent dream to be a hero his country's pride the enemy's fright in this, Germany's war of destiny. The line stands rigid Captain Boelcke welcomes and inspects. And in the breast of every young man a vision of the future, to be a hero like Boelcke. And the prayer, that God protects our Siegfried, that no harm may come to him. Little boys stand nearby, Not young men, just lads who can't quite pronounce the word: Propeller. But thei reyes betray the wish: to be as brave as Boelcke!

Boelcke was more than Dessau's favorite son; since the ace was instantly recognizable and his victories uncontested, he served to embody the German will to victory. To war correspondents and feature writers,

The Image of the War Ace

each kill reaffirmed Boelcke's invincibility and by extension Germany's. By the same token, of course, the foreseeable death of an Immelmann or a Boelcke indicated the assailability and breakableness of German arms. After fifteen victories, Immelmann crashed to his death on 18 June 1916. It was quickly pointed out that Immelmann had not been bested in aerial combat-apparently his propeller had broken apart-but his death was telling nonetheless. Fearful of losing Germany's most famous ace and unwilling to risk a serious blow to civilian morale, the General Staff responded by placing Boelcke on the inactive list. Boelcke, who had flown to Douai to attend a frontline memorial service for Immelmann and, once in the Arras sector, used the occasion to fly against the British, something he rarely had an opportunity to do at Verdun, was difficult to track down; it took a telegram from the crown prince to ground him at last. For the next two months, Boelcke followed a leisurely schedule. He attended various patriotic festivities at home and inspected flying troops on the eastern front. But he chafed at "being tied to a leash," sitting in a "glass house," and wanted to return to the front, particularly once the Battle of the Somme was under way.47 In 1917, it is worth noting, Richthofen anticipated a similar order. He wondered why the General Staff intended to ground him, at least temporarily, after his forty-first victory.48 The answer seems obvious. As soon as he outdid Boelcke, who boasted forty kills, Richthofen assumed the mantle of Germany's Air Hero and had to be put out of danger for propaganda purposes. But only for a time: both Boelcke and Richthofen contrived to return to combat. In Boelcke's case, Hoeppner returned him to active duty to command Jasta 2 after the catastrophic effects of Allied air superiority over the Somme became clear in August 19 16 . Boelcke's biographer Johannes Werner called the next nine weeks on the Somme Boelcke's "heroic epoch." 49 They were weeks when Boelcke, flying a new Albatros D-3 biplane instead of a Fokker monoplane, doubled the number of his victories from twenty to forty. The prestige of the air force was at a new zenith. On 28 October, however, Boelcke's Albatros grazed another plane with its wing and disintegrated. Boelcke's death stunned the nation. "Is it true? Has he been robbed by blind chance, after achieving victory after victory?" Flugsport asked plaintively. 50 All out of proportion with the death of a young captain, the grandiose funeral underscored the public identity of the air hero. The spectacle, cast with Jasta pilots in dress uniform, high-ranking

79

80

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

generals, and one-seater scouts flying overhead, pushed the airman's parents into the background and extinguished his private existence. Ceremony appropriated Boelcke for the state. Thousands of patriots crowded the streets of Dessau to watch the funeral procession, which was composed ofJasta aviators, regimental associations, patriotic groups, and civic clubs. As the church bells of the entire city tolled and six planes circled in the sky, soldiers carried the casket to the new war cemetery. There Lieutenant-Colonel Thomsen spoke in the name of the air force. Boelcke had done the nation a great service, Thomsen explained. His deeds inspired a generation: "Today there is no vigorous young German whose heart does not burn with the secret desire: 'I want to be a Boelcke.'" As long as these words and this spirit "remain alive in our air service," Thomsen concluded, "our dear fatherland will remain untroubled." An immense literary production honored Boelcke after his death. Scores of Boelcke poems appeared in newspapers and magazines. Die Lufifiotte even published the text and music to a Boelcke song-"I want to be a Boelcke," went the predictable refrain. Immelmann and Boelcke portraits adorned souvenir plates, commemorative coins, and patriotic pins. 51 As the war ground on through its third winter, Boelcke was a ready-made hero. The newly established propaganda arm of the General Staff printed thousands of postcards linking German deeds (Tat) with German victory (Sieg), and airmen like Boelcke and Immelmann were perfect subjects, manufacturing deeds again and again as they won their successive victories. The official German War News service, established in 1917, provided full accounts of air victories and promoted new air heroes, notably Manfred von Richthofen. It was Richthofen who carried the cushion bearing Boelcke's medals during a memorial service in Cambrai. And it was not long before Richthofen became Germany's highest-scoring living ace. With sixteen victories to his name, he received the Pour Ie Merite on 16 January 1917. Thereafter newspaper reporters, magazine photographers, and Ludendorff's propagandists descended on the airbase at Lagnicourt to present the new air hero to the German public. "When Boelcke fell," Georg Wegener remembered to his readers, "an immense sadness came over the German people, and the feeling: 'We will never see his kind again.'" Happily, however, "new pilots, crowned with success," emerged. And one of them, Wegener reported, had climbed to the very "peak of success ...

The Image of the War Ace

:miilld)
- -

-

IMPLICISSIMUS ..... -

__ ~.':'Intlf01"f ..

.......

..........

':II.........

"",,~idJ ,

~_

2fuf chum toten

"ftt• .... ,...•

,"'.-

~Ueoet

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

a. -fa w .....,_it

':Ok 'I).

"nil . . "'••,

.1I'U ..." p" ft. . . . . . . I.~ hi. !J.l:r"bt. 'l~

IH.,., .. 0 &w. I..'''•• t••• Ill. 'Vfl'I.1 ..-hl,

~f.

IIdt ..tal 1'.11 -

til

hit •••••111-' CI''',

Boelcke's death in 1916 evokes classical motifs. This would no longer be the case when Richthofen was shot down.

81

82

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

like Boelcke ... I don't even have to mention his name; everyman cheers on Baron von Richthofen."52 Indeed, "Bloody April" 1917, when Richthofen's Jasta I I pulled eighty-three British fliers from the sky-Richthofen alone shot down twenty-one, including four on a single day, 29 April-seemed to resume Boelcke's "heroic epoch" of the previous autumn. Richthofen remained Germany's most famous airman until his death in April 1918. His image circulated on thousands of Sanke postcards. Popular magazines and silent film shorts recounted his aerial victories, and his book, The Red Battle Flier, hastily written to satisfy the public's immense curiosity, met with instant success, selling more than half a million copies in the last year of the war. 53 Yet Richthofen never inspired the affection or verse of the German public. There was no August Apke or Rudolf Gottschalk or Friedrich Albert Meyer-all biographers of Boelcke-to memorialize Richthofen; and his fellow Jasta flyers found him cool and distant. Richthofen's death, behind Allied lines on 21 April 1918, elicited surprisingly little comment or commemoration at home.54 Boelcke remained the people's favorite. Chevalier of the Skies? "I will be a Boelcke." Exactly what did that mean? What sort of twentiethcentury figure was the combat ace? How was he different from traditional sorts of heroes? Much of the power of the image of the ace comes from its contrast to that of the infantryman in the trenches. Fliers fought an individual rather than a collective and anonymous war. Their victories were immediately recognizable. Kills could be counted toward the Pour Ie Merite and recounted at suitable patriotic occasions. To Europeans at the time, those old words-honor, duty, effort, courage-which industrial war had supposedly made meaningless found renewed meaning and validation in aerial combat. Flying restored glory and adventure to war. This was certainly the case in one of the best-selling war books, The Adventures ofthe Flying Acefrom Tsingtao, which placed the pilot in a colonial setting and associated flying with the exotic, the mysterious, and the dangerous, a combination which T. E. Lawrence and Antoine de SaintExupery as well as Gunther Pliischow crafted into a hugely successful literary genre. But even airmen soaring over Belgium and northern France seemed to assume the legacy of medieval knights and revive notions of chivalry and honor. Aviation created a modern version of the hero.

The Image of the War Ace

SUdtt

GUS

grofitr 3dt.

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Riltmeifter 5rell)err

D.

R1d)II)Ofen.

The menacing Baron von Richthofen on the cover of Die Gartenlaube in 1917.

83

84

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

Was it not true that war on the ground and war in the air belonged to two separate realms? Contemporaries insisted on the distinction. Enjoying relatively luxurious accommodations well behind the front lines, pilots rarely came into contact with infantrymen. "Yes, our profession is wonderful," reflected one German pilot. "I fly once every three days." 55 The rest of the time air force officers lounged in comfortable quarters. First Lieutenant Armin von Bismarck described evenings in front of a fire, drinking, listening to music, playing cards. A piano provided entertainment for Erwin Bohme, while local women did the wash. 56 In a pop-

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

The "upper ten thousand": a convivial evening at Richthofen's squadron, June 1917.

The Image of the War Ace

ular novel published ten years after the war, Richard Euringer demarcated the distance between conscripts in the trenches and officer-airmen in the rear: 57 We fliers sleep in silk beds, we dine in castles, we drink champagne, but not every day ... we hunt for rabbits, we cook ourselves hot chocolate, we acquire a race horse, we wallpaper our rooms, we wire up electricity, we send for gramophone records ... keep dogs, read books, bathe and pamper our bodies, stick little flags into maps, race cars into town, buy only the best there is, consume alcohol ... we are mobile, we can walk around ... we are the favorites of the General Staff, the angels of the infantry, the regular guests of the artillery, the models for photographers, we come dressed to dinner, lively, fresh, and rested.

Privilege defined the flier. A cartoon by Schaberschul aptly represented fliers as "the upper ten thousand," a class as remote and exempt in war as the haute bourgeoisie had been in peace. 58 Whereas front soldiers-war's proletarians-awaited wasted, anonymous deaths, unsure of their own part in the conflagration, airmen fought with skill and judgment, and died alone. Infantrymen sat for weeks in foul trenches, confined to a dirt labyrinth, unable to peer over the parapets for fear of attracting machine-gun fire, curled up constipated against the earth to avoid incoming artillery shells. For much of the time, the war was not a shooting war at all: "this is a cowering war," wrote one lieutenant; "pigmy man huddles in little holes and caves praying to escape the blows of the giant who pounds the earth with blind hammers." 59 But in the patch of sky visible from the trenches, pilots seemed to retain the mobility and regain the perspective the infantry had lost. "Down below," imagined one aviator, "I am a miserable worm that must burrow in the earth ... mines and shells rend the soil that protects me-and are likely to rend me too." Yet, "up above I am a free bird that does not need to crouch motionless; I can ... wriggle my way through the narrow meshes of the net of steel splinters and leaden bullets that is set for me." 60 Modern war robbed soldiers of their ability to move about or control their destiny, the wartime pilot Hans Schroder explained. Airmen proved exceptional, however, and escaped "the level of the masses." Schroder's fierce need to "see everything, understand everything, report everything" could be realized only if he volunteered to be an aerial observer. As such, he felt he could manage to fight in the war "as an individual" after all.

85

86

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

Like Schroder, reconnaissance pilots oversaw the battlefield-at 6,000 meters the entire western front from the Alps to the North Sea was visible-and were able to weave happenings and events into a larger tapestry of meaning and purposefulness. "We flyers have front-row seats in this war theater; we see battles like no one else," exulted one pilot. 61 Schroder skillfully linked aviation with the desire to see, to intervene, and to understand. Airmen satisfied their own needs to retain control and to remain "free and easy," but their exploits also localized the war for all combatants, allowed it to be seen in miniature, and thereby made the sprawling conflict more graspable. A wonderful and prescient story published before the war imagined the chessboard of the gods: "A quadrant hundreds of miles square is battle-ready with the figures of the blood game all arrayed ... One can see far and wide. Silently the figures of this war game are pushed into smaller and larger fields, here they are concentrated, there they are dispersed, always rearranged." It is fabulous extraterrestrial airplanes that execute the moves of the gods. The eye of the pilot is literally the eye of God. 62 In the actual war, aces continued to be credited with superhuman powers, as if they themselves moved the soldier-pawns about on a vast chessboard. According to Eric Leed, fliers provided "a concrete location for those expectations of adventure, liberation, and self-distinction with which many had entered the war." 63 In this sense, the omniscient ace was a creation of the blinkered trenches. It was front-line soldiers who, craning their necks to watch the battles above the trenches, trying to piece together the chess game, writing Feldpostbriefen, provided hometown editors with many of the first, overwritten accounts of aerial combat. The flier was not only portrayed (often resentfully) as what the infantryman was not but also imagined (benignly) as a mythic creature who restored perspective, consequence, and willfulness to the war as a whole. 64 With vision, mobility, and initiative, the airman assumed a distinctive quality. Whereas before the war fliers had been regarded as Bohemians and acrobats on the edges of bourgeois respectability, the war gave them the proportions of supermen. For a great many Germans, airmen revived older martial legacies. They recalled a treasured aristocratic universe of honor and skill and distinction. Boelcke was great, one Prussian schoolteacher told his students, not because he stood for German fighting men, but because he stood out in contrast to them. In an otherwise unromantic war of machines, Boelcke had mastered an art, not simply a technique as

The Image of the War Ace

a means to an end; his contests resembled knightly tournaments and thereby restored a human and heroic measure to the contest. This unnamed schoolteacher exemplified the way many contemporaries made sense of airmen, counterposing air war to industrial war and aces to the mangled victims in the trenches. "We still had the honorable combat of man against man, that stood out like a thing of another age amid the din and shock of mass warfare," recalled the veteran flier Rudolf Stark in 1932. Historians since have continued to accept the notion of the ace as a chevalier of the skies, if only as a symbol for the spiritual anguish that accompanied the brutal industrialization of war. 65 To fight like a valorous chevalier meant respecting certain terms of engagement. Battle reports suggested that sportsmanship and honor guided the conduct of aerial duelists. In the air, wrote Erwin Bohme to his fiancee, it was "man against man, with equal weapons and equal chances." In fact, planes and guns were rarely exactly matched, since scouts targeted slower bombers and observation planes, but the classic engagement between two one-seaters, when it occurred, did indeed resemble a tournament that tested the skill and daring of two men. Bohme looked forward to "fencing" with a "fair Englishman." 66 According to the ideal of a fair fight, the chivalrous flier did not fire his gun gratuitously and even broke off combat so as not to take advantage of the defective guns or engine trouble of an opponent. On one occasion, the great French ace Georges Guynemer supposedly disengaged when his German opponent's guns jammed. It was not the only time that Ernst Udet owed his life to the charity of French fighters, and he remembered the war in terms of these chivalrous encounters. For this reason, Udet spoke of the war with uncommon humility. In his war stories, edited and published in the fall of 1918 after Richthofen's death made him the highestscoring living German ace, Udet recounted with humor and grace how badly he had fired or how terribly frightened he had been. Nor was he ashamed when bullets tore into his machine: "In my opinion," he explained, "hits cannot be avoided as long as the enemy is also shooting. Why should the enemy always be the worse shot?" 67 "An honorable war among men," in Bohme's words, bred a sense of familiarity among combatants. Aces recognized themselves in their opposite numbers. Years later they remembered feeling remorse after killing enemy pilots and lingered to commemorate the brave men who had fallen for the other side. According to Hans Buddecke, Allied pilots

87

88

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

"were men just like us"; life had given all of them "a double portion of vitality and zest. We didn't fire any unnecessary shots." 68 Indeed, here and there, an unspoken code seems to have allowed downed pilots to try to save themselves. A wounded English pilot in German captivity begrudged Karl Plauth for "shooting so long, almost until the end." His reproach unsettled Plauth, who wanted to "visit him and explain." The problem, Plauth added, was that English aces always tried to get away, "and that one can prevent only if one forces the opponent to dodge forth and back." In any case, Plauth subscribed to the notion that chivalrous aces did not necessarily kill the enemy, but only wanted "to put him and his airplane out of action." If an Allied airman survived, B6hme continued magnanimously, he would "give him my hand"-providing he had "fought honorably and bravely." 69 This sense of mutual recognition and adherence to a caste code, in the absence of any ideological conviction among German aces that their English or French counterparts were evil, could take a dangerous personal turn. Udet recalled sparring with a Spad one-seater toward the end of the war: After we flew around and about each other nine or ten times, unable to get each other in our sights, I saw my opponent more closely. He wore a scarf flying in the wind and black headcovering and ... he was clean-shaven. He looked at me for a long time, then raised his right hand and began to wave. I don't know why, but all at once I felt very sympathetic to the man in the Spade Without a thought, I waved back. This went on for five or six curves. Suddenly I had the strange feeling that I wasn't confronting an opponent but practicing turns with a comrade.

Udet's testimony revealed basic elements of chivalrous combat. He obviously respected and honored his opponent. But troubled by his "involuntary" greeting and "strange" feelings, Udet also sensed how poorly the code served as a guide to war. Aerial duels were not supposed to turn friendly, and wartime chivalry should not give way to pacific comradeship. In any case, Udet was not tested further; a squadron of German planes "interrupted" and chased the Spad away. 70 On the ground, however, where the stern requirements of aerial combat lapsed, a fraternity among belligerent fliers developed more easily. "We meet at the front, we get to know the respective badges of the Staffel and squadron," remembered Rudolf Stark. When French or British pilots

The Image of the War Ace

were brought down behind German lines, we "are pleased to meet these old acquaintances in the flesh. The fight is over." Joachim von Schoenebeck, a flier in Richthofen's J asta 1 I, agreed. Captured Allied pilots were treated like "regimental buddies." 71 A final scene closed many accounts of aerial battle and served to validate the chivalric status of all fliers. On a number of occasions, squadrons dropped wreaths to honor fallen aces (the British did so at Boelcke's memorial service in Cambrai) or, more frequently, delivered letters to provide information on men who were missing or captured. This communication across the lines underscored the personal nature of air war. "To the British Flying Corps:" began one note written in 1 9 1 7. "The 4th September I lost my friend Fritz Frech. He fell between Vimy and Lievin. His respectable and unlucky parents beg you to give any news of his fate. Is he dead? At what place found he his last rest? Please to throw several letters that we may found one. Thanking you before, his friend K.L." 72 Whether or not news about Fritz arrived, the Royal Air Force dropped a metal container, to which a long streamer had been attached, behind German lines on 23 April 1918. Inside was a photograph of Richthofen's military funeral in Bertangles, near Amiens, which had taken place the day before. Germans also made a great deal of their esteem for fallen aces. One story made the rounds of newspapers and popular war books: papers found on the bodies of two French pilots asked the Germans to give them Catholic funerals and to inform their relatives. Their requests were honored. Several days later, a French pilot circled overhead and dropped a bouquet of roses. 73 On another occasion, photographs of a memorable military burial by which Germans honored two English aviators were dropped behind enemy lines. Perhaps now English mothers "will see how 'Barbarians' honor their enemy and will gain the impression that we are not the worst after all." 74 In death, it would seem that dishonor, not nationalism, divided airmen. One typically Bavarian commemoration even imagined a heavenly Valhalla in which "the decent, dashing fliers of all nations" flew the best machines and shot down ill-tempered aviators happily ever after. 75 Communication between antagonists persisted well after the war. Throughout the 1920S and 1930S, former aces built upon the myth of chivalrous combat. A vague international of fighter pilots emerged. In November 1925, when Richthofen's body was returned to Germany, two

89

90

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Allied lieutenants, one from the United States Army aviation corps, the other a Canadian flier for the Royal Air Force, carried a large floral airplane propeller to the casket, which lay in state in Berlin. 76 Six years later, British Captain Leeson visited Dresden to pay homage to his "former conquerer," Max Immelmann. 77 It is a measure of the postwar public's fascination with German aces in the 1930S that one Englishman, Claud Sykes, single-handedly translated a dozen German aviation memoirs and biographies, and it was the American journalist Floyd Gibbons who wrote the first biography of Richthofen in 1927 (a British biography followed in 1934, but a German one did not appear until 1938). As late as 1937, French Air Minister Pierre Cot pinned a medal on Udet, the former ace and, at the time, Chief of the Luftwaffe's Technical Department. In the years before the Second World War, airmen played curious parts in international politics, their memorials and medals to one another indicating that Germany had been an honorable and responsible foe during the war and should be treated as such as in its aftermath. "To kill and kill and kill was the cry. To burn, to destroy, to devastate, to lay waste." This sentence opens Floyd Gibbons's biography of Richthofen. 78 The reader inclined to accept the chivalry of airmen should pause. The epic engagements, the messages and wreaths dropped behind the lines, and the international fraternity among airmen on the ground have all enforced an aristocratic, chivalric view of air war in World War I. But they have obscured the basic rule of combat, which was to kill one's antagonist, whether "fairly" or not. Displays of charity, by which Udet remembered the war, were exceedingly rare. Such sentiment was mortally dangerous in battles more likely animated by a spirit of ruthless destruction. The point of aerial combat, Boelcke repeated to his Jasta pilots again and again, was to employ technology and numbers to destroy Allied machines, particularly reconnaissance planes and bombers, not to win individual contests. Evenly matched engagements between aces, solo fighting, and fancy acrobatics were all tangential to this goal. This spirit of destruction (and the German word is unconditional: T1!rnichtung) naturally accompanied the fusion of plane and gun that came with the emergence of specialized one-seater fighters outfitted with forward-firing machine guns and the replacement of pilot and gunner by the solitary ace who flew his plane only to aim the gun. What was the secret of his victories, Richthofen asked Boelcke in the fall of 1915. "Well, it's very simple," Boelcke replied. "I fly close to my

The Image of the War Ace

man, aim well, and then, of course, down he falls." At first, Richthofen found the answer a little cavalier; as a gunner-observer, he had also ordered his pilot to approach, and he himself had taken careful aim and shot well. The difference, Richthofen realized, was that Boelcke's Fokker was the gun and that the ace shot better simply by aiming the aircraft. Ten days after the meeting, the aristocratic Richthofen, who until then had never piloted an airplane, was ready for his first solo flight. "To go at it" ('rangehen), as Boelcke put it, was possible only in one-seater fighter planes. 79 Diving at his target, Boelcke would get as close as fifty meters before shooting. Keeping the pilot or the engine directly in front of him, he would simply fire until the enemy fell out of the sky. To make sure the downed plane was not faking, Boelcke would follow it until he saw it crash. By the end of 1916, J astas of five, six, even ten planes and, in the last year of the war, wings (Geschwader) of up to fifty planes dominated air combat. Man-to-man combat persisted only when massed attacks broke up into individual battles, the classic dogfight involving dozens of planes in a space three or four kilometers square high above the trenches. The aerial duel, in which opposing aces, say Manfred von Richthofen and Lanoe Hawker, fought it out alone, relying only on their own skill and courage, occurred less and less frequently after 1916. Richthofen, for example, won fifty-one of his eighty victories against two-seaters, not against aces in one-seaters. 80 Aces conventionally flew and fought in formation, tracked down vulnerable planes-usually infantry strafers or larger and slower bombers and reconnaissance planes-and relied heavily on fellow Jasta pilots for cover. It is important to realize how shortlived was the sight of a lone ace stalking the skies. When Rudolf Berthold received permission to fly a one-seater in December 1915, he could barely contain his excitement: "I want to be alone ... only to fly! Only to be alone!"81 But the days of the solo flier were numbered. In 1915 and 1 9 1 6, it was still possible to take Fokker monoplanes up and shoot down Allied planes, because only the Germans had forward-firing machine guns. Once French and British planes discovered the secret of the synchronized gear, Jasta tactics replaced solo derring-do. The discipline of the Jasta and later the wing group alarmed soloists. By way of example, Hans Schroder, concerned to avoid "the level of the masses," remained a reconnaissance observer rather than fight in a squadron, which he contemptuously referred to as a "mass institution."

91

92

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

Schroder recalled one incident in which J asta planes had lost their way: "They flew on stolidly behind one another in the unfortunate way these fighters often do. Each pilot simply stared at the machine ahead of him and imitated its example." A loss of independence came with flying in formation, but what Schroder did not say is that massed operations and group tactics, not individual virtuosity, won air battles. 82 Nonetheless, aces usually preferred to fly solo and adjusted uneasily to the team spirit that the squadron demanded. For this reason, team-player Hermann Goering rather than the higher-scoring Ernst Udet was given command of Richthofen's Jasta I I inJuly 1918.83 Whereas Udet never quite fit in, upholding a more aristocratic and irreverent idea of flying, Jasta leaders Boelcke, Richthofen, and Goering came more and more to represent the new nationalist virtues of group solidarity and individual subordination, discipline, and leadership.84 The two masters of air war, Boelcke and Richthofen, disdained acrobatics and solo flying, which were dangerous and detracted from the destruction of the opponent. Boelcke refined aerial tactics so that victories were won by the element of surprise. He taught his J asta pilots to duck in and out of cloud fringe, to maintain the advantage of height in order to dive at the opponent, and to attack flying away from the sun so that the sun's glare obstructed the enemy's view. Once these techniques were learned, it was not so important to be an especially skillful pilot. Even when executed as defensive maneuvers, looping and diving cut down on speed and thus worked to the advantage of a practiced pursuer. 85 Indeed, German observers believed that this explained the high death rate among English pilots, who were undoubtedly courageous, "but lose themselves in sport," "looping, diving, flying upside-down." 86 Richthofen told the war correspondent Georg Wegener that he put little stock in stunt flying and looping: "get up close, that is all." 87 "One could be a splendid stunt flier," asserted Richthofen, "and still not be able to shoot down a single airplane." Scoring victories was a matter of routine and ruthless and lethal shooting. The first kill was memorable, to be sure. "Victory, triumph, victory!" Ernst Udet shouted. In time, however, "the intoxication of the first fight ... passed." Even for Udet, "the destruction of the enemy had become a tactical problem, nothing more." One journalist aptly described aerial attack as a "task of military-technical precision." 88 Excitement and fury and even esteem for the enemy mostly gave way to cold, technical concentra-

The Image of the War Ace

tion. The French pilot Jean Morvan demystified aerial combat. It was more like "an ambush than a duel," he observed: "One rarely swoops down on an adversary who can maneuver. Rather, one assassinates a promeneur out for a daydream. Approach from behind, unsuspected, and as close as possible-then fire forty or fifty rounds in four or five seconds." The American ace Eddie Rickenbacker agreed. "Fighting in the air is not a sport," he wrote; "it is scientific murder." 89 The most effective way to destroy an opponent was to aim for the fuel tanks, which in two-seaters carried up to 300 liters of highly flammable fuel. A fuel leak released a cloud of white vapor, which tracers or incendiary bullets easily ignited, or splashed fuel directly on the hot engine, which caught fire in front of the pilot's face. Headwinds fanned the flames toward the pilot and quickly engulfed the entire plane. Even when the pilot managed to shut the engine off, a fire, once started, was almost impossible to contain and usually ended in the pilot's gruesome death; many preferred to jump to their deaths rather than be burned alive. The first image of an opponent burning stayed with an ace for a long time. Boelcke described the incident in his revealing field report of 21 March 1916: "Since I came at an angle above him and pressed hard, I caught up with the enemy machine in a few seconds. Just as I wanted to bank over the enemy, I saw him explode. I still got some black smoke in my face. It was not a battle, but a rapid-fire shooting down. The drama of seeing this enemy plane break apart in flames and fall like a torch was very gruesome." Boelcke explicitly noted that his attacks no longer resembled battles but simply a "shooting down." Encounters were a test of technology and speed, not a match of chevaliers. Boelcke simply trained his sights on the more vulnerable aircraft and destroyed them. Horrible as the sight of these "stinkers" going down in flames may have been, Boelcke's tactics worked. His eighteenth kill came easily: "I hammered until this machine, too, caught fire." 90 For Boelcke's student Richthofen, burning was the best way to ensure the destruction of the enemy. On 30 September 1916, Richthofen reported, "I shot down my third Englishman. He plunged down in flames. One's heart beats faster if the opponent, whose face one has just seen, plunges burning from four thousand meters." 91 Richthofen soon became obsessed. As soon as he landed, he always inquired whether his kills had gone down in flames, and he took care to note "burned" in his reports. In the end, fifty-four of Richthofen's eighty victories were burns. As Staffel

93

94

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

leader, he encouraged his pilots to ignite their opponents as well. "I once shot down a Sopwith," recalled Udet. "When I reported the victory to Richthofen, I was almost ashamed to have to say no to his question 'burned?'" 92 Richthofen's Jasta I I near Douai provided a veritable fireworks display to visiting correspondents such as Georg Wegener. On the airfield someone cried: ''An Englishman is burning!" Wegener turned around and watched with fascination: By God, what a fantastic, horrible drama! The point of fire quickly became bigger. What a blaze that must be, hot-white against the sky, momentarily brighter than the sun. The glowing spot glided downward, leaving a trail of burning embers like a giant, orange-colored meteor sweeping across the sky ... It was undeniably beautiful, beautiful in a way I had never seen. And yet, at the same time, it was so awful that it took my breath away. Several seconds later, a deep black ribbon of smoke streamed out of the upper end of the streak of fire so that the whole thing blazed like a ghastly torch against the sky.

"Look, another one is burning!" and Wegener readjusted his binoculars. 93 The horror of war possessed a fierce beauty. Wegener was enthralled by this sight of burning Englishmen. It was as if he had discovered a new source of power above the airfields at Douai. Indeed, his cosmic imagery suggested an almost preternatural energy released by the war. War machines were remaking the world, adding to the capacity for destruction and creating new terrors, but also forging a sterner breed of German heroes. The grisly sight of Allied planes twisting, burning to the ground showed the German public that the Reich would stop at nothing to win. Terrors of war were alarming, yet also strangely comforting. In the struggle among nations, wartime observers explained, the German will to destroy manifested a healthy instinct to survive and thus revealed a superior quality of character. "It wasn't the French who searched out German cities," boasted retired Captain Hans Hildebrandt in the popular Leipzig weekly, Illustrirte Zeitung; rather it was German planes "that flew over Paris and plagued the English coast," "even at the very beginning of the war." There was no reason to apologize for this "true German" offensive spirit. 94 On the contrary, to fight the war as if it were a chivalrous engagement or a sporting event would be a disservice to the nation. Unlike the English ace, who allegedly flew for sport and outdid all others in acrobatics, German aces flew for the sake of duty, to kill, "to destroy enemy

The Image of the War Ace

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

To shoot down an enemy plane, aces aimed for the fuel tanks. The results were horrifying.

scouts," "to blind the eyes" of the Allies. 95 They wore the tag "Barbarian" proudly. Air war had become stark and pitiless in its economy. Destruction of the opponent's machine was the point of aerial combat, and 'rangehen to burn the most efficient means to that end. In the hands of technicians like Boe1cke and Richthofen there was little left of the loops and turns and daredeviltry that first had made aces famous. Even on the ground, airmen lived and breathed the restless spirit of destruction. Men turned the images of air war over in their minds again and again. They had nightmares and screamed and muttered in their sleep. In the weeks before he died, shooting down one Englishman after another over the Somme, Boe1cke thought constantly about his own death: would he be ftrcht oder getrocknet, wet or dry, that is, would he be crushed or burned to death?96 Udet's friend Gontermann talked ceaselessly about death as well: 97 We walked along the loose gravel path leading through the park to the castle. A small, white garden table stood close by us. Gontermann halted and picked up a leaf, a handful of pebbles. Placing the leaf on

95

96

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

the table, he opened the palm of his hand and slowly released the stones. As each fell, there was a sharp metallic sound as the pebble hit the tabletop. "It's like this, Udet," he said. "The bullets fall all around us" -he pointed to the leaf-" and gradually they get nearer and nearer. Eventually they hit us. We're bound to get hit in time."

The sharp metallic sound of the pebbles hitting the table unsettled Udet; but comrades like Gontermann died every day. Death was always nearby, and aces took refuge in talismans and superstitions. Karl Plauth, for example, never let himself or his machine be photographed. Small gestures like these, nervous facial tics, and secretive diary entries, and private letters home all told of the growing obsession, in the last two years of war, with death and the physical strain of flying. A darker side accompanied the glamour of air war. 98 It was the harsh demands and unprecedented horrors of the war that fascinated journalists such as Wegener. Airmen were modern-day explorers of a New World of danger and destruction. This New World cultivated a New Man, who was hardened and made pitiless in order to meet the challenges of the technological century. According to Karl Bodenschatz, Richthofen's adjutant and later Goering's sycophant, combat aces constituted "a new elite; they learned to fight in a way that was unheardof and to die in a way that was incomparable." 99 Bodenschatz unmistakably linked the singular requirements of air war, its stern ethic of destruction, to the formation of an elite. A process of selection was at work. Only those with "unspent nerves and dauntless hearts" flourished. loo Because gruesome, because ruthless, air war disciplined and molded a new warrior. Seen in this light, the aviator remained a hero, but of a kind that had not been seen before. His self-reliance and ability to see and move set the airman apart from the infantryman. But his technical competence, self-discipline, and often middle-class background also distinguished him from the Napoleonic cavalryman or the bygone chevalier. The notion of the knight of the skies never faded, but the new image of the machineman gained prominence. IOI With "iron nerves, steady eyes, [and] quick decisiveness," accomplished Geschwader fliers were a study in the virtues Germany needed in order to catch up to the Allies. By the end of the war, airmen were imagined as steeling and training their nerves, making them invulnerable like the best industrial metal, and thereby cultivating the ruthlessness, cold-bloodedness, and daring that they needed in combat

The Image of the War Ace

and that Germans needed to wage a successful Darwinian struggle for survival. To gain control of the nerves was to gain control over the body. Again and again, the physical body was regarded as the real field ofbattle. Battle reports are full of references to the discipline of nerves required by this brutal war of existence. 102 Even the death of comrades had to be accepted as routine. 103 Germans could not afford to avoid pain or display mercy. That had been the indulgence of the nineteenth century. In the twentieth century, by contrast, German bodies had to be thrown into battle and British and French bodies destroyed. There was no longer room for sportsmanship or adventure; Ernst Junger made it clear that the soldiers he admired died in a ghastly manner, "burned, riddled with bullets, crowned by steel splinters," 104 but ifproperly conditioned Germans could achieve mental and physical superiority over the enemy. Airmen were celebrated as exemplars of this process of self-discipline. Aces fascinated because they adhered to the harsh injunctions of modern war. To Wegener, Bodenschatz, and Junger, the horror and severity of machine-age war turned sublime. Even in death, airmen retained the grim steel character ofthe technical age. News of Richthofen's death in April 1918 prompted little of the sentimental prose that had accompanied the death of Immelmann or Boelcke. It was yet another sign of the harsh "order of things," as one sober report put it. Richthofen was compared to a high-performance killing machine that was finally overtaxed. "You tighten a piece of twine," explained the semi-official Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, "tighter and tighter, more, and more, and even more, and you believe you can increase the tension by just a little bit until, yes, until it snaps." The requirements of disciplining the body were frightening- "until it snaps" -but denoted an "iron fulfillment of duty ... hard, steel-hard duty." 105 Richthofen's memorial service in Berlin's Old Garrison Church evoked his spare, pitiless service to the Reich: Grey, cool afternoon light falls through the high windows and mingles with the warm cast of electric light. The undecorated white walls and columns of the old church shimmer as in the sunlight ... everywhere uniforms, the predominant black mixed with brown and an occasional piece of color, a red lapel, the gleaming metal of a helmet. Up front ... as if in memorial to Richthofen, a tower of airplane propellers and machine guns ... An unusual honor guard in black caps: Richthofen's comrades, pilots from his Jagdstaffel.

97

98

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Memorialized by guns and propellers, the machine-man occupied a dark center stage. 106 It was the aces' voluntary submission to the needs of war that made them especially heroic in the eyes of militarists later in the 1930s. Weimar nationalists like Ernst Junger and later the National Socialists cherished the will to destruction, a spirit which anticipated the totally mobilized nation. Nazi authors celebrated the new bodies and the hardened, heartless spirit of Richthofen and Boelcke, the ultimate expression of dutiful, volkisch patriotism. 107 • • • 'rangehen, ist alles, the title of a popular novel in the 1930s, was taken to express the fierce discipline of the Third Reich. lOB Airmen constituted a different sort of war hero because they were at ease with machines and resembled typical sons of the middle class. Like Immelmann and Udet, many came from artisanal or mechanical backgrounds and worked with their hands. A number were even workers. 109 The notion that the aces were in the main aristocrats or former cavalry officers is not true. Of the 362 German aces (with five or more victories), only 27 were from the noble estate. UO Moreover, aces did not have the aura of remote aristocrats, but rather the allure of popular movie stars. They fit easily into a familiar twentieth-century world of picture magazines, fan letters, and hype. Panegyrists depicted Boelcke or Immelmann as everyman. In school, they had been more comfortable tinkering with machines and riding motorcyles than reading books. III A graduate of a technical college, Immelmann savored the sights and smells of the airfield. He arrived at an advanced training school in Adlershof and delighted in the "tone and atmosphere around me: the humming and rattling of engines ... wherever you look, you see nothing but engines, cars, motor-bikes, aeroplanes of all types and airships." Looking at this machinery, Immelmann felt "right in the thick of things." 112 Boelcke was a similar type. Described as the "mathematician of the air," 113 he spoke and wrote in a clear, precise, and technical fashion. His reports were brief and unsentimental. When asked to publish accounts of his air victories, Boelcke noted that his style was unsuited to a proper hero. Readers surely wanted a "more poetic and awesome description," he wrote his father, "with psychical tension of fear-tortured nerves torn to shreds, followed by exultant glee, clouds that tower like Alps or the blue sky of heaven full of whispering zephyrs." 114 But it was precisely Boelcke's unsentimental, lean style, conforming to

The Image of the War Ace

'A."XIIL! 1!lfllld,clI. 14. "nil; Will

'l)l'clo !lU llin,

SiMPLiciSSif\\US

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Richthofen's death is portrayed in grim, stark lines on the cover of Simplicissimus in May 1918.

99

100

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

the adage of the machine age-form follows function-that proved appealing to German readers. Enjoying sports, working with machines, glad to be in "the thick of things," Immelmann and Boelcke were perfect middle-class heroes. Junger even observes the new warriors "rising steeply" out of the "masses." 115 The aces were popular partly because they were largely commoners and former noncommissioned "chauffeurs," whose success represented the technical and meritocratic qualities that bourgeois Germany prized. Immelmann's "mechanical side," which had "come into its own" on the wartime airfields, suggested the increasing prevalence of sober, utilitarian middle-class values. 116 True, at the beginning of the war, pilots simply flew officer-observers about. They were snubbed as "chauffeurs," a deprecation which lingered. Richthofen remembered driving from a crash site with an officer who did not recognize him as the popular ace. Since Captain Richthofen flew one-seaters he was not accompanied by a "chauffeur" and "in the eyes of that kind of gentleman, I had obviously lost caste when he discovered that I 'drove' my own airplane." After all, an officer does not drive; "the conversation began to slacken." But Richthofen had the last laugh when he told the officer who he was. 117 Standing between changing genres of war and warriors, the incident reveals the degree to which the status of the ace after 1915 differed from older notions about the ordinary pilot-chauffeur and how Richthofen had shed important aspects of his aristocratic persona in order to become an ace. In an unexpected way, aces were men of the people who had defied the traditional social hierarchy. The World War aviator reaffirmed the value of technology, and his social ascent heartened the middle classes generally. Over the course of the war, airmen emerged as representatives of a more tough-minded, popular patriotism that was technologically able and ruthlessly chauvinistic. The terrible, atonal noise of this harsh nationalism sounded nothing like the sentimental, idealistic, and deferential prewar variety. It was expressive of a world of technicians and bureaucracies and restless power, as the sarcastic but attentive verses of Otto Nebel make audible: 118 Die hohe Hut Obhut Kopfbedecku ng FI iegende HLiter

The Image of the War Ace Meine Flieger Flugstaffel Stoffel Staffelstab Staffelei AFLEI (Arti Ileriefl iegerei) IFLEI (lnfanteriefliegerei) Das neue Deutsch Ei ei 1m alten Deutsch-Tand Lorelei BOGOHL Welcher Kohl B omben-G eschwader 0 berste H eerings-L eitung Jagdstaffel JASTA Kopfjager Basta Puszta SCHUSTA Immer langsam SCHUSTA ist SCHUtz-STAFFel Affe Immer schneller Wir fliegen schon Da kommt man nicht auf den Grund Bleiben Sie bedeckt DER KOFL Das ist KOmmander der FLiegen Gluck ab KOFL schustert Leister, bleibe nicht bei Schustern! Beileibe nicht Schuster, leise bei deinem Bleiben! Beigeiste Exzellenz, ich bleibe dabei, ich fliege nicht, es bleibt bedeckt Lugen Sie nicht! Fliegen Sie nicht, fliege ich Exzellenz fliegen am ganzen Leibe Allewetter Wie wir gebaut sind

101

GLIDING AND THE REVIVAL OF NATIONALISM

3

The Wasserkuppe is not a location recognized in German history books. Yet between the wars it rivaled Bayreuth for its patriotic productions. Every summer, thousands of sightseers took special trains to the small town of Gersfeld, near Fulda, then continued by bus or on foot up the gusty, moutainous Wasserkuppe, and gathered on the rolling hilltops to watch young glider pilots take off and soar into the record books. Circumventing the tough Allied restrictions on motorized flight that followed Germany's defeat in World War I, and at the same time affirming Germany's aeronautical prowess, the annual gliding rally in the Rhon provided exuberant displays of skill and national pride. "If we can't fly with motors, we'll fly without them," patriots averred. Gliding became the story of German nationalism in the face of Versailles. With its patriotic associations and awesome technical achievements, gliding quickly won widespread popularity in Germany. Throughout the 1920S and 1930S, Germans dominated international competitions and gave the sport its direction. Isolated from political conflict in the valleys, glider pilots seemed to guard the legacy of German aviation during difficult years and to represent idealism and self-reliance to a forgetful, materialistic postwar generation. Even before the rise of National Socialism, gliding served as a congenial allegory for nationalist revival in Germany. Origins Versailles gave historical meaning and context to gliding, but did so only after August 1922, when glider pilots achieved endurance records of one, two, and finally three hours and the Berlin press hailed the achievements as genuine patriotic deeds. Once the link between gliding and German nationalism was forged, however, history was rewritten to give even the inception of the gliding movement in 1920 a political design. What had been originally conceived as a healthy return to prewar research on aero103

104

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

dynamics was eventually remembered as a foresighted nationalist act. Oskar Ursinus, a Frankfurt civil engineer, the editor of the popular magazine Flugsport, and the single most important promoter of gliding, later recalled the first unhappy year of the peace: "German aviation lay in ruins, crushed underfoot." On airfields across Germany, workers busily smashed "wonderful" motors and sawed apart airplanes, all in accordance with the terms of the "dictated" Treaty of Versailles. Oppressed by this humiliation, Ursinus left the big city one weekend and fled to the hilly Rhon. Stretched out on his back on a meadow, he brooded: '''We are not allowed to fly.' Always the same thought, is this the way it will be forever?" Time passed, and buzzards circling overhead attracted Ursinus's attention; suddenly he asked himself: "Why should we be prohibited from doing what the birds do? If after Versailles we can't fly with motors, then we'll fly without them." Ursinus recalled that he returned to Frankfurt persuaded that gliding would turn humiliation into pride, defeat into triumph. Germany's Phoenix had begun to rise from the ashes. 1 Memory serves history, and Ursinus's story of self-reliance and virtue happily served the purposes of German nationalism in the late 1920S and early 1930s. But in fact, if one rereads Ursinus's correspendence and his articles in Flugsport in 1919 and 1920 in search of the defiant cry to fly without motors or to spite the Allies one looks in vain. To be sure, German aviation was in trouble after the war. As early as mid-April 1919, Ursinus described airfields as a "desolate scrap heap." He would use almost the same words a decade later: "Our aviation lies in ruins." But in 1919 he had no idea how severely the Allies eventually would restrict civil aviation; this only became clear in 1921 and 1922. Indeed, Ursinus did not consider Germany's military defeat or the destruction of its air force to be the main problem facing aviators, which was spiritual. 2 Whereas prewar aviation had required idealism and self-sacrifice from pioneer pilots, wartime air service had bred only authoritarianism and privilege. Now that the war had ended, Ursinus ridiculed veteran airmen for expecting lifelong entitlements simply because they had risked their lives in aerial combat. He dismissed subsequent proposals to employ veterans in a national airline as foolish and unrealistic and pleaded with airmen to accept the rigors of demobilization and the opportunities of peace. 3 Ursinus argued that the demands of wartime aviation had steered civil aviation into a "blind alley." Wartime planes were far too large and too powerful to allow pilots properly to explore the aerodynamics of flight. To

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Erected at Hamburg's airport in 1934, this striking monument commemorates the demise of German aviation after Versailles.

pursue scientific research, and eventually to construct light and efficient airplanes, Ursinus believed, aeronautical engineers would have to return to prewar research on gliding and soaring. The fact that the Allies demanded the destruction of the air force he regarded as a "fortune"; it would reorient scientific attention to serve civilian aims. 4 At the same time, Ursinus sought to revive flying as an enjoyable sport in which fellowship and cooperation rather than careerism would predominate. It was for reasons of science and sport that he promoted gliding in the first years after the war, and it was in the name of science and sport that he announced the first gliding rally at the Rh6n's highest point, the Wasser-

105

106

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Warplanes are dismantled under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles.

kuppe, to be held in July and August 1920.5 His appeal did not mention the call of nationalism, and there was little reason for it to do so: the Allies had not forbidden Germans to fly, nor had they demanded the destruction of all civilian planes, facts which are often ignored by aviation historians. It was only the London Ultimatum of May 1921 that prohibited Germans from manufacturing new aircraft until the new year, a ban that was later extended to July 1922. London, not Versailles, aroused heated protest among aviators, and London, not Versailles, cast aviation as an evocative symbol of German defiance. 6 Only after 1921 did the Rhon rallies take on a more nationalist coloring. Once the ban on manufacturing was lifted in July 1922, German airplanes could still be built only according to onerous restrictions; motors could not be more powerful than 60 horsepower; planes could not fly faster than 170 kilometers per hour or higher than 4,000 meters, and

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

could carry no more than 600 kilograms of cargo. These conditions were eased in 1925 and finally lifted altogether the next year. Although the Allies certainly crippled German aviation immediately after the war, they did not forbid commercial airlines or private aircraft. Ursinus did not organize the Rhon rallies out of an outraged sense of patriotism, and the Allies did not keep Germans from flying, though both assumptions were widely accepted (in fact Ursinus later believed them himself) once Weimar nationalists drafted gliding into their movement of German renewal in the mid-1920S.7 For all the patriotic excitement it eventually aroused, gliding began inconspicuously. Before the turn of the century, pioneers such as Otto Lilienthal and Wilbur and Orville Wright had glided in rigid-wing contraptions to understand the flight of birds in air currents, but their investigations had attracted little attention once motorized flight successfully pulled people through the air. In Wilhelmine Germany, only a handful of students from Darmstadt's technical university renewed Lilienthal's legacy, studying aerodynamics and eventually building their own gliders and using upward gusts or upwinds around steep slopes to ease their descent. The Darmstadt group "discovered" the nearby Wasserkuppe, which with its bare summit and broad slopes was ideal for launching and landing, and took three "Rhon tours" before the outbreak of war in the summer of 1914.8 It was on the basis of this success that Ursinus selected the Wasserkuppe as the site for the 1920 rally, in which student groups and gliding enthusiasts across Germany were invited to spend the summer constructing, testing, and flying their planes and eventually entering them in competition. "Tatters of cloud are chased down the valleys; one's eyes sweep over the magical light and shadow expanse of valleys, plains, and villages ... Suddenly on 8/6/20, at 4 in the afternoon, one sees a white form, crafted by hand, hovering in the air for 8 sees." 9 Flugsport's precise, abbreviated language underscored the prideful sense of technical accomplishment. In a delicate white biplane, Bruno Poelcke had mimicked, very modestly, the flight of birds. Two days later, three more flights took place, one for as long as 40 seconds. Three weeks after the setting up of the primitive gliding camp, however, these results were rather paltry, especially when compared to Orville Wright's long-standing gliding record of 9 minutes 45 seconds, set in 19 11. Of the eleven glider planes registered for the rally only four were certified fit to fly and only three actually did so. With

107

108

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

the death of Eugen von Loessl, who fell from 150 meters on 9 August, the rally was on the verge of dispiriting failure. It is unlikely that Ursinus would have called a second Rhon rally had Aachen's Academic Flying Group not arrived belatedly at the beginning of September. The group brought along the Black Devil, a distinctive, streamlined monoplane without outside rigging but with a single braced wing to reduce drag, a design to which the stellar aeronautical engineers Theodor von Karman, Ludwig Prandtl, and Hugo Junkers all had contributed. On his first day, 4 September, Aachen's pilot, Wolfgang Klemperer, a former Austrian air force lieutenant who was Karman's assistant, flew the Black Devil more than 1,800 meters-an unofficial world record-in a flight that lasted 2 minutes 22 seconds. Klemperer's subsequent flights showed how gliders could use the gusts running up the Wasserkuppe to gain height before turning and gliding down into the valley. Thanks to Klemperer the rally came to a successful end. 10 The next year's rally in the summer of 192 I began hopefully. Twice as many participants arrived, and new records were broken. Klemperer, from Aachen's Academic Flying Group, and Arthur Martens, from Hanover's, traded distance records three or four times before Martens flew 8.9 kilometers. Klemperer also broke Wright's endurance record, gliding for 13 minutes, before Martens and then Friedrich Harth, who flew 2 I minutes, established world records of their own. A total of fifty-three planes registered for the third rally in 1922. Gliding groups from across Germany arrived to test the winds at the Wasserkuppe, including penurious students from Berlin's technical university who walked their plane over 400 kilometers to the Rhon and back. The so-called Rhon Indians and gliding gypsies, veterans of the first two rallies, hardly recognized the Wasserkuppe, which had grown from a weather-beaten encampment of temporary tents and barracks, where twenty or thirty enthusiasts worked and cooked as a "family," to a "small city," where there were always faces one did not know. 11 At the same time, the often far-fetched glider designs of the first years gave way to standard models, most of them inspired by Hanover's 1921 Vampyr, a high-wing monoplane without external bracing that can be seen today in the Deutsches Museum in Munich. And it was in August 1922, after Martens soared more than 300 meters above the launching site and glided for a full hour, that the aviation community began to take serious notice of the Rhon rally. 12 The month ended with the duration record broken twice

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

more and finally set at over 3 hours. As long as a steady wind pushed gusts upward against hills and mountains it was possible to fly without a motor. The gliding craze had begun. Record-breaking events at the Wasserkuppe in 1922 caught the attention of the metropolitan press. "The Birdmen," record-holders Martens and Friedrich-Heinrich Hentzen, peered at a half-million readers from the cover of the Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung. Throughout the summer, journalists scrambled up the Wasserkuppe and, when they came down, claimed that the rally had restored their faith in Germany. Gliding offered a moral lesson to the nation. In its ranks there were young men who had become accomplished fliers "from nothing and with nothing" and who believed fiercely in what they were doing. 13 And thanks to its glider pilots, Germany had won an important nationalist victory. "Not even the most elegant French pen can deny" this aerial achievement (although a French glider pilot actually broke the world's endurance record in October 1922 and held it until May 1924).14 After four years of resignation, Germans had acted and triumphed. Gliding was nothing less than "a national duty," affirmed one liberal newspaper. 15 Delighted nationalists also noted that thousands of enthusiastic spectators on the Wasserkuppe had broken spontaneously into the national anthem. "Watch yourselves!" Barmen's Deutsche Tageblatt warned the Allies, the "German spirit is still alive." 16 Martens and Hentzen restored the honor of German aviation. After 1922, gliding became irrepressibly patriotic. The next summer, the first after the French invasion and occupation of the Ruhr in January 1923, saw thousands of visitors make the long trip to the Wasserkuppe, despite the economic hardships of hyperinflation. To accommodate these numbers, the German railways added morning and evening trains to and from Gersfeld and simplified connections in Fulda. At the same time, county officials built a passable road up to the Wasserkuppe. Permanent buildings were eventually constructed, and by 1926 the glider camp was serviced with electricity and water and boasted a police station, a hotel, restaurants, a theater, and a post office which issued special stamps and cancellations-"everything like in the big city. Even dancing. Even bobbed hair!" 17 For years to come, the Rhon rally provided "live" displays of German nationalism. Tens of thousands of visitors made the pilgrimage. On one typical Sunday in August 1931 there were twenty thousand sightseers on the Wasserkuppe. 18 Pilots and spectators giggled conspiratorially to one

109

110

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

another: "fudenzu," they said-jUr um die Entente zu uzen; one glided to anger the allies. Since the zeppelin disaster at Echterdingen, aviation had served as a useful allegory for the fortunes or misfortunes of the Reich, and it continued to do so after the war as well. In Hamburg's Fuhlsbiittel airport, for example, a stark memorial dramatically evoked the sorry conditions of Weimar Germany. Beneath an airplane motor wrapped in chains, mounted on a heap of rough stone, the inscription simply read: "Versailles." 19 By contrast, the glider meet in the Rhon offered a more defiant message. It was on the slopes of the Wasserkuppe that the veterans' group, the Ring of German Fliers, erected a memorial to honor the fallen airmen of the war. Over thirty thousand visitors were on hand for the dedication ceremony on 30 August 1923, including such nationalist luminaries as retired General Erich Ludendorff and the kaiser's brother, the longtime

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Thirty thousand people make the pilgrimage up the Wasserkuppe to watch the consecration of the Ring of German Fliers memorial in August 1923.

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

friend of aviation, Prince Heinrich. 20 It must have been a stunning sight to see young glider pilots show their talents, soaring forth and back over the bronze eagle perched on the Wasserkuppe's rocky northern promontory overlooking the rolling hills and valleys of central Germany. Still in place today, the memorial's plaque urged Germans to remain self-reliant and true to tradition: We dead fliers remain victors by our own efforts Volk, fly again and you will become a victor by your own efforts.

In the coming years, few books on aviators or aviation failed to invoke the inscription at the Wasserkuppe, and tales of wartime adventure often ended with accounts of veteran aces learning to glide in the Rhon. 21 The links connecting war aces and Weimar gliders were more than allegorical. Veteran airmen offered the new sport their patronage. They supervised youthful gliding groups and raised money to pay for lessons. Indeed, many of the best glider pilots in the early years-Martens, Klemperer, Hentzen-had flown during the war. Long after the end of the war, glider groups continued to honor their antecedents in the air. In Dresden, for example, pilots laid a wreath and a glider model at Immelmann's memorial in 1932. Numerous gliders were also christened with the names of fallen Pour Ie Merite fliers. The glory days of World War I aviation must have been recounted again and again in the workshops and around the campfires of gliding schools. 22 Tradition acquired lineage as a new generation of aviators was educated. Gliding had become the guardian of aviation and the executor of its ambitions. At one point or another, most famous Weimar fliers made the pilgrimage up to the Wasserkuppe and learned how to glide. Germany's highest-scoring living ace, Ernst Udet, was a frequent visitor. After flying across the Atlantic east to west, Hermann Kohl attended the 1928 rally. The barnstormer Gerhard Fieseler and the well-known aviatrixes Thea Rasche, Hanna Reitsch, and Marga von Etzdorf all learned to glide as well. Government support followed the growing popularity of gliding. As early as 1921 the German Transportation Ministry, in cooperation with

111

112

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

A glider taking off near the Ring of German Fliers memorial on the Wasserkuppe. In this photograph, gliding is the unmistakable guardian of German aviation and German national dreams.

the Reichswehr, aided Ursinus's efforts. That year it provided 300,000 inflationary marks. Acknowledging the patriotic value of the Rhon competition and anxious to maintain Germany's "lead," officials funneled funds to Ursinus rather than disperse monies to any number of less visible gliding camps.23 Eventually, however, the Rhon shared pride of place with Rossitten, a superb gliding site on the steep dunes at the mouth of the Memel River in East Prussia. Rossitten was particularly suited for beginners, whose mishaps ended more gently in the Baltic than on the rocky Wasserkuppe. In 1924, the government ended the feuding between the two camps and sponsored the founding of the Rhon-Rossitten Society, which organized the annual gliding competitions and, under the direction of the meteorologist Walter Georgii, undertook scientific research. 24 Although Rossitten never enjoyed the popularity of the Rhon,

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

hundreds of summer visitors took any of three excursion steamers from Konigsberg to see the glider camp. Conventions in Konigsberg frequently booked side trips. In June 1929, for example, conventioneers from Prussia's State Insurance Office, the State Labor Court, the Memel Agrarian League, the German Foresters' Association, the League for Women's Culture, the Association of German Engineers, and a group of nose and ear doctors viewed the patriotic activity at Rossitten. 25 Federal money dried up in 1926, however; the Allies had enjoined the Reich from supporting sport (read paramilitary) groups as a condition for ending restrictions on civilian aviation, although state and local authorities discreetly tried to make up the difference. The city of Frankfurt, for example, endowed Rhon prizes worth 2,000 marks. The Reich also continued to subsidize the scientific work of the Rhon-Rossitten Society.26 The Discovery of Thermals

Nationalist attentions alone could not sustain gliding competitions, particularly after 1926 when German-built airplanes, international air rallies, and transocean flights absorbed more and more of the public's attention. Gliding records continued to be broken, but the excitement of the first years faded. Meets in 1924 and 1925 demonstrated that it was possible to glide about the windy bluffs of Rossitten and the Rhon for hours. A veritable air route developed at the Rhon as pilots hung in the air, supported by upwinds, turned away from the rock, and glided around to catch another upward current of air along the face of the hill. But gliding these switchbacks did not really accomplish anything, and quickly became boring. Unlike birds, gliders remained tied to the rocks, unable to fly distance or rise above the launching site. Hentzen's 1922 height record of 350 meters, for example, was not bested at the Rhon until 1928. Aviators had not discovered the secret of soaring or a way to transfer the energy of horizontal winds into continuous forward movement. With skill and planning, it was possible for exceptional pilots to move along a mountain ridge for considerable distances. Upwinds occurred wherever rocks and hills protruded more than fifty meters, so that a glider pilot could plan a long-distance flight with the help of a good topographical map. However, horizontal winds returned in valleys and gaps, with the result that the pull of gravity forced the glider down. Working out

113

114

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

routes in detail beforehand, Johannes "Bubi" Nehring was a master of this concentrated exploitation of every possible upwind. In the late 1 920S, he made his way across seventy kilometers of mountainous terrain in the Black Forest. 27 At the Rhon, pilots gradually discovered and marked on their topographical maps various "air roads" from the Wasserkuppe to points south and east. Sometimes they glided the roads for ten or twenty kilometers; even more impressive was a successful round-trip back to the Wasserkuppe, which Nehring accomplished for the first time in August 1926. In their mind's eye, pilots looked down the road: "Here is wellknown terrain. The west slope. Behind us the summit. Down here forest, the peaceful ravine road . . . and beyond Poppenhausen, that nice, little village. The Horse Head to the left, and the tapered grassy ridge that leads up to it. That's where I have to fly." 28 Visitors to the Wasserkuppe more often saw pilots hunched over maps than gliders in the air: 29 "1 flew along here that time," explained one of them as his finger traveled slowly over the brown area of the map. "At this rise I had to wait until more wind came; I was already pretty low down, and was quite lucky to have found it. And here is the Geba, a little mountain, quite steep actually. There it sits all alone, isolated. I was able to regain my altitude nicely at that point."

Distance could be achieved with careful planning and precision flying, but flights of this sort were strenuous and clearly not for everybody. And the very terminology-"air roads" -the long hours of map reading, and the imperative to find upwinds underscored how tied to specific natural landmarks gliding remained. Even as the distances flown increased and master pilots landed in fields and villages a two or three hours' drive from the Wasserkuppe, gliders, unlike the birds they emulated, remained oriented to the topography of the ground. "Biibi" Nehring and other distance pilots were exceptional; at the Wasserkuppe most weekend fliers contented themselves with sailing back and forth, one after the other, along the western slope. Even this routine gliding was interrupted constantly by bad weather. Pilots were grounded so often during the lackluster 1924, 1925, and 1926 seasons that Georgii and others talked about canceling future competitions altogether. Finally, as the seventh rally drew to a close, frustrated glider enthusiasts simply flew in the rain. It was not surprising, then, that gliders continued to do

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

their turns as a thunderstorm approached on the afternoon of 12 August 1926. One by one, the pilots finished their curve away from the slope and landed in the valley below. However, the last one in line, Max Kegel, was caught in the oncoming storm before he could land, and disappeared from view. It must have been a sad moment on the Wasserkuppe to contemplate the death of a pilot at the end of another disappointing season; when the front passed, Georgii asked Nehring to take up a Heinkel biplane to look for the wreckage of Kegel's fragile machine. Kegel himself was bewildered as the storm enveloped him: "Its raining-its hailing! Already the ground below has disappeared from view ... my wingtips are no longer visible." All at once he felt himself rising like "a piece of paper that is pulled up a chimney." He was repeatedly bounced around by the storm and pulled higher and higher, possibly to 2,000 meters. When the storm finally broke, the familiar Rhon landscape was nowhere to be seen. After a long glide downward toward the patchwork of fields and forests, Kegel landed safely in what he was told was Gompertshausen, near Coburg, over 55 kilometers from the Wasserkuppe, a flight that more than doubled Nehring's 1925 distance record. "Thunderstorm Max" Kegel had fortuitously discovered thermal updrafts, which occur as warm air rises before an approaching cold front. But neither Kegel nor Georgii recognized the phenomenon for what it was, even though meteorologists had drawn attention to it as early as 1922. In the following years, Kegel continued to fly by fighting his way across hilly terrain, tracing out his flight beforehand on a motorcycle to find "upwind gas stations." It was not until 1928 that glider pilots began to explore thermals seriously. Once they did, however, gliding entered a completely new world in which fliers turned their heads up to look at the cloud cover rather than down to search out the landscape. 3D Gliding in front of a storm was the most dramatic way to achieve height and then glide the distance. On 20 July 1929, Robert Kronfeld, among the best of a new generation of younger pilots in their twenties, purposefully set out into a violent storm: the machine is climbing higher and higher. It is cold ... The gusts throw themselves desperately at the fuselage so that all the joints in the Wien creak. Like lightning, my hands are constantly at work, throttle forward and back, I compensate to the right, then a little to the left. The glider slips to the left, more, another movement to the

115

116

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

right ... The long, narrow ailerons on the wings work uninterruptedly. The guide rollers, in which the cables lie, screech out in clear, sharp tones ... But the Wien climbs.

Thermals continued to push Kronfeld upward. Eventually, the dark clouds that towered over him fell offbelow and the rain stopped. At 3,000 meters, a new world's record, Kronfeld was literally gliding above the storm. Hours later, he landed near Gera, 143 kilometers from the Wasserkuppe. His flight demonstrated conclusively what Kegel's had suggested. It was possible to overcome the fearsome turbulence of the storm to fly long distances, free from upwinds around the slopes. 31 In the years to come, pilots anxiously awaited the still, humid air that signaled an approaching front. What had once foreclosed a day's gliding now offered soaring thermals and far-reaching flights.

2.1------------------------------1 251-----------------------------1 121---------------------------~ 21~~~..._4----------_¥L_-----------_I

Jetol----~~~~~~>__----_l__-----------__1 191---------\-~aJ_--------lIt:____:__---------~ r.~----~~---------------::::~-------__I

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

fl~____!)~_PllI. _ _- - I l _ _ - - - - - - - _ _ _ _ , _ = : _ - - - ~ . . . . . . _ - - - - - _ _ I

1t~--=~----=~~b_--------~~--___rlb_-----____I

tltl---------------=~~::____--.!ii~~!!I!!l!!!I!!B_4_--.,.R.::=---_I

'5l------------~~~~~~~~_=:_-----_I 11~---------------------=~.!!.-..;~..__-----__I

....I - -

- - 3 ~ - - - _ _ 1

The flight path of Gunter Groenhoff shows how he used thermals over the Wasserkuppe.

117

, 1100t---------------------+.--J---

1000r------------------4-..J..----

900

r------------------I~~~L---

800r--------------+-l+-++----+--t4J----

6fJO

r------------+++--+--4--~~---

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Thermals at the edge of a forest.

118

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Thermals exist in fair weather as well. In April 1928, Georgii confirmed that rising currents of warmer air gathered under cumulus clouds, allowing gliders to maintain and even increase their altitude. That summer Kronfeld and other Rhon pilots began to fly from cloud to cloud rather than from slope to slope. Finally applying what other scientists had long known, Georgii heralded the thermals for inaugurating a "new epoch." 32 The close map work could be left undone and passable "air roads" ignored. Drafty "upwind chimneys" allowed pilots to glide dozens of kilometers over flat countryside. Glider pilots also learned to use thermals over green fields and stretches of heath and sand, areas which the sun warms up faster than damp, low-lying stretches. Even cities and industrial tracts produced thermals. "What all doesn't simmer together in a city," imagined the author of a popular book on Kronfeld: "the huge boiler plant of a factory, the little oven fires of workers, the hot asphalt streets, the sweltering slate roofs-all this congeals into rising balls of hot air ... that carry fliers to new heights." 33 Later in the 1930S, Wolf Hirth flew dramatic circles over Berlin and New York City. At far remove. from their pastoral launching in the Rhon, gliders developed unexpected affinities with industrial terrain. By the early 1930S, performance pilots such as Kronfeld, Wolf Hirth, and Gunter Groenhoff soared effortlessly in the skies for hours, using upwinds around mountains occasionally, but relying for the most part on thermals and storms. Across Germany, gliders took off and eventually landed hundreds of kilometers away, sometimes in Czechoslovakia or France. Flying thermals, pilots were exhilarated by a profound sense of mastery and freedom. Gliding seemed so natural, so light, that Kronfeld wondered whether gravity would ever pull him back to the ground. Perhaps "only one last push, and everything below sinks" out of sight forever. As Kronfeld climbed over the storm, he remembered himself as a child in Vienna, looking at the moon through a telescope: "a man set it up one evening on the crowded big-city street. For twenty pfennigs one could travel into infinity. The cold, pale marble sphere swam in the dark circle of the lens." The glider pilot began to look at the world below in the same unconnected, indeterminate way he had once peered at the heavens. Kronfeld felt apart, almost stellar in his contemplation: "I want to climb higher, ever higher, until I reach the stars and can look back at the planet and its rivers, mountains, and oceans through the dark light of the universe." No longer tied to rocks and maps, now sailing with the sun and the clouds, pilots described gliding as nothing less than an Icarian expe-

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

119

Zeichnun£': flu£'SDort

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

/ By the late 1930s, glider pilots were taking off at the Wasserkuppe and landing hours later hundreds of kilometers away.

rience in which technology made possible a sense of infinite movement toward the unknown. 34 Small Nationalist Republics

The triumphs recorded at the Rhon in the late 1920S stimulated a national grass-roots gliding movement. Gliding schools at Rossitten and

120

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Grunau in Silesia had been in existence since 1923. The number of students enrolled at Rossitten surged from about 100 in 1927 to 200 a year later and to 435 in 193 I. Grunau accepted 446 students in 193 I, up from 33 6 in 1930.35 The end of the decade saw a veritable gliding craze. It was not until 1927 that young fliers in Osnabriick built their first glider; they completed four more a year later. The year 1928 was also a period of astonishing growth in Stuttgart, where the Academic Flying Group increased its membership fourfold. To meet this upsurge in interest, authorities in Duisburg inaugurated a gliding camp with twelve planes at the Bissingheimer Hang in September 1929. Founded in 1928, the gliding school in Berlin-Gatow experienced extraordinary growth as well. Whereas 25 students enrolled in 1928,148 did so in 1929,234 in 193 1, and an astonishing 409 in 193 2.36 These local examples indicated a national trend. By 193 I, three dozen gliding schools dotted the German countryside. The number of new gliders built each year by the Young Flier Groups of the German Aviators' League increased dramatically from 50 in 1928 to 410 in 1929, the year Kronfeld began to explore thermals. Although fewer gliders (295) were built in the Depression year 1931, the movement continued to attract new members. Between 1927 and 193 I, membership in the Young Flier Groups more than tripled to nearly 10,000, mostly but not exclusively young male aviators between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six. In just one year, 1928, the number of Young Flier Groups nearly doubled from 37 to 7 2 . 37 The total number of glider enthusiasts in Germany was certainly higher than these figures indicate, since not all gliding clubs belonged to the Young Fliers. For example, the Academic Flying Groups, which had pulled the first gliders up the Wasserkuppe, and the Social Democratic Sturmvogel or Storm Birds, which claimed fifty local branches in 1930, remained independent organizations. 38 Although Kronfeld and Groenhoff enthralled young people, their feats were emulated by very few. Students rarely had the time or the money to complete all three stages of instruction to earn a "C" license and soar in the thermals. Most contented themselves with the basic ''N' license, which was awarded once fliers used upwinds to glide for about a minute and could make a clean landing, usually after three or four weeks of practice. Given these requirements, gliding schools did little more than recreate the short flights undertaken during the first season at the Rhon in 1920. But it was precisely the experience of living and working in the rustic conditions of a gliding camp that appealed to young Germans from

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

121

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Gliding at its height: fifty-four gliders assembled on the Wasserkuppe for a national meet in the 1930s.

all backgrounds. In addition to the thousands of students who enrolled, thousands more dreamed of going and read all they could about gliding and gliders. Throughout the 1930s, an enormous literary production of songs, stories, and plays recounted the happy weeks spent at gliding schools. 39 Gliding schools constituted small nationalist republics. Young German men and women thrilled at the opportunity to practice the sport that supposedly irritated the Allies. The lyrics of campfire songs referred repeatedly to "German deeds" undertaken in "Germany's hour" of need for "Germany's honor" and "Germany's freedom." "What tempts us into the distance?" asked one song, "Rossitten-Grunau-Rhon," sung to the tune of"Ich hab' mich ergeben":40 The eagle had been hit, and from the mountain tops the song of German hope could be heard Rossitten-Grunau-Rhon.

122

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

It blazed like fire, it rumbled like metal. The cry of victory shuddered the fl ier's heart. Year they Year they

after year, the enemies, romped along the Rhine. after year, glider pilots, trained, and remained true!

The Rh6n saw the douds, and stretched up its body: Victory belongs to the people who believe in the highest ... Let it break, let it bend, in the vise of need! The gliding spirit flies into the German dawn! Let it ring and echo: Up to the slopes! The spirit lives in us all Rossitten, Grunau, Rh6n!

Even at its most primitive, gliding was widely regarded a patriotic declaration of faith. Indeed, the simple living conditions and modest technical standards in the camps recalled the Rhon spirit. Gliding instructors, often war veterans themselves, surely remembered Immelmann, Boelcke, and Richthofen around campfires in the evening. Beginning in 1929, one such former flier, Carl Fink, supervised a gliding club in Dresden. In addition to overseeing the construction of gliders in rooms loaned by the Reichswehr and their launching on the Lerchenberg, Fink took time to lecture his charges on air combat in the last war and the importance of rebuilding German aviation in the future. For Fink's group, gliding was always more than simply sport, serving a deeper patriotic purpose. The young airmen reverently honored Dresden's own Max Immelmann and earnestly discussed Dresden's vulnerability to Czech air raids. To show the public that they considered themselves unofficially in Germany's service, members wore distinctive blue uniforms and caps. As Fink's unpublished account shows for Dresden, glider pilots played visible parts in the exuberant nationalist movement that emerged in the late 1920S and many, still brimming with enthusiasm ten years later, went on to join the Luftwaffe and to fight and die for the Third Reich. 41

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

Glider pilots were as unreconciled to the Weimar Republic as they were to the Versailles settlement. At first glance, glider camps seemed to provide a refuge from the materialism and aimlessness of modern life. Gliding fortified nostalgia for a purer, simpler time without machines. High on the mountaintops of the Rhon or far away in the East Prussian dunes, glider students trained their bodies and enjoyed the wind and sun. They held the big city and its asphalt decadence and grimy factories at bay. Rolf Italiaander, who learned to fly at Rossitten at the age of fifteen, recalled that gliding was a reaction to life in the "swamp in Berlin," which lacked ideals and spirituality, and he bitterly criticized signs of boozing and dancing on the campgrounds. 42 Glider pilots shared with many other Weimar-era youth groups a disdain for the big city, but parted company with those who continued to regard machinery as an alien and destructive force. Aviators smuggled technological enthusiasm into a nationalist movement that still envisioned the German soul as pastoral. More important, however, the communal spirit of the gliding camps seemed to reconcile the social antagonisms of industrialism without looking back nostalgically to the preindustrial past. Most pilots referred to their gliders simply as "machines" and, by the mid-1920S, built technically sophisticated, standardized models according to twenty-page blueprints. The glider's light and elegant appearance hid an exact mathematical reckoning ofweight and stability. Indeed, gliders were the very model of technical efficiency and expediency and earned the approbation of strict modernists such as Le Corbusier. 43 Throughout the 1920S, the best gliders were designed by engineering students at technical universities. With exceptions like Ferdinand Schulz's ultralight "Broomstick," the prototype for a widely used training craft, very few servicable gliders were actually hand-built in barns or tenement courtyards. At the Rhon and elsewhere, gliding officials simply disqualified wild home constructions and other unsafe planes. Far from serving as a refuge, gliding prepared young students for the reckonings of the machine age. Observers honored gliding for promoting technical thinking and providing affinities to the "technological age." Gliding competitions, Rhonvater Oskar Ursinus argued, had the virtue of making accomplished pilots out of mechanics in dirty overalls. German aviation needed more of these dedicated aviators with "dirty fingernails" and fewer occasional enthusiasts who flew in coats and ties. 44 This was certainly the case in gliding camps, where students learned to work with

123

124

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

wood, metal, and other materials and gained a thorough theoretical knowledge of meteorology and aerodynamics, experiences which served them well in their future careers. 45 Many Rhon veterans, including Wolfgang Klemperer, Peter Riedel, and Gottlob Espenlaub, ended up working for Luft Hansa or an American airline or joined Germany's aeronautical industries. Ursinus himself regarded gliding as an integral part of German aeronautics and as a requisite first step toward the manufacture of an efficient low-horsepower sports plane. Aeronautical designers in the 1930S also profited from their earlier Rhon experiences. The efficient and aerodynamically trim design of thermal gliders anticipated the streamlined single-wing fighters of the Second World War, reported the pioneer aerospace engineer Theodor von Karman. 46 To expert pilots and young schoolboys across the Reich, gliding resembled a vast summer camp in which Germans gained a practical appreciation for the machinery and technology that modern states required for national defense. Even socialists regarded the predominantly middle-class gliding group at Braunschweig's technical university in a surprisingly positive light. They were "not students in the old sense" -reactionary and weltfremdbut a new breed which the Left recognized. "Standing at the workman's bench, building, repairing, drawing, calculating, discovering," they were "scientists and workers." 47 According to one socialist aviator, gliding promoted a "technical sensibility" and thus helped to prepare for the scientific and rational future to which socialists looked forward. 48 Apparently, considerable numbers of small-town workers and handicraftsmen-typical Social Democrats-wandered to the Rhon. Although socialists eventually established their own flying clubs, Young Flier Groups recruited many sons of workers-one-third of the membership-as well as employees and civil servants. Only one-quarter of the membership had fathers who were businessmen or professionals. As a result, the social base of Young Flier Groups was much more representative of Weimar society at large than other nationalist associations such as the Stahlhelm or the Young German Order, which were much more middle-class. 49 Any neat opposition between gliding and motorized aviation or between gliding and technological values is overly simplistic. What is true, however, is that glider enthusiasts considered themselves to be apart from the realities of the Weimar Republic. Gliding camps proved so appealing to the German public because they honored the virtues of fraternity and self-reliance that promised to mend civic divisiveness at home and revive

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

German greatness abroad. Again and again, pilots counterposed the idealistic endeavors on the mountaintops, the Rhongeist which refused to recognize social differences, to the partisan politics pursued in the valleys below. 50 Like many other opponents of the bourgeois republic, on the Left but more typically on the Right, aviators saw themselves as working in the service of a post-Weimar Germany. They did not care for Weimar itself, but were passionately concerned with the kind of society that would come after Weimar. Promoting supposedly neglected values of fellowship and self-reliance, gliding camps constituted the first tiny and far-flung territories of this new society. Gliding was a story of Germans helping themselves which offered general lessons for Germany's recovery in difficult years. To fly in the sky without motors was an allegory for the assertion of self-reliance, though a misleading one since individual pilots required sophisticated machines and mountaintops or cumulus clouds. Nonetheless, students learned to glide by themselves, without a copilot or an instructor, and came to trust their own judgment. As a result, glider pilots were celebrated for their sense of purpose and confidence. 51 Supporters believed gliding built character in other ways as well. Glider clubs were proud of having scrimped and saved to buy the tools and materials necessary to build their own machines. Without wealthy industrial sponsors or government support, they depended largely on themselves and made a virtue of hardship. Effort and endurance not only valorized their achievements but also suggested that Germans could shape their own destiny however difficult the circumstances. In August 1931, Carl Fink hung the following verse in his gliding club's workshop in Dresden: If you never get started and always hanker for better tools, or rely on help from others, and don't build from what you have, you will never be able to create something from nothing!

Entitled "Strength out of Nothing," Fink's cheery sayings captured a sense of defiant self-reliance that had unmistakable national implications as well. 52 In early 1932, a group of young men in Braunfels undertook to build a glider. They did not have any money: "Well, everyone has a little," enough

125

126

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

certainly to order blueprints for the basic model "Hols der Teufel" (The Devil Take It) from Schleicher in Poppenhausen in the Rhon. Other materials had to be requisitioned somehow. "We got together and starting borrowing, borrowing cold glue from Julius, borrowing plywood from Rosenthal, borrowing here and there. When we are not borrowing, we collect money. A list goes around, and everyone goes door to door." Groups of young people begging money for their gliders were familiar sights in German towns during the Great Depression. Homebuilt gliders required hundreds of hours of work. "Every night the whole gang is in the workshop." Step by step, Braunfels's builders rehearsed the frustrations of following a plan: "again and again we poked our noses in the blueprints, but it's never quite clear." InJuly 1932, however, the "box" was finally completed. The club exhibited "Hols der Teufel" on the street as a way to collect further funds. Curious passersby contributed a total of 101.80 marks, though not everyone was convinced: Despite all our work and effort, some people still think we're playing and laugh knowingly. They can't understand how grown men, even teachers ... can devote themselves to such an adolescent and dangerous activity: "That thing there can't even fly, it has no power source, it won't go on its own, not today, not tomorrow. I don't have a penny to spare for such foolishness."

"Pull out ... run ... let go": the group's first trials ended successfully. It was a sign of aviation's patriotic appeal that Braunfels's mayor organized a public consecration of the new glider. After going around to collect ten-pfennig coins from bystanders, the group showed off its talents, pulling the machine up the slopes of the Odenwald and gliding into the valley below. 53 Gliding storybooks in the 193as richly embellished these grass-roots efforts. They told the story of the emergence of the new German, technically capable, politically self-reliant, and socially unpretentious. As the Rhon inscription promised, Germans were victors by their own efforts. "Dear Germany, do as the glider pilots have," wrote Walter Georgii in 1932, on the eve of Hitler's assumption of power. 54 The notion that will and effort could lead to achievement and excellence found expression in popular stories that cast the glider pilot as a Narr or fool. Like Graf Zeppelin or club members in Braunfels, Germany's young aviators had to endure all sorts ofhumiliations and disbelief before successfully flying their machines. The lonesome fanatic bore a

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

resemblance to the imagined figure of postwar Germany, whose resources had been plundered and ambitions supposedly stunted, but which would finally prevail in a friendless world. Ferdinand Schulz, the village schoolteacher from East Prussia who built his simple machines by himself and only with difficulty convinced incredulous technical juries of the competence of his gliders, but who went on to hold numerous endurance records, was the quintessential gliding "fool" whom aviation folklore revered. After Schulz's death in 1929, Walther Kleffel, aviation writer for the big Berlin daily BZ am Mittag, memorialized the flier's contributions to a wider sense of German accomplishment. "Broomsticks, bedsheets, and a little wire"-his glider seemed to be constructed out of little more, and at first it did not receive permission to fly. And yet, "I don't fly with rules, but with that thing there," Kleffel imagined a stubborn Schulz replying. This sort of response in the face of adversity was intended to build faith in Germany's revival. 55 Schulz, the provincial schoolteacher, became a familiar type. Especially after 1933, children's stories introduced unlikely heroes, such as "Fatty" in Eberhard Giese's adventure, who overcame the derision of friends and neighbors to build and fly gliders and eventually found his way to National Socialism. 56 Gliding was first and foremost an active verb, an impression on the world, one of those deeds which catalogued German greatness. "Wer da liebt die Taten," Fink's gliding group sang, "for the love of doing": Not a lot of words, just let me say: learn to fly! Comrade, give a hand! Pull out-that's right. Let's do it! Run!-Let Go!-Good flight!

It was not really important, Ernst Junger argued in the late 1920S, whether gliding was useful or profitable, or whether it offered scientists insights into aerodynamics or lightweight metals. Living in primitive conditions, pulling their machines up the steep slopes, glider pilots expressed a vital and imperious nature. Faithful and durable aviators like those at the Wasserkuppe contradicted predictions of moral and physical degeneration in a disheveled modern world. 57 According to Paul Karlson, writing in 1933, the glider pilot was a combatant and as such regenerate: 58

127

128

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

The glider pilot hovers alone in the air, in his sleek, fragile machine, with only his courage and his resolution to rely on. They take off against the oncoming thunderstorm, they fly right into the middle, into the house of lightning and the thunder. They dive into the clouds, into the grey, damp, formless fog, and they steer their machines through hard, boisterous gusts ... They grit their teeth and fight their way against the elements and then they ready their machines for another takeoff. The command comes clear and hard: Pull out-runlet gol-and again someone climbs into the sky. Glider pilots do all this with a calm sense of self-confidence. They don't waste a lot of big words on their heroic deeds; they take off into the sunny heavens.

Glider pilots were front-line soldiers in the battle to create a new kind of person. To triumph over nature's storms and national tribulations created the sober hero whom Junger honored. Eager to identify the mysterious life forces of the modem age, Junger believed that Weimar Germany's selfless airmen heralded a fabulous new elite. 59

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

The group was central to gliding. Here six young men pull a glider into the air.

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

In a typical photo, gliding enthusiasts work and relax in a communal spirit.

Gliding did more than train individuals to act and to triumph, however. National renewal represented far more than merely the sum of private accomplishments; it required a social ethos of service and sacrifice as well. One of the reasons gliding received so much attention was that it combined the heroic and the communitarian. German nationalists honored the qualities that gliding supposedly nurtured in the individualphysical and spiritual vigor, resolution, self-confidence, and steel nerves-but they also celebrated the group effort and comradeship on which gliding depended. Gliding was organized along emphatically cooperative lines. True, soaring in the air, the pilot enjoyed quintessentially solitary flight. But actual flight was only one aspect of gliding. Cooperative hauling and pulling on the ground took up far more time. Eight to ten people were needed to set the glider in motion. Perched on the edge of a bluff, the glider would be pulled into the air by a ground crew-"Pull out! Run! Let Go!" After landing, the glider had to be hauled back up the hill and possibly

129

130

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

repaired. Only occasional minutes of flying broke up a strenuous day of physical labor on the ground. "One minute up-one hour down," wrote Paul Karlson. And yet no one asked: "Is it worth it?" Whoever wanted to fly had to work in the spirit of cooperation. 60 The group was central to gliding, and it was flying clubs rather than individuals which typically constructed and flew machines. Gliding camps, where cooperation could be organized and where the sons and daughters of workers supposedly joined the sons and daughters of farmers and merchants, provided Germans with cherished images of work, accomplishment, and fraternity. Government officials, Socialists, Democrats, and National Socialists all celebrated the community spirit and sense of national purpose that animated gliding camps. Gliding was popular because it fused nationalism and community. Gliding pointed ahead to a technologically capable and at the same time solidary German Reich. With its emphasis on self-reliance, patriotic defiance, and the mystical people's community, the gliding movement anticipated much of the appeal of National Socialism. After 1933, Fritz Stamer, for example, referred to Rhon enthusiasts as a "flying Freikorps," fighting to reclaim Germany from materialism and cosmopolitanism. 61 The pilots themselves were not generally Nazis, though many were surely sympathetic as the National Socialist movement grew in Depression-era Germany. In the Rhon, where Sturmvogel Social Democrats and Jews such as Robert Kronfeld glided, the atmosphere was probably not overtly party-political but was certainly unmistakably nationalistic. We know that on 31 July 1932, the midsummer Sunday on which Germany's critical Reichstag elections were held, thousands of visitors were in the Rhon. For the convenience of vacationers and glider enthusiasts, a temporary voting station was installed on top of the Wasserkuppe. Well over 50 percent of the 962 ballots went to the Nazis, a figure considerably above the national average of 37 percent. 62 This result was not surprising. After all, gliding had provided powerful images of a more fraternal post-Weimar future since the early 1920S. At the Wasserkuppe, nationalists learned that new patriotic communities could be imagined and constructed. And as Weimar Germany's political crisis worsened, fascist voices undoubtedly became louder and louder in aviation clubs. 63 The point is not that gliding camps in the 1920S nurtured Nazis but that the unpretentious and cooperative spirit and self-reliant nationalism that gliding cherished eventually fostered an unmistakable empathy for the National Socialist message.

Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism

In the spring of 1933, after Hitler's assumption of power, the nazification of the gliding community occurred relatively seamlessly. Whatever resistance there was took the form of organizational loyalty to older associational traditions rather than ideological opposition to the Nazis. Except for Kronfeld, who left Germany to promote gliding in England, few of the old faces disappeared. Oskar Ursinus, who joined the Nazi party on 1 March 1933; Fritz Stamer, the longtime director of the gliding school at the Wasserkuppe; Walter Kleffel, Germany's preeminent "air journalist"; and many others happily accepted ranking offices in the newly established Nazi sport organization, wrote chauvinistic homages to the Third Reich, and acclaimed new tough-minded sponsors in BerlinHitler, Goering, Loerzer-who poured thousands of marks into gliding in an effort to train a new generation of twentieth-century Germans. 64

131

MODERNIST VISIONS, NATIONAL DREAMS

4

The second half of the twentieth century strained to understand the passions of the first, in which the peoples' rash catastrophism and supercharged utopian projects and gullible machine romances had played such contradictory leading roles. As early as 1959, Kenneth S. Davis, in his biography of "the hero," warned readers that it was "almost impossible," a generation later, to recapture the "magic" and credulity of Lindbergh's heroism. The Magic Mountain place of the 1920S and 1930S had since been leveled. 1 After the Second World War, almost any look backward to that time was warped and confused by the perspective of distance. To the "lost generation" between the wars, history appeared delinquent, reckless, no longer applicable. The First World War and the revolutions that followed violently declared that European history was not moving toward any particular, predictable destination. When Jacques Bainville asserted in 1919 that the nineteenth century was stupid he also pronounced it dead; in his view, the future had foreclosed on the liberal trajectory of 1789. This liberation from the remembered past was awkward. Harsh economies and brutal politics in the 1930S softened the features of the prewar Belle Epoque. In his memoirs, Stefan Zweig, a Jewish refugee from Austria living in Brazil, recalled a turn-of-the-century childhood world of security and measured progress and wanted to believe it would return, as if the intervening decades were simply a stormy patch after which the world would be all right again. 2 For others, however, the postwar era was full of possibility and vitality. The two most powerful and novel political movements of the interwar years, communism and fascism, shared a presumption that the future could be redesigned and remade, almost at will. Modernist intellectuals from Lewis Mumford to Le Corbusier repeatedly urged their respective publics to rethink the future. Eyeing the precision and power of machines on the factory floor, on the street, and in the home, more and more Europeans found an optimistic future tense per133

134

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

suasive in the postwar years. This was the age of the forecaster, the seer, the technocrat. The "ballyhoo" and con artistry so characteristic of the 1920S were but exaggerated commercial and deceitful manifestations of the decade's prevalent "can-do" spirit. Utopia harbors dystopia, as Eugene Zamiatin, Karl Capek, and Aldous Huxley warned in their science fiction, but each place-the good society that reason builds or its dark counterpart to which hubris and egoism lead-also affirms the malleability of the material and social world. In imaginary fictions as well as in public politics and private dreams, Europeans became increasingly convinced of the plasticity of their universe. Machines and particularly airplanes were the visible artifacts of this dizzying power to transform the given world. Lifting off from the face of the earth and surveying from the air, connecting continents in a day and bombing country heartlands in an hour, attaining faster and faster speeds and finally piercing the stratosphere, the airplane became one of the most powerful symbols for the very consequence of the age. It seemed to make plausible a whole new order of active verbs that described the assault and seizure of the planet by the men and women of the air age. In the United States, "airmindedness" was a nearly religious declaration of faith in moral improvement and civic prosperity, a happy, hyperbolic restatement of the American dream. According to Joseph Corn, the "winged gospel" was mainly pacific and embrasive. 3 It did not foresee brave, new political communities based on exclusion and hierarchy or impose novel geopolitical imperatives. In Germany, however, the elective affinities between innovations in technology and sterner modes ofpolitics were more closely defined, more dangerously partisan. The enduring popularity of fliers; the rapid growth of gliding and commercial aviation; the 1925 establishment of Germany's semipublic airline, Luft Hansa; and the country's aeronautical achievements in the same period, most notably the transocean voyages of a new generation of zeppelins, first the ZR III in October 1924, then the state-of-the-art Gra! Zeppelin after 1928, and also the April 1928 flight of the Junkers Bremen, the first nonstop east-to-west airplane crossing of the Atlantic-all these events redescribed German nationalism in compelling ways. Aviation forecast a new, more powerful, and disciplined German Reich that would be able to meet the hard industrial demands and join the revived imperial contests of the twentieth century.

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

The Spectacle Weimar Germans gathered around airplanes and pilots as much as they crowded socialist picnics and nationalist parades. Once the Allies gradually eased restrictions on the manufacture of new and more powerful airplanes in the mid-1920S, airshows became the rage. From April to October they entertained huge crowds in towns across the country. Brass bands and colorful flags and the bright sun-lit metal and deep mahogany of the Udet Flamingos or Klemm monoplanes on the grassy apron of the local Schutzenwiese made the rallies irresistibly exciting. If "big cannons" such as Gerhard Fieseler, Gerd Achgelis, or Ernst Udet, whose aerial acrobatics, low-altitude loops, and irrepressible clowning dazzled spectators, agreed to come, tens of thousands of curious sightseers pressed onto the meadows. Udet could pick up a handkerchief on the ground with his wingtip, and police reports indicate that as many as 60,000 people were on hand to watch him perform in Bamberg on 25 April 1926.4 Sunday rallies sponsored by the cigarette company Bergmann in the summer of 1931 attracted up to 100,000 spectators (in Gleiwitz, Dresden, Konigsberg, and Mannheim). Air days in Berlin always clogged the subway and filled the streets in Neukolln, near Tempelhof Field. In Wurttemberg, where Graf Zeppelin had found fame and fortune a quartercentury earlier, almost any fair-weather weekend promised an air rally: on 29 June 1928, for example, 20,000 people assembled on the Cannstatter Wasen outside Stuttgart; 4,000 were present for Schwenningen's "air day," 15 July; 12,000 at Oehringen on 9 September; 8,000 "on the Buhler Hohe," near Rottweil, on 16 September; 30,000 returned to the Cannstatter Wasen on 23 September; 7,000 traveled to Riedlingen's rally on 24 September; and 3,000 showed up on a cold October afternoon in Ludwigsburg. Even when only a handful of pilots performed, airshows were held in the smallest towns: Bavaria's Bad Aibling, Furstenfeldbruck, Wasserburg, Tittmoning, Pfaffenhofen, and Krumbach, among others, all celebrated an "air day" during the turbulent, economically depressed summer of 1932.5 Local branches of Germany's largest aeronautical group, the German Aviators' League, usually organized the rallies. However, other social clubs, political parties, and commercial entrepreneurs sponsored them as well. Udet, for example, appeared wherever promoters were willing to pay

135

136

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

his fee; he performed at the Sturmvogel's Constitution Day air show in Berlin as well as at nationalist rallies. The programs varied only slightly and typically included various acrobatic flyovers, skywriting displays, parachute jumping, demonstrations by balloonists and gliders, and a model airplane competition. Female fliers were an added attraction; "Fraulein Adalice" made her living jumping from planes. Flying in close formation, "like schools of fish in water," bubbled the Giirlitzer Volkszeitung, the Young Flier Wing also enjoyed huge popularity on the air show circuit. Crowds loved the wing's relay races, in which competing teams passed a baton from runners to bicyclists to race-car drivers before pilots took off in airplanes to complete the course. In addition, affluent sightseers could take short trips aloft in eight-seater Luft Hansa planes. With entry fees as low as 50 pfennigs (a daily newspaper cost 10 or IS pfennigs), and 2 to 3 marks for reserved seats, air rallies attracted a broad section of the public. 6 Thanks to the airshows, Udet shook off the resentments that consumed many other former aces after the war and became one of Germany's most familiar stars. Less well-known fliers achieved local notoriety as well. Marga von Etzdorf described the aura which surrounded Weimar's barnstormers: 7 A few days before, the meadow on which the show would take place would be described to me in general terms. I was given compass directions and the approximate distance from the largest town. Early on Sunday I flew over and looked until I finally spotted the white landing cross that the organizers had laid out. Only one or two other machines had arrived. Until noontime we lolled about on the grass and watched as the grounds slowly filled. It was mostly country folk, farmers from small villages, who came with kids and skittles on foot or by car, sometimes from far away, to finally see an airplane up close. Then the local band arrived, and soon we could hear the first trumpet notes, not very melodious, but therefore all the louder. Everyone watched us fliers with a respectful shyness and moved aside when we made our way through the crowd ... Once in a while, an awe-struck, simple country boy would come up to ask how I was able to do loops or other feats, and soon enough other members of his family were dragged out to greet and interview me.

In the afternoon, at last, the airshow got under way. The overhead buzz of the motors, the purposeful bustle of mechanics, the smell of gasoline: it is not difficult to imagine the dreams about planes and pilots that

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

youngsters surely cherished long after the airshows left town. For adults, too, the rallies certainly entertained. Police files are full of complaints that performers risked their lives to "tickle" the nerves of the crowd, whose satisfaction supposedly required at least one death each weekend. 8 But there was more to airshows than death-defying acrobatics. Like the gliding meets, the rallies told a story of German defiance and German revival. Airfields, which as a consequence of the Treaty of Versailles had resembled a "desolate junkyard," full ofwrecked motors and tumbledown sheds, were in the mid- 1 920S again the sites of restless activity; airline service and freight deliveries resumed, and air rallies were organized. Against the odds, German fliers had returned to the skies, stealing world records at international competitions and rehearsing their skills at local airshows. The verse and oratory of officials of the German Aviators' League did nothing to hide this nationalist aspect. Speakers honored pilots who had fallen during the World War and invoked the patriotic inscription at the Rhon: "Volk, fly again." What Germany needed was an air force, speeches exhorted time and again. Before the aerial show at the Third Bavarian Fliers' Memorial Day in Wiirzburg in August 1925, for instance, the university professor Karl Sauger read a poem urging airminded young people to "break the power of the enemy," "loosen the shackles that hold back our cause," and seek "bitter revenge" for the shameful Versailles peace. 9 Provincial air rallies tickled modern nerves, to be sure, but they also stiffened national morale. Even more exciting and consequential were the national airshows in which all Germans had the opportunity to be spectators. The transoceanic flights of Germany's postwar zeppelins and airplanes, whose progress was closely followed by newspapers and radio and tracked almost "live" in extra editions and special broadcasts, electrified the nation. Just as the misfortunes of German aviation immediately after the warmotors wrecked, airships seized, sheds razed, airfields neglectedevoked the humiliation of the Reich, so did the enviable accomplishments later in the 1920S encourage growing confidence in Germany's revival. Machine dreams mingled with national dreams. In an increasingly technological century, Germany appeared able to hold its own, despite political and economic hardships. Between the two World Wars, it was aviators who took the measure of progress. This was certainly so in the United States, where Lindbergh's 1927 solo flight across the Atlantic reaffirmed both the private virtues and the civic enterprise of exultant

137

138

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

Americans. For the French, the bold advances in aviation across the Rhine heralded the reemergence of Germany as a dangerous superpower. IO Throughout the 1920S and 1930S, Europeans grabbed at the images of aviation to validate claims of national prowess and technical mastery. When a German-built zeppelin prepared to cross the Atlantic in October 1924, the flight turned into an event of obsessive national interest. The ZR III continued the defiant story of trotz and dennoch (spite and defiance) whose first chapter had been written at Echterdingen. Although the Treaty of Versailles prohibited the construction of airships, which the Allies regarded as massive, typically Teutonic creatures ofwar, Hugo Eckener, who had become chief of the zeppelin project after Graf Zeppelin's death in 1917, worked tirelessly to save the Friedrichshafen works. He was convinced of the serviceability of airships; thanks to wartime advances in technology, they promised inexpensive and reliable transportation across long distances. And he defended their peaceful purpose; in an age of high-performance fighter planes, zeppelins no longer posed a military threat. Eckener eventually persuaded the American government to accept a new ship, the LZ 126, registered by the Americans as the ZR III and later christened Los Angeles, as partial compensation for the scuttling of Germany's Imperial Navy at Scapa Flow in 19 I 9. As a result, activity at the zeppelin plant in Friedrichshafen revived and so did the German romance with airships. The October 1924 flight, which was first nonstop transatlantic crossing undertaken by a dirigible, generated enormous excitement. At Friedrichshafen, reporters from Germany and the United States blustered in vain to secure a seat on the crossing, hatched unrealized plans to stow away, and scrambled to wire the news of the ZR Ill's takeoff so that minutes later their newspapers would be first on the streets of Berlin, Frankfurt, or Munich with extra editions. 11 Once the zeppelin was airborne, two or three daily editions and special editions when necessary followed its progress. "ZR 3 over the ocean," screamed the headline of the Berliner Tageblatt's second Extra-Blatt on 12 October. Along city streets, Berliners learned: "ZR 3 near Bermuda" on 14 October; "ZR 3 has reached the American coast" on 15 October; and finally, later the same day, "ZR 3 lands in Lakehurst." 12 Once Eckener safely landed the ZR III in Lakehurst, New Jersey, the U.S. Navy's airship port outside New York City, the Hearst correspon-

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

dent Karl von Wiegand happily announced that "Germany has rehabilitated herself in the eyes of the world." The German press agreed: the transatlantic flight had made an important contribution to science and technology and helped inaugurate a new era in global understanding. After years of drawing the world's scorn, Germany's name had a "new ring" to it, exulted the influential Berliner Tageblatt. A quarter-century later, Eckener, who was anything but an all-German patriot, remembered the homage Americans paid after the historic flight. His understated speech of thanks in Washington was followed by "stormy applause": "the orchestra rose to a man and played the German national anthem. Part of the audience, probably German, sang along. My eyes clouded over, and to this day I cannot think of the occasion without tears coming to my eyes. As a German, I sensed how the national anthem once again paid tribute to me and my people. I left the theater as if I were in a dream." 13 Eckener's testimony deserves to be taken seriously. The ZR III restored a measure of national pride for thousands of Germans. But there was more to German pride than rehabilitation. Making inevitable comparisons to the disaster at Echterdingen, commentators honored the sense of national unity achieved at home and, in 1924 as in 1908, also anticipated the German deeds that would astonish the world in the years to come. Newspapers from the democratic Left to the extreme Right welcomed the sense of national self-confidence that accompanied the flight of the ZR III. Reporters described the scenes in breathless prose: church bells tolled across the Reich, flags flew merrily, and Germans, gathered in public places, spontaneously sang the national anthem. 14 The evening after the landing, we know that Konstanz's market square filled with thousands of joyous patriots. From the direction of the post office, students from the three university fraternities Alania, Bayuvaria, and Allemania and the secondary schools arrived with their colorful flags. Accompanied by torch-bearers, the firemen's band marched from Kanzleistrasse and assembled around the war memorial, where city officials were on hand. It was an "awesome" sight, concluded a local editor, surely one of the city's "finest celebrations." 15 National accomplishment tugged together a heady sense of civic unity. Given the happy scenes in Konstanz and elsewhere, zeppelin enthusiasm seemed to mend the politically torn nation. For years to come, a photograph, probably a montage, by Bauhaus photographer Lazlo Moholy-Nagy evoked the defiance of Germans in an unfriendly world. It shows a stormy sky with a patch of light against which

139

140

A

NATION

OF

FLIERS

Lultlahrt -fiJ-_

Deujsche Luljf'ahrer-Zeljschrlfj t-.s ,""Oil 1III!IIH4NN ......... MOEDEaECll:

ZeltschrU1 fUr LuU.cblll-, Flug-, Frelballon'W'esen und verwancl.te Geblefe In Wa..enscbaU. Tec::hnlk und Spor'

•••• I~_. ~~~ o::..~"~o;:u:: V~=;.l:t·I':~:: ,-" ~":::n,~-W t ~: J;.'1:..~-.:.:l:.:u-.::'.:..II~:: ",r~~~.~ ~"'~:':t"'K"'~I!J:I~:' .. "aT, PotUt..... l'l():,'l; Vw'M-.,n1 SCk<\ftl' »."h,. ',ud•••. 8"110 WI, fkd. . A.''''rntftl ..............Ulflu1i.' .. tr,.t:,.,•••. 8 .. 'I.ti'1. k.l)Iw

t,.,-p:~·~~~tllt'" .....

»

,ulcllttl bull,..d.

e.uu"Uft

CIOPfi. &QQI OtUell'M (WtdllftnUU:t 4tr .. L.Hhll"".

$lltt~N=:~ott~ .......... Tnf ud.A~wqte WOflNUbni NI('II.,ect AanJ,M

WtllJu

Wd!t.l Mdt Pt.. lIlr... "-dINt, AIIPttpa-AMd. . ftrdl eM Pi

lhiJkH AllI~V...JttjhmC~K"H... Irltfl:k:ltu SCu11'lWl1Hll'" ......,I.dct ~ lklutru wi.. _

.uJ,.,.. "'.

(XVIII. Jabr,a",

". Wit UKflt....

QQf........... (DIt,).lllfl.bbrt-,8t!ttlll)MlI-.u4rtdl1ttltZlIllf.lMlflf

K , .. Is I

,c.... a. ..... it. . . tr II.

W" UIIbtr.

aft ..._ G«1l

1tt<'PlWto kl~

BERLIN, den 20. Oktober 1924

NlImmer 14

Glii
I

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

I

I. ft. III .... , •• ,. AlluU••

"riftell$4:hv. ere S\:h.. (tne Wolken Nabllh:n Uh-S den S<Jnntnschclnl

Blllte a:ucLlcn. l1onuC!r routen. ,AId di.:1Il ~(llel tblld unser ~ein. I}umhcn pfaille ... lind Oran:lIen, Unsrr Sebwctl spr,ln.: J.lllt CIlI....'cl; Nlcbt die Lel..:.r. aus den SaUeR Kl:ltll der Arbell Me1od\:!.

Oeul!icllC Atbell.• dnusclh:s Wls~n. l)eul'lo..:her Od~t Md dculsche Kraft Hllb.:n n::a.ch deu trub"h:ll 5(lImJen \VI~dC'r kit clllf)OtntJffl. O\-'Ut,\.hI3f1d. ,,\!U c(kUnat deln Nam~ :--ro1&.• trtllz aUem ufd und We.h. Sll~it till Rlesc auf 1111ll )Ummel Ails dent blaue" llodensee.

Vide tleder "inti vcrklunacf\ UddendJrnco ohne Zahl; f'lt04:h In alien dCUls.:ht'o lIenen Lcbl lIt'r Rclturcner.:tl. llet dn ~uhn"te: WhO M"'lk'R:en No.:h hn $ilberwel8ell 113ar Lnd HOlz tlnem ..f.chl~rdln.~nl" Ni"hl VcrulU \111\J ,"11111,)5, \\:lr.

Aut. Uln ~heln. "lit Ab\tlllt.:d:m:I"c., Stelel chi Ric".:, dlluhdlcr Ari.

P.•llen ,audu:n, Hlmmer klinee". Au'll Ikt Arbth Mt'hldlcn

Und ailS Million'll! Kithlcn Klint"': ..HIUck.w' 'lilt xroDcli ,t.hrtl..

~~ub

Hallt h.in~u! III aile I.fHIIJ~ dcr NJntc •.2 e 0 0 e-ll n

1"

0.-... Itp....l..blIli hf....tfklli.JuW.. 1'.....qJlkhn lor.kt...·t __

_

..

1I

Kill 'l1'.'bO'r_". Il....,..tr

~

'llb>lJI

WU

Ul

l'.A IIf$tIIIllIi

In this famous Moholy-Nagy photograph, the ZR III shows the way to Germany's redemption.

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

the zeppelin flies. Once again, imagery and rhetoric depicted Germany's search for a place in the sun. 16 "Unfortunately" all this sentimental talk about unity "was not accurate," the socialist daily Vorwiirts reminded. Too much all-German chauvinism made genuine national unity unthinkable. 17 Technological accomplishments such as the flight of the ZR III did not diminish the virulence of political conflict. Still it would be a mistake to ignore completely the ways in which machine feats shaped political expectations. Vorwiirts was impressed enough with the flight to dub the ZR III the "Columbus of the Skies," and adopted an unmistakably patriotic tone in its observation that the airship "was built by German engineers and German workers, with German machines and German tools." 18 Both Social Democrats and German nationalists recognized the zeppelin as one of Germany's technical "masterpieces" which instilled a measure of national pride. In a decade when the Weimar Republic was unable to forge even a limited national consensus, it is worth considering the emotional pull that the notion "Made in Germany" exerted across politicallines. 19 Convinced that airships could lead Germany's cultural revival abroad and compensate for the humiliation of Versailles at home, Eckener launched a grass-roots subscription effort, the Zeppelin-Eckener-Spende, to build an airship for the German republic. He gave more than one hundred speeches in the two years following his triumphal return from the United States. Support mounted, particularly on the local level, making comparisons with Echterdingen inescapable. Once again, technological marvels were designed to provide a rallying point for Germans of all political stripes, refurbish German patriotism, and enforce a sense of selfreliance and national purpose. A cycle of eight postcards, commissioned by Eckener and designed by Hanns Bastanier, depicted various stages of the postwar destruction of an airship shed replete with vultures and threatening crowds. 20 The point was clear: a new zeppelin would lift the fortunes of Germany and leave behind the loathsome peace. German technology fused with German patriotism into a sturdy popular tradition. In Berlin, the ruling right-of-center Biirgerblock government was cool to Eckener's ambitious project, possibly because the pacific zeppelin was no longer the darling of militarists, more probably because Foreign Minister Gustav Stresemann worried about the Allied response to Germany's renascent airship building, and also because federal budgets were tight in this period of fiscal stabilization. That the Prussian state refused at first

141

142

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

to sanction streetcorner collections for the new zeppelin was certainly due less to unflinching hostility to the project than to the state's interest in maintaining the sums collected for winter poor relief; the streets could hardly bear so many fundraisers. 21 Even so, Eckener did not lack influential supporters. Prominent Reichstag members, including the president of the Reichstag, the Social Democrat Paul Lobe, backed the public subscription. And well-known writers from Oswald Spengler to Gerhard Hauptmann and Thomas Mann contributed their names and dedicated laudatory poems to the effort. A kind of fair-weather, dirt-free mirror of German virtue, the zeppelin would serve German unity, exulted Hauptmann: -and, now, at last we must consecrate in Germany's heavenly sky this ship of Gods, which silver-gleaming marries the mist of the air, which seizes German eyes and leads them upward, which unites power and beauty in delight. Let this symbol rise again. Make it come true with the power of your unity.

More than anything else, Hauptmann and other well-wishers of the zeppelin treasured the national unity that the airship seemed to piece together on the ground; the zeppelin repaired a broken German nation. 22 Newspapers joined the chorus in support of Eckener, as they had in 1908. Municipal officials also aided the subscription by mobilizing the schools. In Konstanz, for example, schoolchildren, including students from the primary school in the working-class district of Petershausen, collected nearly 4,000 marks. Dozens of children, shaking tin cans, recalling the heroic deeds of Graf Zeppelin, Peter Strasser, and Hugo Eckener, helped raise funds; boys went door to door, while girls asked for contributions on the streets and squares. Municipal records indicate that most people who were asked to contribute did so, usually giving one or two marks, sometimes less, but occasionally 5, 10, even 20 marks. Just under 1,900 individuals contributed 2,900 of the total of 3,982 marks (the remaining subscription lists are incomplete), suggesting that all-told about one-tenth of Konstanz's 25,000 citizens contributed to the children's fundraising effort, an estimable number even for a town with a Zeppelin Oberrealschule and a grand Hotel Cra[ Zeppelin that sat across Lake Constance from Friedrichshafen. 23 At the end of 1926, Eckener

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

had collected a total of 2.5 million marks, a far cry from the 6 million raised in 1908, but enough to begin building the LZ 127, which the Allies countenanced when they lifted restrictions on commercial aviation. Eventually, the Reichstag allocated further funds, and Eckener's promotional agreement with the American newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst secured the rest. The new zeppelin was hailed as a technological marvel. During construction in Friedrichshafen, passersby gathered by the factory gate, eager to catch a glimpse of the giant airship. Most were unable to look inside. Occasional visitors were allowed a peek, however, and came away astonished: "You enter the huge hall ... and for a moment are completely speechless and taken aback. You see nothing but the giant hull of the airship ... In point of fact, 236.6 meters long and 33.7 meters high, it is the largest ship ever built." 24 The day the giant doors of the shed were finally opened, photographers from Die Woche were on hand to record the moment. Their shots from below emphasized the looming size of the new zeppelin and captured the ship's quiet, imperious authority.25 Even the sober Arthur Koestler (later better known for his book on Stalin's purges, Darkness at Noon, but in the early 1930S a writer for Ullstein), for whom zeppelins were "too bulky, vulnerable and slow," renegades from "a dead branch of evolution," acknowledged that the LZ 127 was "a monster of supreme beauty": "its smooth, glossy aluminum skin had a silvery sheen, and by its unbroken smoothness made it appear like ... a good-natured, colossal Moby Dick of the air." 26 Christened the eraJZeppelin, the new airship was widely acclaimed as a "masterpiece of technology";27 aboard for a trial run, the Frankfurter Zeituni's special correspondent stressed the punctual departure from Friedrichshafen-precisely 7:50 in the morning-and the safe, comfortable journey despite rough winds in the afternoon-"Steward, a schnapps!" he ordered, sitting in the ship's salon. 28 Once embarked on its flights, first down the Rhine on a trial run, then across the Atlantic to New York City and back to Friedrichshafen in October 1928, across Germany in patriotic celebration in the year that followed, and finally around the world in August 1929, the eraJZeppelin thrilled Germans. Crowds often waited for four hours or more to glimpse the zeppelin. When the airship passed, Koestler noted "the howling factory whistles, traffic snarls ... waving crowds, and, presumably, an epidemic of stiff necks" that it left in its wake. 29 In November 1928, a quarter-million Berliners were on hand to greet the eraJZeppelin after its

143

144

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

triumphant Atlantic crossing. Never before had so many people filled Frankfurt's streets, exclaimed local editors. As late as 1930, a flight over Osnabriick brought the city to a standstill. Factory hands quit work and climbed on top of roofs to cheer the Gra!Zeppelin. More than 34,000 curious sightseers paid up to 5 marks to watch the zeppelin land in Hamburg on 22 June 1930.30 Even socialist newspapers avidly covered the zeppelin. "Rrr... ! Rrrrrr ... !" The phone in the editorial offices of Braunschweig's militant Volksfreund "is ringing off the wall": "'Excuse me, exactly when is the zeppelin expected?' The same question is asked over and over again, in all the minor and major keys." When the zeppelin finally passed over Braunschweig, editors and secretaries rushed to the roof of the "red castle," the Volksfreund building, which like rooftops throughout the city filled with curious airship-gazers. 31 Who didn't rush outside to watch the zeppelin or follow its progress across the countryside by motorcycle or car in those expectant years? The press, persuaded that aviation sold papers, added to the sense of spectacle. Ullstein in Berlin, for example, assigned two reporters, Walther Kleffel and Wilhelm Schulze, to cover the 1928 ocean crossing, one for each leg of the flight. For the first time, it commented, "trained observers"-that is, reporters-would be on board a pioneering flight: Two different journalistic temperaments, two different reporters with different training and different styles will cover the flight. Walther Kleffel is the sports editor ... at BZ am Mittag. For him, flying is absolutely necessary. He looks at performance, wind resistance, and he makes comparisons with earlier achievements. Wilhelm Schulze is UIIstein's chief correspondent in New York. He is used to reporting what America has to say to Europeans, the manifold events of the present, the tempo, the rush, and growing tension of life.

Just like the Space Shuttle voyages sixty years later, the zeppelin flight was regarded as an achievement of such consequence that it required its own writers, artists, and reporters, including a newspaperwoman, Lady Drummond. 32 A media event in its own right, the crossing resembled a "an assembly line of newspaper reportage"; Kleffel and other reporters sent telegrams "uninterruptedly," feeding a "Heisshunger" for any scrap of news which even voluminous copy and timely extra editions back home evidently could not satisfy, since telephones rang constantly in local newspaper offices over the three days of the flight, 11-13 October 1928.33 The response to Lindbergh's solo flight across the Atlantic had plainly

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

demonstrated the public's abiding fascination with aviation. The press made the most of this opportunity. In the six months after May 1927, American newspaper groups invested a half-million dollars to cover aviation, buy exclusive rights, subsidize flights, and assign reporters. 34 A greedy competition for air news ensued between William Randolph Hearst and the New York Times, which had scooped the rest of the world with Lindbergh's story and had uncharacteristically devoted its first four pages entirely to the hero's solo flight. 35 To outdo the Times, Hearst worked hard to secure American rights to the LZ 127's first Atlantic crossing. "Get the story at all costs," he told his correspondents. The price ended up totaling $150,000, an amount large enough to allow Eckener to complete the construction of the costly airship.36 However, Hearst's most ambitious and, he hoped, most profitable aviation story was to be the 1929 zeppelin flight around the world, which he jointly organized with Eckener. For $100,000 Hearst bought non-European rights for news, stills, and films of every kind; Ullstein, Scherl, and the Frankfurter Zeitung shared the European rights. Paying passengers and special zeppelin stamps helped earn the trip a handsome profit. 37 Both Hearst and Eckener were talented self-promoters, and each used the other. While Hearst hoped to beat out competitors at home, Eckener needed publicity to establish the zeppelin's reputation for safety and reliability. The global trip became a media extravaganza that happily served the interests of both. In the middle of New York's Times Square, for example, Hearst put up a huge electric map of the world on which the progress of the LZ 127 could easily be tracked. 38 Thanks to Hearst's worldwide newspaper network, readers around the world followed the three-week global promenade almost as effortlessly. As early as 1929, the "Hearst-Zeppelin-Round-the-World Flight" had pulled together a "global village." As a result, the cigar-shaped zeppelin became one of the world's most identifiable objects. Advertised as a state-of-the-art technological marvel, the Gra! Zeppelin launched regular airship service across the South Atlantic to Pernambuco, Brazil, in 193 1 and eventually made more than one hundred transatlantic trips. Flights to Lakehurst, New Jersey, began several years later. At the time, Eckener himself was probably the most well-known living German, at least until 1933. His reputation both abroad and at home was so good that republicans seriously considered running him against Adolf Hitler for the German presidency in March 1932.39 The Gra!Zeppelin and its sister ship, the Hindenburg, remained spec-

145

146

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

tacular sights well into the 1930S, when Hitler used them for extraordinary propaganda flights, but they inevitably came to share pride of place with heavier-than-air craft. After the Reich's establishment of a single German airline, Luft Hansa, in 1925 and the lifting of all Allied restrictions the next year, German airplane manufacturers such as Junkers and Heinkel boomed and German pilots won a fistful of world records. In August 1926, Luft Hansa sponsored an air expedition to Peking, belatedly joining British, American, Dutch, and French counterparts in exploring global air routes. In the years following Lindbergh's May 1927 solo flight across the North Atlantic, German pilots began to win recognition in the international flying community. Throughout the late 1920S and early 1930s, German flyers such as Hermann Kohl, Marga von Etzdorf, Elly Beinhorn, and Max Schwabe were among the world's most widely traveled aviators, flying to North America, Africa, the Middle East, and Japan. Their triumphs renewed a German love affair with planes and pilots. Boys and girls clambered onto rooftops whenever the Gra/Zeppelin passed, but they also built model airplanes and followed closely the adventures of Germany's performance fliers. The world's best-known aviator, Charles Lindbergh, at first made little impression in Germany. At the Rhon "everyone" talked about his flight, and the BZ am Mittag's Walther Kleffel acknowledged Lindbergh's "heroic struggle with the elements" and celebrated his "willpower." 40 But most experts dismissed the flight as a matter of luck or ignored it altogether. Lindbergh's solo flight from New York to Paris was too much an affair between the United States and France for Germans to take much notice. It was an Allied achievement. 41 Nationalism evidently still regulated technological enthusiasms. Although the reception which welcomed the Americans Clarence Chamberlin and Charles Levine, who followed Lindbergh across the ocean in June 1927 and landed near Cottbus in Germany rather than in Le Bourget, was friendlier,42 most German commentators continued to regard American fliers as primarily sports figures and entertainers. Their daring performances deserved applause, but hardly contributed to the practical problem of transporting goods and passengers across the ocean. Nineteen-twenty-seven was the year that crossing the ocean by air became fashionable, satirized one commentator: the east coast of the United States had been transformed into one vast runway.43 Presumably the craze would pass. And the sooner the better, urged Walther Kleffel, who excoriated the deadly Reklamesucht

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

of transoceanic pilots. It was the lure of dollar bills and international stardom that pulled aviators across the ocean, all too often at the cost of their lives. 44 Hugo Eckener's new airship or Luft Hansa's 1926 carefully planned overland expedition to Peking, by contrast, promised far more practical success than crossing the ocean in what amounted to little more than a flying gasoline tank. 45 "First transoceanic planes, then transoceanic flights," agreed Alfred Gymnich, writing in the influential trade journal Lufifahrt. 46 In the end, foreign records such as Lindbergh's did not add up to very much when compared to Germany's infinitely more valuable work laying the foundations of world air transportation, a task from which the fantastic feats of vain young men only detracted. Hans Richter's popular 1927 novel about the giant passenger airplanes of the near future dramatized the conflict between hasty (foreign) adventurers and their eventual rescuers, sober (German) airline pilots. According to Richter's hero, Truckbrott: "Life consists of work days and holidays ... obsession is a drug that rarely lasts through the holidays; it is the routine of every day that really accomplishes something." 47 The quiet satisfactions of every day were quickly forgotten, however, once German fliers finally crossed the Atlantic Ocean themselves. After several unsuccessful attempts, Hermann Kohl and Baron von Hiinefeld, along with the Irishman James Fitzmaurice, became the first aviators to fly the Atlantic nonstop east to west, against the prevailing winds, when their Junkers W 33 monoplane, Bremen, crash-landed on Greenley Island, off the coast of Newfoundland, on 13 April 1928. A German achievement where earlier British and French attempts had failed, the excitement of the crossing absorbed front-page news in Germany, although both the government and Luft Hansa had discouraged the effort as foolhardy and dangerous. The April 1928 flight to North America was as much public drama as personal accomplishment. The sense of suspense was heightened because the crew did not have a radio and was not sighted by passing ships. The ZR III, by contrast, had been tracked by routine radio calls. No one knew if the Bremen fliers would disappear in the North Atlantic, as had so many other pilots, or whether they would land as planned at New York's Mitchell Field. Newspapers were deluged with inquiries and telephone calls. The socialist daily Vorwiirts and the Communist Rote Fahne followed the flight as assiduously as the bourgeois press. The Frankfurter Zeitung

147

148

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Just days before the Bremen flight in April 1928, Simplicissimus warned pilots that money and fame were not worth the certain risks of crossing the ocean.

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

observed that interest in the fate of the Bremen overshadowed all other news and had even pushed the Reichstag campaign off the front pages. 48 Public excitement grew as the anticipated arrival time approached. Willy Kohlmeyer remembered tuning the radio: 49 The world holds its breath millions hang on every broadcast word no one will sleep tonight until we hear: they have safely landed.

On the evening of IS April, false reports circulated that the Bremen had been sighted near New York City. In Berlin, announcements were made to jubilant patrons in movie theaters and sidewalk cafes: At half past eight, Norddeich reportingthey've landed! At that very moment, throughout the entire Reich, from the Alps to the North Sea, "Deutschland uber alles, uber alles in der Welt," can be heard, sung beautifully to the heavens, like a choralethey've landed!

Late-night crowds gathered outside newspaper offices to follow events firsthand, only to return home disappointed when the rumors proved to be inaccurate: ... then all at once the shrill voice from America, it was not the Bremen that had been sighted. A mistake! A mix-up! Deep despair!

When extra editions confirmed the landing on Greenley Island the next morning, patriots burst into celebration once again. Across Germany, banner headlines were composed and black-white-red imperial flags unfurled to commemorate this German deed. It was not until the three fliers returned to Germany by ship in June, after a month of honors in the United States, that official patriotic celebrations took place in Berlin. A massive influx of people was expected. For that reason, the aviation correspondent Arthur Schreiber warned, the welcome ceremony should not consist of a "parade of policemen" or an

149

150

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

"affair of a few overly prominent people." Aviation was the love affair of ordinary people; "the widest circles of the population" should be able to participate. 5o Municipal officials agreed. They declared Wednesday, 20 June 1928, Schulfrei and organized what was widely regarded as the capital's finest celebration since the war. Berlin's government district was an "ocean of flags" and Friedrichstrasse an "alley of flags." Garlands, airplane models, and hand-crafted propellers decorated buildings and street lamps. At midday, a squadron of fifty airplanes escorted the fliers from Bremen to Tempelhof Field-"a sight of incomparable, wonderful beauty," declared the smitten Berliner Tageblatt. After a short welcoming ceremony, in which speeches and .music were repeatedly interrupted by hurrahs and hails, over one million sightseers cheered the air heroes along Berlin's classic parade route-Friedrichstrasse north to Vnter den Linden, through the Brandenburger Gate and into the Tiergarten. Celebrations continued in the evening with a massive fireworks display, torchlight parades, and an imposing tattoo in front of the Kroll Opera. 51 Ceremonies in Berlin, Bremen, and elsewhere were described as genuine "people's festivals"; never before had Berlin seen such fine theater; never before had the people been so enthusiastic; never before had the crowds been so numerous, gushed one paper after another. 52 Public adulation and hundreds of private poems and children's letters to Kohl and Hiinefeld recalled the zeppelin excitement of a generation earlier. A sure sign of fame in the twentieth century, popular songs, newspaper features, and political offers acclaimed the ocean pilots. At least three songs, "Transozean," "song and blues" by Alfred Ringler; "The Song of the Bremen," for which Hiinefeld himself wrote the lyrics; and a composition by Oskar von Haine, were published in 1928.53 Newspapers devoted column after column to the pilots and their accomplishments. Nationalist politicians even tried unsuccessfully to nominate Hiinefeld for a Reichstag seat in East Frisia, confident that his stardom would enlist new support for the ailing German Nationalist People's Party. 54 The Bremen Flight, like the other triumphs of aviation in the 1920S, invited hyperbolic, overinflated language. Kohl and Hiinefeld were repeatedly compared to Columbus and Magellan. Karl von Wiegand toasted the zeppelin flight around the world as the "greatest practical air adventure of the age," indeed "the most sensational aerial travel success in history." 55 Privately, however, all the aviation hoopla exasperated seri0us journalists. "Ground news" had taken second place to "air news." Wiegand himself regretted not being able to cover political developments

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

in the Far East in 1929. "We know that the FE is of greater importance," commiserated Wiegand's lover, Grace Drummond-Hay, "but the world in general is superficial [and] would rather read about a stunt than an analysis of some national mentality." American readers in the roaring twenties may very well have wanted "entertainment after business hours, something to tickle the imagination and set the pulse going-something to take them into the realms of faerie." 56 But for German readers the zeppelin flights or the Bremen crossing were not simply fairytales or diversionary circus feats but also powerful affirmations of German honor and German destiny. Air rallies in the 1920S were modern spectacles of state power and imperial possibility. Zeppelin flyovers and transocean crossings advertised Germany's revival as an industrially powerful and self-confident nation, ready to compete for global markets and influence with Britain, France, or the United States. Without the crowds, the backdrop of the big city, or the media attention, the effect would have been lost. Airplanes broadcast the renewed vitality and capacity of postwar Germany, but the message required an audience. Aviation was thoroughly part of the theatrical sensibility of state politics in the modern era; power was choreographed for public display. Italo Balbo's July 1933 "fantasie altantiche," in which a wing of twenty-four fliers crossed the Atlantic to Chicago in formation, provided Mussolini's Italy with its most effective calling-card. Italia fara da se! it announced-"Italy accomplishes it alone." 57 On Bastille Day of 1935, 576 military planes flying overhead boosted French esteem. State power could be surveyed in more quotidian ways as well. Municipal airports, for example, were built not only as terminals, accepting departing and arriving passengers, but also as arenas with stacked, semicircular decks for audiences to view air rallies and air power; in the summer months, thousands of sightseers came each day to watch air traffic at Tempelhof and dine at the airport's modernist Mitropa restaurant. 58 In his radio play about Lindbergh, Bertolt Brecht reproduced the public spectacle of aviation (though not its nationalistic aspect). The radio put the listener "on location"; the omnipresent signal and fuzzy crackle of mass communication amplified the national drama. Attentive to the sounds of radios, cities, and motors, Brecht, described as one of the "matadors of Neue Sachlichkeit," acknowledged that metropolitan spectacle and technology were as much a part of aviation as individual courage or shifting weather conditions. 59 In many ways, the spectacle was more important than the actual per-

151

152

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

formance. For Hiinefeld, the real treasure of the Bremen's Atlantic crossing was not the impressive technical feat itself but the nationwide jubilation it inspired: driving "through the huge mass, through the endlessness of the big city, through the gigantic enthusiasm of millions ... the belief in German unity and German strength returned." "It was common celebration for a German deed, for a German product, for German engineers and workers, who constructed the airplane and motor." Having glimpsed this national union, Hiinefeld anticipated an era of German greatness. Even if German politicians were not yet ready, he argued, the people were prepared to follow the example of die Tat, the guiding deed in which the nation discovered itself. 60 Numerous commentators echoed this theme of national unity. According to one Konstanz newspaper, the world flight of the Gra!Zeppelin in August 1929 had unified the German people. Declarations of war and now also technological achievement disclosed a realm of public life where social differences or party and confessional loyalties did not matter. 61 Modern technology restored the heroic and in doing so recomposed the nation. In a decade of intense political fragmentation and sharp economic resentments, it is not surprising that observers made too much of the national unity that aviation seemed to reconstitute. A closer look reveals that political differences persisted. The day the Bremen fliers entered Berlin, nationalists made a point of counting black-white-red imperial flags and concluded that the real Germany spurned the republic. Democratic papers, on the other hand, saw the welcome as a grand republican event, strengthening rather than undermining the Weimar state. 62 In Bremen, rival nationalist and socialist veterans' groups refused altogether to join welcoming ceremonies for Kohl and Hiinefeld. 63 No matter how genuine the joy Germans shared in the streets on air day, partisan hostilities between the Left and the Right resumed as a matter of course the next day. There is no doubt, however, that Germany's aeronautical triumphs revised ideas about the ambitions and qualities of the nation. Aviation replenished active verbs: the airstream had been conquered, the elements overcome, continents bridged. A previously neglected realm of action and possibility had been revealed. Public response to the flights of the ZR III, the Gra!Zeppelin, and the Bremen indicated that national honor and national ambition depended more and more on the drone of airplanes and the whirl of motors. As one poet put it: "the dynamic music of motors roared our vital energy." 64 Aviation triumphs announced Germany's post-

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

war political revival in a way few other events could. "Like a Phoenix," the Gra!Zeppelin "broke out of the sorrow of war." 65 Despite economic hard times and years of Allied restrictions, Germany had triumphed. "Just this spirit of despite it all," commented Wilhelm Kammerer, "isn't that the German idea in the world, the indestructible will to succeed, despite all difficulties, despite all ill will?" 66 The narrative that Germany had beaten the odds found fictional restatement in Willy Reese's The Flying Hotel, a melodrama set against the attempts of unnamed foreign powers to destroy Germany's zeppelin before it completed a round-the-world trip. The theme of international sabotage, disassembling German attempts to accomplish great global tasks, appeared again and again in popular aviation stories. 67 The result of all this self-congratulation was a nationalism that celebrated technology not merely as a passive register of German ability but as precisely the arena in which Germany could and would revive as a global power. This was the gospel of aviation modernism. Of course, Germans had seen American or English airships in newsreels. But the Gra! Zeppelin was "our zeppelin," one young believer remembered: a "symbol of a nation that could exceed every other in whatever area it chose to compete." 68 Kohl and Hiinefeld themselves had succeeded where French and British pilots failed. The Bremen flight was "German through and through," asserted Frankfurt's mayor Landmann. This was so because Kohl and Hiinefeld did not "set out for the goal blindly, without preparation, like romantic heroes. They planned their flight with all the means that experience and science could give them." 69 It was caution and thorough planning that brought the fliers success. Thanks to these virtues, Germans possessed an special affinity for technical challenges. Given this nationally rooted "airmindedness," Germany would surely reemerge as a superpower in the coming air age. 70 The Century's New Person

The persuasion of aviation modernism came only with the second generation of German aeronauts. Pioneer fliers before World War I rarely invoked a rhetoric of moral renovation, national unity, and imperial conquest. Restless on the margins of bourgeois society, their grassy airfields against the edge of the city, the first pilots had more in common with circus performers and crowd-pleasers than with ship captains or polar

153

154

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

explorers. They were Bohemians, ineligible for life insurance until 19 I 3. 71 And though technical advances and the requirements of the war dramatically changed their social status, aviators retained a solitary, world-weary aspect for some time. The most dramatic motion aviators traced was escape-they left the dusty, burdensome earth behind. Their ties to the human community on the ground seemed unsentimental, practical, tenuous. Modern folklore quickly recognized the lonesome pilot who disdains the routine of daily life. Charles Lindbergh, surely aviation's greatest "hero," recoiled from the publicity he generated, and sought solitude and distance in the uninhabited places of the airstream. 72 Lindbergh spoke for a generation of aviators. Already to one nineteenth-century balloonist, flight offered escape from "the unpleasantness of daily life" and "the shivering fits of the big city." Airborne in their hot-air balloons or flying machines, aviators could breathe easier and relax their tensed metropolitan muscles. Flight was nothing less than an "aerial sanatorium." 73 Neither "lurking germs nor distressing miasmas" prospered in the air, noted another flier. 74 But these healthful benefits of flight belonged exclusively to the pilot. They would not be recirculated to the community on the ground. Conceived in this way, aviation interrupted rather than enhanced modern life. Flying appealed to many who wanted to slip the ties of the social world altogether. During the war, for example, airmen cherished their unconnectedness with the unrelenting barrage in the trenches inscribed on the ground. They happily avoided the pull of responsibility for fellow Frontschweine. When they imagined the ideal life, aces withdrew to the quiet places of rural farms. "Most of all I want to be a farmer," Erwin Bohme wrote his fiancee, "on my own place, of course." Winter storms, dewy meadows, folks speaking low German: all that was worth more than "streetcars, newspapers, even movies." Evidently the wartime community of the trenches repelled as well as attracted German men. 75 Down there, on the ground, postwar aviators reported, life was dirty and hateful. It was a "valley of tears." 76 Beauty and meaningfulness were recovered only in distance and flight. In "Thoughts on Airplanes," the impoverished poet Joachim Ringelnatz dreamed of flight: 77 So much strain and hardship down there and so little real love-so I imagine for a second that I'll stay up here

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

Proletarian poets imagined airplanes leaving behind grim lives of poverty and labor as well. To Heinrich Lersch, flying, like the journeyman's tour or the lucky man's emigration to America, provided a welcome exit: "Give me an airplane! Give me an airplane! I can't stay on this earth any longer." 78 Lersch expressed frustration, not in the name of workers, but with the group as such and social fate itself. Most workers found friendship and support in the Social Democratic movement, but, here and there, a number found even this community of emancipation confining. Aviation, by contrast, seemed to restore full independence to the individual. When pilots separated themselves from the community on the ground, they constructed grey-on-grey notions of the masses and of the everyday. Altitude distinguished the individual. It demarcated social distance and social contempt. Reduced to small points on a much larger tapestry seen from the air, human life seemed to many pilots as not so important and not so interesting. "People-people?" two aviation writers mulled over the question. From the air, human beings were not seen at all, "only a swarm, dispersing, running pell-mell." Or: "crawling swarms of dusty humanity." 79 A disdainful aviator looked to earth and saw "tiny ants ... crawling after money." 80 To the pilot's eye, the specific and particular blended into the general and common. All that was important and distinctive on the groundone's name, position, career, and even politics-seemed of little consequence to the aviator. What were the heated political arguments on the ground all about, asked Hanna Reitsch, who soared above a group of workers whose passionate politics she had listened to but could not understand; political and cultural divisions could not be seen from the air. 81 All this purposeful activity on the ground was transient and thus small, and fliers laughed at people running along the ribboned streets as if their daily business were so pressing. Modern people suffered the sin of pride. "It will be a good thing finally to be clear about something," aviation writers iterated, "the piles of rocks layered on top of each other are not permanent and will not last forever." 82 Not only did the experience of flight enforce a separation between pilot and community, but the perspective of flight diminished the significance of the aspirations of community. Invariably fliers had to return to the ground; the sun went down or the fuel tank ran dry. As the pilot descended, Wilhelm Schmidtbonn imag-

155

156

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

ined the features of the community becoming more distinguishable and more hateful: 83 Down Sadly the screw turns, down the propeller sings and I curse meadows, paths, houses they appear again I smell the smell of people again I step on your ground, and the ground is hateful to me, now I have to crawl again, like you with narrow, advancing feet.

One day, however, Schmidtbonn's pilot promised himself that he would not return: ''Above me are stars: but not for long, soon I'll be with you!" Noted with a final affirmative exclamation mark, death brought what flying provided only inconstantly: a final victory over the nasty prison of human fellowship and bodily form. However, not all pilots saw aviation as a way to escape burdens or evade responsibilities. To his surprise, the essayist Leonhard Adelt discovered a barren, insensible world in the air: the mountainous Harz did not smell; the earth's stony surface stared back mutely. To flyaway was to rob oneself, he concluded. Returning to his fellows on the ground, Adelt found that the earth became colorful and loud and fragrant once again. This lesson of return provided Antoine de Saint-Exupery with the thematic centerpiece to his aviation novels: "I have struggled to rejoin my kind," the airman concluded, "whose very existence on earth I had forgotten." 84 It was not simply a matter of "repossessing one's place in life" and rejoining "trees and women, and, down by the harbor, friendly little bars," 85 but also of reconceiving the communities on the ground. Carl Fink, whose verse at first echoed the pathetic insistence of many veterans at war's end-"I want to get out of here, out of here! Up into the white clouds!"-had, by 1929, assumed for patriotic reasons the leadership of a Dresden gliding club. 86 For Fink, as for many other German fliers, aviation could provide the standards for this-worldly reform and renovation. During the same period, similar shifts occured in right-wing nationalist politics. The isolated and clannish Freikorps gave way to large mass movements such as the veterans' group Stahlhelm and later the National

Modernist Visions. National Dreams

Socialists, who appealed to the political aspirations and resentments of ordinary Germans. As George Masse reminds us, aviation was regarded as a register not so much of technical competence as of moral accomplishment.87 Modern machines such as the zeppelin, the fighter plane, and the glider were noteworthy because they cultivated the virtues of service and determination. Aviators did not strive to make the world more comfortable or more efficient; their valuable contributions were cultural, not material. The more a people learned to fly or understood the experience of flight, the "stronger and more audacious" and therefore more regenerate it became. This was the spiritual aspect to technology.88 According to one of the directors of the German Commercial Aviation School, the flier had to be free of earthly fears and worries and engage the world with cool insouciance. ''A cool, clear-reckoning head" had to sit atop a "hot-burning, forward -striving heart." 89 This poise recalled the desire to escape the community, but also denoted the resolution and leadership that would guide the community the flier surveyed so imperiously from the air. Technology enriched the world by virtue of the challenge it posed. Machines redescribed men and women not by snuffing out personality or free will, as many feared, but by nurturing leadership and building new elites. This was the core of Ernst Junger's postwar arguments: not the fundamental opposition of technology and value, a philosophical anguish for which he had nothing but scorn, but their essential relatedness. We have seen how Junger celebrated World War I aces as the finest examples of the new generation of men that modern technology could breed. Junger admired the burning fever of the warrior and also the ice-cold clarity and quickness of mind that the machines now required. Technology had enhanced the modern person, allowing the body to develop "more freely and naturally." Jiinger cherished the paradox that the rational geometry of modernism restored to people an animal vitality and a healthy barbarism. In the domain of technology, people had become "fabulous creatures." For this reason, technology and Taten-deeds, actions-were complements. "The admirable achievement of these Tatmenschen"Kohl and Hunefeld-"was built on the unshakable belief in the dependability of motor and machine," reflected one trade magazine in April 1928. From one perspective machines subordinated and mechanized masses; from another, they accented the energized, willful individual. 90 This new type of person appeared distinct, as Weimar photographers

157

158

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

showed. Against the black background of dangerous and unexplored places, the illuminated godlike face of the pilot was a composition of strength, confidence, and unique technical ability: "His narrow nose cut sharply and had that little crook of all born leaders. The eyes ... fixed themselves like blue darts of flame to the objects of the outside world, and the small, somewhat pointed ears seemed able to hear even the cystallization of atoms." 91 Alert and finely tuned, the aviator appeared to be an improved and more precise and specialized human specimen. The leather headgear, fitted snugly to the scalp, became part of the body.92 Just as the machine had a heart and soul, the pilot was part machine. Body and machine composed a duet: "Our heart sings when the propeller drones, our blood exults when the machine groans!" 93 Aviators repeatedly testified to their strong bond to the airplane. Lindbergh recollected crossing the ocean in The Spirit ofSt. Louis in a book simply entitled Jte. In much the same vein, the globetrotter Baron von Konig-Warthausen named his Klemm machine Comrade. Just how close the links were is suggested by Marga von Etzdorf's suicide after her May 1933 crashlanding in Aleppo, Syria: it would have been the third time Etzdorf had come home without her airplane. The flier exuded technical mastery; from the cover of Die Woche, an aviatrix in a winter flight suit denoted "the new person" - "Here is the new person. Without limits. Armed. The Conquerer ... who bores in the mine shafts, who walks on the ocean bottoms, who flies over the clouds. The new person who calculates the laws of nature, who taps new sources of power." 94 It is not surprising that the century's new person, mastering technology, discovering unknown energies, redefining laws and customs, was often depicted as a woman. Germany boasted quite a number of top aviatrixes: Marga von Etzdorf, Thea Rasche, Elly Beinhorn, and Hanna Reitsch. Although "prejudgments" against female commercial pilots remained strong in Germany, aviation experts conceded that women were as able as men. 95 Etzdorf flew "like a whole man," according to one reporter. 96 Physical differences did not matter and, in any case, most wartime aces had been relatively small and slender. Once the aviatrix was airborne, it was the machine that stamped her identity: "the rhythm of the motor does not let her go." Women pilots have become "audacious, fearless women" who "control their machines." 97 The female flier symbolized not so much the domestication and safety of fearsome technology, as an American observer suggests, but the fundamentally new human

159 13. S.pl.mb" 1931 .. J.~rgang , I1r. 37

'lllfindjner

....,....Prol$: 20 Pf.nnlg

»-....,~,.,..

~.IH ......,...'...... fl.Hn.. n~·uo'""'~"('_

-,....lMtMI., .....

Juurtrierttl)rtrrt , • r , ••

1: • •

r,

•

'"

r

I 1;;,

•• ", ••• 0..

•

0

l'\

CfJ • •

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

1)1~

d
(f~do.f

~lIr.!I~ ric \:!'ttf4t ll\nh.·'t.ft" If" ~M'" \l\t~k''' •• tilt. OltM •• ~ tilt« ~'Ml••l'lfft$

.-t

r_._

.,to-lUf

eft", ,"

It 1.~.

AufUS-lune un,erel 2000 Mk.·PretJauuchr.iMn. "Wa. $lnd die vl.,?11

The illustrated press was entranced with the aviator's gaze of mastery and competence. This photograph shows the German flier Marga von Etzdorf.

160

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

The new air person was frequently depicted as a woman.

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

type that no longer obeyed traditional gender differences. 98 In the imagery of German aviation, gender expressed novelty. The science fiction writer Hans Dominick alerted readers to the gender of futuristic technology, summing up recent advances in aviation in the late 1920S under the caption: "From the Man in the Airship to 'The Woman in the Moon.'" 99 Aviation imposed a new discipline on pilots. By exacting higher levels of performance and tolerance from men and women, twentieth-century machines assisted in the creation of a new breed. Of course, the right candidates had to be selected; one flight instructor even sought graphologists to take the moral measure of prospective fliers. loo For his part, Ernst Junger looked to the urban working class for promising recruits. But good health and character were not enough. Instructors emphasized that aviators had to train vigorously to overhaul their nervous systems: fear had to be checked by courage and jittery nerves banished by hard discipline. lol Flying machines demanded a concerted act of will to overcome typical human debilities. Self-discipline also required abstinence from liquor, cigarettes, and all excess. l02 With its stress on sobriety and self-control, aviation composed an antinarrative to the cosmopolitan license and physical degeneration that many conservatives believed prevailed in Weimar Germany. It is telling that one ugly German Nationalist publication described Kohl and Hunefeld taking off across the North Atlantic: "while Berlin Klockschieter slept, dreaming of jazz bands and nigger dances, the silver bird rose in the air and flew westward." 103 But if sobriety and economy denied the spirit of the "roaring twenties," they also implied a clear-headed appreciation of the machine roar of modernity. The new air person was not nostalgic. The Germany of yore left the aviator cold. For the first time in history, young fliers explained, technology helped enforce a decisive break with the past and promised the construction of a brand-new society. The time of "dreamy, enraptured walks through forests and fields with a guitar" had passed, pronounced the aviation spokesman Bruno Zinnecker. l04 There was no Blut und Boden here. The postwar aviator was increasingly an ally of builders, technicians, and workers and felt at home in factories and among machines. 105 Only the der ganzer Kerl or der ganzer Mann, the whole person-nerves retooled and brimming with resolution and energy, but also fluent in the language of technology-would succeed in the aviation business. As far

161

162

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

as flight instructors were concerned, "guts" or "recklessness," represented by popular stuntfliers like Udet, did not make a good pilot. Technical competency in physics, astronomy, meteorology, and navigation was necessary as well. Pilots had to know their motors, down "to the last detail." What a contrast this was to the war years, reflected a Luft Hansa veteran: 106 Who among us fliers, even those who had some technical education, knew anything about aerodynamics, cell construction, wind resistance, stress, vibration, centers of gravity, propeller efficiency? Who had any idea about wing load, performance capacity, or the proper proportions of length to width ... or any of the many thousand other interesting things with which every commercial flier today feels comfortable?

Commercial pilots overstated the technological naivete of wartime aces, but it is the spirit not the accuracy of their remarks that is noteworthy. The modern aviator flew according to instruments, not "feel" or "instinct," asserted Luft Hansa captain Max Limbach: "Think of the mistrust with which we first greeted the compass ... 'You need to feel to fly,' this is what they told us during the war. Today the watchword is: 'Free yourself from feeling and you'll learn blind flight faster.'" 107 The modern technician/pilot bore only a faint resemblance to the dashing prewar flier. Luft Hansa discipline, sobriety, and technical competence described the ethic of German aviators and composed the stern virtues that German nationalists came to value. 108 Germany Reenvisioned Aviation skewed perspective to create a new view of Germany as an ambitious, distinctly modern industrial state. From the air, the German Reich revealed hitherto overlooked tracts of power and vitality. Not only was the division between natural and man-made terrain obscure from the air, but the pilot's eye followed the sharp lines of railways and edged fields and inclined toward the landmarks of industrialism. Seen in this way, the countryside passing beneath the aviator's gaze revealed the gigantic impress of the centuries-long work and endeavor of the Germans and revalorized the industrial landscape. Landscape conventionally has been judged from the perspective of the plain. The painter stood just above or just outside the motionless geog-

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

raphy to be depicted. "We closed our eyes," Peter Supf rehearsed, "the trees grew up ... from a carpet of green moss or yellow leaves; we saw the brown bark of their trunks reaching to the topmost boughs that swayed in the wind. Or if we thought of a hill, the hill appeared before us, resting broadbased upon the earth, mighty, rugged, slowly tapering to its rocky summit." Nineteenth-century industrialism overturned all this. Not only did factories and machines make a claim to be as mighty and rugged as hills, but ways of looking changed in fundamental ways. Scholars have detailed how railroad journeys, telegraph and telephone communications, even dreamy voyages into the unconscious revolutionized ideas of speed and space and the relations among objects. Modernist art, for example, privileged the perspective of the viewer, which might be inwarddirected, in a dream state, or simply unfamiliar because of speed or altitude or an unexpected vantage. Technology reworked the way people saw the world around them and assisted in crafting new interpretations and attaching new meanings to the material world. Modernist lenses upset and eventually reworked ideal pictures, no less for newspaper readers eager to follow the flight plans of airplanes and airships or diplomats forced to digest almost instanteous reports and cables in international crises than for metropolitan spectators of the avant-garde. 109 From the air there were no distinct views or snapshots. On the contrary, pilots reported how impressions blended and melted into one another to create new pictures. No single frame could hold this movement. As a result, the pieces constantly rearranged themselves into new juxtaposed abstractions. The pilot surveyed a constant process of disassembly and recombination. What had once been ordinary in the mind's eye became transfigured into an abstract pattern of darker and lighter shadows, forms, and lines. Mountains appeared as heavy, creased folds; plots of hills looked like fingerprints; desert vistas suggested the microscopic patterns of ice crystals. Dissimilar objects disclosed unexpected similarity. At the same time, oddly placed features such as the linear traces of industrialism no longer appeared out of place and even assumed naturalistic shapes, while the serrated windswept patterning of icefields, steppes, or deserts appeared machine-made. 110 Juxtaposition and collage were the guiding principles of aerial representation. Notions of what features appeared in or out of place, which had occupied nineteenth-century landscape painters, became increas-

163

164

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

ingly irrelevant. The strict division between the natural and the unnatural faded because the classical proportion and harmony that the distinction presumed were not visible to the pilot's eye. The sprawling metropolis no longer terrorized fields and woods and villages, as it had for an influential generation of prewar youth groups and social critics, but constituted one element in a checkered modernist abstract. Urban grey-"the stone sea" -merged into agrarian browns or rural greens and yellows. Landscape resembled a moving conveyor belt, observed one flier, with various impressions rapidly following one another. Ill It was fitting that Luft Hansa's stylish flight magazine, Ikarus, represented the whole venture of flying- travel prospectuses, airline tickets, passengers in flight, steamer trunks, hotel entrances, souvenir snapshots, celebrity photos-as photomontage; the business of travel mimicked the view. 112 Seen from the air, the German countryside was ordered according to a mostly geometric human scheme. Not least because pilots navigated by following the railroads, nature's green ground appeared "laced up" with iron train tracks. A vast grid of zigzagging field boundaries, canals, roads, and railways overlay German territory. It was a "real pleasure," Georg Wegener recalled of his first airplane journey, to follow these sharp, clean lines. Wegener was astonished by the sheer beauty of this hand-crafted "mosaic." 113 On the ground, by contrast, the right angles of the railway corridor disrupted and severed the natural view. II4 Altitude seemed to mend these tears, however. Germany from the air resembled a vast and fabulous industrial product: checkered, parceled, and sliced by the geometry of modernism. That the earth's surface was as plastic as it was to the human touch astonished aerial observers. To airborne travelers such as the aviation historian Peter Supf or the Frankfurt journalist Alfons Paquet, airplanes did not diminish the manufactories of men and women by gaining altitude, but gave them salience and visibility. What would a star-dweller have seen over the last century, wondered Supf in what might be considered an imaginary history from the air: IIS From year to year ... the great irregular patches which we call cities would have encroached more and more upon the green fields. Denser clouds of smoke by day, redder gleams of fire by night, would have veiled or illuminated these great teeming spots ... Year by year more roads and railways would have thrown their network across certain countries ... and upon the roads, rivers, and oceans of the world, dots

Modernist Visions, National Dreams would have appeared, more and more numerous, larger and larger, swifter and swifter. Garlands and chains of lights would have shone by night across these awakened lands, growing ever brighter ... But now he would see distinctly: dots of a form never observed before, elliptical, dracontine, rise up from the earth and soar towards the sky, pursue their course and return to earth again.

Supf saw modern Europe as a huge Faustian workshop, expanding, bustling, transporting, illuminating, and finally throwing its products up into space. The landscape which air traveler Alfons Paquet saw out of his Luft Hansa window revealed the unmistakable record of human production as well. Neat quadrants composed the reclaimed tracts of the Netherlands. A dense network of canals, dams, dikes, and waterworks-everywhere evidence of "calculated work" and "unrelenting struggle." Further southeastward, traces of ancient mining and modern electrification inscribed the hills and valleys of Saxony. Streams emptied into navigable rivers; scalloped lakes indicated dams slung across the countryside. What on the ground appeared to be widely scattered industrial debris added up to a vital and powerful whole when seen from the air: the city "pulled railway lines toward itself like a magnet." 116 In an evocative image, Erich Ewald introduced a picture book of Germany seen from the air with the observation that people were "penetrating" or "breaking through" (vordringen) into the landscape. ''A bird's-eye view" presented a picture of Germans in "constant struggle" against nature, "our opponent." Il7 In a compelling way, the airplane revealed how thoroughly human communities had realized the Enlightenment ethic that the natural world existed but for the benefit of humankind. Aerial photographs documented this heroic story of domination and species-centeredness. Spread out "like a huge map," the world below conformed to its manufactured representation. I 18 The domesticated landscape so fascinated airline passengers that Luft Hansa published an aerial guidebook by which guests could identify the natural features and agricultural and industrial landmarks passing below. Aerial photographs of mixed and leafy forests, lakes, rivers, and ponds accompanied those of harvested fields, orchards, pastures, canals, gardens, and also highways, railroads, factories, wharves, cemeteries, villas, apartment blocks, even wash on the line. A final composite photograph allowed passengers to practice identifying landmarks. I 19

165

166

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

Seen from the air Germany presented an industrial aspect neglected by earthbound observers such as the geographer Ewald Banse, a prominent exponent of the volkisch "new geography" in the 1920S. Banse portrayed an "ideal landscape" which the "inner eye recognizes as the ultimate and highest representation of the 'German landscape"': 120 yellow and green fields next to loops of sparkling rivers, red and brown tiled and straw roofs between dark strands of trees through which the wind blows and birds sound; in the background, the plumcolored forested mountains and over everything the white and grey ranges of douds; also, the whistle of a train, a factory's plume of smoke, the cheerful song of a wandering artisan, the figure of a plowman.

Banse allowed only traces of the modern: the far-off train whistle, the benign plume of smoke. The pilot's eye, on the other hand, fastened again and again on the landmarks of industrialism. During the war, which required unprecedented industrial mobilization, patriots gained a new appreciation for the "beautiful view" of the Ruhr and folded it into their travelogue of the western German landscape. The finely honed prose that had typically described an Edenic natural landscape of forests, rivers, and mountains now also described a heroic parkland of factories, blast furnaces, and railroads. 121 To Eugen Diesel, son of the engineer, photographs of the "machine age" provided glimpses of postwar Germany as revealing as representations of the "natural landscape"; power lines, factories, streets, and airports all announced "a new vitality and a new style" that emerged with "the spirit of technology." 122 It was Diesel's clanking and humming industrial landscape that provided the favored background for magazine photographs of postwar zeppelin flights, as if laced railways and factory sites accented the power and sovereignty of the airship.123 The aviator had become the distinctive eye of modern industrialism. Indeed, the airplane itself served as a sign for the revalorization of technology as vital and beautiful, as a series of photographs depicting skyscrapers seen through the blade of the propeller and the rigging of the wing indicate. 124 The pilot's eye expressed a newfound appreciation for working-class Germany. Socialists, of course, had always pointed to the immense act of creation that underlay industrialism. The airplane brought this into sharper focus. "Whoever wants to know Germany by its labor" should fly

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

The zeppelin and the city enhance each other in this 1928 photograph.

over the Ruhr, wrote a reporter for 11Jrwiirts. The view was breathtaking: "Towering chimneys, one hard against the other, hurl dark smoke-clouds into the sky. It is a fantastic monster, rising above everything ... Wherever you look, as far as the eye sees, everywhere labor, labor, labor. Struck with emotion, I am able to see a marvel from up here: the pulse of the powerful human will to create." Aerial perspective inspired pride in working-class achievements. 125 A wing of young nationalist pilots came to similar conclusions after a summer flight in 1927. Their itinerary was surprisingly urban and added to the cult of the worker that so fascinated postwar nationalists in the Stahlhelm and later the Nazi movement: "We got to know Germany's beauty, we visited rolling mills and mines, we got to know the labor of the German people." 126 A new aesthetic sensibility took shape in which industry and patriotism supported one another. Each country in Europe displayed a characteristic aerial motif, explained Paquet. Distinctive

167

168

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

The airplane symbolizes a vigorous modernity in this 1935 photograph.

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

greens, violets, and golds composed France, and the jeweled colorfulness of the azure coastline and the sunburnt interior represented Italy. Germany, on the other hand, was identified by "the green pattern of forests and"-a significant addition-"the bleached and bony urban and industrial landscapes." 127 An affectionate idea of Germany began to embrace working-class districts, though not necessarily working-class politics. The big city, which generations of German critics had condemned as unhealthful and degenerate at its core and unplanned and sprawling at its periphery, regained order and beauty when seen from the air. Only by airplane, wrote Paquet, was it possible to discover the rational design of the city, or to pull together in a single view its endless roadways and boulevards and appreciate the ceaseless construction in the suburbs. 128 Soot, grime, and noise on the ground were transformed into a mighty "sea of houses" arranged according to an unsuspected "stage direction." Metaphors of design and symphony indicated a big city that was exciting and vital rather than baneful and to be avoided. It was easy to counterpose willful flight to the messy decadence of the city, as many observers did. And yet airplanes also altered conventional images of the Weimar city. Pilots and passengers praised the "work tempo" that energized Berlin, Leipzig, or the Ruhr, interweaving notions of industrialism and national grandeur in hitherto neglected ways. They surveyed and honored the imposing rhythms of labor even as they noted and condemned the hasty strides of profit. 129 Especially at night, the city turned magical. An airborne Erwin Berghaus watched Berlin drop away, his heart pounding: "Forehead against the window, one hovers over the streets. One knows them, but can't identify theQ1 after all ... What one sees is unreal and fantastical-glimmering arabesques, diamonds on black silk." 130 Night flight offered a novel city, full of unknown beauty and adventure. Like other mechanical eyes such as telescopes and microscopes, airplanes revealed an unexpected romance to the modern world. At a time when many contemporary cultural critics lamented the extreme fragmentation of knowledge and when philosophers considered the arbitrariness of consciousness, the pilot's eye rearranged and reordered. Aviators redescribed geography, rewriting the jumble and intrusions of industrialism as a historical hand-crafted landscape and relocating cities and factories on an all-German terrain of power and struggle.

169

170

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

In doing so, they provided one way of harmonizing industrialism with prevailing ideas about the German nation. For all this praise it is true, of course, that the airplane did not magically transform the modern city into a model of harmony and measure. The dirty ocean-grey of Berlin's tenement districts stretching into the suburban distance and the lopsided juxtaposition of power plants, railway yards, and neighborhoods on the city's edge earned censure from machine-tempered pilots in the 1920S as they had from countryside Expressionists before the war. But even where the gross landscape of industrialism dismayed aviators, the technological assumption that underlay modern manufacture, namely that the material world was endlessly malleable according to human design, was left unquestioned. Over Berlin or Paris or London the harsh and sometimes critical gaze of the aviator affirmed the universal competency of the standards and methods of technology and the ability of twentieth-century designers to reapportion the natural and, it followed, the political world. The radical instability of the modern age, whose traces and incisions on the landscape the pilot's eye disclosed, could be disconcerting but was also a spur to new arrangements and new designs and new colonizations. The far-stretching linear grid beneath the aviator surveyed the constantly revamped acculturation of nature and the reformable logic of global politics. It mapped out unexpected flanks of vulnerability but also new sources of power.

A Nature Subordinate?

Numerous photographs show the airship throwing its shadow on the landscape. The image is one of control and mastery, and its representation was symptomatic of an increasingly proprietary view of the natural world. Even everyday flights were typically regarded as tangible, often violent victories over nature, "our opponent," as Erich Ewald noted. According to Peter Supf, flying was a battle with nature, fundamentally "combative." A journalist's trip to an airplane factory began with a description of the machine descending: "With quiet whistling and screaming," a fitting combination of force and ease, it "cuts through" the air. An aviation book for socialists emphasized the airplane's "mastery of nature." 131 More dramatic encounters over the ocean also ended in human triumph. Surrounded by terrifying elements-night, ice, fog, wind-in the North Atlantic, the Bremen slipped the powerful grasp of nature. 132

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

On board the Gra/Zeppelin, Kleffel matched the airship's Maybach motors with a storm over Bermuda: "3,000 hp against a 60 kph wind! ... The test of strength had begun!" And in the end: "Machine power retained the upper hand, the storm died down." For one hundred hours, "the motors sang their roaring song." Machines had proven themselves "unstoppable," concluded Hans Dominick, a popular science fiction writer, after the airship's triumphant flight to the United States and back. 133 What is striking about this pervasive rhetoric is the absolute confidence in the machine and the wholly adversarial dangerous role assigned to nature. To be sure, Kleffel described the pitched battle between zeppelin and storm as nearly even, a dramatic effect, but few commentators doubted that the transocean flights anticipated the control and domestication of the forces of nature. 134 Luck and mystery and caprice had been completely banished. For Wolf Bley, the science of flight provided the lesson of how the book of nature had been rewritten in manipulable terms: Whoever walks along the street in the middle of summer knows the feeling: it is humid, a thunderstorm is approaching. We feel the rush of gusts picking up the dust on the streets. The first raindrops fall. A young lady in front of us desperately fights with her clothing, trying to protect her exposed knees from the stares of curious onlookers. Then it begins to pour. She had better open her umbrella quickly. But that is difficult, because the storm gusts blow from all directions. Finally our imaginary lady is able to open her umbrella. She relaxes a little bit. Then a mean, powerful wind takes her umbrella from below. She holds it with both hands. She pulls it toward her. But the umbrella gives way and inverts upward. The lady cannot understand what happened. A small tragicomedy of civilization has ended. In technical terms the following occurred: the wind caught the curved surface, which also characterizes the wings of a plane. The air, sucking from above, pressing from below, pushed the plane upward, gave it lift. The solidity of the plane was not sufficient to carry the load. The plane broke and bent upward ... This comical description of a curved surface is something that Otto Lilienthal also observed in the flight of birds. He noticed something else: namely, that birds take off against the wind. On the basis of these two observations, he began to undertake his gliding attempts.

Bley chose his example well. Counterposing the anxious, uncertain feeling of an oncoming thunderstorm with the sure authority of flying, he

171

172

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

shifted from a (female) passive experience of nature to a more active, technologically possessive (and presumably male) comprehension. 135 The powerful, knowing voice of the aviator, the combination of technical mastery and familiarity, is also recorded in the radio dispatches Arthur Koestler sent to the Ullsteinhaus in Berlin from the Gra!Zeppelin's 193 I polar flight: 136 20:00 centropatime stop sky overcast temperature still 50 stop gray mirror of Barents Sea 700 feet under us covered by mist stop this arctic twilight which wont deepen into night weighs like lead on us stop fog thickens rugged leaden puffs drift past gondola windows stop ship swims blind through this brooding mess like butterfly in a russian steambath stop bridge just reported 661/2 degrees latitude so this is it comma ham sausages biscuits and wine rolling into messroom comma earthmagnetism expert professor Ljungdahl sings gloomy folksongs stop end.

Numbers-20:00 centropatime, 700 feet, 66Vz degrees-composed the romance of the power of the modern world: "objective data, statistical numbers, technical concepts ... a legend in numbers, and still more fantastical than any fantasy," promised the introduction of Peter Kneutz's popular survey of aviation in the 1930s. The rhetorical precision of technology underscored the self-assured movement of humans in the natural world. 137 Nature had become a guest in what was now coming to resemble the global house of humankind. For one observer, the flight of the ZR III revealed a new, more proportioned world: "mountains and water no longer stand in the way." Aviation had made the rough places plain; the idea that everyplace would soon become accessible, hospitable, no more than two days distant, was not at all fanciful to aviation enthusiasts in the I 920S. 138 "No desert, no glacier, no Bedouin camp will remain that is not examined by the searching glance of the flier like entrails under the eye of the surgeon," reflected Alfons Paquet. 139 Seeing the object transformed it; in the harsh light, the unspoken scalpel in the hand of the airman-surgeon becomes visible. Flights over "the untouched ice of the North Pole," over "towering mountain ranges," and over uninhabited deserts prepared the way for regular air routes. One Luft Hansa pilot anticipated the day when "we will cast an organizational net across the planet. Weather stations, fuel depots, workshops, a net that radio ties together and tightens. We will connect oceans and desert wastelands." The globe's

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

natural map faded; "a globe crisscrossed with air routes" came into view. 140 As airline routes filled out, the grid became increasingly "tight" and "dense" until the whole world was securely "enclosed." Over time, the blank spaces, the natural spaces, diminished: "The airman subdues country after country and adds it to his conquests," cheered Peter Supf. The constellation of airlines was imagined as a vast blueprint of power completing the colonization of the planet. 141 The Geopolitical Eye The airplane revealed new views of the natural landscape and also unrolled new maps of political possibility and political vulnerability. In the air age, wrote the geographer Alois Robert Bohm, the basic geographical unit had become the region or continent, not a particular country or city. To misunderstand this globalism was to misunderstand aviation. The perception of proximity had changed drastically in the last hundred years: 142 If one looks at the geopolitical picture of Europe from the standpoint of aviation, one has to realize that the individual European states have become barely measurable forms. If a map of a province or region made sense in the age of canals and roads, it no longer did so with the coming of the railroad. Aviation, which allows continents to be crossed in a matter of hours, will overturn our political conceptions in a similar manner.

By the I920S, the planet itself had become a manageable standard of measure, a vast space familiar enough for airlines to impose their modernist geometry. With this technical mastery came intriguing political consequences. The question was whether the aviator's globalism anticipated a coming world federation which would make nationalism obsolescent (just as national railroads had eroded nineteenth-century localism), or whether it foresaw ever more brutish and autarkic nationalisms striving to encompass the entire globe. What kind of political order did people dream about when they considered air routes, those "dead-straight, black lines going through the colorful miscellany of the European political map"?143 "Binding more closely cities, countries, and peoples," 144 and crossing more easily natural barriers, aviation seemed to a few fliers, best represented by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, to hold out the ideal of a new, more

173

174

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

peaceable community of nations. The assumption was that isolation bred difference and nurtured misgiving. According to the editor of Ikarus, aviators had the special opportunity to learn to understand people who thought and acted differently.145 For internationally minded fliers, it was the achievement of altitude which properly realized Pascal's aphorism: "three degrees of latitude reverse the whole of jurisprudence, a meridian decides about truth." The perspective from the air allowed a sense of humility and an acceptance of cultural diversity to mingle with more conventional expressions of national might. Socialists, in particular, cherished the dream of a "street" across the oceans, which would allow frequent visits and bountiful interchange. They persistently hailed aviation for bringing cultures closer together. 146 This progressive rhetoric did not lack plausibility. After all, the ZR III greatly improved Germany's image in the United States, and dozens of flights greeted the Orient. But other than socialists, only a few Germans applauded aircraft for their pacific enterprise and internationalist traffic. Hugo Eckener, for example, celebrated his zeppelins precisely because they had been proven utterly unfit for war. 147 Most German commentators, however, accounted the airship as an exclusively national credit, a register of German ability and German ambition. One Weimar science fiction writer's conception of Eckener's zeppelins as training craft for Germany's race to outer space is a case in point: the spaceship in Otto Gail's novel had been financed by public subscription and its astronauts trained on the ZR III. 148 The zeppelin served Gail as a congenial statement of German intention, but it remained a rather blunt and awkward tool for international concord, despite Eckener's best efforts. It was also never clear why the airplane, flying over borders, should erode national identities in a way that railway or steamer travel did not. Peter Supf imagined "the beginning of Europe" on 26 May 1926, the day Luft Hansa and Farman, the predecessor to Air France, began to fly between Berlin and Paris. The pilots did not see the borders and felt at home in the common airstream and among the technically wondrous machines they shared. But "invisible iron walls" endured nonetheless, and divided nations along stubborn lines of language, tradition, and history. Ten years after Supf's concordant flight to Paris, Alfons Paquet arrived at Orly. After a lyrical description of Paris, a city that was part of the common heritage of Europe, the plane landed: "the door to the cabin is opened, outside stand uniforms, strange faces." 149

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

Airplanes changed the quality of the border and made larger, transnational geographical entities more sensible to the eye. It would be foolish to argue otherwise. But they did so in ways that European federalists such as Supf did not always expect. To one young German nationalist, for example, the view from the air provided an argument for redrawing rather than erasing European borders. In his mind's eye, Erich Maschke surveyed the organic wholeness of German territory-the unity of the Rhine valley, the colonization of the East, and the broad expanse of German agriculture-and also the artificial tearing of Germany in Silesia and the Saar by the Treaty of Versailles, and he imagined new ways to fashion postwar borders, m(,stly by enlarging Germany at the expense of its neighbors, so that regional integrity would obtain. 150 In this case, Supf's cosmopolitan acknowledgment of the arbitrary placement of borders was upended to support German empire, not European federation. Furthermore, the claims of sovereignty were enhanced rather than diminished when states extended their borders upward and patrolled national airspaces. Germany, for example, discovered strategic advantages to its airspace when it insisted in the early 1920S that French flights to eastern Europe fly the longer route around German borders so long as the Allies maintained restrictions on German commercial aviation. Finally, the airstream represented a vast arena for renewed national competition. Not only did most political observers expect states to scramble for economically and militarily vital positions and routes in the "air ocean" but they also agreed that governments would have to promote aviation at home in order to remain great powers in the coming air future. Within fifty years, Fischer von Poturzyn predicted in the mid-I920S, world airspace would be politically conquered and divided, one way or the other. In his opinion, aviation would not alter the struggle for hegemony among great powers; a smaller world was not a friendlier world. To speak about an embrasive world "state above all states" or global federation showed insufficient racial pride and excessive idealism. 151 Aeronautical power was widely regarded by political observers in Germany and elsewhere as a conventional zero-sum contest, "increasing ... with national activity or ... as the efforts of rivals relax," but aviation also offered the novel opportunity to drastically change the terms-though not the fact-of great-power rivalries around the globe. Is2 To Germany's avid geopoliticians, scientists who drew "verifiable" political lessons from the changing "facts" of human geography, aviation had shifted geograph-

175

176

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

ical contours, redrawn the world map, and thereby redistributed global advantages and disadvantages. Airplanes established an unprecedented proximity which had fundamental political and military consequences. Most obviously, the power of the center was strengthened at the expense of the periphery, which airplanes could reach with increasing speed. Geopolitical aviators forecast an end to what had once been far-off colonial revolts. Military displays (and more up-to-date metropolitan newspapers) would also boost the morale of white settlers. In the air age, Dakar was now only three days distant from Paris, whereas it had been eight to ten days distant by means of railroads and steamers. Senegal and other colonies were therefore regarded as that much more embedded in the dominion of the metropolitan colonizer. In a very real sense, airplanes fastened the sinews of empire; the empire of the air strengthened the empire on the ground. 153 The relations among power centers changed as well. Except for a brief period when transocean distances were still daunting and North Atlantic flights took off in Ireland, at the very edge of the European land mass, commercial aviation did not privilege certain cities or states as maritime trade had. Aviation upended conventional geopolitical assumptions about the importance of navies, sea routes, and strategic straits. Air was everywhere and every state had access to it. It was theoretically possible to reach any point by air. Experts agreed that advances in technology would soon allow airplanes to fly longer and farther, and to routinely fly at night or through fog and over storms. This spelled bad times ahead for older naval powers such as Great Britain and promised prosperity and power to those "young" states such as Germany or Italy that mobilized technology and public support to meet the air future. 154 The only limitation on aviation was the need to refuel: in 1928, for example, die longest single nonstop leg regularly covered by a European airline was the 720 kilometers overseas from Ajaccio to Tunis. At least in the 1920S and 1930S, any network of long-distance flights therefore required a string of airbases. Here the colonial powers, with footholds around the world, were at an advantage. British Imperial Airways, for example, easily made its way across the northern hemisphere: Croydon, Gibraltar, Malta, Baghdad, Aden, Karachi, and on to India. The French Compagnie Generale Aeropostale developed its South American air network on the basis of its chain of colonial outposts in northwest Africa, where the reach to Brazil across the South Atlantic was relatively narrow. To make up for the missing necklace of empire, German Luft Hansa

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

eventually anchored "floating islands," each about 750 meters square, in the Atlantic (in 1936 there were three: the Westfalen, the Schwabenland, and the Ostmark), though in the 1930S this was an admittedly interim solution and the airline looked forward to the future development of a "giant" class of airplanes which would transport passengers and freight across the oceans nonstop. 155 (Supporters of the zeppelins argued that Germany's airships had already solved the problem of long-distance air travel.) Despite Germany's lack of a vast colonial hinterland like those which had nurtured French and British aviation, most observers agreed that aviation promised to enlarge rather than narrow Germany's "field of existence." Germany possessed other advantages as well: a centrallocation in Europe, which made Germany the perfect "air terminal" for the continent, and a skilled and productive workforce. It was aviation which allowed Germany to "think in terms of continents" once again, despite the Reich's defeat in the World War. But there was a sense of urgency that Germans seize the moment. "The longdistance air routes that stretch invisibly over the globe will be divided among the people of the world only once," stressed Otto Lehmann. It was high time to start contesting these limited goods. For this reason, Lehmann argued, Germany's aerial globetrotters performed a valuable service. Just six months after his crossing of the North Atlantic in the Bremen, Baron von Hiinefeld's flight across South Asia to Japan offered Germans the opportunity to "look beyond the borders of their homeland" and realize the extent to which German interests were at stake around the globe. "Europe is our training ground," explained Hans Richter's hero, Truckbrott, "but the entire world is our arena." 156 German aviation enterprise in the New World registered the nation's commitment to bid for shares of world power. Thanks to creative incorporations abroad, Junkers already operated airlines in Columbia, Argentina, and Bolivia in the early 1920S. Somewhat later, the zeppelins further strengthened commercial ties to North and South America. 157 Several years before the flight of the ZR III or the Bremen, Reich officials celebrated German aviators in America who "unfurled the German flag in the illuminated air ocean, wrote the German name in golden letters against the blue firmament, and showed our people the way to a better future." 158 Commercial aviation not only promoted German exports abroad but served a valuable political function, announcing the vigor and ambition of the German state. State interests also prevailed in the 1925 merger of Junkers and

177

178

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

Deutscher Aero Lloyd, which were the only two German airlines of note after the inflation, into a single airline, German Luft Hansa. The statesupported monopoly, with an annual Reich subsidy of 18 million marks, was praised for effectively protecting German interests at home and steadily expanding German commercial relations abroad. 159 To the present day, Luft Hansa (the company was officially refounded in the early 1950s) has remained one of the most enduring symbols of German economic leadership in the world. In the 1920S and 1930S, when economic markets were still conceived in explicitly autarkic terms, Luft Hansa's worldwide expansion was explained with the classic bywords of nineteenth-century imperialism: "commerce follows the flag." 160 In 1928, just two years after the lifting of restrictions on German commercial aviation, Luft Hansa flew more miles and carried more passengers than all other European companies combined. A staff of about three hundred commercial pilots enjoyed the very best training, particularly in instrument and night flying. Moreover, German equipment was equal to that anywhere in the world. Junkers emerged as one of the most successful export-oriented airplane manufacturers between the wars; Junkers and Dornier planes dominated aeronautical markets in Sweden, Poland, Italy, Russia, and South America, and, thanks to Oswald Pirow, South Africa's Minister of Defense and a Nazi sympathizer, penetrated sub-Saharan regions previously dominated by British companies. Even before Hitler's military buildup, Germany possessed in Luft Hansa not only a considerable reserve of trained aviators in case of war but also a fleet of airplanes that experts believed could be converted to military use in a matter of days. 161 German planes and German aviators spread across the entire globe. By the late 1930s, the North and South Atlantic felt almost "like home" to Luft Hansa pilotS. 162 German fliers seemed to fit easily almost anywhere in the world: "Where is Captain Wulf-Dieter Castell?" "In Kabul." "Too bad! I needed to talk to him, day after tomorrow at the latest." "Day after tomorrow, he'll be back. He is leaving Kabul for Berlin today."

"One forgets that distances really don't mean anything, when they can be overcome with an airplane," commented Joachim Matthias. Kabul, encompassed by Berlin's business, seemed just around the corner. 163

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

A collage presented German air imperialism visually. It showed a world map neatly divided into little boxes, each labeled-"Yukon (Canada)," "Para (Amazon)," "Madrid (Spain)," "Sanaa (Yemen)," "Lae (New Guinea)" -and each containing a photograph depicting Germany's aviation presence. 164 In addition, popular magazines such as Die Woche and Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung circulated photographs of German fliers like Baron von Hiinefeld, Elly Beinhorn, and Gunther Pliischow in exotic locations (over the Pyramids, deep in the Amazon, on the way to Tokyo), reaffirming to readers Germany's growing sense of world familiarity and world mastery.165 Maps of Luft Hansa air routes or zeppelin flights conveyed the same thing. One compelling map showed the GraJZeppelin's circumnavigation of the world in 1929 from the perspective of the North Pole; a single glance revealed how the flight looped around the entire globe. Another map superimposed the bold line of the airship route from Friedrichshafen to Pernambuco and Rio de Janeiro onto a photographproperly the airship's coat of arms, according to the Frankfurter Zeitungof the zeppelin's shadow over the ocean. In each case, the cartographic effect suggested territorial as well as technical mastery. By December 1935, the GraJZeppelin had covered a distance equal to more than thirtyseven trips around the world, an achievement displayed visually by a rope wrapped tightly round and round the southern half of the globe. One end was still loose. 166 Aeronautical achievements in the late 1920S and early 1930S suggested in a forceful way that the globe had become a manageable field of German operations. In the Third Reich but also in the Weimar period, schools popularized the basic tenets of German globalism. Not only did flyovers by the zeppelin or celebrations in honor of ocean fliers occasion school holidays, but state officials encouraged teachers to assign aeronautical material in class. 167 As a result, "boys learned to look at the maps in their atlases with completely new eyes"; they recounted the flights of the GraJZeppelin and undertook "fantastical, wonderful world voyages" of their own. In the end, one author claims, Weimar-era students gained a new appreciation for Germany's importance as the "central air terminal of Europe, indeed of the whole world." 168 The air age also revealed new maps of vulnerability. Beginning in the late 1920S, Germany, which under the Treaty of Versailles was not permitted to build an air force, and which did not do so until 1935, became increasingly concerned with the possibility of air war. Although it was the Nazis who really mobilized Germans around air defense, as the next

179

180 DEUTSCHE LUFTHANSA A.G.

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

II~

»'

"5'

---;;:::;:':~--------------"'~

Luft Hansa's elegant 1937 route map is also a departure and arrival schedule.

181

..-2

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

312.317 - -

_

182

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

This montage of the imperious zeppelin over the South Atlantic powerfully conveys Germany's global ambitions.

chapter will describe, civilian defense efforts on a local level began earlier. The German Civil Defense League, composed mainly of municipal employees, policemen, firemen, and Red Cross workers, traced its origins to groups founded as early as 1927; educational magazines devoted to air defense began publishing a few years later. 169 In more and more dramatic form, popular magazines published maps inscribed with threatening arrows and frightening arcs depicting the parts of the Reich that lay open to air attacks from Germany's neighbors. A vast arc drawn from Prague showed that Czech planes could reach almost any part of Germany, ex-

Modernist Visions, National Dreams

cept East Prussia. I70 The bellicose designs of Prague come up repeatedly in the literature; Weimar aviators claimed to be genuinely alarmed by the supposed military buildup in Czechoslovakia.I 7I In addition, air defense experts noted that the strategic and geographically localized Ruhr valley made an easy target for French or British attacks. Although Germany was still among the largest countries in Europe, maps emphasized (and misrepresented) its vulnerability, depicting chokeholds in Silesia and Bavaria or framing Europe in such a way as to highlight the boundaries of the demilitarized zone, visually truncating the Reich, or showed Germany enclosed and squeezed by eleven neighbors. Menacing arrows, pincer attack routes, bold borders, and black shading all suggested that Germany's vulnerability was a geographical fact. 172 Although accounts of the great-power adventures of globalism far outnumbered alarming descriptions of air war at home, both told essentially the same story. Aviation had changed the face of the world, revealing aspects that were fabulous and terrifying. Step by step, throughout the I920S, the accomplishments of aviators, who flew higher, faster, and farther across oceans and deserts, and also the advancing all-weather durability of their machines, anticipated the complete domestication of nature. In a single generation, pilots had revealed an image of the globe that appeared more proportionate and more commensurate to the human world. The European landscape itself bore the marks and serrations of industrial vitality and cultural purpose. This technical mastery had immense political consequences. Given great-power rivalries, notions about the control of nature were but generic versions of political dreams about empire. The airline grid imposed on the planet easily doubled as a German or French or British blueprint for geopolitical dominion. To observers like Junger, the novel technologies of the twentieth century not only made possible a radical reordering of imperial claims around the world, as airplanes replaced battleships, but also fashioned a novel breed of stern technicians able to discipline their bodies and mobilize their states to meet the opportunities of the air age. When Jiinger applauded the "healthy barbarism" of the postwar world, he cheered not so much the violent and catastrophic dangers of the machine age but the newfound wealth of power and possibility and movement that the existence of those dangers seemed to imply. This sense that the given world was malleable and plastic was central to the technological imagination after the First World War; it was largely taken for granted

183

184

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

that the natural landscape and human society could (and should) be refashioned and reworked. The question that remained during these postwar decades was whether Germans would be the subjects or the objects, the bombardiers or the gas victims, the colonizers or the colonized, on either side of the air future's powerful, horrible active verbs.

THE NAZI DISCIPLINE OF AIRMINDEDNESS

5

The plane and the pilot imposed themselves on the world. Together, they seemed armed with nearly unlimited ability to seize the globe in all its elements. Jungles, deserts, mountains, and oceans steadily fell away beneath solo pilots and massed squadrons in the 1920S and 1930S. The streamlined image of the airplane registered power and possibility. Even as tools of war, aircraft reaffirmed the credibility of superactive verbs-"the bomber will always get through," declared Britain's Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin to the House of Commons in November 1932. If romance is a genre regulated by heavy-handed actions and passions, aviation was the last European romance. Risk, audacity, danger, energy, will-it was with these no longer obsolescent words that contemporaries described how flying exploded the confines of time and space. Because the airplane expressed the will to power over the material world, Hans Schwarz van Berk referred to it as "a political machine, through and through," that made fliers into modern-day conquistadors. l The manipulation of nature by modern machinery underscored the instability of political constructions and geopolitical equations. For Berk, Junger, and other philosophers of technology, the new twentieth-century world of airplanes, blueprints, and five-year plans more and more resembled a vast mechanism, a postnatural construction of will and ability susceptible to infinite new revisions. In this disturbing vision of the technological future, the end of nature marked the real beginning of world politics. In the postwar years, technical mastery conveyed capacity even on a micropolitical level. This was so for the Nazis, to whom Berk referred when he lauded the century's new and imposing political figures that the airplane had cultivated, but it was also true for socialists. Bertolt Brecht's 1929 radio play about Lindbergh, for instance, drew attention to technology as a distinctively modern means of transforming the given world. The example of the flier crossing the ocean showed that nature (and, by extension, what capitalism reified as natural) could be overcome. It ought 185

186

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

to embolden workers, Brecht believed. 2 As the Sturmvogel song "Workers Fly!" suggested, flight stood for momentum, direction, and destination toward a better future: 3 Let them lie, Let them scream, Let them belch their poison and bile, They won't get us down: Workers fly! ... Comrades in storm Comrades in fire Sturmvogel has its hand on the throttle! Let it break or bend: We are flying!

In similar fashion, the militant "Propeller Song" celebrated not only the Soviet air force but also the powerful will to Communist victory in Germany.4 However, it was the Nazis who made the most political use of aviation symbolism. An ascending zeppelin, with the letters NSDAP, the Nazi party acronym, broke the news that the party had reached the 6oo,ooo-member mark in a 1931 illustration. 5 Hitler's frequent use of a leased Luft Hansa plane (a Junkers Ju 52) in the 1932 Reichstag campaigns underscored the restless agitation of the Nazis, who seemed to be everywhere at once: "We're coming, we're coming ... no distance was too great," exulted one Nazi reporter; "we calculated only in hundreds of kilometers," in millions ofvotes. 6 The Nazis made the revival of German aviation an effective allegory for their own movement. Not only were glider pilots, who took to the skies in spite of Versailles, praised for being among the first ranks of "national socialists," but the long via dolorosa of German aviation after the war from meager beginnings in the Rhon to its redemptive ending in the triumphant flights of the ZR III, the GraJZeppelin, and the Bremen had an irrepressible resonance for the Nazis, who as late as 1928 were unable to garner even three percent in Reichstag elections: "Out of nothing, out of the deepest and bitterest despair of our people, we have declared a defiant, German 'despite it all' to the yoke of Versailles." And, brownshirted aviators predicted, "despite it all" -the cry which had echoed after Echterdingen, Versailles, and other aeronautical mishaps-was what the German people would express at the polls as they cast defiant ballots for the National Socialists.

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

The Nazis cherished the brightly lit picture of Germany's future that aviation depicted. It had been aviators in the Rhon who demonstrated the virtues of self-reliance and showed the blush of a people's nationalism in the face of Allied restrictions. "Volk, fly again and you will become a victor by your own efforts," read the inscription on the Wasserkuppe memorial. Ten years later, it 'Yas airplanes and airships that best announced Germany's revived political confidence and industrial might. And things were getting better and better in post-1933 Germany, Nazi propagandists asserted. The lines on the graphs marched upward across pictures of renewed industrial activity. 7 Some of the most compelling of these showed the newest zeppelin being built in Friedrichshafen. Considerably larger than the GraJ Zeppelin, the LZ 129, christened the Hindenburg upon its completion in 1936, finally realized Eckener's requirements for a genuinely profitable oceangoing airship. Throughout the years 1933, 1934, and 1935, magazines were splashed with photographs of the giant ship in construction. To emphasize the new national community, which esteemed citizens of all social stations, photographers paid careful attention to the craftsmanship of German workers. 8 Here was an example of deutsche Qualitiitsarbeit, around which workers as well as nationalists might proudly gather. A gargantuan piece of propaganda, the airship symbolized the industrial quality and national unity that Hitler's Third Reich hoped to realize. Painting swastikas prominently on both sides of the zeppelins' vertical stabilizers, the National Socialists declared themselves the guardians of German achievement. In the three weeks preceding the 29 March 1936 referendum on National Socialist rule, the Hindenburg and the GraJZeppelin crisscrossed the German countryside, flying over the remilitarized Rhineland in the west and the war memorial at Tannenberg in the east and blaring martial music and loud messages in support of the Fuhrer. Thousands of leaflets and miniature Nazi flags were released and dozens of airborne radio conversations broadcast. Uniformed marches on the ground coincided with airship flyovers to create political theater on a genuinely national scale. A democrat like Eckener was appalled by the Nazis' deployment of the zeppelins in an election he rightly believed was farcical, but, pushed as he was more and more onto the sidelines, there was little he could do. Zeppelin crews, who were mostly Nazis themselves, reported wildly enthusiastic crowds everywhere they toured. In 1936, as in 1908, the airships seemed to ignite a passionate patriotism as they

187

188

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Deutsche Qua/itat: the Hindenburg under construction in the Third Reich.

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

glided overhead. Germans who were young boys and girls at the time got perhaps their best look at the zeppelins in 1936-the itinerary included more than 120 towns and cities-and to this day recall the sight of the two imposing airships. Berlin, the Reichshauptstadt, witnessed the most stupendous display of national power the night before the referendum. "From all corners of the city, searchlights groped into the endless space, caught us, and accompanied [the zeppelins] to the amusement park where hundreds of thousands" had assembled in support of Hitler. 9 "The whirlwind finish of the campaign was indeed theatrical and spectacular," wrote Karl von Wiegand from his hotel room in Berlin; "my hat is off to Goebbels," whose propaganda ministry choreographed the airshow. "Yes, they do do such things well here." 10 The airships added interest to an election whose result was predetermined. Simply by virtue of their size and mobility, they staged a display of national power in which all Germany served as a backdrop. As Walter Benjamin suggested, much of fascism's appeal came from its ability to make politics an aesthetic experience; drawing individuals on the ground into a wider frame of national purpose and identity, the zeppelins were crucial to this process of self-dramatization. 11 Both metaphorically and literally, technology was the projection of the nation and of the priority of national identity. Casting their shadow on all corners of the Reich, the airships also added to the dreadful sense that citizens were under surveillance from the air. The national union which the zeppelins helped tug together in March 1936 was as invasive as it was fraternal and patriotic. Aviation expressed the international ambitions as well as the national solidarism of the Third Reich. Hitler was determined that Germany should assume the world role to which the global voyages of Kohl and Hiinefeld and the zeppelin crews had already pointed. 12 In the discourse of German aviation, the copious classical references to Daedalus, Icarus, and Leonardo and to humanity's noble search for freedom simply added up to a code for specific German aspirations in the 1930S: the revision of the Versailles Treaty, the buildup of an air force to which Germany's great-power status supposedly entitled it, and an equitable share of global empire, in eastern Europe, in South America, and elsewhere. 13 Rhetoric about the conquest of nature veiled the political and ideological projects that that conquest made credible. Given the largely symbolic value of the zeppelins, it was no wonder that the Nazis discontinued the entire airship project when the worldwide

189

190

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

publicity surrounding the Hindenburg explosion in May 1937 cast doubt on Germany's technological infallibility and thus Germany's political pretensions. By 1937, in any case, German military might was better represented by the air force than by airships. It must have been with a mixture of pride and dread that Germans listened to the machine thunder of airplanes, which every few minutes cruised low over Berlin's night skies after Hitler renounced the Versailles Treaty in March 1935 to report the Reich's intention to build a thirtysix-division air force. In the years that followed, foreign dignitaries and military attaches were treated to frequent displays of German air power. At party rallies and during the August 1936 Olympics, the Nazis showed off the new Luftwaffe in carefully choreographed airshows. As it was, the German air force was mehr Schein als Sein, more image than reality. It was neither as large, as strategically capable, nor as tactically invincible as Luftwaffe officials suggested, or even as visiting aviators such as Charles Lindbergh and Italo Balbo believed. Nonetheless, historians agree that even the largely imaginary threat of air war which Germany posed persuaded the British and French to accede to Hitler's demands at the Munich conference on the Sudetenland in September 1938. Air power had made international blackmail possible. 14 Munich reaffirmed how congenial aviation was as a Nazi parable for Germany's imperial destiny and also for industrial prosperity and national service. Aviation described Germany's future. Accordingly, the Nazis set out to make the Third Reich "airminded" and thus fully able to meet the challenges of the twentieth century. When Hermann Goering, the Pour Ie Merite ace and longtime Hitler confidant who in May 1933 became Germany's first Minister of Aviation, asserted that "we must become a nation of fliers," he announced the Nazi commitment not simply to train a reserve of military pilots but also to inculcate the moral virtues of aviation, which were self-reliance and service to the Volk community. Airmindedness was the full-scale mobilization of the population according to the ideological principles of National Socialism under the pretext of adhering to supposedly self-evident military and technological requirements necessary for national survival in the air age. Airmindedness and Community

The Nazis took the first steps toward creating an airminded public almost immediately upon assuming power, during the period of Gleichschaltung

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

or ideological coordination in the spring and summer of 1933. Gleichschaltung held that personal and civic interests had to be identified wholly with national interests; aviation had to serve German destiny and, as a corollary, only the Nazi state could properly look after the cause of German aviation, which had supposedly been weakened in the Weimar years by personal vanities, political fragmentation, and insufficient funding. 15 Through the newly founded Air Ministry, the Nazis coordinated Germany's aviation clubs and revised aeronautical traditions-Echterdingen, the World War aces, the gliding movement, the Bremen flight-to fit snugly with the National Socialist ideology of self-sacrificing and toughminded nationalism. To unify disparate aviation groups into a single state-sponsored organization and to establish a clearly defined chain of command, the Nazis created the German Airsport League (Deutscher Luftsport Verband) on 25 March 1933. A single decree merged the German Aviation League (formerly the German Aviators' League), the German Aero Club, the Rhon-Rossitten Society, and the small partycontrolled National Socialist Flying Corps. In a matter of weeks, the Nazis abolished all remaining sports clubs, such as the socialist Sturmvogel, along with political parties and trade unions. Local flying groups either marched in step with the Nazis or were dissolved. National Socialists also coordinated the various civil defense groups into the Reich Air Defense League and took a more active role in the directorates and company boards of airplane manufacturers. 16 A few aviators chafed at the Nazis' sudden domination of a sport with a long-established nationalist pedigree and called for a nonpartisan (and thus not exclusively Nazi) organization of the German Airsport League,I7 but the great majority accommodated themselves to the new regime without much effort. Indeed most fliers enthusiastically greeted the Nazis, who seemed so favorably disposed toward aviation. Like so many of his contemporaries, Oskar Ursinus, the avuncular Rhonvater of gliding and editor of the respected journal Flugsport, applied for membership in the Nazi party (his membership number, 1,537,142, was dated 1 March 1933) and accepted Nazi censorship and, more happily, Nazi subventions of his financially pressed magazine. I8 Even so, the Nazis suspected that the German Airsport League was insufficiently ideological and under the motto "First a National Socialist, then a Flier!" reasserted greater political control by dissolving the league into the National Socialist Flying Corps in 1937. 19 At the Rhon, the new spirit manifested itself with characteristic speed

191

192

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Gleichschaltung: the Nazi sun rising over the Ring of German Fliers monument at the Wasserkuppe.

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

and thoroughness. In the summer of 1933, the fourteenth annual rally recognized only those contestants and groups accredited by the swastikaemblazoned German Airsport League. Private individuals were no longer welcome. Two years later, officials denied that the Rhon competition was a "meeting" or an athletic "performance" at all. On the contrary, it had become a Heerschau or military review which demonstrated the qualities of National Socialism. The Nazis also reassessed the Wasserkuppe's cheerful tent city as a "military field camp." 20 After 1934, contestants wore grey-blue uniforms and obeyed military discipline. Flying became "duty":21 Six o'clock sharp, wake-up call. At six-thirty, calisthenics, then we make our beds. Orders follow, and a parade march. At seven, breakfast; thereafter, flight duty until noon. A short break, then flight duty until five. March back to camp, wash up, dinner, theoretical instruction until nine, and taps at ten-everything just like in the army.

New sounds echoed across the bluffs: "zu Befehl," ''Abmarsch,'' "Heil Hitler." To any murmurings of nostalgia for the carefree days of the first Rhon rallies, the response was sharp: Rhon Indians and gliding gypsies"those days are gone." But, the Nazi camp leader added, National Socialism had not wrecked the romantic gliding community by military coordination. That had been the work of the cosmopolitan types in the Weimar Republic: the good old days "no longer existed once the people with little yodeling hats, the salon gypsies in Lederhosen, the sport faddists, and the souped-up race-car drivers showed up in the gliding schools." The Nazis believed they restored idealistic virtue and the spirit of self-sacrifice to what had become overly pretentious and star-studded Rhon summers. 22 The difficult Depression years, a time when funds were scarce, clubs built fewer gliders, and penurious members stopped paying dues, ended soon after the Nazis came to power. Reich funds flowed more freely in the summer of 1933. Goering's Air Ministry financed gliding schools and flying courses and underwrote insurance costs, gaining goodwill all around, but Berlin also strongly encouraged municipal and regional governments and even local businesses to subvene district organizations of the German Airsport League. 23 Under mounting pressure to help aviators, accountants for the city of Frankfurt simply transferred funds (3,000 marks in July 1933) from already hard-pressed social welfare agencies. The next year, Frankfurt provided a total of 8,000 marks to

193

194

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

In contrast to the relaxed spirit at the Wasserkuppe in the Weimar years, the Nazis militarized gliding after 1933.

promote air sportsY After 1935, however, a more financially resourceful Reich took responsibility for supporting the German Airsport League, which was considered a Nazi party organization and therefore outside the purview of municipal officials. 25 Civil aviation boomed under Hitler. Taking their cue from Goering's edict that a greater Germany must become a nation of fliers, air sport enthusiasts looked forward to an airfield in every community and a gliding group in every village and forecast the development of a Volksjlugzeug or people's airplane, which was the Air Ministry's version of the Volkswagen. 26 The only way to make flying truly accessible to the masses, airminded officials argued, was to construct an inexpensive, low-horsepower plane that could be purchased by individuals and local sports clubs. More to the point, however, a people's airplane would train more pilots and make Germany the world's most airminded and thus most technologically

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

capable nation. It was in the national interest, one author asserted, for every German to fly at least eight to ten hours every year. 27 The Nazis exerted special effort to support gliding, which they considered the most suitable way to train a nation of fliers. Glider pilots were valuable because they had learned how to fly in more demanding circumstances. According to one American air strategist, who first glided during a 1938 visit to Germany, "a pilot trained on a glider ... necessarily develops a very sensitive air touch, plus a keen sense of feel. A glider ... pilot must coax performance from nature," whereas in "a power plane ... horsepower can correct errors in airmanship." A pilot trained in a glider "is well on his way to become an expert fighting-plane pilot." 28 It was the Wasserkuppe generation that filled the first ranks of the Luftwaffe. Moreover, the Nazis held special affection for gliding because it fused nationalism and community. A spirit of patriotic defiance had characterized the gliding movement from its earliest years. And the Nazis pointedly honored glider pilots for being German nationalists of the first hour. Throughout the 1930s, airshows and gliding competitions at the Wasserkuppe always featured a field service at the monument to the fallen airmen of World War I, which the Ring of Fliers had erected in August 1923 amidst great patriotic fanfare. Until the outbreak of war in 1939, the Rhon remained a sacred site of German national renewal, the destination of countless school field trips, Hitler Youth camp outs, and Sunday outings. Gliding offered more than treasured pictures of German national spirit, however. Gliding was basically a team sport that seemed to reaffirm the ideological tenets of National Socialism, particularly the subordination of the individual to the wider social community. "I have seen Germans gliding at the Rhon," reflected Goering in the popular weekly Illustrirte Zeitung, in June 1934: "worker and student, artisan and professor ... tirelessly, repeatedly haul their glider up the hill, all pulling on the rope together." In miniature, "this always seemed to me to be the very picture of national socialism," Goering concluded: "the whole nation struggling with one will toward a single goal: Germany's greatness." 29 In the Nazi view, the cooperative effort of eight to ten young people who pulled gliders off the bluffs at takeoff and hauled them back up after landing enforced service to the group, broke down social barriers among students, and eroded the individual vanities of superachievers. Fliers who were too arrogant or too uncooperative found themselves hazed and pummelled at night, according to long-standing Rhon rituals which the

195

196

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

Nazis adopted for their own purposes, or prohibited from flying altogether. 30 "Only those who show that they are real men can become fliers," explained a Hitler Youth leader in Hamburg. "Glider pilots have to pull gliders up the hill twenty or more times before they can even think about flying themselves." 31 Social discipline was a prerequisite to flight. Student evaluations, which were the basis of recommending further hours of state-funded flight instruction, considered an individual's comradely way as well as technical ability. Not a model Nazi, one student was "cooperative, but a bit slow. He had to be pushed before he would become active." 32 For this student and others, summers spent gliding taught the basics of flight along with a National Socialist code of social conduct. Without a doubt, it was ideology in addition to economy that underlay the Nazis' preference for the primitive method of the rope (and thus the team to pull it), even after it became possible to use cars and airplanes to pull gliders into the air, and their insistence that students build their own gliders by hand rather than purchase ready-made models. 33 This exemplary community of self-reliance and good citizenship was on public display at the Reich's annual aviation show, where visitors could inspect a model workshop and watch Hitler Youths building full-sized training gliders and crafting model airplanes. The new ethos of community regulated annual aviation rallies as well. As far as the Nazis were concerned, gliding in the Weimar period had been in danger of becoming the exclusive property of a small number of professionals. Indeed, high-performance pilots such as Gunter Groenhoff and Robert Kronfeld earned their money during the Depression gliding to fantastic heights and over record-breaking distances. The emphasis on individual achievement, however, clashed with National Socialist ideals. Performance rested on group effort, Nazi ideologues asserted repeatedly: ground crews and workshop artisans deserved as much recognition as glider pilots. Individual accomplishments, no matter how startling, were worthless if not carried out within the community. Organized as they were during the Weimar Republic, Rhon competitions cultivated a handful of superstars; they should have fostered a larger class of above-average pilots. According to the Nazis it was the latter elite that an ambitious nation required: "The top performances of record-breaking loners ... have no practical value for the development of aviation," asserted one official. After 1933, therefore, ideological considerations forced the revision of all sport competitions, including the Rhon rallies.

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

The German Airsport League awarded prizes only to accredited gliding groups, not individual pilots, and revised the prescriptions of the contests to reward team efforts. In addition to traditional height, distance, and duration contests, for example, the Rhon meet also featured races to specific destinations and group competitions among glider squadrons flying in formation, and awarded points for landings and takeoffs. 34 Nazi authorities worked strenuously to rewrite individual accomplishments as the achievements of community discipline. Even the breathtaking flight of Willi Bretfeld's model airplane was fitted into an appropriate ideological context. One day in July 1936, the fourteen-year-old from Hamburg launched his model plane into the air. After being watched in its progress for an astonishing thirty-five minutes, the plane disappeared from view and was not seen again. Two days later, however, a postcard arrived announcing that students outside Kiel, ninety-one kilometers away, had seen Bretfeld's model glide toward earth and run to retrieve it. After three hours and fourteen minutes, the model had finally landed, smashing the previous duration record of forty minutes. Anxious to avoid making a local celebrity out of Bretfeld, school officials in Hamburg emphasized that the fortunes of weather rather than the skills of the constructor had carried the model so far. Bretfeld himself was not to be overly praised. "From a pedagogical standpoint," one memorandum explained, "clear and flawless construction [is] more important than extraordinarily long flights." Therefore school competitions judged not only flight performance but also the way the model was constructed. 35 The Nazis strained to regiment the individual and the hero in the discipline of a wider community of collaboration. The team idealized by German aviation included mechanics and machinists as well. According to one National Socialist pedagogue, Walter Hofstaetter, individual performance depended on group effort. Wartime pilots, he explained, owed their lives to the attention and diligence of ground crews. That aces were commonly referred to as "my pilot" or "my lieutenant" and machinists as "my mechanic" demonstrated the social solidarity of the squadron. 36 The same was true for airplane factories, in which skilled workers were cherished by propagandists for their contributions to aviation and esteemed as fellow aviators. 37 Indeed, the German Airsport League made special efforts to include ground crews in local club activities and insisted that ifyoung people wanted to fly they also had to wash and maintain the planes alongside mechanics and other airport

197

198

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

personnel, a nod to the quasi-egalitarian rhetoric ofthe National Socialist regime. That these sorts of rhetorical and symbolic efforts persuaded is unlikely, although the more practical and lasting collaboration among glider students surely generated a lingering sense of fellowship whose emotional pull should not be underestimated. If workers and mechanics were recognized as valuable members of the community, women occupied a more ambivalent place. Exactly where did they fit in a sport that celebrated "the whole man" and prized "fellowship" above all? A number of critics doubted the ability of women to master the physical tasks that aviation required. Women generally lacked decisiveness, a sense of comradeship, and technical expertise, claimed Hans-Georg Schulze, press spokesman for the German Airsport League. These debilities kept them from being good glider pilots, although he conceded that a number of women had gone on to become airplane pilots whose enthusiasm and contributions deserved recognition. And indeed some of Nazi Germany's best-known pilots-Hanna Reitsch, in particular-were women. All in all, Schulze concluded that women had undeniable but not equal rights to the airstream. 38 • It is significant, however, that these assumptions did not go unchallenged. Nazi sport officials, for example, reminded local authorities not to exclude women from gliding courses, the demands of training the ranks of the Luftwaffe notwithstanding. Although women could not be full members of the paramilitary German Airsport League, they were encouraged to join auxiliary gliding clubs. 39 It was particularly important to keep women flying, argued one official in the Reich Education Ministry, because, later in life, as airminded mothers, they would not stand in the way of their sons' taking up flying or serving the nation in the Luftwaffe. 40 There were unambiguous limits to the aviation community when it came to "race," however. Beginning in 1933, Jews were written out of the annals of German aviation and systematically excluded from air sports. Walter Zuerl's compilation of the accomplishments of Pour Ie Merite aces during World War I, for example, does not include the several Jewish recipients. At the same time, Robert Kronfeld, an Austrian Jew and perhaps the most accomplished glider pilot in the early 1930S, left Germany, where he no longer felt welcome, for England. Less well-known fliers found themselves excluded from the German Airsport League as well. Adolf Brieger, a Miinsterberg gliding instructor whose references included Freiherr von Gablentz, a director at Luft Hansa, Ernst Udet, and

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

a half-dozen local club officials and notables, all of whom testified to his enthusiasm, patriotism, and good character, could not find a place in the new national community because he was Jewish. His students, "young fliers and athletes from Miinsterberg," signed a petition on Brieger's behalf. "Like us in thinking and nature," Brieger was a "pioneer of the national idea" and "German to the last drop of blood." "He cannot belong to Juda," they insisted, because "we, who belong to the national front and in the great majority stand behind the swastika," have followed him. "We are proof" that "he is to be seen as German," the thirty-eight young fliers concluded. As it was, Brieger had to quit all gliding clubs and cease teaching in 1935, a fate he undoubtedly shared with many other aviators. 41 At first glance it is a paradox that aviation, which gave us that familiar creature, the solitary pilot, should encompass community. But the lonesome figure of Charles Lindbergh, who found beauty and contentment in the uninhabited airstream, or Saint-Exupery's night flier, who felt the drabness of daily life, or even the carefree ace, looping, stalking, dueling above the trenches, was not representative. In the 1930S, German airplanes helped narrate a story of national prowess and imperial glory. Pilots were selected and trained to serve national rather than personal interests. In the United States, the link between nationalism and aviation technology was more tenuous, but in Germany the connection was unmistakable. Aviation provided the great powers with their "calling-cards." It is important to remember that the flight of Italo Balbo's twenty-fourplane squadron across the North Atlantic in 1933 excited the European imagination every bit as much as did Lindbergh's solo crossing six years earlier. And Germans never forgot that it was their zeppelins anchored in Pernambuco, Brazil, and Lakehurst, New Jersey, or their Junkers servicing South Africa and Japan. Although the tension between the hero and the community was never completely reconciled, the special place of the gliding movement in the Third Reich is instructive. Gliding retained the allure of motorless flight but subsumed this into the fellowship of community and service to the nation. As such, gliding served as a model for both the private fulfillment (the opportunity to fly) and the social discipline (the teamwork necessary to fly) that the Nazis hoped to oversee. Sharply defining the borders of the community of fliers to regulate the role of women and exclude "asocials" and Jews altogether, gliding also adhered to the horrible sociobiological prescriptions of National Social-

199

200

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

ism. On the airfield as elsewhere in Nazi Germany, community was always inclusive as well as exclusive, accepting the sons and, with provisions, the daughters of workers, professionals, and shopkeepers, but also accenting the volkisch and anti-Semitic features and imperial destinies of that community.

Educating an Airminded Generation School curricula enforced the lessons of airmindedness. Thousands of primary and secondary school teachers were enrolled as front-line troops in Goering's commitment to make Germany a nation of fliers. According to a directive issued by the Reich Ministry of Education on 17 November 1934, it was in the "national-political" interests of the state to promote aviation in the schools. Germany's future depended in large part not only on building a strong military and commercial air force but also on the social virtues which aviation promoted. There was no course that could not address aeronautical themes. Teachers of biology, chemistry, mathematics, and physics were expected to examine the natural history of flight, while their counterparts in history, geography, and literature were directed to teach aviation as an allegory for Germany's national revival and a critical variable in its geopolitical future. 42 Nazi officials claimed that aviation taught German schoolchildren to think in three dimensions, a lesson which was a prerequisite to mastering the political responsibilities of the air age and subscribing to the global ambitions of the National Socialist state. Thanks to the airplane, the world had become "wonderfully small." 43 Students learned about the meteorological effects of the Icelandic low and the Azores high on German weather, but also about the impact of what might be termed the political high-pressure area around the British Empire and the Soviet Union or the low-pressure region in Mitteleuropa. 44 As early as grammar school, schoolchildren imbibed postwar Germany's struggle for a place back in the imperial sun, a story which inevitably began with Oskar Ursinus watching buzzards on the Wasserkuppe in 1919 and ended in a lesson called "Deutschland tiber alles in der Welt!" which detailed Luft Hansa's flights to South America and China and described the airline's "floating islands," the Atlantic footholds of Germany's revived globalism. With these islands, the lesson concluded, "German airplanes can conquer three continents. This is a vital factor in winning back German 'Weltgeltung.'" 45

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

201

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Germany

France

Spain

Nazi propagandists pointed out that almost all of Germany could be reached by enemy planes within two hours. (Shading indicates areas that could be reached within about one hour.) Spain and France, by contrast, were much less vulnerable.

In addition, Reich officials ordered teachers to take their classes on airminded field trips to airplane factories, gliding camps, airports, airshows, weather stations, and even to popular movies about fliers. 46 All of Hamburg's schoolchildren, for example, visited the German Aviation Exhibition there in August 1933. 47 The exhibition also provided opportunities to experience flying. For 2 marks 50 pfennigs, Luft Hansa planes took a total of 800 Hamburg children up in the air for ten minutes. Since not every child could afford the luxury and yet, according to Nazi ideology, every child ought to be enrolled in Germany's national destiny, Luft Hansa gave out one free ticket for every twenty-five sold. Schools also charged airborne students an extra 25 pfennigs to create a fund to pay for the flights of impoverished children. A two-week long promotional campaign in Hanover ended in March 1933 after nearly 18,000 schoolchildren viewed films about flying, 18,000 visited the municipal airport, and 1,453 flew aboard Luft Hansa machines. 48 To emphasize the value of social discipline while also appealing to young people's fascination with technology, Reich educational authorities placed special emphasis on gliding. In Nazi textbooks, the gliding movement taught all sorts of virtuous lessons about self-reliance and patriotism. Syllabi typically included riveting accounts of glider flights written by Rolf Italiaander, Gunter Groenhoff, Theodor Haanen, and many others. More important, however, gliding provided students with the chance to gain practical experience in team efforts. To this end, the Reich encouraged teachers to enroll in gliding classes after school in order to convey an authentic Fliegergeist, and to direct talented students to the Ger-

202

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

man Airsport League. 49 For most schools, of course, special gliding classes were not affordable and teachers had to content themselves with offering classes in model-airplane building, a pleasant activity that was immensely popular around the world and which the Reich made obligatory for all teenagers. As a first step toward practical appreciation of German aviation, model-building taught students invaluable lessons in craftsmanship, collaboration, and persistence. "In the beginning there was the model," veteran aviators asserted; it was anything but "kid stuff." 50 Although the nation's financially strapped schools never managed to provide adequate workshops or offer model-building classes to all students, 51 the scale of these busy rehearsals in air power remained impressive. In the Prussian government district of Dusseldorf, one-quarter of all fourteen-to-sixteen-year-olds were enrolled in model-building classes in 1937. This aggregate figure hides enrollment rates of up to 100 percent in some schools and city-wide rates of 72 percent in Remscheid, 63.6 percent in Wuppertal, and a still notable 36.4 percent in metropolitan Dusseldorf. 52 Rural schools usually lagged behind in their ability to meet Berlin's expectations. In the state of Hamburg, by way of another example, 85 percent of all urban but only 50 percent of all suburban schools offered courses in model-building in 1940, although it is not clear how many students were actually enrolled. In addition, about 250 Hamburg teachers had been trained in model-building. 53 One teacher in Cologne described his efforts to promote airmindedness among his students. Beginning in the fall of 1935, his boys and girls cut out from magazines and collected more than 1,000 pictures illustrating Germany's aviation accomplishments. These ranged from depictions of model airplane competitions and gliding flights to overseas Luft Hansa service and aerial combat. This portfolio inspired students to construct miniature zeppelin sheds and models of airships (some were up to three meters long). Another group of young boys built a hot-air balloon and a diorama of a zeppelin tethered at an anchor mast. The class assembled a total of twenty-seven model airplanes, an aircraft carrier, and a version of the Schwaben, one of Luft Hansa's floating islands. A hand-painted mural portraying the effects of an imaginary Allied air raid on Cologne added the final touches to the theme of the class: "Conquest of the Air." The teacher drew the final conclusions from the year-long activity: "It provided us with deep insight into the human struggle with the powers of nature and into the final triumph of technology. It made us proud of Ger-

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

many's pioneering work, but it also demonstrated the need for a strong air force and civil defense." On 7 March 1936, as the busy school year drew to a close, the teacher happily noted the noise made by passing fighter planes: "the roar of the engines is music to our ears." 54 In Nazi Germany, schoolrooms acquired a completely new intellectual scenery-model airplanes hanging from the ceiling; air war murals on the walls; dozens of airplane books on library shelves-a miniature design for the mobilization of the nation under the banner of airmindedness. Not only school buildings but all Germany served as a backdrop for the doctrines of air power. Carefully choreographed Nazi airshows attracted hundreds of thousands of spectators throughout the 1930S. Across the country, streets were renamed to honor Richthofen, Boelcke, Immelmann, Strasser, and other Pour Ie Merite heroes (in Berlin, they exist to this day). Typical radio programs in 1935 included "Let's Build a Glider," "The Reich Civil Defense Association Practices," and "The Importance of the Gliding Movement in the National Socialist State." 55 At the same time, movie houses showed Udet's extraordinary Wunder des Fliegens, as well as F.P. I antwortet nicht, a hugely popular film about Luft Hansa's "floating islands," and a gliding movie, Rivalen der Luft. At Christmastime 1938, the capital's largest movie theater, the UFA-Palace at the Berlin Zoo, was showing Pour Ie Merite (at 3:45,6:3°, and 9:15), a drama about fliers who knew "only victory or death." By the end ofJanuary more than 75,000 people had seen the movie. 56 Springtime at the UFA-Palace came with a movie about prewar fliers in Johannisthal, Das Ziel in den Wolken. In October 1939 fifty-three movie theaters in Berlin alone and hundreds across the Reich screened DIll 88, which depicted air warfare in 1918. Many of these showings were preceded by a short film clip, A People in Danger, depicting procedures to follow during air raids. Civilian Mobilization and Civil Defense

The air age suited the doctrines of National Socialism. The Nazis not only rallied the technological enthusiasms of young people but also fitted to their own ends aviation's tradition of national defiance and selfreliance, its global undertakings, and its social ethic. Aviation became a congenial allegory for German national renewal at home and revived imperial ambition abroad. Across the evening sky above Berlin, on the hill-

203

204

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

tops about the Rhon, and along schoolroom walls, the Nazis displayed the images of national prowess. Seen in this way, the air age seemed to chart German power, but it also plainly imposed novel political responsibilities and grave challenges. After all, theorists of air power foresaw the rapid rearmament of air forces, the horrors of aerial warfare, and the widespread devastation of workplaces and cities by bombs and gas. These frightening predictions about the next war were widely accepted throughout Europe in the 1930S. But the way the Nazis propagated and manipulated the "air danger" and mobilized the nation to meet it strengthened their own tight political grasp on the German population. The novel vulnerability of civilians to air raids provided a powerful argument for the geopolitical necessity of the modern authoritarian state. The Nazis depicted air war as an incontestable fact of contemporary life that came with its own, seemingly self-evident requirements for political discipline. Air war radically altered the vulnerability of the nation-state. Invasions carried out along a single horizon were relatively easy to deter by means of troops, ships, and blockades. But aerial warfare opened up the entire sky and threatened to strike from innumerable directions. "The sheer limitlessness of the airspace gives the air attacker all sorts of possibilities," explained a top official at the Air Ministry, Erhard Milch. Defenders could not be everywhere at once, and their ability to repulse the attack accordingly diminished, especially at night. 57 Milch assessed air war's threat to state sovereignty in general terms, but many experts, both before and after 1933, believed that Germany, located in the middle of Europe, was especially exposed. Air defense propagandists reminded readers repeatedly: Germany was surrounded by political opponents-France to the west, Czechoslovakia to the south, and Poland to the east-and the country's major industrial and commercial centers were concentrated in border areas. French and Belgian bombers could reach the strategically vital Ruhr Valley in less than an hour. Saxon industry and Silesian coal abutted Czechoslovakia and Poland. That more of Germany's population than that of any other European state lived in urban areas created additional dangers. 58 Germany's sense of vulnerability intensified palpably in the early 1930S, and public discussion of air war grew more anguished during the back-and-forth of the European disarmament negotiations in Geneva. What could Germany expect in Geneva, asked Fritz Geisler, a former Reichstag deputy and "yellow" trade unionist who in 1932 concerned

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

himself with defense questions, if Germany was to remain completely unarmed in the middle of "a Europe bristling with arms"? Germany had nothing to gain. Since the end of the World War, he explained, the Allies had done everything to further their own interests at the expense of collective security. Moreoever, Geisler argued, international treaties banning attacks on exclusively civilian targets would be broken in the heat of war. There was no alternative but for the German state to vigilantly organize national civil defense efforts and work more closely with the German Civil Defense League rather than with internationalist organizations such as the Red Cross. 59 To rely on international agreements would reduce Germans to the intolerable status of African protectorates, added Hilmer Freiherr von Bulow. 60 This sort of analysis was symptomatic of an increasingly embattled worldview according to which only national selfdetermination and national self-reliance could save Germany in what was grimly portrayed as an ever more anarchic international environment. As the Geneva disarmament conference got under way in 193 I, civil defense in Germany was understood more and more in the stark and dangerous terms of Social Darwinism. In the mind's eye, dark clouds, pregnant with bomber squadrons, hung about Germany's borders. Germany!! Are You Sleeping?? Air Danger

Threatens! In I Hour! Fliers! Bombs! Poison Gas! Over Berlin! Your Cities! Your IndustrialAreas! WhatAre Your People Doing? How Are They Protecting Themselves? Act! An Educational Book for All!! screamed the title of one publication. 61 Propaganda maps made these dangers visually sensible. On the cover of the civil defense magazine Die Sirene (Siren), with cloud fringe representing national borders, Germany appeared as a vast opening in the sky, exposed to the massed air squadrons that were half-hidden among the ominous dark clouds which represented Poland, Czechoslovakia, and France. 62 Cartographers designed maps to make Germany look smaller than it was in relation to its neighbors. They shaded demilitarized zones, for example, to suggest that these areas did not properly belong to Germany at all. Another compelling map showed those regions of Germany that could not be reached by air within an hour. The result was a drastically shrunken heartland. In contrast to France and Spain (and certainly England), virtually all of Germany could be reached within two flight hours. 63 More ominous than the changing geography ofvulnerability that came with the deployment of new technologies were the strategic innovations

205

206

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

of air war. Able to reach national heartlands, long-range bombers purposefully targeted urban and industrial sites in an effort to destroy both the capacity to fight and the will to fight. Even those experts who regarded the accuracy or percussive impact of bombs with some skepticism and who considered antiaircraft fire and fast, maneuverable fighter planes to be plausible deterrents to the bomber agreed that conventional distinctions between soldiers and civilians had become anachronistic. Aerial warfare threatened the entire economic hinterland of modern states and would inevitably result in many more civilian deaths than ever imagined before. Even more damaging to the state than air raid casualties, however, would be the panic, social disorder, and defeatism that massive bombing attacks would generate. According to the authoritative Italian military theorist Giulio Douhet, whose lead nearly all German experts followed, air war came down to a contest of nerves and social discipline. 64 The nation-state which prepared the best psychological defense was the most likely to emerge victorious. In this view, civilians were not only the primary targets of air war but the most important combatants, responsible for maintaining social order, bolstering national morale, and preparing to meet the next onslaught. The energetic Nazi mobilization of German civil defense followed from these psychological assumptions about air power. The emphasis was, of course, not innocent of political considerations. Air defense was very much the product of ideology. This was so partially because Hitler attributed Germany's defeat in World War I to a failure of will on the home front. Persuaded by the Stab-in-the-Back Legend, Hitler not only worried about working-class loyalty in future wars but resolved to turn the "mental confusion, contradiction of feeling, indecisiveness," which in 1918 had been Germany's undoing, into "our weapons" against belligerents. National psychology lay at the heart of the Nazi understanding of air war. The Third Reich's extensive civil defense apparatus as well as its reluctance to impose the hardships of a war economy acknowledged the brittleness of civilian morale at home. 65 Air war's emphasis on nerves also offered civil authorities the opportunity and the justification to militarize the German population. Nazi ideology privileged psychological vulnerabilities in order to perform political therapies. When air war strategists discussed the psychological vulnerability of embattled states, they focused on Europe's big, sprawling cities, where the concentration of inhabitants in tenements and the population's reli-

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

ance on municipal services such as water, gas, electricity, and transportation created ideal conditions for panic. As early as 1932, one retired officer painted a remarkably prescient picture of what he called "terror raids." He foresaw waves of bombers striking big cities randomly, hour after hour, day after day, in order to ravage civilian morale. 66 Experts also agreed that the weakest links in the chain of civilian morale included women and children, who were supposedly more excitable by nature, as well as the urban working classes, who were apparently on the edge of revolt by disposition. Whether loosed by female hysteria or proletarian rebellion, civilian panic was widely considered to be more dangerous to the pursuit of victory than civilian loss of life or the destruction of strategic materiel. Air war realized the nightmare vision of total war in which one people engaged another to the point of utter destruction. Only the Yolk that mobilized its energies and its willpower and stood together in the hours of danger would survive. This was the harsh truth about the air age, Nazi authorities insisted. It followed that unprecedented dangers required a new order of national conscription. Thus a civil defense appropriate to the stern challenges of the twentieth century had to involve more than simply an effort to protect life and property. Its task was not over once gas masks had been distributed, food supplies stocked, and cellars reinforced. Rather than a signal to crawl underground, civil defense was a call to mobilize the entire nation to hold out and sacrifice in order to achieve final victory. The ends of civil defense would be accomplished once "the individual thinks, feels, and acts as a fighter" and "is as disciplined as a soldier" and all citizens "are bound into one unbreakable people's community." Air defense solutions were thus chiefly ideological rather than merely technical. In the Nazi view, civilian defense was the mobilization of all Germans into a national army of utmost vigilance and true belief. 67 For the state to let down its guard and "demobilize" its citizens was to invite the social disorder and political fragmentation that were supposedly endemic in the democracies. Evacuation from the cities had to be avoided at all costs, not simply because it was technically infeasible, clogging roads and straining suburban resources, but also because it upended civil repose, threw people helter-skelter into the streets, ripped apart families-"the germ cell of the state"-and thus induced individual selfishness and defeatism. It was the end of a defensible society.68 Civil defense authorities therefore struggled to make the effects of bombing compre-

207

208

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

hensible to citizens, to emphasize the chances of survival once proper procedures were followed, and to assign a task and role to every civilian. Social discipline required the public's familiarity with the everyday reality of aerial warfare. Indeed a Wiirzburg doctor testified that it was not so much gas bombs themselves but the fear of "the new, the unknown, the insensible" that threatened "quiet, composure, and discipline." People had no idea how long gas lingered, they became "worn down," and "panicky reactions" slowly "dissolved all ordering forces" in society.69 Reams of popular propaganda and busy calendars filled with civil defense exercises and air raid drills presumed to stifle these fears of the unknown. Much of this effort took place in classrooms. Experts worried about the psyche of youth in the air age. Given the disorder and panic that ensued whenever fires broke out in schools, the question posed itself: would parents be able to control their children in an air raid? The key was to train even the very young. Only education in the National Socialist spirit could instill a sense of discipline, minimize "atavistic" or individualistic fears, and teach the altruistic lessons of Volkserhaltung, or preservation of the Volk. To this end, Nazi-era teachers taught Douhetian doctrines of air war in the schools, fitted students with gas masks, and drilled classes to maintain calm. 70 Art teachers even instructed schoolchildren to draw the catastrophic effects of air raids, convinced that imagining aerial warfare diminished anxiety and bolstered discipline. 7 } Outside the schools, the newly founded Reich Civil Defense League, which was responsible to Goering's Air Ministry, launched a nationwide campaign to instill air readiness as early as the summer of 1933. The centerpiece was a masterful stunt later dubbed the "Reichstag Fire of German Aviation." To show how vulnerable Germany was to air raids (as Weimar supposedly had been to Bolshevik agitators), "unknown foreign" airplanes bombarded Berlin on 24 June 1933. "This time it was only leaflets," warned a straight-faced Flugsport, but "how can we prevent gas or incendiary bombs from being dropped next time?" As part of his careful investigation of the incident, Ursinus published an "official" report which noted the kinds of airplanes that had been sighted, conveyed the concern of officials at Tempelhof and elsewhere, and assured readers that an official probe into the matter had begun. Celebrating its twenty-fifth year in 1933, Flugsport had become, wittingly or not, one more element in a vast propaganda effort. 72 All summer long, Germans found themselves drilled, evacuated, and

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Schoolchildren during an air-raid drill. Gas masks are a part of everyday life.

otherwise put throught the paces of civil defense. Shoppers in Gleiwitz earned the approbation of local authorities by evacuating a department store in less than four minutes. In countless other German cities, huge dummy bombs, eight feet long and painted black with an eye-catching yellow stripe, swung overhead from street lamps and streetcar wires, ominous, dangling reminders of the imminence of air war. In addition, the Reich Civil Defense League distributed hundreds of thousands of posters and leaflets. Judging from the covers of the civil defense magazine Die Sirene, the graphic propaganda was visually compelling and sensational. Pacific scenes of the German countryside contrasted with dark clouds and black bombs. A city outlined in black against a red sky filled with bombers profiled the stern air age in which Germany had to survive. Given the Reich's impressive aeronautical achievements, these grim depictions were

209

210

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

As part of its propaganda campaign after 1933, the Reich Civil Defense League placed incendiary bombs on public display.

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

hardly convincing, but they confirmed impressions of the outside world as increasingly dangerous and unfathomable and conveyed the need for vigilance and discipline at home. Nazi air rallies dramatized the anarchy that loomed just beyond Germany's borders and the need for stepped-up defense efforts. At the ''Air Defense Show: 'Kiel in Flames,'" for example, a small wooden village, built especially for the purpose, was torched while voluntary firemen, Red Cross officials, and members of the Technical Emergency Aid hurried through the ruins, rescuing victims and combating the blaze. The entertainment ended with tear gas fired at unsuspecting spectators. "The effect was quick and dramatic. Suddenly a sea of handkerchiefs were in motion." Organizers congratulated themselves. Their point had been forcefully made: "We cannot prosper unless we win back freedom in the skies." 73 Encouraged by Nazi officials and genuinely alarmed by Germany's inadequate defenses, thousands of Germans, particularly city-dwellers, joined the Reich Civil Defense League. They did not do so completely voluntarily, since the Nazis expected all good citizens to join civic efforts, but the dramatic growth of the league indicates how seriously the public took the threat of air war. The league boasted over a million members at the end of 1933. By the next summer, it had grown into a formidable structure with 2.5 million members. By January 1936, more than 7,000 league branches across the Reich enrolled 8.2 million members, a figure that included one out of every six Berliners and over 10 percent of Germans living in Hesse, the Palatine, and Baden. It was one of the largest civic organizations in Nazi Germany. As many as 350,000 block wardens surveyed the civil vigilance of their neighbors. 74 By the mid- 1930s, air raid drills became a fact of daily life in factories, schools, and neighborhoods. For four days in March 1935, Berlin residents participated in city-wide civil defense exercises. Police instructed Berliners to draw their curtains and drive without headlights for an hour, beginning at ten at night. At eleven, all lights had to be extinguished. Thanks to police warnings and cinema advertisements, almost every house in Berlin fell into darkness. Otherwise, sharp-eyed block wardens made sure "that everything worked as desired." 75 By 1937 small towns conducted drills as well, and a year later all Germans were encouraged to buy a "people's gas mask," the VM 37, which came in three sizes for men, women, and children. The long arm of the state reached almost every-

211

212

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

where, mobilizing, regulating, warning. Mustered in the Reich Civil Defense League, fitted with gas masks, and rehearsed in air-raid procedures, Germans became increasingly confident in their ability to wage war and maintain social discipline. To be airminded was to acknowledge the efficacy of the authoritarian state. According to state officials, Germany could no longer afford the political conflicts and social divisions that had prevailed during the Weimar period. Nineteenth-century liberalism incapacitated twentieth-century defense, which required national unity above all else. 76 Community and panic stood as opposites, civil defense experts explained; the one prized composure and altruism, the other signaled loss of faith and a purely individual sense of self-preservation. The task of civil defense was to make every man, woman, or child feel a part of and responsible for the entire Volkskorper or people's body.77 However, a healthy Volkskorper required an end to party strife and domestic conflict. National Socialism had served national security interests by accomplishing just that. "Today," wrote one civil defense expert in November 1933, "we have ... a very strong authoritarian will," which is able to "force contrary elements of the population to understand and to obey." 78 In the hour of danger, strong figures with "spiritual authority" were required to manage a confused and divided public. The leader "has to be the rock, against which the waves break." 79 Another official offered a more prosaic job description: The decisions to be taken are for the good of the entire population; there cannot be any debate, any conflicts of opinion, or any halfhearted resolutions. Only the man who demonstrates that he is a leader, who has iron nerves, who is cold-blooded and fearless, who has a clear and quiet aspect, and shows endurance, will serve in the air defenses.

In this view, proper air defense required neighborhoods transformed into mini-dictatorships and led by charismatic authoritarian personalities, a miniature version of the Third Reich itself. 80 The elective affinities between air defense and fascism were unmistakable. In Ernst Ohliger's Bomben aufKohlenstadt of 1935, "a novel that could be reality," it is a woman, Frau Hellman, who provides authoritative and competent leadership during an imaginary air raid against the Ruhr. As the sirens scream, she surveys the mounting disorder and panic on the street: 81

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness At once, Frau Hellman arrives. She is calm and self-assured: "There will be no more speeches. This is serious! Everyone go back to their apartment. Turn off the gas, turn off the water. Shut your doors and windows. And then go immediately into the air-raid cellar. Bring some foodstuffs. No one stays in their apartment. And be quiet! Everyone has the duty to obey regulations!"

"Be Quiet"; "Be Quick"; "You know what you have to do"-Hellman directs her neighbors-including the cynical academic, the overcurious young boy, and the crippled old man upstairs-into the cellar and restores order single-handedly. That Frau Hellman played this leading role was no accident. Nazi civil defense officials emphasized that women in the air age had to become warriors alongside men. Women had to understand, for example, that the weapons of war were no longer trained simply on armed men along the front but on an entire people: men, women, and children. The threat posed by air war required "unlimited readiness" and unprecedented service. Women would even have to be ready to sacrifice their lives for family and fatherland, air defense officials concluded. This was made quite explicit. Experts warned contemporary women not to see their responsibilities restricted to house and home, as had been the case in the past. This sort of parochialism would prove disastrous in a future war. "The woman has to work everywhere in civil defense," they maintained, "but she will have to wear pants." 82 The idealized national community, tensed, vigilant, and armed, did not respect gender divisions. Like pronatalist family planning and social hygiene, civil defense encompassed a public sphere in which women were esteemed and empowered. 83 Civil defense officials made frequent and explicit appeals for women to enroll and portrayed them as responsible and authoritative citizen-warriors. After 1933, there was little of the gender confusion that had pervaded Weimar's air defense efforts, in which women had been recognized as crucial participants but had nonetheless been conventionally depicted as passive victims rescued by the masculine state. The limp, frightened woman in the hands of a uniformed and masked Red Cross man is a Weimar image. 84 As Ohliger's 1935 book made plain, the discipline of the air age demanded new women like Frau Hellman and also men who acknowledged and obeyed these new public figures. Once again, gender accented the novel imperatives of twentieth-century technology.

213

214

A

NAT ION

0 F

F LIE R 5

Frau Hellman was the younger sister of the aviatrix in the Weimar period. In a 1927 feature in the popular picture magazine Die Woche, "the new person," a woman, was distinguished by protective leather and metal gear and helmets. Able to soar in the air, dive to the ocean floor, and explore new chemical wonderlands, the new person expertly handled postwar technology. The 1930S recognized this modem expertise as well, but typically outfitted it with gas masks. Pictures of people wearing gas masks were among the most prevalent images of the foreboding decade. Magazines published hundreds of photographs of men, women, and children, separately and in family groups, in cellars, classrooms, and workplaces, and on the street and on buses, trying on and wearing gas masks. The standard-issue "people's gas mask" joined the inexpensive "people's radio" as a piece of daily life in the Third Reich. No other single artifact recalled the horror of living in the air age with the same quotidian insistence. But the cupboard full of gas masks did not invite a mournful look backward to a less complicated time. A product of the advance of technology, gas war was considered to be as much a part of "contemporary life as electric-light switches and gas stoves." One could not be rejected without the other. 85 Air war theorists confidently expected Germans to learn to live with the bomb. Each citizen was admonished to purchase a personal "people's gas mask" and join the Reich Civil Defense League. Eventually the rhythms of daily life would adjust to the new and dangerous but not oppressive realities of the air age. Much as the modern house was constructed to keep out cold and rain and insects, the future house, built with fire-resistant materials and double doors and windows to prevent gas seepages, would withstand the additional rigors of gas war. If incendiary bombs were to fall on these rebuilt German homes, housewives would simply shovel them out the door like embers which had fallen out of the stove. These same housewives would also cut their hair so that gas masks would fit more snugly; their husbands would no longer grow beards for the same reason. Not only houses but also cities would be rebuilt, this time on a smaller, less concentrated scale to reduce their vulnerability to air attack. All in all, gas war was presented in a way that fitted it into domestic life rather seamlessly. Indeed, air readiness was moral uplift; "people would once again hold their heads up higher, since they would have to keep an eye on the sky." 86 Gas masks identified the individuals who had mastered the challenges

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

and accepted the opportunities of the air age. A compelling self-portrait by the airminded artist Barthel Gilles depicted the disciplined, alert, and competent features of the new air-age man who is at the ready to pull on his gas mask. Against a background of searchlights licking the black sky, Gilles appeared in control, apparently persuaded by the virtues of discipline and authority, and confident that Germany could survive and prosper in the air future. The image is the Darwinian renunciation of both despair and hope. It does not recognize innocence or escape; it acknowledges only watchful vigilance. Here is the fitting fascist answer to Munch's haunting wartime vision, The Scream. 87

It would be a mistake to see airmindedness as a utilitarian code of conduct that derived logically and necessarily from the frightening realities of air war. An air-ready Barthel Gilles was not representative of all Germans or all Europeans. Airmindedness was an ideologically inflected diagnosis of danger and opportunity and an ideologically inflected prescription for Germany's survival in the twentieth century. It was an imaginary construction that gave broad technological and geopolitical legitimacy to the National Socialist order at home and to revived imperial ambitions abroad. The elective affinities between aviation and the authoritarian state were political, not technical, though all the more persuasive because derived from a popular nationalism that made a virtue out of technology. This was so not simply because the doctrines of air war encouraged the state to discipline and train the population. Nazis and other nationalists thought about airplanes because they thought about Germany's future prosperity in terms of the mobilization of technology, authority, and public loyalty. The dark, imperious shadow of the airship on the South Atlantic seas, the sunlit community of glider pilots on the Wasserkuppe, and the grim discipline with which Gilles pulled on his gas mask were all images of this future, which was dangerous and uncertain, to be sure, but also resourceful and opportune. And while there is no straight line connecting the crowds at Echterdingen, the aces over the western front, or the young gliders in the Rhon to the National Socialists, there is an important measure of continuity. Since 1908 planes and pilots had given shape and unmistakable popular backing to a compelling, futuristic idea of Germany in the world, one which described a youthful and self-made challenger, rather than an anx-

215

216

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Barthel Gilles. a portrait of airminded vigilance.

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

ious latecomer among the great powers. The images of aviation were so prevalent in the first half of the twentieth century because they represented opportunity and capacity so congenially. The flier's world was an unexpectedly resourceful one that was susceptible to technological challenges and technocratic therapies. The conquest of nature, to which airplanes and airships attested, served as a powerful allegory for the breaking up of the political concrete of fin-de-siecle Europe. Better than anyone else, the aviator revealed Germany to be ambitious, politically self-reliant, and technically adept, a "nation of fliers" able to make its way in the rough modern era of empires and machines. It was a recognizable, derivative version of this patriotic, strong-armed, air-age Germany that went to war in 1939. In many ways the new world of the air age in the 1930S looked strikingly like the old world of great-power rivalry. Aviators reordered time and space but did not fundamentally rethink national loyalties or undo states of conflict. Around-the-world air routes, polar expeditions, and transocean crossings, traced in bold, black lines on contemporary maps, enhanced rather than diminished empire. The technological utopia of a peaceful global village amounted to nothing more than a dreamy forecast by Hugo Eckener, Peter Supf, and Antoine de Saint-Exupery. In his own life, Saint-Exupery struggled to "rejoin his own kind." After crashing in the Sahara, he rejected the moral solitude of the solo pilot and rediscovered the warm embrace of community.88 But aviators never made it out of the larger desert of modern nationalism. The international camaraderie of fliers remained tentative and tenuous. In the case of Germany, Graf Zeppelin's airships, the celebrity of Immelmann, Boelcke, and Richthofen, the unpretentious glider movement, and the aerial surveys of the landscape all ended up compounding a distinctive and exclusive idea of the nation. Given the primacy of the nation-state, the twentieth century concluded the myth of Daedalus after its own fashion: not only does the solo flier, the son Icarus, fall into the sea, but the master-builder Daedalus returns to Crete to serve the king. How do we account for this return? Aviation always had two meanings and two addresses. Most books on the history and romance of flight remind us that airships and airplanes belonged to an astonishing nineteenth-century world of discovery. Just to take examples at hand, Edward Jablonski begins his book on World War aces with a recollection of "one of the few epochal moments in history": "Man left the earth in con-

217

218

A

NAT ION

0 F F LIE R 5

trolled, powered flight for the first time on December 17, 1903." An account from the Rhon used precise, technicallanguage-"on 8/6/20, at 4 in the afternoon ... for 8 secs"-to report the moment of Bruno Poelcke's glider flight. And Walter McDougall offers a truly cosmic analogy for space flight in his masterly history, comparing the first journey into outer space in 1961 with the arrival of animal life on land three hundred sixty million years earlier. 89 Metaphors, images, and rhetoric like these all draw attention to the very newness of the era of flight. Flying machines, like steam railroads, giant dynamos, and electric lighting, vastly increased humankind's power to control and manipulate the environment. Thanks to aviation, the globe in its entirety became accessible in an unprecedented way. Until the air age, the basic map of the world that people carried about in their heads was designed for railroad or ship travel and in two dimensions depicted how one got about from region to region, continent to continent, or hemisphere to hemisphere. With the airplane, however, the map was more frequently drawn from a perspective in space and showed a much smaller world in three dimensions. The whole globe sat in a mental picture frame and was embellished with the thousand-kilometer hops and jumps of far-reaching airline routes. As this rather recent revolution in cartographic perspective indicated, the topography and atmosphere of the earth were no longer nearly so daunting or its stretch so vast as they had seemed just at the turn of the century. Human ambition was commensurate with the scale of the planet. For better or worse, airplanes offered modern men and women a heady dominion over the earth. At the same time, however, airplanes menaced people on the ground with the threat of utter destruction. The air age was both fabulous and horrible. As Laurence Goldstein puts it, one could be "a lord in the air," but also a "victim of a lord in the air." 90 Suddenly faraway foreign places-London, Paris, Berlin-became very known and proximate airfields-Croydon, Le Bourget, Tempelhof-from which black skyfulls of long-range bombers could take off. Although the anthologies of aviation literature do not include accounts of civilian dread on the ground, but only the imaginary testimony of the bombardiers themselves,91 the numb fear and helpless vulnerability of air raids properly belongs to the imagination of flight. To be airminded in the 1930S was to understand these binary meanings of aviation: on the one hand, to comprehend and embrace all the newfangled possibilities and soaring achievements and to

The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness

donate spare marks to build Eckener's new zeppelin or a local boy's glider; but also, on the other hand, to soberly acknowledge the stern dangers that came with the air age and thus to support arming an air force, to purchase gas masks, and accept the social discipline of the state. Airreadiness meant nothing less than massive mobilization and militarization, which were the distinctive ability of the nation-state. Conceived in this way, the air future required King Minos as well as Daedalus, the Prince as well as the Pilot, the ruler as well as the machine-tender. It was this hazardous but survivable air future, this permanent condition of tension and watchfulness, that the modern authoritarian state and particularly Nazi Germany claimed it could best manage; the airplane pointed at once to the vast space of opportunity and to the thin margin of security, previewed the prosperous technological future but insisted on the omnipresent threat from abroad, appealed to both the gullible optimism and the rash despair that were typical of the age, and tensed and relaxed and retensed the unhappy twentieth-century combinations of war, technology, and utopia.

219

ABBREVIATIONS NOTES BIBLIOGRAPHY INDEX

Abbreviations

BA-F

Bundesmilitararchiv Freiburg

BA-K

Bundesarchiv Koblenz

GSPK

Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin-Dahlem

L

Luftschiff

LHS

Luftfahrthistorische Sammlung, Frankfurt Airport

LZ

Luftschiff Zeppelin

NL

Nachlass

NSDAP

Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (National Socialist German Workers Party)

NSFK

Nationalsozialistischer Fliegerkorps (National Socialist Flying Corps)

SA-B

Staatsarchiv Bremen

SA-HH

Staatsarchiv Hamburg

SA-M

Staatsarchiv Munich

SA-S

Staatsarchiv Stuttgart

StA-D

Stadtarchiv Duisburg

StA-F

Stadtarchiv Frankfurt

StA-K

Stadtarchiv Konstanz

NOTES

Introdudion I. The best introduction to aviation in this early period in Germany remains Peter Supf's history, Das Buch der deutschen Fluggeschichte, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1935). The enormously fruitful contrast between Icarus and Daedalus was clarified for me by the fine analysis of Laurence Goldstein, The Flying Machine andModern Literature (Bloomington, Ind., 1986), pp. 28-29. 2. Michael Adas, Machines as the Measure ofMen: Science, Technology, and Ideologies ofWestern Dominance (Ithaca, N.Y., 1989); and Eric Deschodt, La France envolee: l'aviation et la decadence (1906-1976) (Paris, 1977). 3. Carol Merchant, The Death ofNature: Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution (New York, 1980). 4. Marshall Berman, All That Is Solid Melts into Air: The Experience ofModernity (New York, 1982); Paul Rabinow, French Modern: Nonns and Fonns ofthe Social Environment (Cambridge, Mass., 1989); and Susan Buck-Morss, The Dialeaics ofSeeing: Walter Benjamin and theArcades Projea (Cambridge, Mass., 1989). 5. E. L. Jones, The European Miracle: Environments, Economies and Geopolitics in the History ofEurope andAsia (Cambridge, Eng., 1981). 6. Geoff Eley, Reshaping the Gennan Right: Radical Nationalism and Political Change after Bismarck (New Haven, 1980). See also Jeffrey Herf, Reaaionary Modernism: Technology, Culture, and Politics in Weimar and the Third Reich (Cambridge, Eng., 1984) for an excellent analysis of the nationalist reconciliation with technology, which, however, restricts itself to conservative intellectuals and misses much of popular appraisal of technology both before and after World War I. 7. David Blackbourn and Geoff Eley, The Peculiarities ofGennan History: Bourgeois Society and Politics in Nineteenth-Century Gennany (New York, 1984); Allan Mitchell, The Gennan Influence in France after 1870: The Fonnation ofthe French Republic (Chapel Hill, 1979); idem, Viaors and Vanquished: The Gennan Influence on Anny and Church in France after 1870 (Chapel Hill, 1984). 8. Dr. E, "Das Luftschiff des Grafen Zeppelin," Frankfurter Zeitung, no. 289, 19 Oct. 1900, evening edition.

223

224

Notes to Pages 3-15

1. Giant Airships and World Politics I. Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 360, 4 Aug. 1908. The flight of the LZ 4 on 4-S August 1908 is described in Graf Zeppelin, "Die Mainzer Fernfahrt und das Ungltick von Echterdingen," in Wir Luftschiffer, ed. Karl Brockelmann (Berlin, 19°9), pp. 3073 I I. On press coverage, see Emil Sandt, "Die Katastrophe bei der Zepplinschen Fahrt," Hamburger Nachrichten, no. 548, 6 Aug. 1908, second evening edition; and Der Zeitungs-Verlag 10 (13 Aug. 1909), p. 623. 2. Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 362, S Aug. 1908, evening edition. 3. SchwabischerMerkur, no. 360, 5 Aug. 1908, noon edition. 4. Georg Hacker, Die Manner von Manzell (Frankfurt am Main, 1926), pp. 84-87; and Alfred Wolfenstein, "Luftschiff tiber der Stadt" (ca. 1914), reprinted in Felix Philipp Ingold, Literatur und Aviatik: Europaische Flugdichtung 1909-1927 (Basel, 1978), P.400. See also Hugo Eckener, "Mit Graf Zeppelin 19°0-19°8," in Wir Luftschiffer, ed. Brockelmann, p. 28 I. 5. Schwabischer Merkur, no. 363, 6 Aug. 1908, evening edition. 6. SchwabischerMerkur, no. 363, 6 Aug. 1908, evening edition; and Vossische Zeitung, no. 365, 6 Aug. 1908, morning edition. 7. Karl Clausberg, Zeppelin: Die Geschichte eines unwahrscheinlichen Erfolges (Munich, 1979), pp. 53-54; and Adolf Saager, Zeppelin: Der Mensch, Der Kampfer, Der Sieger (Stuttgart, 1916), pp. 135-136. Dramatic photographs of the incident were published in Die Woche 10 (15 Aug. 1908), pp. 1422-1423. 8. "Stellungnahme des Allgemeinen Kriegsdepartements zur Vernichtung des LZ 4 bei Echterdingen am 5. August 1908," dated 6 Aug. 1908 and signed Wandel, reprinted as document 32 in Die Militiirluftfahrt bis zum Beginn des Weltkrieges 1914, ed. Militargeschichtlichen Forschungsamt, appendix, 2nd rev. ed. (Frankfurt, 1966), pp.64- 65· 9. The Illustrirte Zeitung persistently referred to Echterdingen as a "misfortune" and emphasized the role of bad luck. See, for example, no. 3398, 13 Aug. 1908. 10. Saager, Zeppelin, pp. 13S-136, quoting the Leipziger Tageblatt. 1I. Frankfurter Zeitung, no. 216, 5 Aug. 1908, evening edition. See also Berliner Morgenpost, 7 July 1908; Emil Sandt's original report of the 1 July 1908 flight over Switzerland, "Eine Fahrt ins Reich cler Liifte mit clem Grafen Zeppelin," in 1m Luftschiff: Erlebnisse undAbenteuer, ed. Wilhelm Kohler (Minden, 1910), 2S; Alfred Colsman, Luftschiffvoraus! Arbeit und Erleben am Werke Zeppelins (Stuttgart, 1933), p. 19; and Rudolph Martin, "Graf Zeppelin und die Hindernisse der Motorluftschiffahrt," Die Gegenwart, vol. 36, no. 41 (1907). 12. SchwabischerMerkur, no. 360, 5 Aug. 1908, noon edition. 13. The reference is to Clausberg's subtitle: Die Geschichte eines unwahrscheinlichen Erfolges. 14. Clausberg, Zeppelin, p. 54. IS. Ernst Heinkel, Stormy Life: Memoirs ofaPioneeroftheAirAge, ecl.Jiirgen Thorwald (New York, 1956), p. 12. 16. Schwabischer Merkur, no. 362, 6 Aug. 1908, noon edition.

Notes to Pages 16-20

17· Frankfurter Zeitung, no. 217, 6 Aug. 1908, first morning edition; no. 217, 6 Aug. 1908, evening edition; and no. 221, 10 Aug. 1908, evening edition. 18. Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 364, 6 Aug. 1908, evening edition; and no. 366, 7 Aug. 1908, evening edition. 19. Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 370, 10 Aug. 1908, morning edition. 20. "Es sind Betrage bis zu 10 Pfennigen herab gezeichnet worden," wrote an Osnabriick editor to Zeppelin, 13.9.08, "Aktenauszug 1908," Betriebsarchiv, Metallbau-Zeppelin. See also Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 366, 7 Aug. 1908, evening edition; no. 370, 10 Aug. 1908, morning edition; Bremer Nachrichten, no. 189, -13 Aug. 1908; Neue Zeitung (Frieberg), no. 188, 1 I Aug. 1908, in StA-K, S 11/1235 I; and Saager, Zeppelin, p. 155. 21. On Zeppelin kitsch, see folders "Aktenauszug 1909" and "Diverse Briefe," Betriebsarchiv, Zeppelin-Metallbau; Gustav E. Pazaurek, Cuter und schlechter Ceschmack im Kunstgewerbe (Stuttgart, 1912), pp. 354-355; and Stuttgart's Neuer Tageblatt, 26 Sept. 1908. 22. On the German Airship Company (Delag) and the bumpy fortunes of the zeppelins before the war, see Luftschifibau Zeppelin, Das Werk Zeppelins: eine Festgabe zu seinem 75. Ceburtstag (Stuttgart, 1913); Colsman, Lufischiff voraus!; and Friedrich Stahl, "Die Starrluftschiffe," Illustrierte Flug-Woche 3 (1921 ), pp. 65-68, 110-11 3, 125-128. The number of passengers between 19°9 and 1914 was 17,4°2; the widely quoted figure of nearly 34,000 includes airship personnel. 23. Polizeidirektion Miinchen, signed Heuch, to Konigliche Regierung von Oberbayern, Kammer des Innern, 3 Apr. 1909, Staatsarchiv Munich, Mlnn 66562; and Georg von Tschudi, Aus 34 Jahren Lufifahrt (Berlin, 1928), p. 43. 24. Miinchner Post, 7 Apr. 1909 and 8 Apr. 1909, quoted in Bernd Jiirgen Warneken, "Zeppelinkult und Arbeiterbewegung: Eine mentalitatsgeschichtliche Studie," Zeitschrifi fUr Volkskunde 80 (1984), p. 75n55; and Saager, Zeppelin, p. 169. Crowds breaking through cordons were also reported in Bitterfeld, Berliner Tageblatt, 29 Aug. 19°9· 25. M iinchner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 157, 3 Mar. 1909, morning edition. 26. H. Katschke, "Zeppelintag in Berlin," Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 4°2, 30 Aug. 1909, evening edition. According to Heinrich Schiitzinger, "Graf Zeppelin und der Bodensee," in Zeppelin-Denkmal fUr das deutsche Volk, ed. Hans Hildebrandt (Stuttgart, 1925), p. 199, Berlin had not witnessed such a mammoth celebration since the funeral of Kaiser Wilhelm I. See also Max Stempel, "Zeppelintag," Die Woche I I (4 Sept. 1909). 27. Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 400, 28 Aug. 1909, evening edition; Saager, Zeppelin, pp. 172-173; and "Der Zeppelin-Tag in Berlin," 1m Reich der Liifie. Deutschland voran! II (10 Sept. 1909). On the pickpockets, Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, no. 196, 27 Aug. 1909. See also Berliner Tageblatt, no. 432, 26 Aug. 1909; no. 436, 28 Aug. 19°9; Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, no. 202, 29 Aug. 19°9; Der Weltspiegel: Illustrierte-Chronik des Berliner Tageblattes, no. 70, 2 Sept. 1909; and "ZeppelinMarsch," Die Zukunfi 68 (1909), pp. 302-303. 28. Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," p. 75n55.

225

226

Notes to Pages 20-25 29. Hans Rosenkranz, Ferdinand Grafvon Zeppelin: Die Geschichte eines abenteuerlichen Lebens (Berlin, 1931), pp. 177-178. See also Robert Aschenbach's 1910 poem, "Zeppelin kommt," in "Lyrik 1910," Betriebsarchiv, Zeppelin-Metallbau. 30. Sammlung Dr. Ferber, catalogued under "Luftschiffahrt," Staatsbibliothek, Hamburg. 3 I. "Zeppelin tiber Plauen," dated 6 Sept. 1909, in "Lyrik-Auswahl," Betriebsarchiv, Zeppelin-Metallbau. 32. Der Hohenstaufer (Goppingen), 2 June 1909, quoted in Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," p. 75n55. The LZ 6 was grounded for two days after leaving Berlin at the end of August 19°9. According to Colsman, "a lively camp atmosphere developed around the ship. Great masses of people streamed toward it." See Colsman, Lufischiffvorausl, p. 75. On "carnival atmosphere" in Berlin, Berliner Tageblau, 29 Aug. 1909; and on popular enthusiasm in Cologne, see Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3450, 12 Aug. 1909; Kolnische Zeitung, 2 Aug. 1909, noon edition; and 5 Aug. 1909, evening edition. 33. Georg Busse-Palma, "Beim Anblick der 'Schwaben'," reprinted in Peter Supf, Das Hohe Lied vom Plug: Erste Sammlung deutscher Flugdichtung (Berlin, n.d.), pp. 122125. For early assessments of airships and airplanes, see Hildebrandt, "Luftschiffe oder Flugzeuge," Gartenlaube, no. 2 (1913), pp. 42-44; Neureuther, "Die militarische Bedeutung der Luftschiffahrt," in Denkschrift der Ersten Internationalen Luftschiffahrts-Austellung zu Frankfurt am Main, ed. Bernhard Lepsius, and Richard Wachsmuth (Berlin, 1910), I, pp. 97-117; and "Der General-Inspekteur des MilitarVerkehrswesens an den Kriegsministerium", signed "Freiherr von Lyncker, 18.12.11," reprinted as document 37 in Militarluftfahrt, ed. Militargeschichtlichen Forschungsamt, pp. 73-76. 34. Ernst Linde, "Die Begeisterung fur Zeppelin: Eine volkspsychologische Studie," Allgemeine Deutsche Lehrerzeitung 60 (3 Sept. 1908), pp. 429-431. 35. Schwabischer Merkur, no. 36o, 5 Aug. 1908, Mittagsblatt. See also Leipziger Tageblatt, 5 Aug. 1908, quoted in Peter Hough, Die Eroberung des Luftmeeres (Leipzig, 191I), p. 197. 36. Neue Badische Landeszeitung, quoted by Clausberg, Zeppelin, p. 79. 37. Hugo Eckener, 1m Zeppelin uber Lander und Meere (Flensburg, 1949), p. 404, cited and translated in Douglas H. Robinson, Giants in the Sky: A History ofthe Rigid Airship (Seattle, 1973), pp. xxviii-xxix. 38. Emil Sandt, "Eine Fahrt ins Reich der Lufte mit dem Grafen Zeppelin," reprinted in 1m LuftschifJ, ed. Kohler; and Kurd Lasswitz, "Das Wunder des Zeppelin," BlatterjUr hoheres Schulwesen, no. 4'1 (19°9), pp. 473-474. See also "Zeppelin in Zurich," Die Schweiz 12 (I Aug. 1908), pp. 335-336. 39. Lasswitz, "Das Wunder." See also E. Pfenningsdorf, "Zeppelins Luftschiff," Der Beweis des Glaubens 44 (1908), pp. 313-317. 40. Leipziger Tageblatt, 5 Aug. 1908, quoted in Hough, Die Eroberung, p. 197. 41. Quoted in Saager, Zeppelin, pp. 165-167. 42. Badisches Museum 62 (8 Aug. 1908), in StA-K, S 11/12351. See also Kolnische Zeitung, 4 Aug. 1909, second morning edition.

Notes to Pages 25-31 43. Hugo von Hofmannsthal, "Zeppelin," in Gesammelte Werke: Prosa II (Frankfurt am Main, 1959), p. 355. 44. Kolb, "Zeppelin," Neue Bahnen 21 (1910), pp. 80-84. See also Ernst Milarch, "Die Sturmfahrt des Passagierluftschiffs 'Deutschland'," Unsere Welt I I (Sept. 1910), PP·44 1-45 2. 45· Vorwarts, 29 Aug. 1909. 46. Schwabischer Merkur, no. 360, 5 Aug. 1908, noon edition. See also Rosenkranz, Ferdinand Gra/ von Zeppelin, pp. 9-12. This theme is explored in Gerhard Rademacher, Technik und industrielle Arbeitswelt in der deutschen Lyrik des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts (Frankfurt am Main, 1976), pp. 55-58. 47. Illustriertes Extrablatt der Neuen Interessanten Blatter (n.d. Gune 1908]), in StAK, S 11/3451. 48. Carl Werner Dankwort, 'Z 181.' 1m Zeppelin gegen Bukarest (Berlin, 1916), P·14· 49. Hans Brandenburg, "Hymne an den Grafen Zeppelin," in Supf, Das Hohe Lied vom Flug (Berlin, n.d.), pp. 60-62. 50. Neues Tageblatt (Stuttgart), no. 183,7 Aug. 1908. See also Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 366, 7 Aug. 1908, evening edition; and Kolnische Zeitung, 2 Aug. 1909, noon edition. 51. Quoted in Saager, Zeppelin, p. 145. 52. Adolf Petrenz in Tiigliche Rundschau, 8 July 1913, quoted in Saager, Zeppelin, pp. 173- 174. 53. WolfgangJ. Mommsen, Max Weber and German Politics, 1860-1910, trans. Michael S. Steinberg (Chicago, 1984), pp. 84-90; Ludwig Dehio, "Gedanken tiber die deutsche Sendung, 19°0-1912," Historische ZeituschriJt 170 (1952); Geoff Eley, Reshaping the German Right: Radical Nationalism and Political Change after Bismarck (New Haven, Conn., 1980); Richard Hamann and Jost Hermand, Stilkunst um 1900 (Berlin, 1959), pp. 8-16; and Eckener, 1m Zeppelin, pp. 25-27. 54. Heinkel, Stormy Life; and Theodor Heuss, Erinnerungen 1905-1933 (Tiibingen, 1963), p. 140. See also Eckener, 1m Zeppelin, pp. 25-27; and Colsman, Luftschiff vorausl, p. 29. 55. F.E. in Berliner Tageblatt, 30 Aug. 1909, morning edition. 56. Walter Freiherr von Rummel, Gra/Zeppelin (Bielefeld, n.d.), p. 34. 57. Clausberg, Zeppelin, p. 54· 58. Schwabischer Merkur, no. 367, 8 Aug. 1908, evening edition. 59. Kolnische Zeitung, no. 842, 9 Aug. 1908. See also Bremer Nachrichten, no. 189, 13 Aug. 1908; Kiilnische Zeitung, 3 Aug. 1909, second morning edition; 6 Aug. 1909, evening edition; and National Liberal Reichstag deputy Gustav Stresemann, writing in the Kiinigsberger Allgemeine Zeitung, 1 I Sept. 1909, quoted in Clausberg, Zeppelin, pp. 130-13 I. 60. Membership in the German Aviator's League in the 1920S, expressed as a percentage, gives some indication of regional variation. Whereas Wiirttemberg and Saxony led all other regional groups, enrolling 1.52 and 0.54 Germans per thousand,

227

228

Notes to Pages 31-38 Brandenburg (0.12), East Frisia (0.1 I), and Pomerania (0.06) had much less success. See Luftfahrt 3I (7 Dec. Ig27)· 6I. Warneken, "Zeppelinkult." 62. Schwiibische Tagwacht, 8 Aug. Ig08, quoted in Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," p. 7 2; Vorwiirts, 2g Aug. 1909; and 3 I Aug. IgOg. 63. Siiddeutscher Postillon 18 (1908), p. 145, quoted in Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," pp. 65n28, 66. 64. Vorwiirts, I I July 1908 and I4July 1908, quoted in Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," pp.66-67· 65. Schwiibische Tagwacht, 30 Aug. Ig09, quoted in Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," pp. 6 7 -77. 66. Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," pp. 79-80. See also Eckener, 1m Zeppelin, pp. 2527· 67. For details see Clausberg, Zeppelin, pp. 57-59; and Rosenkranz, GrafFerdinand von Zeppelin, p. 166. 68. Bremer Nachrichten, no. 189, 13 Aug. Ig08. 69. Quoted in Clausberg, Zeppelin, p. 59. See also Hamburger Fremdenblatt, no. 185, 8 Aug. Ig08; no. 186, 9 Aug. 1908; and no. 190, 14 Aug. Ig08. 70. Schwiibischer Merkur, no. 370, I I Aug. 1908; and Konstanzer Zeitung, no. 234, 13 Aug. 1908. 7 I. Clausberg, Zeppelin, pp. 86-87. 72. Oskar Wilke, "Personliche Erinnerungen an GrafZeppelin," and Freiherr Max von Gemmingen, "Nachruf," in Zeppelin-Denkmal, ed. Hildebrandt, pp. 123, 246247; Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," pp. 74-75; Clausberg, Zeppelin, p. 147; and Deutsche Luftfahrer Zeitschrift 2I (2 I Mar. 19 I 7), p. I I. 73. Hildebrandt, "Das Lebenswerk des Grafen Zeppelin," Die Woche 15 (1913), p. I I I I. 74. Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," pp. 73-75· 75. Gemmingen, "Nachruf," in Zeppelin-Denkmal, ed. Hildebrandt, pp. 246-247. See also Eckener in Wir Luftschiffer, ed. Brockelmann, p. 269; and Deutsche Luftfahrer ZeitschriJt 21 (21 Mar. 1917), p. I I. 76. See references in Clausberg, Zeppelin, pp. 78, 147-148; Max Kretzer in Hamburger Nachtrichten, no. 575, 16 Aug. Ig08, second morning edition; and Berliner Tageblatt, no. 436, 28 Aug. I909, first evening edition. 77. Clausberg, Zeppelin, p. 147; Eckener, 1m Zeppelin, p. 26; and Warneken, "Zeppelinkult," p. 74n53. 78. Quoted in Supf, Das Hohe Lied, p. 144. See also Karl Wehrhan, "Kinderlieder und Kinderreime tiber Zeppelin und sein Luftballon," ZeitschriftjUr den deutschen Unterricht 24 (1910); and Frankfurter Zeitung, no. 243, 2 Sept. 1909. 79. Sandt in 1m Luftschiff, ed. Kohler, p. 18. 80. Wiesbadener Tageblatt, no. 365, 8 Aug. 1909, evening edition. 81. Saager, Zeppelin, pp. 66-68. 82. "Vortrag gehalten in der Militarischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin am 13. Februar

Notes to Pages 38-40 1909," marked "secret!" SA-S, Konig. Wiirrtembergisches Ministerium des Innern, E IS 1/03/937, part 2. 83. Robert Steidl and L. Wolff-Scheele, "Kinderlied an Zeppelin" (1912), in Sammlung Dr. Ferber, Staatsbibliothek Hamburg. 84. Rudolf Martin, Die Eroberung der Luft. Kritische Bemerteungen iiber die MotorluftschifJahrt (Berlin, 1907). See also idem, "Die Bedeutung der Zeppelinschen Dauerfahrt," Tiigliche Rundschau, no. 373, I I Aug. 1908, morning edition. 85. Rudolf Martin, Der Weltkrieg in den Liiften (Leipzig, 1909). See also Martin, Berlin-Bagdad: Das deutsche Weltreich im Zeitalter der LuftschifJahrt (Stuttgart, 1907). These ideas caused a stir in England when the Berlin correspondent of the Daily Mail published an interview with Martin on I 1 July 1909. For details, see Alfred Gollin, No Longer an Island: Britain and the Wright Brothers, 1902-1909 (London, 1984). 86. Martin, Der Weltkrieg, pp. 28-36. Ten years later, in the last year of the war, Georg Wulf actually bombed Paris: "It is a special feeling to say: I was over Paris." See Wulf, "Aus dem Tagebuch eines Bombenfliegers," in Flieger am Feind, ed. Werner von Langsdorff (Giitersloh, 1934), p. 76. See also the precise picture of Paris, showing Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, and the Luxembourg Gardens, over which German aircraft fly in Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3810, 6 July 1916. After the war, "Major Helders," a pseudonym for Robert Knauss, a Luft Hansa official, imagined the aerial bombardment of Paris as well and located the destruction in almost the same places as Martin had: "Suddenly the ground begins to quiver. The crowd outside feels the air-pressure. And then follows explosion after explosion! ... In long shadowy lines the orderly squadrons pass across the sky, with clouds of shell-bursts around their ranks. A brief vision; the next moment hell's own din deafens all ears. Sirens screech, anti-aircraft guns crack sharply, shells burst with dull thuds up aloft, while machine guns hammer away. But clear above all these mingled sounds comes the demoniac whistle of the bombs hurtling though the air ... The earth quivers and trembles; men and women jostle one another in the fear of death along the dark passages of the Metro, for with the first crash the electric current has given out. "At the Opera Station, two crowded tube trains halt, one behind the other. There comes a mighty hammerstroke of doom-a livid yellow flash-a second of deathly silence-then whimpers and animal screams. "A 25 cwt. bomb has crashed through the road surface fifty yards from the entrance of the station. It has exploded through the cement roof of the tunnel and exploded in the tube. The air-pressure alone has crushed hundreds of human bodies to jelly. "The Metro station is in ruins ... the fronts of three houses lie littered across the street; their interiors are tilted on a strange slant. The various flats and their furniture are eerily exposed to the gaze of all and sundry; a piano hangs in a ridiculous attitude between heaven and earth ... "The ant-like swarm of humanity disappears into cellars where it awaits further explosions with all its thousands of limbs a-tremble. Many go raving mad; pregnant women give birth. Whosoever is rash enough to head out of a cellar reels back the next instant, coughing and vomiting.

229

230

Notes to Pages 41-46 '''Gas!' ..." Knauss added a final ignominy: the raid left the Eiffel Tower lying prostrate across the Seine. See Major Helders, War in theAir, trans. Claud W. Sykes (London, 1932), pp. 71-72. Of course after the war, the allies attentively located the sites of zeppelin damage, tabulated the costs, and even identified the homeless. See Albert Henry Ross, War on Great Cities: A Study ofthe Facts (London, 1937). 87. Graf Bernstroff, "Kampf zwischen Linienschiffen und Luftschiffen," in 1m Luftschiff, ed. Kohler; Goldschmied to Zeppelin, 15 Jan. 1912, "Diverse Briefe," Betriebsarchiv, Zeppelin-Metallbau; Friedrich Ekert to Zeppelin, 18 Oct. 1913, ibid.; Leipsky to Zeppelin, I I Dec. 1912, ibid.; and E.G., "Auf nach England," 4 June 1910, in "Lyrik 1910," Betriebsarchiv, Zeppelin-Metallbau. 88. Alfred Gollin, The Impact ofAir Power on the British People and Their Government, 1909-1914 (Stanford, 1989), pp. 55-60, 223-246; andJohn R. Cuneo, WingedMars: The GennanAir Weapon, 1870-1914 (Harrisburg, Pa., 1942), p. 127. 89. Colsman, Luftschiffvoraus!, p. 155. See also Joachim Breithaupt, "Kriegsgeschichtliche Arbeiten des Generalmajor a.D. Joachim Breithaupt," I, 2a/5, in BA-F, N 302/8. 90. Cuneo, Winged Mars, pp. 61-73. See also Militargeschichtliche Forschungsamt, ed., Die Militiirluftfahrt, pp. 66-82, 108-109. 9 I. In addition to Rudolph Martin, see Willy Hahn, Fur mein Vaterland: Das gegenwiirtige Militiirflugwesen und die Militiirluftschiffahrt der europiiischen Grossmiichte (Berlin, 1913); and Paul Scheerbart, Die Entwicklung des Lufimilitarismus und die Aufiosung der europiiischen Land-Heere, Festungen, und Seeflotten (Berlin, 1909). More generally see Jiirgen Eichler, "Die Militarluftschiffahrt in Deutschland 1911-1914 und ihre Rolle in den Kriegsplanen des deutschen Imperialismus (Teil I)," Militiirgeschichte 24 (19 85). 92. Clausberg,Zeppelin, pp. 139-140. See also Werner von Langsdorff,PeterStrasser der Fuhrer der LufischifJe (Frankfurt, 1938), pp. 52-53, a plausible, but fictional reconstruction of the Imperial Navy's airship attacks on England. 93. Oskar Wilke, "Personliche Erinnerungen an GrafZeppelin," in Zeppelin-Denkmal, ed. Hildebrandt, pp. 152, 163; and Colsman, Lufischiffvoraus!, p. 164. 94. Dankwort, 'Z 181', pp. 8, 16. 95. Quoted in Saager, Zeppelin, p. 21 4. 96. Fritz Fischer, Gennany'sAims in the First World War (New York, 1967), pp. 281282. 97. Joachim Breithaupt, "Kriegsgeschichtliche Arbeiten des Generalmajor a.D. Joachim Breithaupt," I, 2b/l, in BA-F, N 302/8. 98. Joachim Breithaupt, "Kriegsgeschichtliche Arbeiten des Generalmajor a.D. Joachim Breithaupt," I, 3/1, in BA-F, N 302/8. See also Douglas H. Robinson, The Zeppelin in Combat: A History ofthe German NavalAirship Division, 1914-1918 (London, 1962), pp. 52-56. 99. Clausberg, Zeppelin, pp. 138- 139. 100. Gottlob Mayer, GrafZeppelin und seine 'Zeppeline' (Stuttgart, 1917), pp. 2829·

Notes to Pages 46-50

101. Dankwort, Z '181', pp. 74-75. 102. Saager, Zeppelin, p. 213. See also Daniel Horn, ed., War, Mutiny and Revolution in the Gennan Navy: The World War I Diary of Seaman Richard Stumpf (New Brunswick, N.J., 1967), pp. 173, 227-228; and Cuneo, Winged Mars, p. 127. Raids against England were as popular at airship bases as they were on the home front. It is worth noting that one prominent historian of Germany's air force, Georg Paul Neumann, Die deutschen Luftstreitterafte im Weltkriege (Berlin, 1920), p. 342, explicitly refers to the "restless energy and self-sacrificing enthusiasm" of the zeppelin crews. Ernst Lehmann also states that one object of the raids "was to bolster up the spirit and morale of the zeppelin crews assigned to scouting and patrol duty with the navy. Theirs was a monotonous and thankless task ... Admiral Scheer, commander of the fleet, recognized the need for giving the naval zeppelins something else to do occasionally' and he advocated the raids because every member of the crews wanted to make raids." See Ernst Lehmann, The Zeppelins: The Development ofthe Airship, with the Story ofthe Zeppelin Air Raids in the World War (New York, 1927), pp. 38-39. 103. Lehmann, The Zeppelins, p. 88; and Clausberg, Zeppelin, pp. 139-140. The text of the interview can be found in Ansbert Vorreiter, ed., Der Lufikrieg 1914-1915 unter Verwendung von Feldpostbrieftn und Berichten von Augenzeugen (Leipzig, 1915), pp.215-220. 104. Mayer, Gra[ Zeppelin, p. 33. See also A. R. Jahns, Zeppelin-Kreuzer vor die Front! (Leipzig, 1915), p. 3; Wilhelm Kranzler, Bezwinger der Lufi im Weltkriege (Berlin, n.d.), p. 106; Langsdorff, Peter Strasser, pp. 57-58; and Strasser quoted in Robinson, Zeppelin in Combat, p. 127. 105. Joachim Breithaupt, "Kriegsgeschichtliche Arbeiten des Generalmajor a.D. Joachim Breithaupt," I, 2b/2, in BA-F, N 302/8; and Lehmann, The Zeppelins, PP·3 8-39· 106. Robinson, Zeppelin in Combat, pp. 108-109; and Joachim Breithaupt, "Kriegsgeschichtliche Arbeiten des Generalmajor a.D. Joachim Breithaupt," I, 9bl 12-13, in BA-F, N 302/8. 107. Robinson, Giants in the Sky, p. 116. 108. Quoted in Robinson, Giants in the Sky, p. 122. 109. Hom, ed., War, Mutiny and Revolution, pp. 292-293; and Mayer, GrafZeppelin, pp. 28-29. 110. Adolf Victor von Koerber, Luftkreuzer im KamPf(Leipzig, 1916), p. 23. Koerber's first story is a duet, shifting from beneath the sea to above the clouds to describe machines and men. Encounters between V-boats and Zeppelins were portrayed on the cover of Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3739, 25 Feb. 19 15; and no. 3750, 13 May 19 15, P·559· I I I. Luftwaffe, no. 41 (1918); and Illustrierte Geschichte des Weltkrieges 73 (1916). See also the covers of Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3800, 27 May 1916; no. 3865, 26 July 1917, p. 127; and Die Wochenschau, no. 3 I, 31July 19 15. I 12. Paul Schmalenbach, Die Deutschen Marine-Luftschiffe: Werden- WirkenNachwirken (Herford, 1977), p. 170. 113. Robinson, Zeppelin in Combat, pp. 121-138.

231

232

Notes to Pages 50-58 114. Neumann, deutschen Lufistreitkriifie, pp. 581-583. I 15. Lehmann, The Zeppelins, pp. 88-89. I 16. Neumann, deutschen Luftstreitkriifte, p. 346. See also Ernst Wilhelm von Hoeppner, Germany's War in the Air, trans. J. Hawley Larned (n.p., 1930) pp. 74-75, 95-9 6 . I 17. Friedrich Otto, "Luftschiflbeize tiber die Adria," Westermann's Monatshefte I 19 (19 16), p. 45 8. I 18. Advertisement in Deutsche Lufifahrer-Zeitschrifi, 15 Apr. 1917. See also advertisements for Morell's "Tachometer," the Zahnraderfabrik Kollmann, and DeutaWerke against the backdrop of the airship in Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3865, 26 July 19 I 7, pp. 119, 165, 167. 119. Rhein und Ruhr Zeitung, no. 532, 18 Oct. 1913, morning edition; no. 533, 18 Oct. 1913, evening edition. See also Schwiibischer Merkur, no. 485, 18 Oct. 1913; and Paul Bejeuhr, "Die Katastrophe des Marineluftschiffes 'L. 2.,'" Dinglers Polytechnisches Journal 328 (I Nov. 19 I 3), pp. 689-69°. Mostly Austrian criticism was collected by Victor Silberer, ed., Warnende Stimmen in Bezug aufZeppelin-Ballons (Vienna, 19 14). 120. Harden quoted in Clausberg, Zeppelin, pp. 93-94. 121. Rolf Marben, Ritter der Luft: Zeppelinabenteuer im Weltkrieg (Hamburg, 193 I), p. 50; and Robinson, Giants in the Sky, p. 133. 122. Schmalenbach, Die Deutschen Marine-Luftschiffe, pp. 69-71; and Robinson, Giants in the Sky, p. 130. 123. Hans Eisenbeck, "Ein Erinnerungstag," in Fritz Strahlmann, Zwei deutsche Luftschiffhiifen des Weltkrieges-Ahlhorn- Wildhausen (Oldenburg, 1926), pp. I 10113. See also Martin Bischoff, "1m Osten gestrandet," in Werner von Langsdorff, ed., Flieger am Feind (Giitersloh, 1934), pp. 123-127; and Pitt Klein, Achtung! Bomben fallen!, ed. Hans Lehr (Leipzig, 1934), p. 106. The flight took place on 28 Dec. 19 I 6. 12 4. Klein,Achtung!, p. 38. 125. Marben, Ritter der Luft, p. 103. 126. The one uninjured survivor, machinist Heinrich Ellerkamm, tells the story in "L 48 brennt tiber England," in Langsdorff, ed., Fliegeram Feind, pp. 58-62. See also Robinson, Zeppelin in Comb,!t, pp. 230-233. 127. See, for example, Klein,Achtung!, pp. 38, 59,96. 128. Marben, Ritterder Luft, pp. 69,71,98-100. 129. Klein, Achtung!, 105; and Langsdorff, Peter Strasser, p. 68. See also Engberding, Luftschiff und Luftschiffahrt in Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft, 2nd rev. ed. (Berlin, 1928), p. 7. 130. Otto Dieckerhoff, Deutsche Luftschiffe 1914-1918 (privately published, 1973), pp. 12-13.

Notes to Pages 59-69

2. The Image of the War Ace

1. Georg Wegener, "1m Flugzeug zwischen Maas und Mosel," dated 22June 1915, in idem, Der Wall von Eisen und Feuer: Ein Jahr an der Westfront (Leipzig, 1915), PP·3 69-37°. 2. Adolf Victor von Koerber, "AufErkundung," Gartenlaube, no. 2 (19 17), p. 35. 3. Alan Clark, Aces High: The War in the Air over the Western Front, 1914-18 (London, 1973), p. 56. On the Albatros, see John H. Morrow, Jr., German Air Power in World War I (Lincoln, Neb., 1982), pp. 60-62,90-92. 4. Wa. Ostwald, "Vom Neuzeitlichen Kriegsflugwesen: Ein Besuch in Doberitz," Deutsche Luftfahrer-Zeitschrifi 15/16 (1918), pp. 21-22. See also Raymond H. Fredette, The Sky on Fire: Tte First Battle ofBritain, 1917-1918, and the Birth ofthe Royal Air Force (New York, 1966); G. Anders, "Die Waffen des Fliegers," Die Gartenlaube, no. 42 (1917), pp. 801-803; "Unsere Zukunft liegt in der Luftwaffe," Deutsche LuftJahrer-ZeitschriJt 21 (22 Dec. 1917), pp. 13-17; Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3865, 26 July 19 17; and no. 391 I, 13 June 1918. 5. ErnstJunger, Copse 125, trans. Basil Creighton (London, 1930), pp. 7-9. 6. Junger, Copse 125, p. 106. 7. Junger, Copse 125, p. 48. 8. Junger, Copse 125, p. 21. Richard Euringer's novel Fliegerschule 4 (Hamburg, 1929) develops these themes as well. See especially pp. 17-24. 9. Foreword to ErnstJunger, ed., Luftfahrt ist not! (Leipzig, n.d. [1928]), p. 10. Io.Junger, ed., Luftfahrt ist not!, p. 13. 11. Junger, Copse 125, p. 70. I2.Junger, Copse 125, p. 88. 13. Junger, Copse 125, p. 89; and Luftfahrt ist not!, 12. 14. Hans Ritter, Der Luftkrieg (Berlin, 1926), p. 25; and Hilmer Freiherr von Bulow, Geschichte der Luftwaffe: Eine kurze Darstellung der Entwicklung der fiinften Waffe (Frankfurt am Main, 1934), pp. 3, 34-40. See also John R. Cuneo, WingedMars: The German Air Weapon, 1870-1914 (Harrisburg, Pa., 1942); Hans Arndt, "Der Luftkrieg," in M. Schwarte, ed., Der grosse Weltkrieg 1914-1918, vol. 4 (Leipzig, 1922), pp. 533-534; and more generally, Robin Higham, Air Power: A Concise History (New York, 1972). 15. Biilow, Geschichte der Luftwaffe, pp. 43, 48-5°; and Arndt, "Der Luftkrieg," PP·555-55 6 . 16. For details, see Bulow, Geschichte der Luftwaffe, pp. 58-60; and Morrow, German Air Power, pp. 36-55. 17. David C. Cooke, Sky Battle: 1914-1918. The Story ofAviation in World War One. (New York, 1970), pp. 85-91. See also Alfred Richard Weyl, Fokker: The Creative Years (London, 1965), pp. 96-97; and Anthony H. G. Fokker, The Flying Dutchman: The Life ofAnthony Fokker (New York, 193 1). 18. The quote is from Cooke, Sky Battle, p. 9 I. See also Bulow, Geschichte der Luftwaffe, pp. 63-64; and John R. Cuneo, The Air Weapon, 1914-1916 (Harrisburg, Pa., 1947), pp. 23°-23 2.

233

234

Notes to Pages 69-74 19. Quoted in Floyd Gibbons, The Red Knight ofGermany: The Story ofBaron von Richthofen, Germany's Great War Bird (Garden City, N.Y., 1927), p. 67. 20. Ernst Wilhelm von Hoeppner, Germany's War in the Air, trans. J. Hawley Larned (Leipzig, 1921), p. 56; Ritter, Der Luftkrieg, pp. 78-79; Bulow, Geschichte der Luftwaffe, p. 76; and Cuneo, TheAir Weapon, pp. 244- 2 .54. 21. Ritter, Der Luftkrieg, p. 79. See also Arndt, "Der Luftkrieg," pp. 583-584. 22. For details, see Morrow, German Air Power, pp. 73-94; and Peter Supf, Das Buch der deutschen Fluggeschichte, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1935), pp. 292-300. 23. Hoeppner, Germany's War in theAir, pp. 57-62; and Bulow, Geschichte der Luftwaffe, pp. 67-68, 79-82. 24. Rudolf Stark, Wings of War, trans. Claud W. Sykes (london, 1973 [193 2]), p. 13. See also Franz Immelmann, Immelmann: 'The Eagle of· ~ille', trans. Claud W. Sykes (London, 1935),P. 124. 25. Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen, The Red Baron, trans. Peter Kilduff (Garden City, N. Y., 1969), pp. 61-62. The engagement, which took place on 23 Nov. 1916, is recreated in William E. Burrows, Richthofen: A True History ofthe Red Baron (New York, 1969), pp. 13-20. 26. Quoted from Boelcke's last letter, cited in Die Luftflotte 8 (Dec. 1916), p. 170. 27. Richthofen, The Red Baron, pp. 55-56. 28. Georg Haupt-Heydemarck, Double-Decker C.666, trans. Claud W. Sykes (London, 193 I), pp. 39, 169. See also "Psychologisches tiber Kriegsflieger," Flugsport 7 (7 April 19 J 5), pp. 200-202. 29. Georg Haupt-Heydemarck, Flying Section 17, trans. Claud W. Sykes (London, 1934), p. 112. 30. Bohme to Annamarie, 21 Aug. 1916 and 4 Oct. 1916 in Erwin Bohme, Briefe eines deutschen Kamp./fliegers an ein junges Miidchen, ed. Johannes Werner (Leipzig, 1930), pp. 54, 59· See also Heinrich Gontermann's letter of 18 Mar. 1916, cited in Fliegerleutnant Heinrich Gontermann, ed. Leonhard Muller (Barmen, 1918), p. 64. 3 I. Richthofen, The Red Baron, pp. 64-65; Rudolf Gottschalk, Boelcke: Deutschlands Fliegerheld (Leipzig, 1916), p. 61; and Ferdinand Ktinzlemann cited in Friedrich Albert Meyer, Immelmann und Boelcke: Deutsche Heiden der Luft (Warendorf, 1916), P·44· 32. Walter Bloem, "Richthofen," NorddeutscheAllgemeine Zeitung, no. 217,29 Apr. 1918. 33. Gottschalk, Boelcke, pp. 61-62. 34· Deutsche Luftfahrer-Zeitschrift 21 (22 Oct. 19 1 7), p. 5. 35. Richthofen, The Red Baron, p. 56. 36. Hoeppner, Germany's War in theAir, p. 61. 37. Immelmann letter, dated 28 Oct. 1915, cited in Franz Immelmann, Immelmann: 'The Eagle ofLille', pp. 144, 156-157; and Georg Queri, cited in Die Luftflotte 8 (July 1916), pp. 83-84. 38. See Hoeppner in Plug I (2 June 1917), p. 38; Kurt Krosyk, Die Presse/Jolitik im Ersten Weltkrieg (Dusseldorf, 1968), pp. 136-138; and Burrows, Richthofen, pp. I I I 112.

Notes to Pages 75-79

39. See the program for a "Grosse Wohltatigskeits-Veranstaltung" on I July 1918, "Flugvereinigungen," SA-HH A930/7. 40. Professor Overbeck, writing in Der Tag, cited in Johannes Werner, Knight of Germany: Oswald Boelcke, trans. Claud W Sykes (London, 1933), p. 147. See also Gottschalk, Boelcke, pp. 62-66. 4 I. Quoted in Otfried Fuchs, "Oswald Boelcke," in Die Vnvergessenen, ed. Ernst Jiinger (Berlin, 1928), p. 25. 42. Of the top six best-selling war books, three were about fliers. Gunther Pliischow's Die Abenteuer des Fliegers von Tsingtau (Berlin, 1916) was the all-time best seller with 6 I 0,000 copies printed. Manfred von Richthofen's Der rote Kamp.fJlieger (Berlin, 19 I 7) was in third place with 52 1,427 copies, and Erich Killinger's DieAbenteuer des Ostseefliegers (Berlin, 1917) was in fifth place with 339,143 copies. The circulation figures are provided by Georg Bernhard, "Geschichte des Hauses," in FunfzigJahre Vllstein 1877-1927 (Berlin, 1927), p. 90. See also August Apke, Boelcke: Der Held der Lufte (Chemnitz, 1916); Armin von Bismarck et al. eds., Das Fliegerbuch: Flugabenteuer an allen Fronten (Berlin, 1918); Oswald Boelcke, Hauptmann Bolckes Feldberichte (Gotha, 19 I 7); Reinhold Braun, Der Krieg in der Luft (Langensalza, 19 I 6); Hans Buddecke, EI Schahin (Der Jagdfalke). Aus Meinem Fliegerleben (Berlin, 19 I 8); Deutscher Luftflotten Verein, ed., Das fliegende Schwert: Wesen, Bedeutung und Taten der deutschen Luftflotten in Wort und Bild (Oldenburg, 1917); F. W Eddelbiittel, Artillerie-Flieger (Dresden, 19 I 8); Ernst Friedrich Eichler, ed., Kreuz wider Kokarde: Jagdfiuge des Ernst Vdet (Berlin, 1918); Gottschalk, Boelcke; Haupt-Heydemarck, Doppeldecker 'C.666'; Hans Henkelburg, Ais Kamp.fJlieger am Suezcanal (Berlin, 1917); Max Immelmann, Meine Kamp.fJluge. Selbsterlebt und selbsterziihlt (Berlin, 1917); Adolf Victor von Koerber, Deutsche Heldenflieger (1917); idem, Feldflieger an der Front (Leipzig, 1916); Anton Liibke, Oswald Boelcke der Meisterflieger (Reutlingen, n.d.); Emil Ferdinand Malkowsky, ed., Vom Heldenkampf der deutschen Flieger (Berlin, 1916); Meyer, Immelmann und Boelcke; Miiller, ed., Fliegerleutnant Heinrich Gontermann; and Der Luftkrieg: 1914-1915 unter Verwerfungvon Feldpostbriefen und Berichten von Augenzeugen (Leipzig, 1915). 43. Wilhelm Kranzler, Bezwinger der Luft im Weltkriege: Siegreiche Fliegerkiimpje und Luftschiffahrten unserer grossen Heiden Immelmann, Zeppelin, Boelcke, Parschau, Banfield u.a., volkstiimlich geschildert (Berlin, n.d.). 44. Gartenlaube, 'no. 50 (1916), p. 101 I; Boelcke, Hauptmann Bolckes Feldberichte, p. 91; and NorddeutscheAllgemeine Zeitung, no. 172, 23 June 1916. 45. Werner, Knight ofGermany, pp. 164-165. The incident took place on 29 Apr. 1916. 46. Gottschalk, Boelcke, pp. 74-77, 80-82. 47. Boelcke, Hauptmann Bolckes Feldberichte, pp. 84-9 I. 48. Richthofen, The Red Baron, p. 9 I. 49. Werner, Knight ofGermany, p. 203· 50. "Boelcke," Flugsport 8 (8 Nov. 1916). See also Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, no. 302, 3 I Oct. 1916. Boelcke's death should be compared to that of the beloved

235

236

Notes to Pages 80-87 French ace Georges Guynemer on I I Sept. 1917. See Aaron Norman, The GreatAir ffar (Garden City, N.Y., 1968), pp. 112-113. 51. Die Luftflotte 8 (Sept. 19 16); and 9 (May 19 17). 52. Georg Wegener, "Bei der Jagdstaffel Richthofen," dated mid-April 1917, in Der Wall von Eisen und Feuer: Die beiden letzten Jahre, ed. Wegener (Leipzig, 1920), p. 39. See also Gartenlaube, no. 16 (19 17), p. 310. 53. On Richthofen and propaganda, see Burrows, Richtho[en, pp. 112, 174-175, 181-183. 54. See, for example, Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3910, 6 June 1918, p. 662. Twenty years later, Walter Zuerl described Boelcke as the most "volkstumlich" of German aces; see his edited collection, Pour Ie Merite-Flieger: Heldentaten und Erlebnisse unserer Kriegsflieger (Munich, 1938), p. 82. 55. Malkowsky, Vom Heldenkamp[, p. 141. 56. Bismarck et aI., eds., Das Fliegerbuch, p. 17; Bohme, Brie[e, p. 17; and Junger, Copse 125, p. 70. 57· Euringer, Fliegerschule 4, pp. 17-18. 58. Illustrierte Geschichte des Weltkrieges, no. I I (1917). 59. Edward Graham of Rochester, N.Y., quoted in Eric J. Leed, No Man's Land: Combat and Identity in World War I (Cambridge, Eng., 1979), p. 133. 60. Haupt-Heydemarck, Double-Decker C.666, p. 17. See also Eddelbuttel, Artillerie-Flieger, p. 15; and Stark, Wings ofWar, p. 77. 6 I. Hans Schroder, An Airman Remembers, trans. Claud W. Sykes (London, 1934), pp. 116-117; and Malkowsky, Vom HeldenkampJ, p. 89. 62. Karl Friedrich Selle, "Und Mars regiert die Stunde," Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 364 I, 10 Apr. 1913. Victor Libet deserves full credit for drawing my attention to this piece. 63. Leed, No Man's Land, p. 135. 64. See Hanns Floerke and George Gartner, Deutschland in der Luft voran! Fliegerbrie[e; "Deutsche Flieger," in Illustrierte Geschichte des Weltkrieges 72 (1916); Gottschalk, Boelcke, pp. 42-44; and the brilliant analysis in Leed, No Man's Land, pp. 12313 8. 65. Flugsport 8 (8 Nov. 1916), p. 61 I; and Stark, Wings of War, pp. 5-6. See also Flugsport 7 (3 Nov. 19 15),7°1; Bohme to Annamarie, 18 Oct. 1916, in Bohme, Brie[e, p. 67; and Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3865, 26 July 1917, pp. 134-136. For the views of historians, see the judicious analysis of Norman, The Great Air War; and also Leed, No Man's Land, p. 135; Felix Philipp Ingold, Literatur undAviatik: Europiiische Flugdichtung 19°9-1927 (Basel, 1978), pp. 224-225; Robert Wohl, "Par la voie des airs: l'entree de l'aviation dans Ie mondes des lettres fran~aises 19°9-1939," Le Mouvement social 145 (Dec. 1988), pp. 46-5°; and J. P. Dournel, "L'image de l'aviateur fran~ais en 1914-1918," Revue Historique des Armees no. 4 (1975); and no. I (1976). 66. Bohme to Annamarie, 4 Oct. 1916 and 18 Oct. 1916, cited in Bohme, Brie[e, pp. 66-67, 59. 67. Denis Winter, The First ofthe Few: Fighter Pilots ofthe First World War (Athens, Ga., 1983), p. 167; and Eichler, Kreuz wider Kokarde, pp. 36-37,68, 114.

Notes to Pages 88-93 68. Diary entry of 17 Aug. 19 I 8, Karl Plauth, "Als Jagdfleiger bei Kriegsende," in Flieger am Feind, ed. Werner von Langsdorff (Gutersloh, 1934), pp. 284-285; and Hans Buddecke, El Schahin (Der Jagdfalke). Aus meinem Fliegerleben (Berlin, 19 I 8), p. 58. See also Euringer, Fliegerschule 4, p. 49. 69. Karl Plauth in Flieger am Feind, ed. Langsdorff. See also Bohme to Annamarie, 18 Oct. 1916, cited in Bohme, Briefe, p. 67; and Heinrich Gontermann letters, 15 Apr. 19 I 7 and 4 Oct. 1917, in Fliegerleutnant Gontermann, ed. Muller, pp. 88, 1°7. 70. Eichler, Kreuz wider Kokarde, pp. 150-151. 7 I. Stark quoted in Winter, First ofthe Few, pp. 169-17°; andJoachim von Schoenebeck, "Als Jagdflieger bei Richthofen," in Flieger am Feind, ed. Langsdorff, p. 145. 72. Winter, First ofthe Few, p. 170. 73. Wegener, "1m Flugzeug zwischen Maas und Mosel," dated 22 June 1915, in Der Wall von Eisen und Feuer, ed. Wegener, p. 383; republished in Flugsport 7 (14July 1915), P.438; and established as a convention of conduct in Gottschalk, Boelcke, PP·39-4°. 74. Malkowsky, Vom HeldenkampJ, p. 144. 75. "Max von Muller," in Bayerische Flieger im Jfeltkrieg (Munich, 1919), p. 181. 76. Gibbons, Richthofen, pp. 37°-371. 77. Immelmann, Immelmann, p. 222. 78. Gibbons, Richthofen, p. I. 79. Richthofen, The Red Baron, p. 37. The conversation took place on I Oct. 1915. 80. See the lists of aircraft downed by Richthofen in the appendix of the most recent edition of Richthofen, The Red Baron, pp. 179-180. Udet had more luck. Forty-two of his 62 victories he won against one-seaters. See the appendix of Armand von Ishoven, The Fall ofan Eagle: The Life ofFighter Ace Ernst Udet (London, 1979), pp. 209-21 I; and Norman, The GreatAir War, pp. 127-128. 81. Diary entry of 17 Dec. 1915, quoted in Ludwig F. Gengler, Kampffiieger Rudolf Berthold (Berlin, 1934), p. 55· 82. Schroder, An Airman Remembers, pp. 138, 174. 83. Hans Herlin, Udet: A Mans Life, trans. Mervyn Savill (London, 1960), p. 60. See also Eichler, Kreuz wider Kokarde, p. 87; and Kahnert,JagdstaffeI3s6. 84. Peter Supf, Das Buch der deutschen Fluggeschichte (Berlin, 1935), 2, pp. 3 I I, 369; Hermann Goering, "Richthofen," in Unsere Luftstreitkriiften, 1914-18: Ein Denkmal deutschen Heldentums, ed. Walter von Eberhardt (Berlin, 1930); and Werner, Knight of Germany, pp. 217-2 18. 85. Apke, Boelke, p. 17. 86. Richthofen, The Red Baron, p. 67. See also Gartenlaube, no. 50 (1916), p. 1012. 87. Wegener, "Bei der Jagdstaffel Richthofen," dated mid-April 1917, in Der Wall von Eisen und Feuer: Die beiden besten Jahre, ed. Wegener, p. 4 I. 88. Ernst Udet, Ace ofthe Iron Cross, trans. Richard K. Riehn (New York, 1970), PP.27-28; and Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, no. 172, 23 June 1916. See also Georg Wegener, "Hauptman Boelcke," written in Sept. I 9 I 6 and republished in Der Wall von Eisen undBlut: Champagne-Verdun-Somme (Leipzig, 19 18), p. 337. 89. Morane is cited in Edmond Petit, La vie quotidienne dans l'aviation en France au

237

238

Notes to Pages 93-98

dibut du XX"e siecle (1900-1935) (Paris, 1977), p. 120; and Rickenbacker in Michael S. Sherry, The Rise ofAmerican Air Power: The Creation ofAnnageddon (New Haven, Conn., 1987), p. 39. 90. Anton Lubke, Oswald Boelcke der Meisteiflieger (Reutlingen, n.d.), pp. 32-33. 91. Richthofen, The Red Baron, pp. 56-57. Hermann Goring spoke about burning an opponent in the same way. See Goring, "Aus dem Tagebuch einesJagdfliegers," in Fliegererlebnisse im Weltkrieg, ed. Albert Gloy (Paderborn, 1935), p. 46. 92. Eichler, Kreuz wider Kokarde, p. 132. See also Karl Bodenschatz, Jagd im Flanders Himmel (Berlin, 1938), p. 38. 93. Wegener, "Bei der Jagdstaffel Richthofen," dated mid-April 1917, in Der Wall von Eisen und Feuer: Die heiden letzten Jahre, ed. Wegener, pp. 46-47. 94. Hans Hildebrandt, "Die deutsche Luftwaffe," in Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3865, 26July 1917, p. 128. 95. "Deutscher Kampf, kein Sport," Der Flug I (2 June 19 17), pp. 37-38. See also Gartenlaube, no. 6 (1917), p. 112. 96. Clark,Aces High, p. 103. 97. Cited in Winter, First ofthe Few, p. 165. 98. Karl Plauth, "Jagdflieger bei Kriegsende," in Flieger am Feind, ed. Langsdorff, p. 282. This theme is expertly discussed in Winter, First ofthe Few, pp. 145-152. 99. Bodenschatz, Jagd in Flanders Himmel, p. 19. 100. Der Flug I (2 June 1917), p. 37. 101. See the similar remarks by Bernd Huppauf on infantrymen in his excellent article "Langemarck, Verdun and the Myth of a New Man in Germany after the First World War," War and Society 6 (Sept. 1988), pp. 70-103. 102. Meyer, Immelmann undBoelcke, pp. 23-24,34; Der Flug I (2June 19 17), p. 37; Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 3865,26 July 1917, p. 144; and Frankfurter Zeitung, no. 121,3 May 1917, morning edition. See also Heinrich Gontermann letter, 5 Oct. 1916, cited in Muller, Fliegerleutnant Gontennann, pp. 70-73. 103. Muller, Fliegerleutnant Gontennann, p. 86. 104. Junger, foreword to Lujtfahrt ist not!, p. 12. 105. Reinhard Weer, "Richthofen," in Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, no. 209, 25 Apr. 1918. 106. NorddeutscheAllgemeine Zeitung, no. 224,3 May 1918. 1°7. Ernst Junger, foreword to, Lujtfahrt ist not!, pp. 9-13; Max Balla, "Rudolf Berthold," in Die Unvergessenen, ed. Ernst Junger, p. IS; Friedrich Georg Junger, "Manfred von Richthofen," in ibid., p. 283; Euringer, Fliegerschule 4; and Lubke, Oswald Boelcke, pp. 4, 31-34· 108. Werner von Langsdorff, ... 'rangehen ist alles (Berlin, 1938). See also Walter Stahn, Vom Hiis'chen zum Sturzjlieger (Bremen, 1936). 109. Supf, Buch, 2, p. 372. See also Hansgeorg Buchholtz, Der Flieger Thom: Vom Landarheiter zum Pour-le-mirite-Flieger (Konigsberg, 1937). I 10. See lists in Cooke, Sky Battle, pp. 282-286. I I I. Kranzler, Bezwinger der Lujt, pp. 7, 10; Immelmann, Immelmann, p. 18; Gott-

Notes to Pages 98-108 schalk, Boelcke, p. 37; and F. Hals, "Von Mucke, Immelmann, Spiegel und anderen," Gartenlaube, no. 43 (19 17), p. 820. 112. Letter of 2 Dec. 1914, cited in Immelmann, Immelmann, pp. 47-48. 113. Lubke, Oswald Boelcke, p. 45. 114. Letter of 16July 1915, cited in Werner, Knight ofGermany, pp. 114-115. I 15. Junger, foreword to Luftfahrt ist not!, p. 12. 116. Letter of 15 Mar. 1915, cited in Immelmann, 1mmelmann, P.59. Richard Woldt makes a similar point in "Wie das Flugzeug entsteht," Vorwarts, 13 May 19 I 7. 117. Burrows, Richthofen, pp. 134-135. The incident took place on 9 Mar. 1917. 118. Otto Nebel, "Zuginsfeld," cited in Ingold, Literatur undAviatik, pp. 257-259. 3. Gliding and the Revival of Nationalism I. Oskar Ursinus, "Entdeckung," in Arthur Martens, ed., Motorlos in den Liiften (Hanover, 1927), p. 8. This essay was republished as "Von 1919 bis zum 400-kmStreckenflug 1934," in Georg Brutting, ed., Segeljlug und Segeljlieger (Munich, 1935), p. 38. See also Paul Karlson, Segler durch Wind und Wolken: Das Abenteuerbuch der Segeljliegerei (Berlin, 1933), pp. 85-88; Erich Meyer, "Der Weg zur Rhon," in Brutting, ed., Segeljlug erobert die Welt (Munich, 1940), p. 32; Hermann Kohl, Dennoch Empor! (Oldenburg, 1933), p. 35; and Volkischer Beobachter, 24July 1934. 2. Ursinus to von Klosterlein, 16 Apr. 1919, LHS, NL Ursinus, folder "Ursinus 1920-1922 A-M." 3. "Wer die Wahrheit kennt," Flugsport 1 I (8 Jan. 1919), pp. 1-3; and "Arbeiten," Flugsport I I (19 Feb. 1919). 4. Ursinus to Kromer, 27 Feb. 1920, LHS, NL Ursinus, folder "Ursinus-Kromer." See also "Einkehr," Flugsport 12 (18 Feb. 1920), pp. 77-79; and Walter Georgii, "Ten Years' Gliding and Soaring in Germany," Annual Report ofthe Board ofRegents of The Smithsonian Institution, 1930 (Washington, D.C., 193 I), p. 273. 5. Flugsport 12 (24 Mar. 1920), pp. 153-157. 6. See "Deutschlands Luftfahrt," Luftfahrt 25 (3 Mar. 192 I); "Ruhe in Friedenvon Versailles!" Luftfahrt 25 (2 June 1921); and Wilamowitz-Moellendortf, "Die deutsche Luftfahrt und der 10. Mai 1921," Illustrierte Flug-Woche 3 (25 May 1921). 7. Werner Bartz, Deutsche Luftrechtspolitik seit Versailles (Berlin, 1927). The falsehood that the Allies forbade motorized flight can be found in Walter Georgii, "Wert des Segelfluges!" Flugsport 26 (2 Aug. 1933), p. 326; and Peter Riedel, Start in den Wind: Erlebte Rhongeschichte 1911-1926, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart, 1986), p. 61. 8. Heinrich Watzinger, Gedenke des Anfangs: Erinnerungen an dieAnfiinge der Flugversuche DarmstiidterJugend 1909-1913 (Darmstadt, 1975); and Hans Zacher, Studenten forschen, bauen, und jliegen: 60 Jahre Akademische Fliegergruppe Darmstadt (Frankfurt, 1981). 9. "Rhon-Segelflug," Flugsport 12 (I I Aug. 1920), p. 361. 10. For more on the 1920 rally, see Erich Meyer, "Weg zur Rhon," in Brutting, ed., Segeljlug erobert die Welt, pp. 42-49; Theodor von Karman, with Lee Edson, The Wind

239

240

Notes to Pages 108-113

and Beyond: Theodor von Karman, Pioneer in Aviation and Pathfinder in Space (Boston, 1967), pp. 98-100; and Peter Riedel, Start in den Wind, pp. 73-113. I I. Riedel, Start in den Wind, p. 165. 12. The historic flight is described in Martens, ed., Motorlos, pp. 19-25. 13. Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 36 (1922). 14. Gerhard Gohlke, "Der Verlauf des Rhon-Segelflug-Wettbewerbs 1922," Lufifahrt 26 (7 Sept. 1922), pp. 123-124. 15. Konigsberger Hartungsche Zeitung, no. 86, 13 Apr. 1932, in GSPK, Rep. 2 III 2815/46. 16. Barmer Deutsche Tageblatt, 2 Sept. 1922, quoted in Flugsport 14 (13 Sept. 1922), p.282. 17. Lufifahrt 30 (20 Aug. 1926). 18. Novissima-Korrespondenz fUr Lufiverkehr und Flugsport, 3 Aug. 193 I. 19. In the 1980s, in Hamburg's old harbor district, a strikingly similar sculpture of a discarded ship propeller surrounded by flotsam underscored economic hard times for the maritime industry. 20. On the monument and the Ring of Fliers, see "Ring der Flieger," NL Stiasny, Museum fur Verkehr und Technik, Berlin. 21. Johannes Fischer, Zwischen Wolken und Cranaten (Berlin, 1932), p. 208. See also Gustav Grafer, Deutsche in der Luft voran! (Leipzig, 1935); Arno Kehrberg, Das Nationalsozialistische Fliegerkorps: Die Vorschule die deutschen Flieger (Berlin, 1942), p. 99; Kohl, Dennoch Empor!, p. 4 I; Hans Schroder, Deutsche Flieger in Krieg und Frieden (Leipzig, 1935); and Gerhard Zirwas, Flieger fUr die Heimat: Der Erlebnisbericht eines Danziger Sportjliegers (Leipzig, 1935), p. 30. 22. Carl Fink, "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband, Dresden, 19291933," BA-F, NL Fink, N 258/28; Walter Zuerl on Emil Thun, in Zuerl, ed., Pour Ie Mirite-Flieger: Heldentaten und Erlebnisse unserer Kriegsflieger (Munich, 1938), p. 438; Hanns-Gerd Rabe, "Geschichte des Osnabriicker Flugwesen: Sportfliegerei und Verkehrflug 1911-1939," Osnabriicker Mitteilungen 76 (1969), p. 128; and Kurt Buhl, VierJungen erobern die Luft (Stuttgart, 1943), p. 13. 23. "Randnote," passed from the Bavarian Ministry of Commerce to the Bavarian Ministry for Education and Culture, dated 3 I Dec. 192 I, and signed Graf von Spretti, Bavarian Ministry of the Interior; and "Niederschrift iiber die am 7· Januar 1922 im Reichsverkehrsministerium, Abteilung fur Luft- und Kraftfahrtwesen stattgehabte Sitzung betreffend Segel- und Gleitflugveranstaltungen des Jahres 1922," both in SA-M, Staats-Ministerium des Innern 66570. See also Kromer to Ursinus, 31 Dec. 1921, LHS, NL Ursinus, folder "Ursinus-Kromer." 24. Riedel, Start in den Wind, pp. 191- 192, 241-244. 25. See the gliding school's report for June 1929, GSPK, Rep. 2 11/261 1/4/157. 26. Baden's Ministry of the Interior to Landeskommissare and Bezirksamter, 16 Sept. 1926, SA-S, E 130b, 3673/295; "Protokoll-Auszug des Magistrats Stadt Frankfurt am Main," 3 I May 1928, StA-F, Magistrats-Akten, 2430, II; and Die Luftwacht 6 (1930), pp. 245-247.

Notes to Pages 114-121 27. Fritz Stamer, Zwo/fJahre Wasserkuppe (Berlin, 1933), p. 68; Karlson, Segler, p. 44; Walter Kleffel, Der Segelflug (Berlin, 1930), pp. I I I - I 12; and Georgii, "Gliding in Germany," p. 277. 28. Karlson, Segler, pp. 96-97. 29. Karlson, Segler, p. 15 I. 30. Riedel, Start in den Wind, pp. 196-197, 269-279, discusses 1922 reports on thermals, sets the scene in 1926, and quotes Kegel's account of the flight. See also Riedel, Vom Hangwind zur Thennik: Erlebte Rhongeschichte, 1927-1932 (Stuttgart, 1988), pp. 41-48. 3 I. Kronfeld quoted in Karlson, Segler, pp. 26-32. 32. Georgii, Forscher und Flieger (Tiibingen, 1954), p. 195; idem, "Gliding in Germany," p. 279. 33. Karl Theodor Haanen, Ein Segelflieger: Robert Kronfeld (Cologne, 1932), pp. 36-37. For more on thermals, see Wolf Hirth, The Art ofSoaring Flight, trans. Naomi Heron-Maxwell (London, 1938). 34. Kronfeld quoted in Karlson, Segler, pp. 32-33. See also Zimper, "Prolog zur Taufe des Gleitflugzeuges am 6. September 1930 zu Konig," in LHS, Aero-Club Archiv, "Luftsportverein im Odenwald." 35· Rhon-Rossitten-Gesellschaft, Bericht uber das 4. Vereinsjahr 1 Januar 1928 bis 31 Miir.z 1929, GSPK, Rep. 2 11/261 1/4/234-246; Segelfliegerschule Rossitten to Oberprasidium, Abteilung Luftfahrtiiberwachung, 26 Jan. 1932, ibid., 2610/2°7; and Novissima-Korrespondenz fUr Luftverkehr und Flugsport, 8 Jan. 1932. 36. On Osnabriick, see Hanns-Gerd Rabe, "Geschichte des Osnabriicker Flugwesens: Sportfliegerei und Verkehrflug 191 1-1926," Osnabriicker Mitteilungen 76 (1969), pp. 129, 153; on Stuttgart, see Flugsport 21 (6 Feb. 1929), p. 60; on Duisburg, 50 Jahre Flugverein Niederrhein e. V. Duisburg (Duisburg, 1962), p. 13, in StA-D; and "50 Jahre Segelflug in Duisburg," Duisburger Journal, no. 7 (1977), pp. 16-17; and on Berlin-Gatow, Deutsches Turnen 2 (1934), p. 181. 37. Luftschau 5 (10 May 193 2), pp. 129, 14°-141; Jahresbericht der Ausschusse des Deutschen Luftfahrt Verbandes, 1926-1927 (Berlin, 1927), p. 19; and Jahresbericht des Deutschen Luftfahrtverbandes 1927/1928 (Berlin, 1928), pp. 52-56, in StA-D, 'NL Jarres, 15°/2. See also Gerhard Gohler, "Vom Gleit- und Segelflug," Hochschulblatt fUr Leibesiibungen 10 (I June 193 I), pp. 349-350. 38. On the Storm Birds, see scattered issues of Stunnvogel and Werner Blau to Karl Vey (1981?), LHS, Aero-Club Archiv, "Sturmvogel." See also Rundschreiben Nr. 45, Deutscher Luftfahrt-Verband, 24 Apr. 1930 in StA-D, NLJarres, 15°/54. 39. For the period before 1933, see Oskar Ursinus, Rhon-Zauber: Segelflieger Erinnerungen (Frankfurt, 193 I); Giinter Groenhoff, lch jliege mit und ohne Motor (Berlin, 1932); Haanen, Ein Segeljlieger; Rolf Italiaander, So lernte ich segeljliegen (Berlin, 193 I); and Walther Kleffel, '''Segelflieger Schulz': Ein funkisches Denkmal" (1929), in LHS, Aero-Club Archiv. See also Karlson, Segler; Kleffel, Der Segeljlug; Martens, ed., Motorlos; Alfred Schlie, Der Segeljlieger Liederbuch (Duisburg, 1938); Fritz Stamer, Gleit und Segelflugschulung (Berlin, 193 I); and idem, Zwo/fJahre Wasserkuppe (Berlin, 1933).

241

242

Notes to Pages 121-126 40. "Rossitten-Grunau-Rhon." See also "Wir brauchen keinen Propeller mehr"; "Fliegerring"; H. Pohlmann, "Frisch auf, Kameraden, zur Rhon, zur Rhon"; and G. Striedinger, "Segelflieger-Lied," all published in Oskar Ursinus, Rhon-Zauber: Segelfiieger-Erinnerungen (Frankfurt, 193 I). 41. "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband Dresden, 1929-1933," BAF, NL Fink, N 258/28. 42. Interview with Rolf Italiaander in Hamburg, 9July 1989; RolfItaliaander, "Der Segelflieger-Nachwuchs muss besser werden!" Flugsport 25 (18 Jan. 1933), pp. 4042; Fritz Stamer, "Zu 'Der Segelflugnachwuchs muss besser werden!'" Flugsport 25 (15 Feb. 1933), pp. 81-82; Italiaander, "Zu 'Der Segelflugnachwuchs muss besser werden!'" Flugsport 25 (I Mar. 1933), pp. 1°5-106. See also "Flieger-Studenten," Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 4530, 7 Jan. 193 2 . 43. Le Corbusier,Aircrafi (London, 1935), unpaginated. 44. Oskar Ursinus, "Flugsport XIX. Jahrgang: Gedanken Anfang 1927," Flugsport 19 (5 Jan. 19 27), pp. 1-3· 45. Der Segelflieger 6 (I July 193 I), p. 10. See also Kleffel, Der Segelfiug, pp. 139141; and Fritz Stamer, "Der Segelflug," in Lufifahrt ist not!, ed. Jiinger, pp. 159-160. 46. Karman, The Wind and Beyond, pp. 102-1°3; and Hubert Zuerl, ed., Der Segelfiug im Wettbewerb der Volker (Berlin, 1941), pp. 4-5. 47. UJlksfreund (Braunschweig), no. 136, 15 June 1925. 48. Fritz Buhl, "Die Rhon in Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft," Sturmvogel (n.d. [1931?]). 49. Lufischau 5 (10 May 193 2), p. 140. The statistics are very rough. It is not clear whether or how many artisans would be included under the categories "Arbeiter" or "Gewerbetreibende." See also Briitting, Segelflug erobert, pp. 36,44. In addition, gliding courses at the Rhon were also heavily subscribed by Prussian teachers and uniformed civil servants, many of whom must have been Social Democrats. See Flugsport 21 (6 Feb. 1929), p. 57; and Sturmvogel 3 (I Jan. 193 1). 50. Haanen, Ein Segelfiieger, p. 9; Georgii, Forscher, p. 219; and Riedel, Vom Hangwind, p. 99. 5 I. Flugtechnische Verein Hamburg, "Jahresbericht," Flugsport 20 (15 Feb. 1928), p.88. 52. "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband Dresden, 1929-1933," BAF, NL Fink, N 258/28. See also Bruno Zinnecker, "DieJungfliegerbewegung," in Lufifahrt ist not!, ed. Jiinger, p. 176; Hans Helbig, "Der Einfluss der Selbstbautatigkeit auf die Entwicklung des Gleit- und Segelflugsportes im Deutschen Luftfahrt-Verband," Illustrierte Novissima-Ko"espondenz jUr Lufiverkehr und Flugsport, 3 I Dec. 1930; Gottlob Espenlaub, senior, "Die jungen Gleit- und Segelflieger," Der Adler 8 (May 1933), p. 78; and Klaus Zeiter, Sonnensegler: Die Geschichte eines Segelfiugzeuges (Munich, 1936). 53. See the handwritten account, dated I Sept. 1935, of the Braunfels gliding club, "Unser Weg zum Steuerkniippel," LHS, Aero-Club Archiv, "Luftsport in Braunfels." See also "Das Sein und Werden der Segelfliegergruppe Horbach" (1937 ?), ibid.; and "Horbach Luftsportverein," ibid.

Notes to Pages 126-133 54. Walter Georgii in the foreword to Groenhoff, Ichfliege, p. 2. 55. Kleffel, "'SegelfIieger Schulz': Ein funkisches Denkmal," LHS, Aero-Club Archiv. The radio play was actually broadcast on a number of occasions in 1933. On Schulz, see Riedel, Start in den Wind, pp. 166-169; and Aloys and Josef Sommerfeld,

Er flog die Besenstielkiste: Segelflieger Ferdinand Schulz, aus der Pionierzeit des deutschen Segelflugs (Munich, 1984). 56. Eberhard Wolfgang Giese, AufWanderung und Segelhang: Abenteuer einerJungfliegerschar (Breslau, 1942 [1936]); Rolf Italiaander, Erlebenisse beim Segelflug (Leipzig, n.d.); and Fritz Stamer,Jungen werden Flieger (Stuttgart, 1937). 57. Foreword to Jiinger, ed., Luftfahrt ist not!, pp. 9-10. 58. Karlson, Segler, pp. 6-7. 59. Foreword to Jiinger, ed., Luftfahrt ist not!, pp. 9-10. See also Haanen, Ein Segelflieger, p. 6. 60. Karlson, Segler, p. 13 I. See also Rolf Italiaander, So lernte ich segelfliegen (Berlin, 193 I); Bruno Zinnecker, "Die JungfIiegerbewegung," in Luftfahrt ist not!, ed. Jiinger, p. 176; H. Geyer, Deutschlands Luftfahrt und Luftwaffe (Berlin, 1937), pp. 38-4°; Roland Eisenlohr, "Was bezwecken wir mit dem SegelfIug," Luftfahrt 30 (20 Feb. 1926); Walter Julius Bloehm, Die Fliigelschlepper: Tagebuch aus einer Segelfliegerschule (Berlin, n.d. [1938]), p. 115; and Zirwas, Fliegerfiirdie Heimat, p. 38. 61. Fritz Stamer, Deutscher Segelflug: Vaterlandische Tat und fliegerische Jugendbewegung (Leipzig, 1937), p. I I. 62. The Nazi vote (508) is particularly suggestive since much of the electorate in the Rhon was Catholic; just over one-fifth of the ballots (172) went to the Catholic Center party. The Social Democrats received 1°4 votes, the German Nationalists 68, the right-of-center liberals 3 I, and the German State Party 30. The remaining 16 votes went to splinter parties. See Fuldaer Zeitung, no. 176, 2 Aug. 1932. 63. See Rabe, "Geschichte des Osnabriicker Flugwesens";Jarzembski to Ursinus, 6 May 1927, LHS, NL Ursinus, "Ursinus G-J"; Kronfeld to Ursinus, 29 June 1931, LHS, NL Ursinus, "Vrsinus K"; "An unsere Mitglieder!" Luftschau 5 (15Jan. 1932); and Carl Fink, "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband Dresden, 19291933," BA-F, NL Fink, N 258/28. 64. On opposition, see for example, Fink, "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen LuftsportVerband Dresden, 1929-1933," BA-F, NL Fink, N 258/28. A 1933 memo underscored organizational continuity between pre-1933 gliding clubs and their subordination in the post-1933 German Airsport League. See "AufIosung der RhonRossitten-Gesellschaft," NL Schreiber, folder RRG, Museum fur Verkehr und Technik, Berlin; and also GrafYsenburg, "Die Neuorganisation des SegelfIugwesens im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband e.v.," Der Segelflieger 8 (Aug. 1933), pp. 2-3. 4. Modernist Visions, National Dreams I. Kenneth S. Davis, The Hero: Charles A. Lindbergh and the American Dream (Garden City, N.Y., 1959), p. 10. 2. Stefan Zweig, The World ofYesterday (Omaha, Neb., 1964), pp. 1-5.

243

244

Notes to Pages 134-139

s

3. Joseph Corn, The Winged Gospel: America Romance with Aviation, 1900-1950 (New York, 1983). 4. "Auszug, aus dem Verkehrsbericht flir Monat April 1926 der Flugiiberwachung Bayern-Siid," dated 4 May 1926, SA-M, MWi 10888. On Udet, see "Der FlugTheoretiker Professor Canaros: Eine Udet-Flugtag-Reportage," Die Luftreise, no. 6 (I June 1933), pp. 132-134; and Hans Herlin, Udet: A Mans Life, trans. Mervyn Savill (London, 1960), p. 173. 5. See the reports of Stuttgart's Polizeiprasidium to Wiirttemberg's Ministry of the Interior, SA-S, E 15 1/03/944/207-249; and the untitled document, probably prepared by the Bavarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs in fall 1932, SA-M, MWi 10891. 6. On the Young Fliers, see Die Jungflieger-Sta.ffel kommt!, in which newspaper praise, including that of the Gorlitzer Volksblatt (16 May 1927), is cited, in SA-B, L.8, no. 123. On the air rallies in general, "Flugtag-Volksfest," Die Woche 30 (29 Sept. 1928), pp. 1259-1260; Kurt Miinzer, "Flugtag in der Kleinstadt," Die Woche 32 (28 June 1930), pp. 769-77 I; "Erfahrungsbericht iiber den Grossflugtag in Munchen am 26. Mai 1929:' prepared by the Landespolizeiamt in the Bavarian Ministry of the Interior, 10 June 1929, SA-M, MWi 10889; and Polizeiprasidium Stuttgart to Wiirttemberg's Ministry of the Interior, 29 Aug. 1929, SA-S, E 151/03/944/282. 7. Marga von Etzdorf, Kiek in die Welt: Als deutsche Fliegerin uber drei Erdteilen (Berlin, 193 I), pp. 59-60. 8. Stadtrat Wiirzburg to Bavarian Ministry for Trade, Industry, and Commerce, 23 Aug. 1925, SA-M, MWi 10887. See also Volksfreund (Amtsblatt fur Stadt und Bezirk Balingen), no. 160, I I July 1928; and no. 163, 14July 1928, in SA-S, E 151/03/944/ 3 2 1. 9. "Fest-Folge zum 3. Bayerischen Flieger-Gedenktag in Wiirzburg, 15-17.8.25," SA-M, MWi 10887; Karl Sauger's poem was published in Der Flieger 3 (Aug. 1925). 10. John W. Ward, "The Meaning of Lindbergh's Flight," American Quarterly 10 (1958), pp. 3-16; Jacques Mortane, Das neue Deutschland (Zurich, 1928), pp. 36-59; and "Marschall Liautey iiber die Lufthansa," Berliner Tageblatt, no. 432, 13 Sept. 1927. See also Henry Cord Meyer and Stephen V. Gallup, "France Perceives the Zeppelins, 1924-1937," South AtlanticQuarterly 78 (Winter 1979), pp. 107-121. I I. Karl von Wiegand to Frank Mason, 20 Oct. 1924, Wiegand Papers, Box 16, Hoover Institute, Stanford, Calif.; and Wiegand to Arthur Jordan, 2 I Oct. 1924, Wiegand Papers, Box 15. 12. See the extra editions of the Berliner Tageblatt, Vossische Zeitung, and the Berliner Lokal-Anzeiger collected in GSPK, HAiZeitgeschichtliche Sammlung, Abt. II, no. 3 8.1. 13. Ernst Lehmann, Zeppelin: The Story of Lighter- Than-Air Craft (New York, 1937), p. 266; Berliner Tageblatt, no. 491, 15 Oct. 1924, evening edition; and Hugo Eckener, 1m Zeppelin uber Lander undMeere (Flensburg, 1949), pp. 65-66. 14. Lehmann, Zeppelin, p. 242; and Munchner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 283,16 Oct. 1924, edition B. 15. Deutsche Bodenseezeitung (Konstanz), no. 243, 16 Oct. 1924.

Notes to Pages 141-145

16. Luftfahrt 28 (20 Oct. 1924). 17. Vorwiirts, no. 484, 14 Oct. 1924, morning edition. 18. Vorwiirts, no. 487, 15 Oct. 1924, evening edition. See also no. 488, 16 Oct. 1924, morning edition; and Ernst Krafft, Fliegen und Funken (Berlin, 1924), p. 25. 19. On this theme, see Harold James, A Gennan Identity: 1770-1990 (London, 19 8 9). 20. GSPK, Zeitgeschichtliche Sammlung, XII HAlIV/272. See also the circular of the Reichsauschuss fur die Zeppelin-Eckener-Spende des deutschen Volkes to German cities, dated 26 Sept. 1925, in StA-K, S 11/12369. 2 I. Eckener, 1m Zeppelin, pp. 101-1°3. See also Henry Cord Meyer, "Politics, Personality, and Technology: Airships in the Manipulations of Dr. Hugo Eckener and Lord Thomson, 1919-193°," Aerospace Historian 28 (1981), pp. 169-17°. 22. Cited in Rolf Italiaander, Ein Deutscher namens Eckener (Konstanz, 1981), PP·23 2- 235· 23. "Niederschift iiber die [Stadtrat] Besprechung am 12. Oktober 1925," and accompanying subscription lists in StA-K, S III12369. 24. DerJungflieger (16 Aug. 1928), cited in Italiaander, Ein Deutscher namens Eckener, pp. 246- 247. See also Die Woche 29 (26 Nov. 1927), pp. 48-5 I; and Ernst A. Lehmann, A ufLuftpatrouille und Weltfahrt (Leipzig, 1936), pp. 274-275. 25. Die Woche 30 (29 Sept. 1928). 26. Arthur Koestler,Arrow in the Blue (London, 1952), p. 38I. 27. Frankfurter Zeitung, 21 Sept. 1928, second morning edition. 28. Frankfurter Zeitung, 21 Sept. 1928, first morning edition. 29. Koestler, Arrow in the Blue, p. 385. 30. Novissima-Korrespondenz fiir Luftverkehr und Flugsport, 8 Nov. 1928; unidentified newspaper, I I Nov. 1929, StA-F, 2430, II; Osnabriicker Volkszeitung, no. 258, 18 Sept. 1930; and "Abrechnung iiber Zeppelinbesuch am 22. Juni 1930 in Hamburg," SA-HH, Senatsreferat fur das Flughafen- und Wasserstrassenwesen, A21/45. 3 I. Volksfreund (Braunschweig), no. 214, 13 Sept. 1929. 32. "Vorwort des Verlags," in Walther Kleffel and Wilhelm Schulze, Die Zeppelinfahrt: 1m Luftschiffnach Amerika und zuriick (Berlin, 1928), p. 7. 33. For example, see the Altonaer Nachrichten, 16 Oct. 1928, in SA-HH, 135-1, 20 55. 34. Editor and Publisher 60 (24 Sept. 1927), pp. 49-50. 35. Grace Drummond-Hay to Wiegand, 13 Feb. 1929, Hoover Institute, Wiegand Papers, Box 9; and Wiegand to Frank Mason, 26 June 1928, ibid., Box 16. On aviation publicity see Mary S. Lovell, The Sound ofWings: The Life ofAmelia Earhart (New York, 1989). 36. Philip Schuyler, "First Reporter to Fly across Atlantic Tells of Zeppelin Adventure," Editor and Publisher 6 I (20 Oct. 1928), pp. 3-4. 37. Wiegand dispatch, I Mar. 1929, Hoover Institute, Wiegand Papers, Box 30, Folder 3; and Eckener, 1m Zeppelin, pp. 223-225. See also Henry Cord Meyer, "How Philatelists Kept the Zeppelin Flying," American Philatelist (Sept. 1979), pp. 79679 8.

245

246

Notes to Pages 145-151

38. Editor and Publisher 62 (7 Sept. 1929), p. 6. 39. On Eckener's global fame, see Joachim Breithaupt, Mit "Gra!Zeppelin" nach Siid- und Nordamerika: Reiseeindriicke und Fahrterlebnisse (Lahr, 1930), pp. 48-49. On the presidential nomination, Eckener, 1m Zeppelin, pp. 444-45 I; Italiaander, Ein Deutscher namens Eckener, pp. 280, 285-29°; and Carl Severing, Mein Lebensweg (Cologne, 1950),2, pp. 314-315. 40. Luftfahrt 31 (7 June 1927). See also fiJrwarts, no. 240, 22 May 1927. 41. See, for example, the foreword of the United States ambassador to France, Myron T. Herrick, to Charles A. Lindbergh, We (New York, 1927). 42. Peter Supf, "Der dreimal besiegte Ozean," Ikarus 3 (July 1927), pp. 43-46; and Kolnische Illustrierte Zeitung, no. 25 (18 June 1927). 43. Eduard Penkala, "Luftfahrtereignisse des Jahres 1927 im Spiegel der Marspresse," Ikarus 4 (Jan. 1928), pp. 28-29. 44· Walther Kleffel, "ZumJahreswechsel," Luftfahrt 32 (7 Jan. 1928), pp. 2-3. See also Otto Lehmann, "Problematisches!" Illustrierte Flug-Woche 9 (22 June 1927), pp. 264-267; Arminus 8 (21 Aug. 1927); Alfred Gymnich, "Ozeanfliige und Luftverkehr," Luftfahrt 32 (7 Apr. 1928), p. 98; Volksfreund (Braunschweig), no. 87, 13 Apr. 1928; and Simplicissimus 33 (16 Apr. 1928), p. 29. 45. See, for example, Hamburger Fremdenblatt, 31 Aug. 1926; Robert Knauss, 1m Grossfiugzeug nach Peking (Berlin, 1927), pp. 14-15; Lehmann, "Problematisches!"; Illustrierter Beobachter, no. I I (15 June 1927); and Heinz Orlovius, "Jetzt noch Rekorde-wann sichere Reise?" Reclams Universum 49 (I Sept. 1927), pp. 1268-1269. 46. Alfred Gymnich, "Ozeanfliige und Luftverkehr," Luftfahrt 32 (7 Apr. 1928), P.98; and "Pariser Brief," Flugsport 19 (22 June 1927), pp. 233-236. See also responses of the federal government in "Niederschrift tiber die Sitzung des Beirats fur das Luftfahrwesen am 24. Februar 1928," SA-HH, 371-1 I, A34/1. 47. Hans Richter, T 1000: Ein Roman eines Riesenflugzeuges (Hanover, 1927), p. 36. 48. Frankfurter Zeitung, no. 278, 14 Apr. 1928, first morning edition. 49. Willy Kohlmeyer, "Amerikaflug," in Deutsche Stimmen zum ersten NordAtlantikfluge von Ost nach West, ed. Hermann Kohl (Berlin, 1929), pp. 70-7 I. 50. Novissima-Ko"espondenz./Ur Luftverkehr und Flugsport, 15 May 1928. 5 I. Berliner Tageblatt, no. 288, 20 June 1928, evening edition. 52. Berliner Tageblatt, no. 287, 20 June 1928, morning edition; Vorwarts, 21 June 1928, morning edition; Weser-Zeitung (Bremen), 2 I June 1928, morning edition; Bremer Nachrichten, no. 170, 20June 1928; and WormserZeitung, 20June 1928, in SA-B, 9.S 9-7, B VII 8. 53. Kohl, ed., Stimmen. 54. Westarp to Hiinefeld, 30 Apr. 1928, NL Westarp, in the possession of Friedrich Freiherr Hiller von Giirtringen. 55. Wiegand dispatch, 29 Aug. 1929, Hoover Institute, Wiegand Papers, Box 30, Folder 3. 56. Grace Drummond-Hay to Wiegand, 13 Feb. 1929, Hoover Institute, Wiegand Papers, Box 9.

Notes to Pages 151-153

57. Friedrich Andreas Fischer von Poturzyn, General Balbo: Ein heroisches Leben (Berlin, 1933), p. 81. See also Harry Connin, "Balbo besiegt den Ocean" [sic], Die Luftreise 2 (August 1933), pp. 173-175. 58. According to statistics published regularly in Novissima-KorrespondenzjUr Luftverkehr und Flugsport, a total of 442,700 people visited the airport in 1932, down from 525,695 in 193 I. See also Ernst Dichman, This Aviation Business (New York, 1929), pp.60-61. 59. Bertolt Brecht, Der Ozeanjlug, in Gesammelte Werke 2 (Frankfurt am Main, 1967). See also Karl Holl on Brecht, Frankfurter Zeitung, 2 Aug. 1929, republished in Monika Wyss, ed., Brecht in der Kritik (Munich, 1977), p. 90; and "Liebe, Radio und Zeppelin," Simplicissimus 33 (6 Nov. 1928), p. 405. 60. Hunefeld in a letter to Konigsberg's Ostpreussische Zeitung, 23 June 1928, in SA-B, 9.S 9-7, B VII 8. See also Heinz Gorrenz, "Gluck ab Zeppelin," Frankfurter Nachrichten, no. 263, 21 Sept. 1928, in StA-F, 2430, II. 61. Konstanzer Zeitung, no. 207, 5 Sept. 1929, in StA-K, S 11/3451. See also Munchner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 103, 15 Apr. 1928; and Ewald Kimenkowski, Wir von der "Bremen." Die Geschichte des ersten Fluges iiber den Atlantischen Ozean von Ost nach West (Berlin, 1928), p. 12. 62. See, for example, Hugenberg's flagship, the Berliner Lokal-Anzeiger, no. 289, 20 June 1928, evening edition; the liberal Berliner Tageblatt, no. 288, 20 June 1928, evening edition; and the socialist Bremer Volkszeitung, no. 136, 13 June 1928, in SAB, 9.S 9-7, B VIII 8. 63. Enno Meyer, Zwol[ Ereignisse deutscher Geschichte zwischen Harz und Nordsee 1900-1931 (Weener, 1979); and Herbert Schwarzwalder, Geschichte der Freien Hansastadt Bremen (Hamburg, 1983),4, pp. 467-468. 64. Karl Birner, "Gluck ab! Gluck ab im Heimadand!" Luftfahrt 32 (22 Sept. 1928). 65. Andreas Pfister, Zeppelins Weltfahrt: Ein deutsches Heldenlied der Gegenwart injUn! Gesiingen (Radolfzell-Bodensee, 1936 [1932]), p. 8. The theme of aviation and Wiederaufstehung runs through the entire collection Deutsche Stimmen, which Hermann Kohl edited. 66. Wilhelm Kammerer, "Ozeanflug und offendiche Meinung," in Stimmen, ed. Kohl, pp. 163-164. See also Hans Wolf, "Trotzdem!" ibid., p. 125. 67. Willy Reese, Z.L. 127: Dasfliegende Hotel (Leipzig, 1928); Kurt Siodmak, F.P. 1 antwortet nicht (Berlin, 193 I); Hans Dominick, Der Wettflug der Nationen (Leipzig, 1933); and Otto Willi Gail, Der Schuss ins All. Em Roman von Morgen. (Breslau, 1925). There is even evidence that lubricating oil for the trans-Adantic flight of the Do. X, a giant Dornier seaplane, was actually tampered with in September 1930. See Wiegand to Frank Knox, 13 Sept. 1930, Hoover Institute, Wiegand Papers, Box 15. 68. Jimmy Ernst, A Not-So-Still Life (New York, 1984), P.33. I am grateful to Maria Makela for this reference. 69. "Rede des Oberburgermeisters Dr. Landmann, zum Empfang der Ozeanflieger Kohl und Hunefeld, 10.7.28," StA-F, 2430, II.

247

248

Notes to Pages 153-157

70. Miinchner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 103, 15 Apr. 1928. See also Frankfurter Zeitung, no. 280, 14 Apr. 1928, express evening edition; and "Der Ozean von Ost nach West bezwungen!" Lufifahrt 32 (22 Apr. 1928). See also the excellent article by Michael J. Neufeld, "Weimar Culture and Futuristic Technology; The Rocketry and Spaceflight Fad in Germany, 1923-1933," Technology and Culture 3 1 (199°):725-752. 7 I. Supf, Das Buch der deutschen Fluggeschichte, 2, p. 25. 72. Laurence Goldstein, The Flying Machine and Modem Literature (Bloomington, Ind., 1986), p. 108. 73. Hugo von Abercon, Qjjizier und Lufipionier: Tatberichte und Erinnerungen (Stuttgart, 1938), pp. 217-218. See also Emmy la Quiante, "Damen im Korb," in Wir Lufischiffer, ed. Karl Brockelmann (Berlin, 1909), p. 147. 74. Ernst Hoferichter, "Ueber die Heimat hin ... !" Ikarus 3 (Aug. 1927), p. 3 I. See also Helmuth Kurth, "Und unter uns die schone Welt!" I/lustrirte Zeitung, no. 4400, I I July 19 29. 75. Erwin Bohme, Briefe eines deutschen KampjJliegers an ein junges Miidchen, ed. Johannes Werner (Leipzig, 1930), pp. 60, 113, 120. See also Hansgeorg Buchholtz, Der Flieger Thom: Vom Landarbeiter zum Pour-le-merite-Flieger (Konigsberg, 1937), pp. I 1-12. 76. "Die deutsche Luftverkehr," I/lustrierte Flug- Woche 3 (20 July 192 I), p. 289. 77. Joachim Ringelnatz, Flugzeuggedanken (Berlin, 1929), p. 7. 78. Heinrich Lersch, "Der Flieger," in his Deutschland! (Jena, 1918). See also Stefan Zweig, "Aus Der Flieger," reprinted in Das Hohe Lied vom Flug, ed. Peter Supf (Berlin, n.d.), p. 102; and "Fliegers Weckruf!" Stunnvogel3 ( I Jan. 193 I), I. 79. F. Thiede and E. Schmahl, Die Fliegende Nation (Berlin, 1933), p. 118; and Major Helders (pseudonym for Robert Knauss), War in theAir, trans. Claud W. Sykes (London, 1932), pp. 12-13. 80. Hermann Fricke, "Der Sportflug," in Lufifahrt ist not!, ed. Ernst Junger (Leipzig, n.d.), p. 124. 81. Hanna Reitsch, FliegenMein Leben (Stuttgart, 195 2), pp. 57-59. 82. Thiede and Schmahl,jliegende Nation, p. 12 I. See also Josep Buchhorn, "Ethik des Fliegens," Luftreise, no. 3 (I Mar. 1933), p. 58. 83. Wilhelm Schmidtbonn, "Der Flieger," inDas Hohe Lied, ed. Supf, pp. 94-97. 84. Leonhard Adelt, "Als ich zu euch flog," in Das Hohe Lied, ed. Supf, p. 99; and Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Wind, Sand and Stars (New York, 1940), p. 228. See also Annie France-Harrar, "Die Welt von oben," Der Tag, 15 June 1926. 85. Saint-Exupery, "Nobleman ... Bondsman," in A Sense of Life (New York, 1965), p. 22. 86. Carl Fink, "Hoher Hinauf," I/lustrierte Flug- Welt 2 (4 Feb. 1920), p. 66; and "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband Dresden, 1929-1933," BA-F, NL Fink, N 258/28. See also Hermann Fricke, "Der Sportflug," in Luftfahrt ist not!, ed. Junger, p. 124. 87. George Mosse, "War and the Appropriation of Nature," in Gennany in the Age of Total War, eds. Volker R. Berghahn and Martin Kitchen (Totowa, N.J., 1981), p. 115·

Notes to Pages 157-161 88. "Fliegen, eine nationale Notwendigkeit," Der Flieger 3 (Jan. 1925). See also Ernst Brandenburg, "Wer solI fliegen lernen?" in Johannes Poeschel, Ins Reich der Lufte! EinfUhrung in die Luftfahrt (Leipzig, 1928), p. 225. 89. Karl Bolle, writing in 193 I, is cited in Supf, Das Buch der deutschen Fluggeschichte (Berlin, 1935), 2, pp. 340-341. See also Richard Euringer, "Flugzeugfuhrertypen," Hannoversche Kurier, 27 Aug. 1926, in NL Stiasny, folder 5.0, Museum fur Verkehr und Technik, Berlin. 90. Introduction to Junger, ed., Luftfahrt ist not!, pp. 12-13. The description "fabulous creatures" is from Eugen Schmahl, "Start und Landung," a 15 Jan. 1935 article in an unidentified newspaper, NL Stiasny, folder 5.0, Museum fur Verkehr und Technik, Berlin. See also "Der Ozean von Ost nach West bezwungen," Luftfahrt 32 (22 Apr. 1928), pp. 113-114; and Peter Kneutz, Einsteigen zum Flug! (Leipzig, 1938),

P·7· 9 I. Hugo Wolfgang Philipp, "Der Rekordbrecher," Ikarus 2 (Sept. 1926), p. 3 I. 92. See the portraits of Marga von EtzdorfinMunchner Illustrierte Presse, no. 37 (13 Sept. 193 I); and Wolfgang von Gronau in J. B. Malina, ed., Luftfahrt voran! Das deutsche Fliegerbuch (Berlin, n.d.), p. 2 I 4. 93. Der Segeljlieger (I Nov. 1937). See also Gerhard Zirwas, Flieger fUr die Heimat: Der Erlebnisbericht eines Danziger Sportjliegers (Leipzig, 1935), p. 58; Walter Mittelholzer and Gustav Ehrhardt, Mittelmeeiflug (Zurich, 1930), p. 37; and Artur Furst, Das Flugzeug (Berlin, 1925), p. 92. 94. "Der neue Mensch," Die Woche 29 (29 Jan. 1927), pp. 135-138. 95. Novissima-Korrespondenz fUr Luftverkehr und Flugsport, 28 Jan. 193 I. See also Gertrud Kobner, "Die Frau in der Luft," Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 4479 (15 Jan. 193 I). 96. Tempo, no. 202,31 Aug. 1931, in NL Etzdorf, Deutsches Museum, Munich. 97. Carl Maria Holzapfel and Kate and Rudolf Stocks, Frauen Fliegen: Sechzehn deutsche Pilotinnen in ihren Leistungen und Abenteuern (Berlin, 193 I), pp. 7, I I; and Rolf Italiaander, Drei deutsche Fliegerinnen: Elly Beinhorn, Thea Rasche, Hanna Reitsch (Berlin, 1940). Still, without the opportunity to fly for Luft Hansa, aviatrixes could only earn money on the barnstorming circuit or flying advertising planes. According to one 193 I estimate, only 25-30 women had licenses to fly compared to some 270 women who flew in the United States (and allegedly 1,400 in Italy!), although female pilots made up a greater portion of all pilots in Germany. See Novissima-Korrespondenz fUr Luftverkehr und Flugsport, 28 Jan. 193 I. Female glider pilots represented "Germany's future" for the Nazis as well, see the cover of Illustrieter Beobachter, no. 25 (21 JUDe 1930). 98. Corn, The Winged Gospel, p. 83. 99. Hans Dominick, "Vom Mann im Flugschiffzur 'Frau im Mond,'" Die Woche 30 (3 Nov. 1928), p. 1406. 100. Hermann Fricke, "Der Sportflug," in Luftfahrt ist not!, ed. Jiinger, p. I 15. 101. Fricke, "Sportflug," in Luftfahrt ist not!, ed. Junger, pp. 125-126. See also Ernst Nordmann, "Wie werde ich Flieger?" inJungdeutschlands Fliegerbuch, ed. Edgar Bleeker-Kohlsaat (Stuttgart, 1926), pp. 251-255; Hermann Fricke, Vom Fliegen und Fliegenlernen (Oldenburg, 1927); Robert Schreiber, "Wie lernt man fliegen?" Novis-

249

250

Notes to Pages 161-164

sima-KorrespondenzjUr Lufiverkehr und Flugsport, 23 Aug. 1928; and Wolf Bley, Flugsport-Volkssport (Berlin, 1930), pp. 1-4. 102. Ernst Brandenburg, "Wer solI fliegen lernen?" in Ins Reich der Lufie!, ed. Poeschel, p. 223. 103. F. Holz, "Ozeanbezwinger Stresemann," DNVP Schriftenvertriebsstelle, no. 45 I, New York Public Library. 104. Bruno Zinnecker, "Die Jungfliegerbewegung," in Lufifahrt ist not!, ed. Jiinger, P· 169· 105. Reinhardt Goering, Eine Million Kilometer Lufiverkehr der Deutschen Lufireederei, quoted in Werner von Langsdorff, Das Flugsportbuch (Stuttgart, 1925), p. 18. See also Hans Brettner, "An der Schwelle einer neuen Zeit: Aus dem Bordbuch der LuftHansa," Lufifahrt 30 (20 June 1926), pp. 179-181; and Hermann Kohl, Dennoch EmporI (Oldenburg, 1933), p. 158. 106. Max Limbach, "Werden und Wesen des Verkehrsflugzeugftihrers," in Verkehrsflieger berichten, ed. Willy Meyer (Berlin, 193 I), p. 12. See also Nordmann, "Wie werde ich Flieger?" in Jungdeutschlands Fliegerbuch, ed. Bleeker-Kohlsaat, pp. 25 1255; and Gunther Ziegler, "Vom Fliegen als Beruf," in Deutsche Fliegerei: Ein Appell an DeutschlandsJugend, ed. Gerhard Zirwas (Leipzig, 1933), p. 55. 107. Limbach, "Werden und Wesen des Verkehrsflugzeugftihrers," in Verkehrsflieger berichten, ed. Meyer, p. 12. 108. On this theme, see also Richter, T 1000, pp. 56-57; Mortane, Das neue Deutschland, pp. 42-43; "Deutschlands Luftverkehr 1930," Die Woche 32 (26 May 1930); and Joachim Matthias, ed., Kameraden der Lufi: Erlebnisse unserer Verkehrsflieger (Berlin, 1938). 109. On modernist perspective, see Stephen Kern, The Culture ofTime and Space, 1880-1918 (Cambridge, Mass., 1983); Donald M. Lowe, History ofBourgeois Perception (Chicago, 1982); Wolfgang Schivelbusch, The Railway Journey: The Industrialization ofTime and Space in the 19th Century (Berkeley, 1986); Carl E. Schorske, Fin-desiecle Vienna: Politics and Culture (New York, 1980); and Roger Shattuck, The Banquet Years: The Origins oftheAvant Garde in France, 1885 to World War I (New York, 1967). I 10. Peter Supf, Airman's World: A Book about Flying, trans. Cyrus Brooks (New York, 1933), pp. 89-99; and especially Roger E. Bilstein, Flight Patterns: Trends of Aeronautical Development in the United States, 1918-1929 (Athens, Ga., 1983), pp. 15 6 - 157. I I I. Hans Wendt, "Rausch des Fliegens," Die Luftreise 4 (I May 1935), p. 102. See also Hermann Hesse, quoted in Supf,Ainnan's World, p. 94; and Zirwas, ed., Deutsche Fliegerei, p. 150. 112. Ikarus 4 (Jan. 1928), p. 23; 4 (Apr. 1928), p. 89; and 4 (Sept. 1928), pp. 37, 39· I 13. Alfons Paquet, Fluggast iiber Europa: Ein Roman der langen Strecken (Munich, 1935), p. I I; and Georg Wegener, "1m Flugzeug zwischen Maas und Mosel," dated 22 June 1915, in Der Wall von Eisen und Feuer: Ein Jahr an der Westfront, ed. Wegener (Leipzig, 1915), pp. 371-372. See also Paul Morand, Fleche d'Orient (Paris, 1932), PP·59- 60 .

Notes to Pages 164-171 114· See "Bahnanlage und Landschaft," Kunstwart 29 (Mar. 1916), p. 199. lowe this reference to Jeffrey Smith. 115. Supf,Ainnan's World, pp. 13-14. I 16. Paquet, Fluggast iiber Europa, pp. 9 I, 197, I I. See also Le Corbusier, Aircraft (London, 1935); and Josef Buchhorn, "Das Ethik des Fliegens," Die Luftreise, no. 3 (I Mar. 1933), p. 58. I 17. Erich Ewald, Deutschland aus der Vogelschau: Landschafi und Siedlung im Lufibild (Berlin, 1925), p. 10. 118. Paquet, Fluggast iiber Europa, p. 53. I 19. Hansa-Luftbild GmbH, Luftbild-Lesebuch (Berlin, 1934). 120. Ewald Banse, Die Seele der Geographie. Geschichte einer Entwicklung (Braunschweig, 19 2 4), p. 77. 121. Carl Werner Dankwort, 'Z 181': 1m Zeppelin gegen Bukarest (Berlin, 1916), pp. 19-20. 122. Eugen Diesel, Das Land der Deutschen (Leipzig, 193 I), p. 222. See also Erich Ewald, Das Lufibild im Unterricht (Breslau, 1924), p. 34; idem, 1m Flugzeug iiber Berlin (Marburg, n.d.), p. 2 I; idem, Deutschland; Paul Strahle, Siiddeutschland von oben: Wiirttemberg und Hohenzollern (Tiibingen, 1925); and Erich Maschke, "Der Geopolitische Film," ZeitschriftjUr Geopolitik 5 (Mar. 1928), pp. 275-278. 123. See, for example, the two-page spread of the "Graf Zeppelin" over the outskirts of Berlin in Die Woche 30 (13 Oct. 1928), pp. 1304-1305. 12 4. Reclams Universum 5 I (20 June 1935), pp. 1364-1365. 125. Adolf Abter, "Erleben im Flugzeug," Vorwiirts, no. 495, 19 Oct. 1928. 126. Luftfahrt 31 (22 Aug. 1927). See also Gerhard Zirwas, Flieger jUr die Heimat: Der Erlebnisbericht eines Danziger Sportjliegers (Leipzig, 1935), p. 123. 127. Paquet, Fluggast iiber Europa, p. 257. 128. Paquet, Fluggast iiber Europa, pp. 93,147-150. See also Erich Ewald, 1m Flug-

zeug iiber Berlin, 5. 129. E. G. Erich Lorenz, Die Welt von oben (Gottingen, 1932), p. 33. On Berlin, also see Paquet, Fluggast iiber Europa, pp. 144-145; "Berlin-Moskau," 1karus 3 (May 1927), p. 64; and Hans Wendt, "Rausch des Fliegens," Die Luftreise 4 (I May 1935), p. 101. 130. Erwin Berghaus in Luftfahrt voran! Das deutsche Fliegerbuch, ed. J. B. Malina (Berlin, n.d.), p. 132. See also "Modernes Marchen: 'Nachtflug,'" Hamburger Fremdenblatt, no. 318,17 Nov. 1934. 13 I. Peter Supf, Der deutsche Flugsport (Berlin, 1938), p. 8; Hans Jansen, "In Ikarus' Werkstatt: Ein Besuch bei den Junkers-Werken," Bibliothek der Unterhaltung und des Wissens 4 (1928), p. 142; and Krafft, Fliegen und Funken, pp. II - 15. 132. See the melodramatic painting by Fritz Heublein, reproduced in Kohl, ed., Stimmen, opposite p. 88, and "Das Lied der 'Bremen'," ibid., pp. 31-32. See also the Aktuelle Bibliothek's Der Deutsche Heldenflug-Europa-Amerika, in SA-B, 9-S, 9-13, Sammlung Waldemar Klose; and Duisburger General-Anzeiger, no. 174, 15 Apr. 1928. 133. Kleffel and Schulze, ZeppelinJahrt, pp. 11-12; and Hans Dominick, "Vom Mann im Flugschiff zur 'Frau im Mond,'" Die Woche 30 (3 Nov. 1928), p. 1406.

251

252

Notes to Pages 171-175 134. One important exception was Germany's leading Catholic newspaper, Germania, which warned against excessive pride. Against the fury of nature, the machine is "nothing"; the Bremen's most valuable asset was simply luck. See no. 17SA, 14 Apr. 19 28 . 135. Wolf Bley, "Flugzeugbau," in Lufifahrt ist not!, ed. Jiinger, p. 77. 136. Koestler, A "OW in the Blue, p. 395. 137. Kneutz, Einsteigen zum Flug!, p. 7. See also Walter Mittelholzer and Gustav Ehrhardt, Mittelmeerflug (Zurich, 1930), pp. 26, 72; Alfred Helm, "Schlechtwetter£lug Berlin-Wien," in Verkehrsflieger berichten, ed. Meyer, p. 26; Alfred Gymnich, "Flug im Nebel: Ein Erlebnis zwischen Wind und Wolken," Reclams Universum 52 (5 Mar. 1936), pp. 732-734; and KurtJentkiewicz, "Flug durch Nacht und Nebel," in Deutsches Volk,jliege . .. , ed. Wilhelm Kohler, (Minden, 1935), pp. 136-142. 138. Berliner Tageblatt, no. 491, 15 Oct. 1924, evening edition. See also Deutsche Bodensee Zeitung (Konstanz), no. 243, 16 Oct. 1924; and WulfBley, Entschleierte Erde (Leipzig, 1937), p. 10. 139. Paquet, Fluggast iiber Europa, p. 53. 140. Richter, T 1000, pp. 77-78. 141. "Deutschlands Stellung im Weltluftverkehr," Ikarus 4 (Jan. 1928), pp. 49-58; and Supf,Ainnan's World, p. 146. 142. Alois Robert Bohn, "Weltwirtschaft und Weltluftpolitik I," Zeitschrift fUr Geopolitik 5 (Sept. 1928), p. 784; and idem, "Weltwirtschaft und Weltpolitik II," Zeitschrift fUr Geopolitik 5 (Oct 1928), p. 879. See also Friedrich Andreas Fischer von Poturzyn, Lufimacht: Gegenwart und Zukunfi im Urteil des Auslandes (Heidelberg, 193 8), pp. 15 6 - 159. 143. Richter, T 1000, p. 56. 144. Walter Mittelholzer, By Airplane towards the North Pole; trans. Eden and Cedar Paul (London, 1925), p. 97. 145. Erich Mehne, "Zur Einftihrung," Ikarus I (1925), p. 9. See also Peter Supf, Das Neue Welterlebnis: Ein Buch vom Fliegen (Berlin, 1932), p. 197; Walter Mittelholzer, Abessinien-Flug (Zurich, 1925), p. 51; and Mittelholzer and Ehrhardt,Mittelmeerjlug, pp. 18-19. 146. Krafft, Fliegen und Funken, pp. 30, 44; Vorwiirts, no. 484, 14 Oct. 1924, morning edition; and no. 487, 15 Oct. 1924, evening edition. 147. Eckener, 1m Zeppelin iiber Lander undMeere, pp. 65, 1°3,560-561. 148. Gail, Der Schuss ins All. 149. Peter Supf, "Am Anfang Europas," Ikarus 2 (Sept. 1926), pp. 48-5°. The term "invisible iron walls" is from Paquet, Fluggast uber Europa, p. 268; the Paris incident is related on p. 17. 150. Erich Maschke, "Der Geopolitische Film," Zeitschrifi fUr Geopolitik 5 (Mar. 19 28 ), p. 277· 15 I. Friedrich Andreas Fischer von Poturzyn, "Luftpolitik," in Lufifahrt ist not!, ed. Jiinger, p. 367; and A. Baeumker, "Der Aufbau einer nationalen Luftfahrt," Illustrierte Flug-Welt I (17 Dec. 1919), pp. 393-395. See also WulfBley, Deutsche Lufi HansaA.G. (Berlin, 193 2 ), p. 7.

Notes to Pages 175-178 152. Friedrich Andreas Fischer von Poturzyn,Junkers and WorldAviation: A Contribution to German Aeronautical History, 1909-1934, trans. Edward Morley (Munich, 1935), p. 136. 153. W. Kreiser, "Englische Luftverkehrsplane," Zeitschrifi fiir Geopolitik 2 (Dec. 1925), pp. 934-938; Alois Robert Bohm, "Weltwirtschaft und Welt1uftpolitik I," Zeitschrifi fiir Geopolitik 5 (Sept. 1928), pp. 785-786, 789; idem, "Weltwirtschaft und Welt1uftpolitik III," Zeitschrififiir Geopolitik 5 (Nov. 1928), pp. 971-972; Hans Hochholzer, "Zur Geopolitik des Flugwesens," Zeitschrifi fiir Geopolitik 7 (Mar. 1930), p. 244; Walther Pahl, "Die Wandlung des Weltbildes durch den Luftverkehr," Deutsche Rundschau 61 (Aug. 1935), p. 85; and Friedrich Andreas Fischer von Poturzyn, "Koloniale Luftpolitik," in Die Weltgeltung der deutschen Luftfahrt, ed. Heinz Orlovius and Ernst Schultze (Stuttgart, 1938), pp. 115-126. See also Robert Lewis McCormack, "Aviation and Empire: The British African Experience, 1919-1939" (Ph.D dissertation, Dalhousie University, 1974). 154. Hermann von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, "Die Handelsluftfahrt," in Jungdeutschlands Fliegerbuch, ed. Bleeker-Kohlsaat, pp. 56-57. See also Fischer von Poturzyn, Luftmacht; Walther Pahl, Die Luftwege der Erde: Politische Geographie des Weltluftverkehrs (Hamburg, 1936), p. 21; Burnet Hershey, The Air Future: A Primer in Aeropolitics (New York, 1943); and Eric Deschodt, La France envolee: L'aviation et la decadence, 1906-1976 (Paris, 1977). 155. Reclams Universum 52 (18 June 1936); and Julius Harmel, "1m Kampf mit dem Ozean," Der Segeljlieger 8 (Sept. 1933), pp. 12-14. The "floating islands" provided the backdrop to a popular espionage novel and later a 1935 film. See Kurt Siodmak, F.p. 1 antwortet nicht (Berlin, 193 I). 156. Bremer Nachrichten, no. 292, 20 Oct. 1928; and Richter, T 1000, pp. 55-56, 77· 157. Valuable insight into German commercial negotiations and French fears is provided by Henry Cord Meyer and Stephen V. Gallup, "France Perceives the Zeppelins, 1924-1937," South AtlanticQuarter/y 78 (Winter 1979), pp. 107-121. See also Richard Blunck, Hugo Junkers: Ein Leben fiir Technik und Luftfahrt (Dusseldorf, 195 I), 142-147; and Friedrich-Karl Freiherr Koenig von und zu Warthausen, Der regelmiis-

sige deutsche Luftverkehr nach Sudamerika in seiner wirtschafts- und politisch-geographischen Bedeutung (Tubingen, 1937). 158. "Zusammenstellung der Ausfuhrungen, die am 16. Februar 1923 von Beamten der Abteilung fur Luft- und Kraftfahrwesen des Reichsverkehrsministerium vor den vereinigten Reichsratsausschussen fur Verkehrs-, Haushalts- und Rechnungswesen uber den Stand des deutschen Luftfahrwesens gemacht worden sind," SA-M, MInn 66570. See also Bley, Deutsche Luft Hansa, p. 129. 159. Bley, Deutsche Luft Hansa, pp. 9, 16-19; and Edward L. Homze, Arming the Luftwaffe: The German AirMinistry and the German Aircraft Industry, 1919-1939 (Lincoln, Neb., 1976), p. 32. 160. Heinz Orlovius, Deutsche Luftfahrt im Dritten Reich (Leipzig, 1934), pp. 4 143· 161. Carl Hanns PolIog, "Entwicklung und Geographie des Welt1uftverkehrs,"

253

254

Notes to Pages 175-186

Geographische Zeitschrift 34 (1928); and K. Saenger, "Die Statistik im Rahmen der Geopolitik," Zeitschrifi fUr Geopolitik 7 (Mar. 1930), pp. 256-257. See also Homze, Arming the Luftwaffe, PP.32-33; and Bernhard Heimann and Joachim Schunke, "Eine geheime Denkschrift zur Luftkriegskonzeption Hitler-Deutschlands vom Mai 1933," Zeitschrifi fUr Militargeschichte 3 (1964), pp. 72- 86. On Pirow, see McCormack, "Aviation and Elupire," pp. 572-573. 162. "Zwei Millionen Kilometer im Luftverkehr," in Kameraden der Luft, ed. Matthias, p. 14. 163. "Aus dem Leben eines Asienfliegers," in Kameraden der Luft, ed. Matthias, P· 12 4· 164. Fischer von Poturzyn,Junkers and WorldAviation, pp. 112-113. 165. See, for example, Gunther Pliischow, Silberkondor iiber Feuerland (Berlin, 1929); E. G. Erich Lorenz, Die Welt von Oben: Erd-undviilkerkundliche Weltfahrten mit Flugzeug und Zeppelin (Stuttgart, 1932); and Albert Sonntag, Mit Gra!Zeppelin und Kondor-Flugzeugen. Europa-Brasilien! (Berlin, 1932). 166. Friedrich Heiss, Das Zeppelinbuch (Berlin, 1936), pp. 188-189, 231; and "Weltflughafen Rhein-Main," Frankfurter Zeitung, 28 June 1936. 167. See Preussischer Minister ftir Handel und Gewerbe to Reichsverkehrminister, Reichsminister des Innern, Preussischen Minister ftir Volkswohlfahrt, and Deutschen Luftfahrt Verein, 17 May 1929, SA-S, E 130b/3673/382; and Karl Schacht, Die Vobildung derJugendfUr die detusche Luftfahrt: Denkschrifi iiber dieJungfliegerausbildung (Essen, 1927). 168. Eberhard Wolfgang Giese, AufWanderung und Segelhang: Abenteuer einerJungjliegerschar (Breslau, 1942), pp. 54-58. 16 9. Gasmaske began publishing in 1929; Gas- und Luftschutz in 1931. See also Eugene M. Emme, "The Genesis of Nazi Luftpolitik 1933-1935," Air Power Historian 6 (Jan. 1959), pp. 15-16. 170. "Deutschlands Bedrohung aus der Luft," Der Flieger 5 (Mar. 1932). 17 1. Carl Fink, "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband Dresden, 19291933," BA-F, NL Fink, N 258/28/39. See also Helm, "Schlechtwetterflug BerlinWien," in Verkehrsjlieger berichten, ed. Meyer, p. 26. 172. The National Socialists were masters of map propaganda, but the genre dated from the late 1920S. See von Biilow, "Luftriistungen des Auslandes und Wirkungsmoglichkeiten der Bombenflugzeuge auf Deutschland," Gasschutz und Luftschutz 1 (Aug. 193 I), p. 5; Der Flieger 5 (193 2), 7 (1933); and Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 45 23, 19 Nov. 1931. 5. The Nazi Discipline of Airmindedness I. Hans Schwarz van Berk, "Das politische Flugzeug," Westennanns Monatshefie 79 (1934/35), pp. 5 10 -5 12 . 2. Bertolt Brecht, Der Ozeanjlug, in Gesammelte Werke 2 (Frankfurt am Main, 196 7), PP·5 6 5-5 8 5·

Notes to Pages 186-191 3. "Arbeiter fliegen!" in an undated 1932 issue of Der Sturmvogel, LHS. 4. Helga Stuchow, "'Festag! Kampftag!' Feste der sozialistische Arbeiterbewegung," in Vorwiirts und nicht vergessen, ed. Projektgruppe Arbeiterkultur Hamburg (Berlin, 1982). 5· Illustrierter Beobachter, no. 38, 19 Sept. 193 I. 6. Karoly Kampmann, Wir jliegen mit Hitler (Berlin-Schoneberg, 1933), pp. 8990, 102. See also Otto Dietrich, "Ein denkwurdiger Nachtflug mit den Fuhrer," in Deutsches Volk, jliege . . . : Das bunte Buch der Fliegerei, ed. Wilhlem Kohler (Minden, 1935), pp. 7-1 I; Gerhard Zirwas, FliegerfUr die Heimat: Der Erlebnisbericht eines Danziger Sportjliegers (Leipzig, 1935); and Hans Bauer, Hitler's Pilot, trans. Edward Fitzgerald (London, 1958). 7. Friedrich Heiss, Der Grosse Aufstieg: Vier Jahre deutsches Werkarbeit, 1933-1936 (Berlin, 1937). 8. "LZ 129. Der neue Zepp wird fertig," Reclams Universum 50 (5 Oct. 1933); and Friedrich Heiss, Das Zeppelin-Buch (Berlin, 1936). 9. Heinz Orlovius, "Dank der Luftfahrt an den Fuhrer," Der Flieger 9 (May 1936), pp. 5-6. See also Erich Beier-Lindhardt, Das ist Luftschiffahrt (Langensalza, 1937), p.68. 10. Wiegand to Drummond-Hay, 29 Mar. 1936, Wiegand Papers, Box 9, Hoover Institute, Stanford University. I I. Walter Benjamin, "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt (New York, 1969), pp. 217-25 I. 12. See the remarks by Hermann Kohl on the fifth anniversary of the "Bremen" flight in Weser-Zeitung (Bremen), no. 206, 15 June 1933, SA-B, L.8, no. 347/26; and Hermann Kohl, Dennoch Empor! (Oldenburg, 1933), pp. 58-62. See also the statement by the Bavarian Minister President on the occasion of the week-long air rally in Furth inJune 1933, "Zur Flugwoche in Furth, Pfingsten 1933," SA-M, MWi 10891. 13. Hans Helbig, "Die Forderung des Luftfahrtgedankens an der hoheren Schule," Leibesubungen und korperliche E1Ziehung, no. 17 (5 Sept. 1933); Arthur Schreiber, "Sinn und Wesen der deutschen Luftfahrt," Die Luftreise, no. 6 (I June 1933); and J. B. Malina, ed., Deutschlandjliegt! Der Aujbau der deutschen Luftfahrt seit 1933 (Berlin, 1935), p. 60. 14. George Fielding Eliot, Bombs Bursting into Air (New York, 1939), pp. 80-81. See also Edward L. Homze's authoritative Arming the Luftwaffe: The German AirMinistry and the German Aircraft Industry, 1919-1939 (Lincoln, Neb., 1976), particularly pp. 168-169, 240; Eugene Emme, "German Airpower and International Politics, 1899-1846" (MA thesis, State University of Iowa, 1946); the entries for 17 Oct. 1938 and 18 Oct. 1938 in Charles A. Lindbergh, The Wartime Diaries of Charles A. Lindbergh (New York, 1970), pp. 99-1°3; and Lindbergh to Joseph P. Kennedy, 22 Sept. 1938, cited in Leonard Mosley, Lindbergh: A Biography (Garden City, N.Y., 1976), pp. 229-23°. More generally, see Williamson Murray, The Change in the European Balance ofPower, 1938-1939: The Path to Ruin (Princeton, N.J., 1984). 15. For a statement justifying state coordination, see Friedrich Andreas Fischer

255

256

Notes to Pages 191-195

von Poturzyn, Junkers and World Aviation: A Contribution to German Aeronautical History, 1909-1934, trans. Edward Morley (Munich, 1935), pp. 8-10. 16. Homze, Arming the Luftwaffe, pp.62-68. For an overview, see Eugene M. Emme, "The Genesis of Nazi Luftpolitik 1933-1935," Airpower Historian 6 (Jan. 1959), pp. 10-19. See also "Deutscher Luftsport-Verband," Flugsport 25 (29 Mar. 1933)· 17. See Carl Fink, "Die Tatigkeit im Deutschen Luftsport-Verband Dresden, 1929-1933"; and Fink, "Nationalgesinnte Sportflieger und Flugbegeisterte, sammelt euch!" Dresdner Nachrichten, 29 Mar. 1933, in BA-F, NL Fink, N 258/28/57-60. 18. In the late 1930s, the Air Ministry bought 300 Flugsport subscriptions at 5,400 marks and the National Socialist Flying Corps purchased another 200. See Reichsluftministerium to Ursinus, 25 Feb. 1938 and 29 June 1939, NL Ursinus, "Akte Ursinus 'R,'" LHS. On censorship, see Wenninger to Flugsport, 6 Mar. 1934; Ursinus to Goring, 16 July 1934; and Orlovius to Ursinus, 30 Dec. 1936, ibid. 19. Arno Kehrberg, Das Nationalsozialistische Fliegerkorps: Die Vorschule der deutschen Flieger (Berlin, 1942), p. 41. 20. "16. Rhon-Segelflug-Wettbewerb," Internationales Luftfahrt Archiv, 10 July 1935· 21. Kurt Buhl, Vier jungen erobern die Luft (Stuttgart, 1943), p. 92. 22. Gerhard Spiegel, Wind kommt auf(Bochum, 1936), pp. 56-57. 23. In 1933, the German Airsport League in Westfalen-Lippe solicited funds from Westfilisches Landes-Eisenbahn Gesellschaft, Kraftverkehrs A.G. Westfalen, Elektrizitatswerkes Minden-Ravensburg, and Westfilisches Ferngas. See letters from Landrat Ernst Kiihl, 6 Dec. 1933, Landschafts-Verband Westfalen-Lippe, Westfilisches Archivamt, C 30 (Wirtschaftspflege), no. 61. See also the memorandum, dated 24 Oct. 1933, from the Air Ministry, signed by Milch, "Forderung des Reiseflugwesen und des Segelfluges im Deutschen Luftsportverbandes," ibid. 24. Heinz Gretz, director of Siidwestdeutschen Flugverkehrs to Wirtschaftsamt der Stadt Frankfurt, 8 May 1933; Rechneiamt, Finanzverwaltung, to Lord Mayor, 22 July 1933; and Lord Mayor to Hessisches Staatsministerium, Ministerialabteilung Innern, 5 Mar. 1934, StA-F, 7330/20. 25. Draft, Lord Mayor to Sportamt, Oct. 1934; and Deutscher Gemeindetag to Lord Mayor, 4 Mar. 1935, StA-F, 7330/20. 26. Heinrich Hauser, Ein Mann lernt jliegen (Berlin, 1933), pp. 10, 175; H. von Romer, "Auf dem Wege zum Volksflugzeug," in Deutsches Volk, jliege ... , ed. Kohler, pp. 81-85; and Illustrirte Zeitung, no. 4732, 21 Nov. 1935. 27. Der Sportjlieger 2 (Aug. 1935). See also Karl Seyboth, "Besuch bei Henri Mignet und seinen 'Himmelslausen,'" Der Sportjlieger 2 (Nov. 1934). 28. Al Williams,Airpower (New York, 1940), pp. 206-207. 29. Hermann Goering, "Deutsche Luftfahrt im Dritten Reich," Illustrirte Zeitug, no. 4657, 14 June 1934. See also Dr. Saurbier, "Warum Luftsport in Deutschland," in Deutsches Volk, jliege ..., ed. Kohler, pp. 12-15; "Das Segelfluglager der Hochschulinstitute fur Leibesiibungen in der Reichssegelflugschule Hornberg," Leibesu-

Notes to Pages 196-200

bungen und korperliche Erziehung, no. 23 (5 Dec. 1936); and Hubert Zuerl, "Segelflugschulung als Nachwuchserziehung fur die Luftwaffe," Wehr und Wissen (Nov. 1942), PP·40 5-4 Io . 30. R. Nelkenbrecher, "Deutsche Schule und Segelflug!" Deutsches Tumen, no. 5 (15 Dec. 1933), p. 73; and Hermann Rahskopff, "Segelflug-Sozialismus der Tat," in Die Weltgeltung der deutschen Luftfahrt, ed. Heinz Orlovius and Ernst Schultze (Stuttgart, 1938), p. 85. 3 I. Hamburger Fremdenblatt, no. 258A, 17 Sept. 1935, morning edition, in SA-HH, NL Krumsiek. 32. "Beurteilung des Flugschulers Hermann Bulle, Munchen," dated 4 Dec. 1937, sent from the Reichs- und Preussischer Minister fur Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung to Bayerisches Staatsministerium fur Unterricht und Kulturs, 18 Dec. 1937, in SA-M, MK 4 1753. 33. Walter Julius Bloehm, Der Flugelschlepper: Tagebuch aus einer Segeljliegerschule (Berlin, n.d. [1938]), p. 115; Rahskopff, "Segelflug-Sozialismus der Tat," in Die Weltgeltung der deutschen Luftfahrt, ed. Orlovius and Schultze, pp. 85-88; and Theo Hickl, "Ja der Kaltheim," Der Segeljlieger 10 (Jan. 1935). 34. Hans-Georg Schulze, Ein Volk von Fliegern ... (Leipzig, n.d.), pp. 194-196; and Fritz Stamer, "Segelflieger und Mannschaften im Wettkampf," Der Segeljlieger 10 (Sept. 1935). 35. Prasident der Landesunterrichtsbehorde to Reichs- und Preuss. Ministerium fur Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung, 13 July 1936, SA-HH, Oberschulbehorde 362-2, 393/12. 36. Walter Hofstaetter, Luftfahrt im Deutsch- und Geschichtsunterricht (Berlin, 1935), PP·25- 26 . 37. Fischer von Poturzyn, Junkers and WorldAviation, pp. 137-138. 38. Hans-Georg Schulze, "Frauen und Fliegen," in Deutsche Fliegerei: Bin Appell an DeutschlandsJugend, ed. Gerhard Zirwas (Leipzig, 1933), pp. 138-141. 39. Verwaltung-Anordnung No. 21 4/36 B I, dated I Oct. 1936, signed by Albrecht, leader of Luftsportlandesgruppe 15 (Stuttgart), in BA-F, RL 41/14. 40. Anni Bammel, "Sollen Frauen segelfliegen?" Leibesubungen und korperliche Erziehung, no. 6 (1935), p. 1°4; and Oberregierungsrat Helbig, Flugsportreferent des Amts K der Reichserziehungsministerium, "Abschrift Aktenvermerk zur Besprechung zwecks Vorbereitung einer Segelflugtruppe beim Institut fur Leibesubungen, 20.8.37," in SA-M, MK 41753. See also Heino Rikart, Bin Miidelftiegt uber Deutschland (Berlin, 1934). 41. A copy of the petition, dated April 1933, is in NL Ursinus, "Ursinus N-O," LHS. Aviators who were not Jewish but married to Jews were also kicked out of branches of the German Airsport League. See draft, Lord Mayor of Frankfurt to the Frankfurt branch of the Deutscher Luftfahrt Verein, 23 May 1934; and FliegerOrtsgruppe Frankfurt am Main to Lord Mayor of Frankfurt, 17 Aug. 1934, SV\-f~ 733 0/ 20 . 42. Karl Metzner, cd., Luftfahrt, Luftschutz und ihre Behandlung im Unterricht, 2nd

257

258

Notes to Pages 200-203 ed. (Leipzig, 1937); "Luftfahrt, Flugmodellbau und Volksschule," Die Deutsche Schule 40 (193 6), PP.49-66; Alwin Teschke, ed., Deutsche Luftfahrt beginnt in der Schule (Wachtersbach, 1935); and Alfred Boye, "Luftfahrt und hohere Schule," Leibesiibungen und korperliche Erziehung, no. 14 (20]uly 1937), pp. 304-305. 43. Otto Lehmann, Der Flieger: Vom Jungvolk zum Waffentriiger im Dritten Reich (Berlin, 1936), p. 20. 44. Alfred Boye, "Ein Gesprach iiber Luftfahrt und Erdkundeunterricht," Leibesiibungen und korperliche Erziehung, no. 24 (20 Dec. 1937), p. 587. 45. Teschke, ed., Deutsche Luftfahrt, pp. 35-37. 46. See, for example, "Anlage 4," an appendix to directives prepared in the midI 930S by the Air Ministry, in StA-D, Bestand 400 (Schulverwaltungsamt)/47 I. 47. Hamburger Tageblatt, no. 193, 17 Aug. 1933, in SA-HH, 135-1/2°56. 48. Luftverkehr A. G. Niedersachsen, "Bericht iiber den Jugendwerbung ftir die Deutsche Luftfahrt in Hannover" (1933), SA-B, L.8, no. 448; and Luft Hansa, "Luftfahrtveranstaltung ftir die Schuljugend am 24. enschl. 28 Juni ds. ]s" (1936), StA-D, Bestand 400 (Schulverwaltungsamt)/47 I. 49. Law for the "Pflege der Luftfahrt in den Schulen," issued by the Reichminister ftir Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung, and dated 17 Nov. 1934, in GSPK, Rep. 15 I, No. 110014°-48. See also R.. Nelkenbrecher, "Deutsche Schule und Segelflug!" Deutsches Turnen, no. 5 (15 Dec. 1933), pp. 72-74; Hofstaetter, Luftfahrt in Deutsch- und Geschichtsunterricht, p. 9; and Georg Nixdorf, "Entwicklung und Stand des Segelfluges," Die volkische Schule 12 (1934), pp. 644-65°. 50. WulfBley, Volk,jlieg du wieder (Berlin, 1933), pp. I 1-12; and R. Nelkenbracher, "Ueber den Modellflug zum Segelflugsport!" Deutsches Turnen, no. 5 (IS May 1935), p. 70. See also Heinrich Runkel, "Arbeitsschule und Segelflug," Die Arbeitsschule 48 (1934), pp. 49-59; Karl Anders, '"Miniwispi,''' ibid. 50 (1936), pp. 57-72; Alfred Stier, "Bauen und Starten der Flugmodelle," ibid. 50 (1936), pp. 2°9-227; Willy Illigen, "Aus der Praxis des Flugmodellbaues," ibid. 51 (1937), pp. 217-222; and Kehrberg, Nationalsozialistische Fliegerkorps, pp. 63-66. 5 I. Dr. Boepple, of the Bavarian Ministry for Education and Culture, to Reichsund Preussischen Minister ftir Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung, 5 Apr. 1938, SA-M, MK 41754; and Reichsstatthalter, Hamburg Senat, signed Witt, to Reichs- und Preusssichen Minister ftir Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung, March 1938, SA-HH, Oberschulbehorde 362-2/391/24. 52. Memorandum of Duisburg's NSDAP Kreisleitung-Amt ftir Erziehung, signed Rouenhoff, 24Jan. 1936, StA-D, Bestand 400 (Schulverwaltungsamt}/471. 53. Witt to NSFK Gruppe 3 (Nordwest), 16 Oct. 1940, SA-HH, Oberschulbehorde 362-2/39°. 54. Willy Illigen, "Die Eroberung der Luft: Bericht iiber den Verlauf einer Gemeinschaftsarbeit," DieArbeitsschule 50 (1936), pp. 228-239. See also Helmut Wechler, "Die Behandlung des Luftfahrtgedankens im Kunst- und Werkunterricht," Luftschutz und Schule I (Apr. 1936), pp. 167-17°. 55. Internationales LuftfahrtArchiv, 18 Feb. 1935 and 25 Feb. 1935.

Notes to Pages 203-207

56. Internationales LuftfahrtArchiv, 24 May 1935; and Leipziger Neueste Nachrichten, 16 Dec. 1938 and 14 Jan. 1939; collected in NL Stiasny, 5.0, Museum ftir Verkehr und Technik, Berlin. 57. Erhard Milch, "Was miissen wir tun?" in Der zivile Luftschutz: Ein Sammelhuch uher aile Fragen des Luftschutzes, ed. E. H. Knipfer and Erich Hampe, 2nd rev. ed. (Berlin, 1937), p. 13· 58. Freiherr von Biilow, "Luftriistungen des Auslandes und Wirkungsmoglichkeiten der Bombenflugzeuge auf Deutschland," Gasschutz 1 (Aug. 193 1), pp. 3-6; Erich Hampe, "Luftschutz als Schicksalsfrage," in Der zivile Luftschutz, ed. Knipfer and Hampe, p. 127; and Julius Meyer, Grundlagen des Luftschutzes (Leipzig, 1935), pp. 23 2- 233. 59. Fritz Geisler, "Schutz der Zivilbevolkerung und die Abriistungskonferenz," Die Gasmaske 4 (Oct. 193 2), pp. 113-11 4. 60. Freiherr von Biilow, "Luftriistungen des Auslandes und Wirkungsmoglichkeiten der Bombenflugzeuge auf Deutschland," Gasschutz 1 (Aug. 193 1), p. 4. 61. Ernst Denckler, Deutschland!! Schlaftt du?? Luftgefahr droht! In I Stunde! Flieger! Bomben! Giftgas! Ueber Berlin! Deinen Stiidten! Deinen Industriegebieten! Was tut dein Volk? Wie schutzt es sich? Handle! EineAujkliirungsschriftjUrAile!! (Berlin, 1932). 62. Die Sirene, no. 19 (July 1934). 63. Der Flieger 7 (May 1934), p. 3; and Albert Scheer, "Geographische Betrachtungen zur Luftempfindlichkeit des Deutschen Reichs,"· Luftschutz und Schule 1 (Oct. 1935), p. 19· 64. Friedrich Andreas Fischer von Poturzyn, Luftmacht: Gegenwart und ZukunJt im Urteil des Auslandes (Heidelberg, 1938), pp. 62-64; Lothar Schiittel, LuJtkrieg bedroht Europa! (Munich, 1938), pp. 46-53, 58-63, 73; Major Helders (pseudonym for Robert Knauss), War in the Air, trans. Claud W. Sykes (London, 193 2), pp. 58-59; and Major Bogatsch, "Das Luftschutzproblem," Gassch",tz und LuJtschutz 1 (Aug. 1931), pp. 6-13. More generally, Georg Feuchter, Probleme des Luftkrieges (Potsdam, 1936); Michael S. Sherry, The Rise ofAmerican Air Power: The Creation ofAnnageddon (New Haven, Conn., 1987); and Eugene M. Emme, "The Genesis ofNazi LuJtpolitik 19331935," Airpower Historian 6 (Jan. 1959), p. 21. 65. Hitler quoted in Hermann Rauschning, Voices ofDestruaion (New York, 1940), pp. 9-10. See also Tim Mason, "The Legacy of 1918 for National Socialism," in Gennan Democracy and the Triumph ofHitler, ed. Anthony Nicholls and Erich Matthias (London, 197 1), pp. 215-239. 66. Fichte, "Wie werden Luftangriffe durchgeftihrt?" Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 2 (Sept. 1932), pp. 197-199. See also Erich Hampe, "Technische Nothilfe und Luftschutz," Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 1 (Sept. 193 I), p. 43; and W. Peres, "Luftwehr," Gasschutz und Luftschutz 4 (Apr. 1934), 133-134. 67. Erich Hampe, "Luftschutz als Schicksalsfrage," in Der zivile LuJtschutz, ed. Knipfer and Hampe, p. 120; and Ewald Sellien, "Der Luftschutz in der Schule," in Luftfahrt, Luftschutz und ihre Behandlung im Unterricht, ed. Metzner, pp. 10-1 I. 68. Alfred Giesler, "Tarnung, Verdunkelung, Scheinanlagen und die Riiumung

259

260

Notes to Pages 208-213 grosser Stadte bei Luftangriffsgefahrt," Gasschutz undLuJtschutz 2 (Jan. 193 2), pp. 46; Nagel, "Zur Frage der Raumung grosser Stadte bei Luftangriffsgefahr," Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 10 (Oct. 1932), pp. 221-227; and Stuttgarter Neues Tageblatt, no. 478, 14 Oct. 1933. 69. Flury, "Die Aufgabe des Arztes im Luftschutz," Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 3 (May 1933), pp. I I I - I 13. 70. Hans-Heinrich Grunwaldt, "Jugendpsyche und Gefahrmoment," Luftschutz und Schule I (June 1936), pp. 219-220; Ewald Sellien, "Das Problem des Douhetismus im Unterricht," LuJtschutz und Schule I (Apr. 1936), pp. 172-174; Hugo Grimme, Der Reichsluftschutzverband: Aufgaben, Organisation, Tiitigkeit, 2nd rev. ed. (Berlin, 1937), p. 9; and more generally the journal LuJtschutz und Schule. 71. Die Sirene, no. 7 (Feb. 1934), pp. 11-12; and Helmut Wechler, "Die Behandlung des Luftfahrtgedankens im Kunst- und Werkunterricht," LuJtschutz und Schule I (Apr. 1936), pp. 167-17°. 72. "Fremde Flieger iiber Berlin," Flugsport 25 (5 July 1933), pp. 283-284; and Emme, "The Genesis of Nazi Lufipolitik," p. 16. 73. Internationales LufifahrtArchiv, 6 Oct. 1933. 74. See Reichsluftschutzbund memoranda collected in GSPK, Rep. 15 I, no. 2048; and Grimme, Der Reichslufischutzverband, p. 20. 75. Reichminister der Luftfahrt to Polizeiprasident, Berlin, 28 Dec. 1934, GSPK, Rep. 151, no. 437/2; "Planspiel im Luftschutzort Berlin am 19. Marz 1935," ibid., no. 437/26-41; and Internationales LufifahrtArchiv, 20 Mar. 1935. 76. C. Wagner, an official at the Reich Ministry of the Interior, "Der Aufbau eines Zivilen Luftschutzes," Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 2 (July 193 2), pp. 145-146. 77. Hampe, "Luftschutz als Schicksalsfrage," in Der zivile Lufischutz, ed. Knipfer and Hampe, p. 128. 78. Rumpf, "Selbsthilfe der Bevolkerung im Brandschutz," Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 3 (Nov. 1933), p. 276. See also Hampe, "Luftschutz als Schicksalsfrage," in Der Zivile Lufischutz, ed. Knipfer and Hampe, p. 130; and foreword to Heinrich Hunke, Lufigefahr und Lufischutz, 2nd rev. ed. (Berlin, 1934). 79· Gasschutz und Lufischutz 3 (Aug. 1933), p. 194· 80. Heinrich Paetsch, "Oertliche Fiihrung im Luftschutz," Gasschutz und Lufischutz 2 (May 1932), pp. 97-100. See also "Die zivile Luftschutziibungen in Ostpreussen vom 23.-25. Juni 1932: Kritische Betrachtungen und Auswertung ihre Ergebnisse," Gasschutz und Lufischutz 2 (Aug. 1932), pp. 171-180; Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 4 (June 1934), pp. 141- 147; and Hans DetlefRohden, Vom Lufikrieg (Berlin, 1938), p. 25. The idea of mini-dictatorships on the local level was suggested to me by Victor Libel. 81. Ernst Ohliger, Bomben aufKohlenstadt (Oldenburg, 1935), p. 39. 82. "Die Frau im Luftschutz," Die Sirene, no. 2 (Feb. 1935). See also "Die Luftschutziibungen in Siiddeutschland im Oktober 1933," Gasschutz und LuJtschutz 3 (Dec. 1933), pp. 303-304; "Frauenpsyche und Gasmasken," Der Flieger 7 (Sept. 1933), pp. 6-7; Gertrud von Willich, "Luftschutz-die Dienstpflicht der Frau"; and

Notes to Pages 213-218 Arthur Rathje, "Die Frau im Luftschutz," both in Die Sirene, no. II (June 1935), an issue which also featured a female civil defense official on the cover. 83. See Claudia Koonz, Mothers in the Fatherland: Women, the Family and Nazi Politics (New York, Ig87). 84. See, for example, the cover of Die Gasmaske 2 (Dec. 1930), and also 4 (Oct. 1932), p. 166. 85. Gasschutz und Luftschutz 2 (Dec. 1932), p. 285. 86. F. Thiede and E. Schmahl, Die fliegende Nation (Berlin, 1933), pp. 126-127. See also Werner Peres and Kurt Heinrich Tischer, Das luftgeschiitzte Haus (Berlin, 1934). On urban renewal in the air age, see Heinrich Drager, "Luftschutz und Stadtebau," Gasschutz und Luftschutz 2 (June 1932), pp. 124-127; Wulf Bley, Entscheierte Erde (Leipzig, 1937), pp. 73-75; Meyer, Grundlagen des Luftschutzes, PP·233-238; and Le Corbusier, Aircraft (London, 1935). 87. See the self-portrait of Barthel Gilles on the cover of Die Gasmaske 3 (Feb. 193 I). I would like to thank Victor Libet for his incisive insights into this image. George Mosse, in Fallen Soldiers: Reshaping the Memory ofthe World Wars (New York, 1990), makes a similar point with respect to the anticipation of World War II (pp. 202-2°3)· 88. Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Wind, Sand and Stars, trans. Lewis Galantiere (New York, Ig40). 8g. Edward Jablonski, The Knighted Skies: A Piaorial History of World War I in the Air (New York, Ig64), p. 3; "Rhon-Segelflug," Flugsport 12 (II Aug. 1920), p. 361 ; and Walter A. McDougall, ... the Heavens and the Earth: A Political History ofthe Space Age (New York, Ig85), p. 3. go. Laurence Goldstein, The Flying Machine and Modern Literature (Bloomington, Ind., Ig86), p. 3g. gl. See, for example, Neville Duke and Edward Lanchbery, eds., The Saga ofFlight from Leonardo da Vinci to the GuidedMissile (New York, Ig61); and Thomas Collison, ed., This Winged World: An Anthology ofAviation Fiaion (New York, 1943). See also Julie H. Wosk, "The Distancing Effect of Technology in 20th Century Poetry and Painting," San Jose Studies II (lg85), pp. 22-41.

261

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Archival Sources Bundesarchiv Koblenz (BA-K) NL Dorr NL Euler R 43 I Reichskanzlei Bundesmilitararchiv Freiburg (BA-F) NL Joachim Breithaupt NL Hans-Georg Pretzell NL Carl Fink NL Parseval Militargeschichtliche Sammlung RL 41 Reichsluftministerium Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin-Dahlem (GSPK) Zeitgeschichtliche Sammlung XII/HA Oberprasidium von Ostpreussen, Rep. 2 II Preussisches Finanzministerium, Rep. 151 Deutsches Museum, Munich NL Hermann Dorner NL Wolfmiiller NL Peter Supf NL Marga von Etzdorf Museum fur Verkehr und Technik, Berlin NL Stiasny NL Arthur Schreiber Novissima-Ko"espondenz jUr Lufiverkehr und Flugsport (renamed Internationales Luftfahrt Archiv in 1933) Niedersachsisches Staatsarchiv, Osnabriick Erw. A 18: Sammlung Woltermann Erw. A 23: Sammlung Hanns-Gerd Rabe Westfalisches Landesamt, Verwaltungsarchiv, Miinster NL Ernst Kiihl

263

264

Bibliography Staatsbibliothek Bamberg NL Friedrich Harth Staatsbibliothek Hamburg Sammlung Ferber Staatsarchiv Munich (SA-M) Staatsministerium fur Unterricht und Kultur Staatsministerium fur Finanzen Staatsministerium fur Handel, Industrie und Gewerbe Staatsministerium des Innern Staatsministerium des Aeussern Staatsarchiv Bremen (SA-B) 3 Senat 4. I 4, Polizeikommission 7,1055, Bremer Verein fur Luftfahrt 9-S 9-13, Sammlung Waldemar Klose (Ozeanflug 1928). 9.S 9-7, newspaper clippings Staatsarchiv Hamburg (SA-HH) 622-1, NL Familie Krumsiek Polizeibehorde Hamburg 188oI Senatsreferat fur das Flughafen- und Wasserstrassenwesen Staatliche Pressestelle 135-1 Hochschulwesen 361-5 II/Up I I Staatsverwaltung-Schul- und Hochschulabteilung 361-7 Oberschulbehorde 362-2 Staatsarchiv Stuttgart (SA-S) E 46 Konig!. Ministerium der auswartigen Angelegenheiten E 130 Staatsministerium E 151 Konigl. Wiirtt. Ministerium des Innern Hessisches Staatsarchiv Wiesbaden 4°5 Regierungsprasidium Stadtarchiv Frankfurt (StA-F) Alte Magistrat: 24161, 24181-11, 2419, 2422, 2424- 2425, 24301- 11 , 2432-2433, 243 8- 2439 Neue Magistrat: 4482/5, 4485, 4487/ 2- 6, 7330/20 Stadtarchiv Duf&burg (StA-D) Bestand 20 (Biirgermeisterei Friemersheim)/I 183: Nationale-Flugspende Bestand 102 (Hauptamt)/1423: Luftschiffahrt und Flugsport, 1911-1913 Bestand 150: NL KarlJarres Bestand 400 (Schulverwaltungsamt) Stadtarchiv Konstanz (StA-K) Luftfahrthistorische Sammlung (LHS), Frankfurt Airport NL Ursinus Aero-Club Archiv

Bibliography Handelskammer Bremen Betriebsarchiv, Metallbau-Zeppellin, Friedrichshafen Firmenarchiv, Lufthansa, Cologne Hoover Institute, Stanford University Karl von Wiegand Papers

Newspapers and Periodicals

Der Adler, 1927-1934 (Deutsches Museum, Munich) Arbeitsschule, 1900-1939 (University of Illinois) Berliner Tageblatt Deutsche Bodensee Zeitung (Konstanz) Deutsche Lufifahrt, 1918-1931 Deutsche Rundschau Die Deutsche Schule Der Deutsche Sportj/ieger, 1933-1939 (Deutsches Museum) Deutsches Turnen, 1933-1935 (University of Illinois) Duisburger General-Anzeiger Editor and Publisher, 1927-1930 Der Flieger, 1925-1939 (Staatsbibliothek, Munich) Der Flug, 1917-1928 Der Flugkapitiin, 1930-1933 (Lufthansa Firmenarchiv) Flugsport, 1908-1939 Frankfurter Zeitung Die Gartenlaube, 1909-1939 Die Gasmaske, 1929-1939 (University of Chicago and Staatsbibliothek Berlin) Gas- und Lufischutz, 1931-1934 (University of Chicago) Geographischer Anzeiger Grenzboten Hamburger Nachrichten Hochschulblatt fUr Leibesiibungen Ikarus, 1925-1929 (Lufthansa Firmenarchiv) Illustrierte Beobachter, 1927-1939 (Wiener Library, Tel Aviv) Illustrierte Flugwoche, 1919-1929 Illustrirte Zeitung (Leipzig), 1908-1939 Jahrbuch des Deutschen Lufifahrer-Verbandes, 1904-1914 Jahrbuch des Deutschen Lufischijfer-Verbandes, 1908-1914 Konstanzer Nachrichten Konstanzer Zeitung Leibesiibungen (University of Illinois) Leibesiibungen und korperliche Erziehung, 1933-1939 (University of Illinois) Lufifahrt Lufifahrt und Schule, 1935-1936

265

266

Bibliography

Die Luftflotte, 1916-191'8 (Lufthansa Firmenarchiv) Die Luftreise, 1925-1926, 1932-1939 (Lufthansa Firmenarchiv) Luftschau, 1928-1931 (Luftfahrthistorische Sammlung) Luftwacht, 1927-1931 (Lufthansa Firmenarchiv) Luftweg, 1920-1927 (Lufthansa Firmenarchiv and Luftfahrthistorische Sammlung) Luftwelt, 1934-1939 (Lufthansa Firmenarchiv) Munchener Neueste Nachrichten Neue Bahnen, 1900-1939 Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung Novissima-Korrespondenzfiir Lufiverkehr und Flugsport, 1928-1936 (Museum fur Verkehr und Technik, Berlin)

Reclams Universum, 1925-1939 Rhein-Ruhr Zeitung (Duisburg) Schwiibischer Merkur (Stuttgart) Seeblatt (Friedrichshaven) Der Segeljlieger, 1926-1939 (Luftfahrthistorische Sammlung and Deutsches Museum)

Simplicissimus, 1908-1938 Die Sirene, 1933-1939 (Institut fur Publizistik, Berlin) Der Stunnvogel, 1929-1933 (Luftfahrthistorische Sammlung) Die volkische Schule Volksfreund (Braunschweig), 1918-1933 Vorwiirts Vossische Zeitung Westennann's Monatshefte, 1905-1939 Wiesbadener Tageblatt Die Woche, 1900-1939 Zeitschriftfiir Geopolitik, 1924-1939 Die Zukunft, 1908-1918

Books and Articles

Abercron, Hugo von. OjJizier und Luftpionier: Tatberichte und Erinnerungen. Stuttgart, 193 8 . Adas, Michael. Machines as the Measure ofMen: Science, Technology, and Ideologies of Western Dominance. Ithaca, 1989. Adelt, Leonard. Der Flieger: Ein Buch aus unsern Tagen. Frankfurt am Main, 1913. - - - "Der Ozeanflug." In Adelt, ed., Lebendiger Stahl. Berlin, 1920. Alexander, Alex. Die Schlacht uber Berlin. Berlin, 1933. Anonymous. Zeppeline uber England. New York, 1917. Apke, August. Boelcke: Der Held der Lufte. Chemnitz, 1916. Arndt, Hans. "Der Luftkrieg." In M. Schwarte, ed., Der Grosse Krieg 1914-1918, vol. 4. Leipzig, 1922.

Bibliography Banse, Ewald. Die Seele der Geographie: Geschichte einer Entwicklung. Braunschweig, 19 2 4. Bartz, Werner. Deutsche Lufirechtspolitik seit Versailles. Berlin, 1927. Beier-Lindhardt, Erich. Das deutsche Luftschiff. Seine Geschichte, Einrichtungen und Fahrten. Breslau, n.d. [1930]. - - - Unsere Zeppelin-Lufischiffe. Breslau, 1934. Bilstein, Roger E. Flight Patterns: Trends ofAeronautical Development in the United States, 1918-1929. Athens, Ga., 1983. Bismarck, Armin von, et aI., eds. Das Fliegerbuch: Flugabenteuer an allen Fronten. Berlin, 1918. Bleeker-Kohsaat, Edgar, ed. Jung-Deutschlands Fliegerbuch. Stuttgart, 1926. Bley, Wulf. Deutsche Luft Hansa. Berlin, 1932. - - - Entschleierte Erde. Leipzig, 1937. - - - Flugsport-Volkssport. Berlin, 1930. - - - Volk,jliegdu wieder. Berlin, 1933. - - - , ed. Deutschland zur Luft. Stuttgart, 1936. Bley, Wulf, and Richard Schulz. Luftanneen ringsum. Berlin-Schoneberg, 1935. Bloem, Walter Julius. Die Fliigelschlepper: Tagebuch aus einer Segeljlugschule. Berlin, 193 8. Blunck, Richard. Hugo Junkers: Ein Leben jUr Technik und Luftfahrt. Diisseldorf, 195 1. Bodenschatz, Karl. Jagd in Flanders Himmel. Munich, 1935. Bohme, Erwin. Briefe eines deutschen Kampffliegers. Johannes Werner, ed. Leipzig, 1930. Boelcke, Oswald. Hauptmann Bolckes Feldberichte. Gotha, 1917. Brand, Fritz. DeutscheJugend, jliege. Miinster, 1936. Breithaupt, Joachim. Mit "GrafZeppelin" nach S iid- und Nordamerika: Reiseeindriicke und Fahrterlebnisse. Lahr, 1930. Brockelmann, Karl, ed. Wir Luftschiffer. Berlin, 19°9. Briitting, Georg. Die Geschichte des Segeljluges: 60 Jahre Gleit- und Segeljlug aufder Wasserkuppe. Stuttgart, 1972. - - - , ed. Segeljlug erobert die Welt. Munich, 1940. - - - , ed. Segeljlug und Segeljlieger: Entwicklung-Meister-Rekorde. Munich, 1935. Buchholtz, Heinrich. Der Flieger Thom: Vom Landarbeiter zum Pour-le-merite-Flieger. Konigsberg, 1937. Buddecke, Hans. El Schahin (DerJagdfalke). Aus Meinem Fliegerleben. Berlin, 1918. Biilow, Hilmer Freiherr von. Geschichte der Luftwaffi: Eine kurze Darstellung der Entwicklung der jUnften Waffi. Frankfurt am Main, 1934. Buhl, Kurt. Vier Jungen erobern die Luft. Stuttgart, 1943. Burrows, William E. Richthofen: A True History ofthe Red Baron. New York, 1969. Clark, Alan. Aces High: The War in the Air over the Western Front, 1914-18. London, 1973· Clausberg, Karl. Zeppelin: Die Geschichte eines unwahrscheinlichen Erfolges. Munich, 1979·

267

268

Bibliography Colsman, Alfred. Luftschiffvoraus!Arbeit und Erleben am Werke Zeppelins. Stuttgart, 1933· Cooke, David C. Sky Battle; 1914-1918: The Story ofAviation in World War I. New York, 1970. Le Corbusier. Aircraft· London, 1935. Corn, joseph. The Winged Gospel: America Romance with Aviation, 1900-1950. New York, 1983. Cuneo, john R. TheAir Weapon, 1914-1916. Harrisburg, Pa., 1947· - - - WingedMars: The German Air Weapon, 187°-1914. Harrisburg, Pa., 194 2. Curry, Manfred. Flug und Wolken. Berlin, 1934. Dankwort, Carl Werner. 'Z 181 ': 1m Zeppelin gegen Bucharest. Berlin, 1916. Davis, Kenneth S. The Hero: CharlesA. Lindbergh and theAmerican Dream. Garden City, N.Y., 1959. Deschodt, Eric. La France envolee: I'aviation et la decadence, 1906-1976. Paris,

s

1977· Deutschen Luftflottenverein, ed. Das fliegende Schwert: Wesen, Bedeutung und Taten der deutschen Luftflotte in Wort und Bild. Oldenburg, 1917. Dittmer, Hans. Spiel mit Wolken und Wind: Erziihlungen aus dem Segelfliegerleben. Berlin, 1933. Dournel,j. P. "L'image de l'aviateur franc;ais en 1914-1918." Revue Historique des Armies, no. 4 (1975): 59- 8 4; no. I (1976): 95- 12 3. Eberhardt, Walter von, ed. Unsere Luftstreitkriiften, 1914-1918: Ein Denkmal deutschen Heldentums. Berlin, 1930. Eckener, Hugo. GrafZeppelins Fernfahrten. Stuttgart, 1908. - - - Count Zeppelin: The Man and His Work. London, 1938. - - - 1m Zeppelin iiber Liinder und Meere. Flensburg, 1949. - - - , ed. Der Weg voran! Leipzig, 193 I. Eddelbiittel, F. W. Artillerie-Flieger. Dresden, 1918. Eichler, Ernst Friedrich, ed. Kreuz wider Kokarde: Jagdfliige des Ernst Udet. Berlin, 19 18 . Eichler,jiirgen. "Die militarluftschiffahrt in Deutschland 1911-1914 und ihre Rolle in den Kriegsplanen des deutschen Imperialismus. (Teil I)." Militiirgeschichte 24 (19 8 5): 35°-360. Eksteins, Modris. Rites ofSpring: The Great Jtar and the Birth ofthe Modern Age. Boston, 1989. Eley, Geoff. Reshaping the German Right: Radical Nationalism and Political Change after Bismarck. New Haven, 1980. Elsner, Giinter, and Karl-Gustav Lerche. Vom Pimpfzum Flieger. Munich, 1941. Emme, Eugene M. "German Airpower and International Politics, 1899-1946." MA thesis, State University of Iowa, 1946. - - - "The Renaissance of German Air Power." Aerospace Historian 5 (1958): 139-15 1. - - - "The Genesis of Nazi Luftpolitik." Aerospace Historian 6 (1959): 10-23.

Bibliography - - - "The Emergence of Nazi Luftpolitik as a Weapon in International Affairs, 1933-1935." Aerospace Historian 7 (April 1960): 92-105. - - - , ed. The Impaa ofAir Power. Princeton, 1959. Etzdorf, Marga von. Kiek in die Welt. Berlin, 1931. Euringer, Richard. Fliegerschule 4. Hamburg, 1929. Ewald, Erich. Deutschland aus der Vogelschau: LandschaJt und Siedlung im Luftbild. Berlin, 1925. - - - 1m Flugzeug uber Berlin. Berlin, n.d. ---Das Luftbild im Unterricht. Breslau, 1924. Feuchter, Georg. Die Luftwaffe der Gegenwart. 2nd rev. ed. Berlin, 1938. - - - Probleme des Luftkrieges. Potsdam, 1936. Fischer von Poturzyn, Friedrich Andreas. Afrika von oben. Berlin, 1935. - - - General Balbo: Ein heroisches Leben. Berlin, 1933. - - - Luftmacht: Gegenwart und Zukunft im Urteil des Auslandes. Heidelberg, 1938. ---Junkers and WorldAviation: A Contribution to GennanAeronautical History, 1909-1934. Edward Morley, trans. London, 1935. - - Luft-Hansa: Luftpolitische Moglichkeiten. - - - Luftbarrikaden: Die Befreiungspolitik deutscher Luftfahrt. Hanover, 1926. Floerke, Hans, and Georg Gaertner. Deutschland in der Luft voran! Fliegerbriefe. Munich, 1917. Fokker, Anthony H. G. The Flying Dutchman: The Life ofAnthony Fokker. New York, 193 1. Fricke, Hermann. Vom Fliegen und Fliegenlernen. Oldenburg, 1927. Furst, Artur. Der Flugzeug. Berlin, 1925. - - - Die Wunder um uns. Berlin, 191 I. Gail, Otto Willi. Der Schuss ins All. Ein Roman von morgen. Breslau, 1925. Gandenberger von Moisy, F. LuJtkrieg-Zukunftskrieg? Aujbau, Gliederung und KampfJonnen von Luftstreitkriiften. Berlin, 1935. Geisenheyner, Max. Mit "GrafZeppelin" um die Welt. Frankfurt am Main, 1929. Gengler, Ludwig F. Kampfflieger RudolfBerthold. Berlin, 1934. Georgii, Walter. Forscher und Flieger. Tubingen, 1954. - - - Der Segeljlug und seine Kraftquellen im Luftmeer. Berlin, 1922. - - - "Ten Years Gliding and Soaring in Germany." Annual Report ofthe Board of Regents ofthe Smithsonian Institution, 1930. Washington, D.C., 193 I. Geyer, H. Deutschlands Luftfahrt und Luftwaffe. Berlin, 1937. Gibbons, Floyd Phillips. The Red Knight ofGennany: The Story ofBaron von Richthofen, Gennany's Great War Bird. Garden City, N.Y., 1927. Goldstein, Lawrence. The Flying Machine and Modern Literature. Bloomington, Ind., 1986. Gollin, Alfred. The Impaa ofAir Power on the British People and Their Government, 1909-1914. Stanford, 1989. - - - No Longer an Island: Britain and the Wright Brothers, 1902-1909. London, 1984.

269

270

Bibliography Gottschalk, Rudolf. Boelcke. Deutschlands Fleigerheld. Leipzig, 1916. Grafer, Gustav. Deutsche in der Luft voran. Leipzig, 1935. Grimme, Hugo. Der Reichsluftschutzverband: Aufgaben, Organisation, Tiitigkeit. 2nd rev. ed. Berlin, 1937. Groenhoff, Gunter. Ich fliege mit und ohne Motor. Frankfurt am Main, 193 2. Gronau, Wolfgang von. 1m Flugboot nach Amerika. Berlin, 1932. - - 1 m Gronland-Wal. Berlin, 1933. - - - Weltflieger. Erinnerungen 1926- 1947. Stuttgart, 1955. Guldenpfennig, Wilhelm. Wir fliegen jUr Deutschland! Berlin, 1936. Gymnich, Alfred. Segeljlugsport. Leipzig, 1925. Haanen, Karl Theodor.Jungens am Himmel. Dresden, 1935. - - - Nie genug: Segeljlug! Stuttgart, 1938. - - - Ein Segeljlieger: Robert Kronfeld. Cologne, 1932. Hackenberger, Willi. Deutschlands Eroberung der Luft. Siegen, 1915. Hacker, Georg. Die Manner von Manzell. Frankfurt am Main, 1936. Hansa-Luftbild, ed. Luftbild-Lesebuch. Berlin, 1938. Haupt-Heydemark, Georg. Double-Decker C.666. Claud W. Sykes, trans. London, 193 1. - - - Flying Seaion 17. Claud W. Sykes, trans. London, 1934. - - - War Flying in Macedonia. Claud W. Sykes, trans. London, 1935. Hauser, Heinrich. Ein Mann lerntfliegen. Berlin, 1933. Haushofer, Karl. Weltpolitik von heute. Berlin, 1934. Heimann, Bernhard, and]oachim Schunke. "Eine geheime Denkschrift zur Luftkriegskonzeption Hitler-Deutschlands vom Mai 1933." Zeitschrift jUr Militargeschichte 3 (1964): 72- 86. Heinkel, Ernst. Stormy Life: Memoirs ofa Pioneer ofthe AirAge. ]iirgen Thorwald, ed. New York, 1956. Heiss, Friedrich. Das Zeppelin-Buche Berlin, 1936. Hennig, Richard. Weltlufiverkehr und Weltluftpolitik. Berlin, 1930. Herf, Jeffrey. Reactionary Modernism: Technology, Culture, and Politics in Weimar and the Third Reich. Cambridge, England, 1984. Herlin, Hans. Udet-eines Mannes Leben und die Geschichte seiner Zeit. Hamburg, 195 8. Hermann, Hauptmann (pseud). The Luftwaffe: Its Rise and Fall. New York, 1943. Hershey, Burnet. The Air Future: A Primer ofAeropolitics. New York, 1943. Hildebrandt, Hans, ed. Zeppelin-DenkmaljUr das Deutsche Volk. Stuttgart, 1925. Hirth, Hellmut. Meine Flugerlebnisse. Berlin, 1915. Hirth, Wolf. The Art ofSoaring Flight. Naomi Heron-Maxwell, trans. London, 1938. - - - Hanns wirdflieger: Werden und Wandern eines Segeljliegers. Stuttgart, 1935. Hoeppner, Ernst Wilhelm von. Germanys War in the Air. ]. Hawley Larned, trans. n.p., 1922. Hofstaetter, Walter. Luftfahrt im Deutsch- und Geschichtsunterricht. Berlin, 1935. Hornze, Edward L. Arming the Luftwaffe: The German Air Ministry and the German Aircraft Industry, 1919-1939. Lincoln, Neb., 1976.

Bibliography Hough, Peter. Die Eroberung des Luftmeeres. Leipzig, 191 I. Hunefeld, Ehrenfried Gunther Freiherr von. Mein Ostasienfiug: Der erste Weltflug Berlin- Tokio. Berlin, 1929. Huppauf, Bernd. "Langemarck, Verdun and the Myth of a New Man in Germany after the First World War." War and Society 6 (September 1988): 70-103. Immelmann, Franz. Immelmann: "The Eagle ofLife"· Claud W Sykes, trans. London, 1935. Immelmann, Max. Meine Kampjjluge. Selbsterlebt und selbsterzahlt. Berlin, 1917. Ingold, Felix Philipp. Literatur undAviatik: Europaische Flugdiaung 1909-1927. Basel and Stuttgart, 1978. Ishoven, Armand von. The Fall ofan Eagle: The Life ofFighter Ace Ernst Udet. London, 1979. Italiaander, Rolf. Drei deutsche Fliegerinnen: Elly Beinhorn, Thea Rasche, Hanna Reitsch. Berlin, 1940. - - - Ein Deutscher namens Eckener. Konstanz, 1981. - - - Erlebnisse beim Segelflug. Leipzig, n.d.. - - - GrafZeppelin. Konstanz, 1980. - - So lernte ich segelfiiegen. 1931. Jablonski, Edward. The Knighted Skies: A Piaorial History ofWorld War I in the Air. New York, 1964. Jahns, A. R. Zeppelin-Kreuzer vor die Front! Leipzig, 1915. Jentsch, Karl Friedrich. Beim ]agdflug todlich verungluckt. Magdeburg, 1937. Junger, Ernst. Copse 125. Basil Creighton, trans. London, 1930. - - - , ed. Die Unvergessenen. Berlin, 1928. - - - , ed. Luftfahrt ist not! Leipzig, n.d. Kampmann, Karoly. WiT fliegen mit Hitler. Berlin-Schoneberg, 1933. Karlson, Paul. Segler dUTch Wind und Wolken. Berlin, 1933. Karman, Theodore von, and Lee Edson. The Wind and Beyond: Theodore von Karman, Pioneer in Aviation and Pathfinder in Space. Boston, 1967. Kehrberg, Amo. Das Nationalsozialistische Fliegerkorps: Die Vorschule der deutschen Flieger. Berlin, 1942. Killen, John. A History ofthe Luftwaffe, 1915-1945. New York, 1968. Killinger, Erich. Die Abenteuer des Ostseefliegers. Berlin, 1917. Kimenkowski, Ewald. Wir von der ''Bremen''. die Geschichte des ersten Fluges uber den Atlantischen Ozean von Ost nach West. Berlin, 1928. Kleffel, Walter. Der Segelflug. Berlin, 1930. - - - and Wilhelm Schulze, Die Zeppelinfahrt: 1m Luftschiffnach Amerika und zurUck. Berlin, 1928. Klein, Pitt. Achtung! Bomben fallen! Hans Lehr, ed. Leipzig, 1934. Knauss, Robert. 1m Grossflugzeug nach Peking. Berlin, 1927. - - - War in the Air. Claud W Sykes, trans. London, 1932. Kneutz, Peter. Einsteigen zum Flug! Leipzig, 1938. Knipfer, E. H., and Erich Hampe, eds. Der zivile Luftschuftz: Ein Sammelhuch uher aile Fragen des Lufischutzes. 2nd rev. ed. Berlin, 1937.

271

272

Bibliography Kohl, Hermann. Bremsklotze weg. Berlin, 1932. - - - Dennoch Empor! Oldenburg, 1933. - - - ed. Deutsche Stimmen zum ersten Nord-Atlantikflug von Ost nach West. Berlin, 1929. Kohler, Wilhelm, ed. Deutsches Volk, fliege: das bunte Buch der Fliegerei. Minden, 1935. - - , ed. 1m Luftschiff. Minden, 1910. Koerber, Adolf Victor von. Luftkreuzer im Kampf Leipzig, 1916. - - - Feldflieger an der Front. Leipzig, 1916. Koestler, Arthur. Arrow in the Blue. London, 1952. Kollmann, Franz. Das Zeppelinluftschiff: Seine Entwicklung, Tatigkeit und Leistung. Berlin, 1924. Krafft, Ernst. Fliegen und Funken. Berlin, 1924. Kranzler, Wilhelm. Bezwinger der Luft im Weltkriege. Berlin, n.d. Kriegswissenschaftliche Abteilung der Luftwaffe. Rittmeister Manfred von Richthofen. Berlin, 1938. Lampel, Martin. Bombenflieger: Luftabenteuerliche Geschichten. Berlin, 1918. - - - Heereszeppelime im A ngriff. Leipzig, 1917. Langsdorff, Werner von. Das Flugsportbuch. Stuttgart, 1925. - - - Das LeichtflugzeugfUr Sport und Reise. Frankfurt am Main, 1924. - - LZ 127 "GrafZeppelin". Das Luftschiffdes deutschen Volkes. Frankfurt am Main, 1928. - - - LZ 129 "Hindenburg". Das Luftschiffdes deutschen Volkes. Frankfurt am Main, 1936. - - - Peter Strasser der Fuhrer der Luftschiffe. Frankfurt am Main, 1938. - - - ... 'rangehn ist alles. Berlin, 1938. - - - , ed. Flieger am Feind. Giitersloh, 1934. Lasswitz, Kurd. "Das Wunder des Zeppelin." Literarische Beilage zu BlatterfUr hoheres Schulwesen, no. 41 (1909): 473-474. Leed, Eric J. No Mans Land: Combat and Identity in World War I. Cambridge, England, 1979. Lehmann, Ernst. Zeppelin: The Story ofLighter-Than-Air Craft. London, 1937. - - - The Zeppelins: The Development ofthe Airship, with the Story ofthe Zeppelin Air Raids in the World War. New York, 1927. Lehmann, Otto. Der Flieger: Vom Jungvolk zum Waffentrager im Dritten Reich. Berlin, 1936. Lindbergh, Charles A. The War Journals ofCharles A. Lindbergh. New York, 1970. - - We. New York, 1927. Linde, Ernst. "Die Begeisterung fur Zeppelin. Eine volkspsychologische Studie." Allgemeine deutsche Lehre1Zeitung 60 (1908): 429-431. Loeff, Wolfgang. Der geniale Narr: ein Zeppelinroman. Berlin, 1935. - - - , ed. Flieger und Luftschiffer im Weltkrieg. Cologne, n.d. - - - , ed. Propeller iibenn Feind. Cologne, 1934.

Bibliography Lorenz, E. G. Erich. Die Welt von Oben: Erd- und volkerkundliche Weltfahrten mit Flugzeug und Zeppelin. Stuttgart, 1932. Liibke, Anton. Oswald Boelcke der Meisterflieger. Reutlingen, n.d. Der Lufikrieg: 1914-1915, Unter Verwerfung von Feldpostbriefen. .. Leipzig, 1915. Malina, J. B., ed. Deutschlandjliegt! DerAujbau der deutschen Luftfahrt seit 1933. Berlin, 1935. - - - , ed. Luftfahrt voran! Berlin, n.d. Malkowsky, Emil Ferdinand, ed. Vom Heldenkampfder deutschen Flieger. Berlin, 1916. Marben, Rolf Ritter der Lufi: Zeppelinabenteuer im Weltkrieg. Hamburg, 1931. Martens, Arthur, ed. Motorlos in den Liifien. Hanover, 1927. Martin, Rudolf. Berlin-Bagdad: Das deutsche Weltreich im Zeitalter der Lufischiffahrt 1910-1931. Stuttgart, 1907.

- - - Die Eroberung der Luft: Kritische Betrachtungen iiber die Motorlufischiffahrt. Berlin, 1907. - - - Der Weltkrieg in den Liifien. Leipzig, 1935. Matthias, Joachim. Kameraden der Lufi: Erlebnisse unserer Verkehrsflieger. Berlin, 1938. - - - , ed. Unsere Flieger erziihlen. Berlin, 1927. Matthias, Joachim, and Heinz Matthais. Tod und Sieg iiber den Weltmeeren: Das Buch der Ozeanj/iige. Berlin, 1937. Mayer, Gottlob. GrafZeppelin und seine "Zeppeline". Stuttgart, 1917. Mayer, Joseph. GrafFerdinand von Zeppelin: Eine GabejUr die deutsche Jugend. Stuttgart, 1925. McCormack, Robert Lewis. "Aviation and Empire: The British African Experience, 1919-1939." Ph.D dissertation, Dalhousie University, 1974. McDougall, Walter.... the Heavens and the Earth: A Political History ofthe Space Age. New York, 1985. Metzner, Karl, ed. Lufifahrt, Lufischutz, und ihre Behandlung im Untemcht. Leipzig, 1937. Meyer, Enno. Zwij/fEreignisse deutscher Geschichte zwischen Harz und Nordsee, 19001931. Weener, 1979. Meyer, Friedrich Albert. Immelmann und Boelcke. Warendorf, 1916. Meyer, Henry Cord. "Politics, Personality, and Technology: Airships in the Manipulations of Dr. Hugo Eckener and Lord Thomson, 1919-1930." Aerospace Historian 28 (1981): 165-172. Meyer, Henry Cord, and Stephen V. Gallup, "France Perceives the Zeppelins, 1924-1937," South Atlantic Quarter/y 78 (1979): 107-121. Meyer, Julius. Grundlagen des LuJtschutzes. Leipzig, 1935. Meyer, Willi, ed. Verkehrsjlieger berichten. Berlin, 1931. Mittelholzer, Walter. Abessinenjlug. Zurich, 1925. - - - By Airplane towards the North Pole. Eden and Cedar Paul, trans. Boston, 1925. - - - Kilimandijaro Flug. Zurich, 1930. - - - Persienjlug. Zurich, 1926.

273

274

Bibliography Mittelholzer, Walter, and Gustav Ehrhardt. Mittelmeerfiug. Zurich, 1930. Morrow, John Howard. German Air Power in World War 1. Lincoln, Neb., 1981. - - Building German Air Power, 1909-1914. Knoxville, Tenn., 1976. Mortane, Jacques. Das neue Deutschland. Zurich, 1928. Mosse, George. Fallen Soldiers: Reshaping the Memory ofthe World Wars. New York, 1990. Miiller, Leonhard. Fliegerleutnant Heinrich Gontermann. Barmen, 1918. Murray, Williamson. The Change in the European Balance ofPower: The Path to Ruin. Princeton, 1984. Neufeld, MichaelJ. "Weimar Culture and Futuristic Technology: The Rocketry and Spaceflight Fad in Germany, 1923-1933." Technology and Culture 31 (1990):725752. Neumann, Georg Paul. Die deutschen Lufistreitkriifie im Weltkriege. Berlin, 1920. --Flugzeuge. Leipzig, 1914. - - - Lufischiffe. Leipzig, n.d. Norman, Aaron. The Great Air War. New York, 1968. Ohliger, R. E. Bomben aufKohlenstadt. Oldenburg, 1935. Orlovius, Heinz. Deutsche Lufifahrt im Dritten Reich. Leipzig, 1934. - - Die deutsche Lufigeltung. Berlin, 1939. - - - Flieg, deutscher Adler-flieg! Stuttgart, 1935. Orlovius, Heinz, and Ernst Schultze. Die Weltgeltung der deutschen Lufifahrt. Stuttgart, 1938. Ogburn, William. The Social Affeas ofAviation. Boston, 1946. Pahl, Walter. Die Lufiwege der Erde. Hamburg, 1936. Paquet, Alfons. Fluggast uber Europa: Ein Roman der langen Strecken. Munich, 1935. Petit, Edmond. La vie quotidienne dans la aviation en France au debut du -XX"e !iecle. Paris, 1977. Pliischow, Gunther. Die Abenteuer des Fliegers von Tsingtau. Berlin, 1917. Pochhammer, Bruno. ZRJI1. Freiburg, 1924. Poeschel, Johannes. Ins Reich der Lufie! EinjUhrung in tier Lufifahrt. Leipzig, 1928. - - - Lufireisen. Leipzig, 1908. Pollog, Carl Hanns. Hugo Junkers: Ein Leben als Erfinder und Pionier. Dresden, 1930. - - - "Entwicklung und Geographie des Weltluftverkehrs." Geographische Zeitschrifi 34 (1928): 193-221. - - - Der Weltlufiverkehr: Seine Entwicklung, Geographie und Wirtschafiliche Bedeutung. Leipzig, 1929. Rabe, Hanns-Gerd. "Geschichte des Osnabriicker Flugwesens: Sportfliegerei und Verkehrflug 1911-1939." Osnabriicker Mitteilungen 76 (1969):99-176. Rademacher, Gerhard. Technik und industrielle A rbeitswelt in der deutschen Lyrik des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts. Frankfurt am Main, 1976. Reese, Willy. Z.L. 127: Dasfliegende Hotel. Leipzig, 1928. Reitsch, Hanna. Flying Is My Life. Lawrence Wilson, trans. New York, 1954. Renker, Gustav. Der Flieger. Leipzig, 1928.

Bibliography Richter, Hans. T 1000: Ein Roman eines Riesenfiugzeuges. Hanover, 1927. Richthofen, Manfred Freiherr von. The Red Baron. Peter Kilduff, trans. New York, 1969. Riedel, Peter. Start in den Wind: Erlebte Rhongeschichte 1911-1926. 2nd ed. Stuttgart, 1986. - - VtJm Hangwind zur Thermik: Erlebte Rhongeschichte 1927-1932. 2nd ed. Stuttgart, 1988. - - Ueber sonnige Weiten: Erlebte Rhongeschichte 1933-1939. Stuttgart, 1985. Ringelnatz, Joachim. Flugzeuggedanken. Berlin, 1929. Ritter, Hans. Der Luftkrieg. Berlin and Leipzig, 1926. Robinson, Douglas H. Giants in the Sky: A History ofthe RigidAirship. Seattle, 1973.

- - - The Zeppelin in Combat: A History ofthe German NavalAirship Division, 1912-191~ London, 1962. Rohden, Hans Detlef. VtJm Luftkriege. Berlin, 1938. Rosemeyer, Elly. Ein Madchen fiiegt un die Welt. Berlin, 1932. Rosenkranz, Hans. Ferdinand Gra[von Zeppelin: Die Geschichte eines abenteurlichen Lebens. Berlin, 1931. Rummel, Walter Freiherr von. GrafZeppelin. Bielefeld, n.d. Saager, Adolf. Zeppelin. Der Mensch, der Kampfer, der Sieger. Stuttgart, 1916. Schacht, Karl. Die Vorbildung derJugendjUr die deutsche Luftfahrt. Essen, 1927. Schaffer, Ernst. Gluck ab! Bahnbrecher der Lufte. Berlin, 1931. - - Pour-Ie-Merite Flieger im Feuer. Berlin, 1931. Schiller, Hans von. Transozeanverkehr mit dem LuftschifJ, Lufiverkehr uber den Ozean. Berlin, 1934. - - Zeppelin-Wegbereiter des Weltluftverkehrs. Bad Godesberg, 1966. Schilling, Friedrich. Flieger an allen Fronten. Berlin, 1936. Schlie, Alfred. Der Segeljlieger Liederbuch. Duisburg, 1938. Schmalenbach, P. Die Deutschen Marine-Luftschiffe. Herford, 1977. Schmitz, Franz, and Georg Briitting. Jungens! lernt Fliegen. Berlin, 1938. Schroder, Hans. An Airman Remembers. Claud W. Sykes, trans. London, 1934. Schiittel, Lothar. Luftkrieg bedroht Europa! Munich-Berlin, 1938. Schiitzinger, Heinrich. GrafZeppelin und den Bodensee. Frauenfeld, 1918. Schulz, Richard. Fliegervoran! Das deutsche Volkshuch vom Fliegen. Berlin, 1934. Schulze, Hans-Georg. Ein Volk von Fliegern ... Leipzig, n.d. Schwabe, Karl. 3XMal Afrika: Flugreisen der Hindenburgpokal-Preistragers Karl Schwabe nachAfrika 1933,1934 und 1935. Munich, 1935. Schwipps, Werner. Kleine Geschichte der deutschen Luftfahrt. Berlin, 1968. Segre, Claudio G. Italo Balbo: A Fascist Life. Berkeley, 1987. Sherry, Michael S. The Rise ofAmerican Air Power: The Creation ofArmageddon. New Haven, 1987. Silberer, Victor. Warnende Stimmen in Bezug aufZeppelins Bailon. Vienna, 1914. Siodmak, Kurt. F. P. 1 antwortet nicht. Berlin, 1931. Spiegel, Wilhelm. Wind kommt auf. Bochum, 1936.

275

276

Bibliography

- - - Das Wunder des Segeljluges. Dresden, 1935. Stamer, Fritz. Deutscher Segeljlug: Vaterliindische Tat undfliegende Jugendbewegung. Werden, Wesen undAujgaben. Leipzig, 1937. - - Gleit und Segeljlugschulung. Berlin, 1931. ---Jungen werden Flieger. Stuttgart, 1937. - - Segeljlieger. Leipzig, 1936. - - - Wege iiber Wolken. Munich, 1951. --ZwolfJahre Wasserkuppe. Berlin, 1933. Stark, Rudolf. Wings ofWar. Claud W Sykes, trans. London, 1933. Stiasny, Willi. DeutscheJugend fliege. Berlin, 1936. Stocker, Alex. Deutscher Segelflug. Berlin, 1937. Strahlmann, Fritz. Zwei deutsche Luftschiffhiifen des Weltkrieges-Ahlhorn-Wildhausen. Oldenburg, 1926. Strauss, Fritz. Aufgefahrvollem Flug. Stuttgart, 1932. Suchenwirth, Richard. The Development ofthe GennanAir Force, 1919-1939. New York, 1968. Supf, Peter. Ainnan's World. Cyrus Brooks, trans. New York, 1933. - - - Das Buch der deutschen Fluggeschichte. 2 vols. Berlin, 1935. - - Der deutsche Flugsport. Berlin, 1938. --.- Flieger sehen die Welt. Berlin, 1935. - - - Das neue Welterlebnis: Ein Buch vom Fliegen. Berlin, 1932. - - - Die Welt ohne Horizont. Berlin, n.d. Supf, Peter, and Heinz Orlovius. Die Welt der Fleiger. Berlin, 1932. Teschke, Alwin, ed. Deutsche Luftfahrt beginnt in der Schule. Wachtersbach, 1935. Thiede F., and E. Schmahl. Die Fliegende Nation. Berlin, 1932. Treusch von Buttlar-Brandenfels, Horst Freiherr. Marineluftschiffe gegen England. Berlin, 1917. Tschudi, Georg von. Aus 34 Jahren Luftfahrt. Berlin, 1928. Udet, Ernst. Ace ofthe Iron Cross. Richard K. Reihn, trans. New York, 1970. - - - Ein Fliegerleben. Jiirgen Thorwald, ed. Berlin, 1954. Ursinus, Oskar. Rhon-Zauber: Segeljlieger-Erinnerungen. Frankfurt am Main, 1931. Vomel, Alexander. Gra[Zeppelin: Ein VorbildjUr Beer, Volk undJugend. Konstanz, 1914. Ward, John W "The Meaning of Lindbergh's Flight." American Quarterly 10 (1958):3-16. Warneken, Bernd Jurgen. "Zeppelinkult und Arbeiterbewegung: Eine mentalitatsgeschichdiche Studie." Zeitschrift jUr Volkskunde 80 (1984):59-80. Wegener, Georg. Der Wall aus Feuer und Stahl. 3 vols. Leipzig, 1915-1920. Das Werk Zeppelins: Eine Festgabe zu seinem 75. Geburtstag vom Luftschiffbau Zeppelin. Stuttgart, 1913. Werner, Johannes. Knight ofGennany: Oswald Boeleke. Claud W. Sykes, trans. London, 1933. Weyl, Alfred Richard. Fokker: The Creative Years. London, 1965.

Bibliography Winter, Denis. The First ofthe Few: Fighter Pilots ofthe First World War. Athens, Ga., 1983. Winter, Otto, and H. G. Schulze, eds. Das Fliegerbuch der deutschen Jugend. Reutlingen, 1933. Wirth, Fritz. Die Gefahren der Luft und ihre Bekiimpfung. Berlin, 1933. Wohl, Robert. "Par la voie des airs: l'entree de l'aviation dans Ie monde des lettres fran<;aises 1909-1939." Le Mouvement Social 145 (December 1988): 41-64. Zinnecker, Bruno, ed. Wir Fliegen! Luftfahrtbuchlein fUr jung und alt. Berlin-Tempelhof, 1930. - - Der Segelflug. Berlin, 1934. Zirwas, Gerhard. Flieger in der Heimat: Der Erlebnisbericht eines Danziger Sportfiiegers. Leipzig, 1935. - - - , ed. Deutsche Fliegerei: Ein Appell an Deutschlands Jugend. Leipzig, 1933. Zuerl, Hubert. Der Segelflug im Wettbewerb der Viilker. Berlin, 1941. Zuerl, Walter, ed. Pour Ie Merite-Flieger: Heldentaten und Erlebnisse unserer Kriegsflieger. Munich, 1938.

277

INDEX

Aces, 64; public adulation of, 74-82; image of, 82-90; as opposed to ordinary soldiers, 85-87; chivalric code of, 87-90; as "killing machines," 90-98. See also Aviators Adas, Michael, 3 Adelt, Leonhard, 156 Air defense, 182-183, 203-215 Air force. See Luftwaffe Air war, 5, 179- 18 3, 204- 21 5, 218- 21 9, 229n86; expectations for zeppelin in, 3744, 138, 174; zeppelins in World War I, 44-58; airplanes in World War 1,65-74; new techniques in, 70-72, 90-93; new visual perspectives in, 72, 205 Airmindedness, 5, 134, 200-21 5; and National Socialist education, 200-203, 208 Airplanes: compared to zeppelins, 21-22; military technology of, 59-60; in World War I, 65-74; relations of aviators to, 7273; postwar restrictions on, 1°4-1°7; public celebration of, 133-153; first Atlantic crossings, 146-148, 161; new visual perspectives, 162-17°; and the conquest of nature, 170-173, 185 Airships. See Zeppeli~s Airshows, 135-137; and nationalism, 137 Albatros airplanes, 60, 70 Anders, Ludwig, 9-10 Anti-Semitism, 198-199 Aviators: as new type, 63-64, 71-73, 96100, 153-162; as "heroes," 80, 82, 96; women as, 158-160, 198, 249n97; as National Socialists, 195-200. See also Aces Bacon, Francis, 3 Balbo, halo, 15 I, 190, 199 Banse, Ewald, 166

Beinhorn, Elly, 146, 179 Benjamin, Walter, 189 Berk, Hans Schwarz von, 185 Bismarck, Armin von, 84 Black Devil, 108 Bleriot, Louis, 22 Bley, Wulf, 171-172 Bodenschatz, Karl, 96 Boehme, Erwin, 72-73, 87-88, 154 Boelcke, Oswald, 67-73, 75-80, 90-93, 95, 98 - 100 Brandenburg, Hans, 27 Brecht, Bertolt, 15 I, 185 Br~e.n, 147, 149-150, 153, 161, 170 Chavez, Geo, 60 Civil Defense. See Air defense Colsman, Alfred, 4 I Corn, Joseph, 134 Daedalus, 1-2, 217, 219 Diemer, Zeno, 49 Diesel, Eugen, 166 Dirigibles. See Zeppelins Dominick, Hans, 161, 171 Douhet, Giulio, 206 Drummond-Hay, Grace, 146, 15 I Echterdingen: explosion at, 13-14; "miracle of," 15, 139 Eckener, Hugo, 23, 138- 139, 142, 145, 174, 187 Education: and aviation, 179, 200-203, 208 Erzberger, Matthias, 44 Etzdorf, Marga von, I I I, 136, 146, 158 Euringer, Richard, 85 Ewald, Erich, 170

279

280

Index Fink, Carl, 122, 125, 156 Fischer von Poturzyn, Friedrich Andreas, 175 Fitzmaurice, James, 147 Flaischen, Casar, 24 Fokker, Anthony, 67 Fokker airplanes, 60, 67-69 France: aviation in, 2-3,66-67, 138, 151, 174, 17 6 Gail, Otto, 174 Garros, Roland, 66-67,74 Gas masks, 208, 21 1,214 Geisler, Fritz, 204-205 Geopolitics: and aviation, 37-3 8, 173-184, 200, 20 4- 20 5 Georgii, Walter, I 12, I 15, 118, 126 German Airfleet League, 74-75 German Airsport League, 191, 193, 197-198 German Aviators League, 135, 191, 277n60 German Civil Defense League, 182. See also Reich Civil Defense League German National People's Party, 150 "Giant" bombers, 61 Gibbons, Floyd, 90 Gliding, 7, 103, 1°7-131; rallies (1920), 107-108, (1921), 108, (1922), 108-1°9, (after 1933), 193, 195-196; public celebration of, 109, I 13; and nationalism, 103, 1°9-111,121-122,125-126,191-196; government support of, I I I- I 13; technical development of, 113-115; discovery of thermals, I 15-1 18; popular growth of, 120, 125-126; social ethos of, 129-130, 195-196; and National Socialism, 13013 1, 19 1- 196 Goering, Hermann, 5,92,190 Goldstein, Laurence, 2I 8 Gontermann, Heinrich, 95-96' Gra/Zeppelin (LZ 127), 143-146, 152, 171, 17 2, 179, 187 Great Britain: aviation in, 176 Groenhoff, Giinter, I 17, I 18 Hacker, Georg, 12 Harden, Maximilian, 53 Haupt-Heydemarck, Georg, 72 Hauptmann, Gerhard, 142 Hawke~Lanoe,71-72

Hearst, William Randolph, 143, 145 Heinkel, Ernst, 15 Heinrich, Prince of Prussia, 2, I I I

Hentzen, Friedrich-Heinrich, 109, I I I, I 13 Heuss, Theodor, 30 Hindenburg, 187 Hirth, Wolf, I 18 Hitler, Adolf, 186 Hoeppner, Ernst Wilhelm von, 70, 73 Hofmannsthal, Hugo von, 24 Hiinefeld, Ehrenfried Giinther Freiherr von, 147,15 0 ,15 2,153,157,177,179 Icarus, 1-2 Immelmann, Max, 67-69, 74-76, 79, 90, 98 - 100 Italiaander, Rolf, 123 Italy: aviation in, 15 I, 199 jastas, 70 -7 1, 73-74, 90 -9 2 jiinger, Ernst, 62-64, 97, 127-128, 157, 183 junkers, 177, 178 Karlson, Paul, 127-128, 130 Karman, Theodor von, 108, 124 Kegel, Max, I IS Kleffel, Walther, 127, 13 I, 144, 146, 17 1 Klein, Pitt, 58 Klemperer, Wolfgang, 108, I I I Kohl, Hermann, I I I, 146, 147, 150, 153, 157 Konig-Warthausen, Freiherr von, 158 Koerber, Adolf Victor von, 60 Koestler, Arthur, 143, 172 Kohlmeyer, Willy, 149 Kronfeld, Robert, 115-116, 118, 130, 198 L 13,46-48 L 31,50 L 38,56-57 L 42,57 L 48,57-58 L 55, 55-56 L 70,50 Langsdorff, Werner von, 58 Lasswitz, Kurd, 24 Lehmann, Ernst, 44, 5I-5 2 Lehmann, Otto, 177 Lersch, Heinrich, 155 Lilienthal, Otto, 7, 107, 177 Lindbergh, Charles, 133, 137-138, 144145, 146 , 154, 15 8 , 18 5, 190, 199 London Ultimatum, 106-107 Ludendorff, Erich, I I I

Index Luft Hansa, 146, 147, 162, 164, 165, 172173, 17 6- 177, 17 8, 201 Luftwaffe, 190 LZ 1,7-8 LZ 2, 8 LZ 3, 8, 16; flight to Munich (1909), 18-19 LZ 4,8; flight of 4-5 Aug. 19°8,9-14; over Mainz, 9-1 I; over Stuttgart, I 1-12; explosion in Echterdingen, 13 LZ 5,17-18 LZ 6: flight to Berlin (1909), 19-20, 30 LZ 127. See GraJZeppelin Marben, Rolf, 57-58 Martens, Arthur, 108, I 09, I I I Martin, Rudolf, 38-41 Mathy, Heinrich, 46-47, 50 Milch, Erhard, 204 Minos, King of Crete, 2, 217, 2 I 9 Model airplanes, 197, 202 Modernism,4,133- 134 Moholy-Nagy, Lazlo, 139, 140 Moltke, Helmuth von, 4 I Mosse, Cieorge, 157 National Socialism: on aviation, 98, 185-2°3, 219; and gliding, 130-131, 187, 191-196 Nationale Flugspende, 2 Nationalism: aviation and, 2-6, 80, 137, 147, 151,166-169,173-179,190-203;zeppelins and, 27, 30-43, 139-141, 153; pretensions of, 53; gliding and, 103, 109-1 I I, 121-122,125-127,191-196; World War I memorial and, 110-1 I I; educational efforts, 200-203, 208 Nazis. See National Socialism Navy League, 29 Nebel, Otto, 100 Nehring, Johannes, I 14, I 15 Neumann, Georg Paul, 5 I Paquet, Alfons, 165, 167, 169, 172, 174 Pegoud, Adolphe, 2 Petrenz, Adolf, 29 Peukert, Detlev, 5 Pilots. See Aviators Plauth, Karl, 88, 96 Pliischow, Gunther, 82, 179 Poelcke, Bruno, 1°7 Provan, Jonathan, 54

Rathenau, Walther, 33, 44 Reich Civil Defense League, 205, 208, 209, 2 I I. See also Cierman Civil Defense League Reitsch, Hanna, I I I, 155, 198 Rhon-Rossitten Society, I 12, 191 Richter, Hans, 147, 177 Richthofen, Manfred von, 71-7 2, 76, 79-82, 89-94,97-9 8,100 Rickenbacker, Eddie, 93 Ring of German Fliers, I 10 Ringelnatz, Joachim, 154 Ritter, Hans, 70, 177 Robinson, Douglas, 48 Saint-Exupery, Antoine de, 156, 173-174, 199, 21 7 Sandt, Emil, 24 Saulnier, Raymond, 65-66 Schmidtbonn, Wilhelm, 155-156 Schrode~Han~85-8~91-92

Schulz, Ferdinand, 127 Schulze, Wilhelm, 144 Schwabe, Max, 146 Social Democrats: and zeppelins, 26, 31-32, 141, 174; and gliding, 120, 124; and aviation, 155, 166-167, 170, 174, 186 Space travel, 174 Stamer, Fritz, 130, 13 I Stark, Rudolf, 71, 88 Strasser, Peter, 48, 58, 142 Stumpf, Richard, 49 Sturmvogel, 120, 130, 136, 186, 191 Supf, Peter, 164-165, 170, 174 Technology: trimph of, I, 133; and the Enlightenment' 3; and nature, 3, 24-25, 170-173, 185; fears of, 3-4; and the technocratic imagination, 4, 183, 185; in war, 49, 51, 59-63; and gliding, 12 3- 12 4; and aviators, 161-162; aerial perspectives of, 166-169 Thermals, 115-118 Tirpitz, Alfred von, 4 I Treaty of Versailles, 6, 104-106, 110, 189 Udet, Ernst, 87-88, 92-96, I I I, 135 United States: aviation in, 133, 134, 13713 8, 144- 145, 146 Ursinus,Oskar, 104-108, 112, 123, 124, 13 I, 191, 208

281

282

Index Vampyr,

108

Warneken, Bernd Jiirgen, 32 Weber, Max, 29 Wegene~Georg,59,80,92,94,

164 Weltpolitik. See Nationalism Wiegand, Karl von, 46,139,150,151,189 Wien, 115-116 Wilhelm II, 17 Women, 158-160, 198,212-213,249n97 Wright brothers, 22, 107 Young Flier Groups, 120, 124, 136 Zeppelin, Ferdinand Grafvon, 7-8,17; public celebration of, 17, 34-35, 142; on military uses of zeppelins, 37-38; and World War I, 43-44, 46 Zeppelins: first flights of, 7-8; critical evaluation of, 7-8, 14-15, 22, 43, 50-53; 1908 flights of, 9-13; explosion at Echterdingen,

13-14; public subscription of, 15-17, 141143; flight to Munich (1909), 18-19; flight to Berlin (1909), 19-20, 30; public celebration of, 20-21, 30-3 I, 34-35, 139145; physical impact of, 22-23; and the conquest of nature, 24-25,171, 172; Social Democrats on, 26, 31-32,141; and nationalism, 27-43, 139- 14 1, 153, 179; and political reform, 28, 33-36; expectations for in war, 37-45, 138, 174; fear of, 41; in World War 1,44-58; public pressure for air attacks, 44-46; and submarines, 49; disasters,S I-53, 190; poor performance of, 53-58; and Spiihkorb, 55; crews in, 5556; flights to the United States, 138-141, 144,171; around-the-world flight (1929), 145, 152. See also the numbers and names of individual zeppelins Zeppelin-Spende: in 1908, 15-17; in 192426, 141-143 ZR III, 138-141, 174

Designed by Marianne Perlak with Linotron Ehrhardt and Frutiger type.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Fritzsche, Peter. A nation of fliers: German aviation and the popular imagination / Peter Fritzsche. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-674-60121 - 1 I. Aeronautics-Germany-HistorY-20th century. I. Title. TL526.G3F75 1992 62 9. 13 °943- dc2o 91-16108 elP