New Dimensions

In the wake of the Battle of the Yellow Sea, with the armies of the world digging in for the long run, the leaders of the world were feverishly looking for ways to break the dead lock they now found themselves in. Spring was drawing near and the Generals were planning for major offensives, that they assured their national leaders, would end the war before the end of 1899. While this was going on, there were others who were forwarding more radical proposals. If they could not get through the miles of trenches that were now starting to stretch for hundreds of miles across the front lines, if they could not get past the endless belts of nautical mines that shielded enemy harbors, then another way had to be found. Proposals in Washington, Berlin, and at the Sedan all pointed in one direction, up.

Count Ferdinand Von Zeppelin had been a personal witness to the American 61. He had become fascinated with the US use of balloons. The United States had even formed a Balloon corps that utilized telegraph lines to transmit real time intelligence on enemy movements back down to the commanders on the ground. Their efforts met with mixed success and by the time of the new war, the US Army had all but abandoned them. Zeppelin had not.

Zeppelin had a far more grand vision for flying than the US aviators of a generation past. He was no longer content with conventional balloons that were at the mercies of wind and tethers. Zeppelin first patented his idea only three years before the war and his name for it was the “Air Train.” He wanted to give the balloons powered flight. He also wanted to make their frames rigid as opposed to just being a sack of hot air. Zeppelin envisioned the real machines that could fly, based on a sound and centuries old technology that had never been exploited to it’s fullness. By March of 1899, he would have a personal audience with Waldersee.

Strangely enough, Waldersee was not that interested. He was preparing for an assault on the Russians and, “have no time for non sense.” Just the fact that Waldersee took this opinion meant that Von Schlieffen did not. Schlieffen was aching to go over to the offensive. He was denied his flanking attack through neutral Belgium along with the critical supplies he would need to do much more than defend Metz and Strasbourg. If he could not go around his enemy, or through them, then going over seemed like an avenue worth exploring. He traveled to meet with Zeppelin and was suitably impressed with the idea of powered flight. Schlieffen would forward the idea to Berlin and found he had some willing allies with the Navy, who saw great potential in what they termed, “airships.”

By this time Von Tirpitz was back in Germany. He was welcomed as a hero of the battle of the Yellow Sea. The Kaiser met with him several times and, for the time being, the newly promoted Tirpitz had Wilhelm’s ear. Tirpitz had been somewhat discouraged by the sudden reversal of the Kaiser, on the question of building up the Kriegsmarine to rival that of Britain. At the moment, at least, Britain was an ally and Germany had more pressing concerns on the ground. The Kaiser was becoming deluded with this Anglo-German alliance and his part in it. It was reported by more than one person of how Wilhelm constantly bragged of his place in this new world order, where Germany would handle the ground and their brothers, the British, would handle the sea.

For this reason, when Tirpitz first heard of the “airship” concept, he saw a new possible role for the Kriegsmarine that he had worked so hard to build up for all these years. He whole heartedly supported Schlieffen, who was more interested in bombing Paris than controlling sea lanes from above, and the weight of these two men got Zeppelin an audience with the Kaiser. If reports can be believed, Wilhelm was more confused, at least with the technical matters, than he was impressed. It would appear that Zeppelin’s saving grace was his appeal to the Kaiser’s ego, that of commanding the first air fleet in the history of the world, that brought the Kaiser on board. Zeppelin now had the support of his country and he would start his work in a little over a week after the meeting.

Meanwhile, in France and across the Atlantic, another conspiracy of sorts was taking place. Octave Chanute was a French Born American who was considered one of the foremost railroad engineers of his day. He had spent a good deal of time in his native France, consulting for American Companies with their French counterparts. Chanute was also an aviation enthusiast and had long since become familiar with others who were pioneering this new field. One of these men, we have already met, the man who successfully evacuated the Smithsonian Institute while under enemy artillery fire, Samuel Langley.

When the war broke out, due to the dangers of traveling across the Atlantic, Chanute had opted to stay in France for the time being. Even so, he did continue his correspondence with Langley, who was in Baltimore at the time. Both men had slowly grown of the opinion that aviation could do a great deal for the war effort. Chanute’s first attempts at reaching Boulanger, on the subject, came to nothing. Langley, on the other hand, felt he had a better chance of convincing the US Army of the worthiness of aviation. His pleas also fell on death ears until, by chance, he ran into Richard Harding Davis one day.

Davis had been in Washington looking to get press credentials from Fort Lincoln, so that he could go and cover the front lines. The military had become increasingly weary of letting reporters go there. Davis was eating lunch one afternoon and happened on Langley. He recognized the man from Fort Lincoln and realized at once that they had both been engaged in the same useless battle to reach General Miles. For that reason, Davis struck up a conversation and found himself impressed with the ideas that Langley was proposing. Word of this meeting would soon find it’s way to the other side of the continent where Theodore Roosevelt was watching a silent Mexican border.

At this point in the war it would seem that Roosevelt’s pen was indeed mightier than his sword. He too was impressed by what Langley had to say. He started a regular correspondence with the head of the Smithsonian and soon had Langley an audience at the War Department. It would seem, by what Langley had to say on the matter, that the War Department was not so enthused about what they probably saw as, quite literally in this case, dreams in the sky. They still granted Langley a small budget to pursue the matter, and he would put it to good use. With some more aid from Roosevelt, this time procuring private funds from some of his rich friends back in New York, Langley set out to build and fly the first airplane. While he would fail in his first attempts, he did something far more important. Langley would build an infrastructure that would become all too critical in producing viable heavier than air flying machines. In less than a year his work would no longer be ignored as the entire world reeled in horror from the first Zeppelins to enter the war.