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In Germany, especially in the "Münsterland", the permission for German
balloons to return to the Gordon Bennett Races, had created a state of
balloon euphoria. Already the preparations of the German teams were watched
by the press extensively, Ferdinand Eimermacher had a talent for "public
relations". Together the two German teams took the steamboat RELIANCE from Hamburg to
New York, which was little occupied from Cherbourg on. Not more than 40
passengers were on board and experienced quite stormy sea. This did not
matter to Hugo Kaulen junior as long as he could ask a female person to
dance, but balloonmeister Zurwonne was lost in his cabin for four days. The
special dinner to honour the Gordon Bennett competitors (Caviar on ice,
turtle soup, cooked salmon from the Rhine, asparagus stalks, pheasant a la
Alsacienne and bombe glace Reliance) on Sunday, June 17th unfortunately met
only a few admirers. Hugo Kaulen junior, however, danced.
They had two weeks to America, and in these two weeks, there was always the
same "lousily weather", as Eimermacher called it without any glossing over.
No reason therefore, to flee too often from the hotel room on the 49th floor
of the sky scraper on the Detroit River.. Just in time, one day before
launch, the weather turns and promises improvement. At home, the attention
on the event is again drawn to readers of the newspapers, the "Münsterische
Anzeiger" written on June 30th:
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"In all nations today the eyes look with the most tension to the two million
people in the city of Detroit, where once again the most famous of all
races, the Gordon Bennett Race of the air, will have its beginning in the
evening hours. Beginning of launch will probably be fixed at 4 p.m. American
time, and we Germans, especially we from the Münsterland, have all reasons
to commemorate this hour, at about 10:30 in the evening, with our best
wishes. Only somebody who has once seen the interest of the whole American
world in the Gordon Bennett Race, can estimate, how much ambition and what a
stimulation is given to the individual pilots of every nation by the
sympathising with the interest of the population." |
This newspaper was right: The United States really wanted to know about it
this year. They had won twice in a row in 1910, when Hans Gericke ruined the
final possession of the cup for them. This should not happen now again.
Demuyter from Belgium was not there, who else could steal the success? The
Germans again? Well, Kaulen senior had performed a good fight the year
before, but he had changed his co-pilot. And his junior did not yet have
enough perseverance, as it was proven the year before. Eimermacher? His
balloon was not the lightest, he himself also had his 200 pounds, this
allowed the Americans to take on board almost ten bags of ballast more.
Never before they had heard of Otto Bertram and he was still 45 years of age.
Could the French be serious opponents? Blanchet was at the Gordon Bennett
Race for the fifth time, but never in front. Charles Dollfus was still young,
they did not believe he would be capable to win. Everything favoured the
Americans. They had the support of the US Army (and the Goodyear-company). A
wonderful, light balloon was at their disposal. Added by the home advantage,
not much could go wrong.In America the economic activity was blooming (the big Wall-Street crash
came one year later), in Europe it was not as well everywhere. Compared to
others, Germany seemed to be still in the best position, but even there in
the first six month of the year almost 31.500 emigrants were registered (in
1910 there were only about. 27.000 in the whole year). France could nominate
only two teams, Belgium, Denmark and Switzerland were represented only by
one team, but the word "team" was not right for Swiss Ernest L. Maag, for he
was all alone and flew solo with a hired balloon of 1000 m³. He had no real
chance.
The early date of the race was chosen in consideration of the Olympic Games,
which drew more and more interest, and which were opening in Amsterdam on
July 28th. Also the Germans took part again in the Games for the first time
since 1914. They entry was not opposed any longer. Much more interest was
created by the fact, that for the first time women were allowed to
participate in the classical disciplines (since then, women had been at the
Olympic Games only once, 1908 in archery), this against the will of the
founder of the new games, Pierre de Coubertin.
In aviation, Risticz and Zimmermann prepared to improve the world record in
motor flying, which they managed on July 8th with 65,5 hours. Also there
were a lot of discussions about the dramatic rescue of the Italian General
Nobile, who was stranded with the airship ITALIA at the North Pole on May
24th and was finally picked up by the Swedish pilot Lundberg on June 24th.
16 ships, 21 airplanes and totally 1500 men were involved in this action,
Roald Amundson met his death at this rescue operation.
We have already talked about the Germans Kaulen sr. and Eimermacher in the
1927 chapter. Otto Bertram was there for the first time. He came from one of
the oldest German balloon clubs, the Chemnitzer VfL, founded in 1895 (after
the Berliner VfL in 1881 and the Münchner (Munich) VfL in 1889). Born 1883
in Saxony, he joined ballooning in 1914, when he was a sailor and later
served as captain of a ship. He participated in four Gordon Bennett Races,
but his biggest success in ballooning was in advance of a Gordon Bennett
Race: He became the first German champion in ballooning, when he flew 1047
kilometres in the balloon “CHEMNITZ III” with his co-pilot Prehm from
Darmstadt to Dlugossen in Poland on April 4th 1935. This championship was
also the qualification for the Gordon Bennett Race in the year 1935. Still
after World War II he visited gas balloon races in Germany before he passed
away in Celle in 1960, aged 77.
In Detroit on launch day all streets were congested. 60.000 cars were
counted by the American Automobile Club, who regulated the surging
spectators. At 10 a.m. already 50 airplanes started for a race of 6000 miles
round the USA. Also an air show was presented, attended by German glider
pilots. Etzel Ford again holds the pistol in his hands and this year
Eimermacher is the first, to make “MÜNSTER VIII” climb. The track is quite
similar to the one of the previous year, first east, then south from an
altitude of 1500 meters on. And again, like the year before, Eimermacher
finds himself in front of the Appalachian mountains at the beginning of the
second night.
There are uncounted stories and anecdotes about Ferdinand Eimermacher. He
had written a ballooning history in Germany. He fixed his memories in his
book "Welten, Ozeane und Sterne" (Worlds, Oceans and Stars), which appeared
in a private publishing venture in 1956, because the chosen publisher
requested to wipe out some sequences which turned out too crude to print.
The book fits to the earthiness of the author and is very interesting for
balloonists but has little to tell to readers who are not much involved in
this subject. They would be bored by the detailed descriptions of the
flights. A reprint from the sixties, titled "Im Bund mit Wolken und Wind" (United
with Clouds and Wind), allows to guess how Eimermacher lived and flew. Even
if we suppose, that some sequences are presented a little blown up and
dramatised, the impression of the enormous strain of this race 1928 is still
left. He writes:
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We approach the last, still higher mountain range. We count twelve bags left.
We can see the plain ahead of us, but are afraid, not to reach it anymore.
We fly with only 3 kilometres an hour. Little papers, we had thrown
overboard indicate the double speed close above the ground. We have to go
down to this layer, to finally gain the plain and with the plain the faster
winds. We level out the balloon about 30 meters above the tree tops. When we
come closer to the last range, we recognise how wild and rough these
mountains are, which had been considered insurmountable for a long time.
Suddenly we are in front of ridge of the mountain. A wall of purple and blue
take our sight to the opposite valley. This wall loomed to a heavy, deep
black cloud, waving up and down eerily. It reminds me of a big fire, when
burning masses of tar and impenetrable black blue smoke makes whole streets
impassable. The Lord shall save us from the breakout of this thunderstorm!
Stranding here in these mountains might cut us off from the rest of the
world for weeks. The balloon stands still, as if it fears the disaster.
Finally, after ten long, frightening minutes, it takes up speed again. The
dreadful clouds give way and let us pass with a scornful grin. Thanks to the
Lord, this cloud monster gives us our freedom, we move down to the hilly
plain. As we had hoped, we pick up a speed of about 30 kilometres an hour
and with this speed joy is growing again. We count 10 1/2 bags, our
situation is quite satisfying. One hour later, at 9 p.m., we reach a middle
sized town, Waynesboro in Virginia. The needle of our compass indicates a
southbound heading. This navigation shocks us, for we have to detect, that unfortunately we had
not yet reached the desired plain but only a huge valley, about 80
kilometres wide, and then have to fly over the last, but most wild range of
the mountains.
The sky shows a more and more threatening face. I guess a disaster. From my
last visit to America, I know that Virginia almost always has terrible
thunderstorms at night. It is 10 p.m.. We come closer to the mountain. The
dark, puffed up clouds lay heavily on the peaks. We climb up, break through
the enormous masses of clouds, and can see the head of the thunderstorm,
ghostly illuminated by the full moon. We descend again. The speed decreases
here in the mountains, so we can reach the big plain of Virginia first at
0.30 a.m. to my calculations. Once again it goes up to the pale gloom of the
moon, and again down to the pitch darkness.
11 p.m.! My calculation are, that we have to cross just two more ridges.
Again I have bad feelings. I watch like a hawk, work with slices of paper
and altimeter. Just in the moment we are again in a bedlam. The balloon
shakes, paper slices rush upwards, the altimeter climbs to the sky, 3500,
3700, 4000, ...5000 meters. Now there is a jerk. Instinctively I grab the
basket ropes. A feeling of dizziness overcomes me. Zech startles up, grabs
the ropes and moans: "What are you doing, I become sick!" The basket turns
in his ropes. Next to its board, something appears and grabs to me. Before I
recognise, that it is the handling line, thrown to the level of the basket
by a gust of wind, there is again a hard jerk. The basket, lifted in his
ropes, swings back to his old position. Zech moans: "Stop it, or I have to
vomit." Then he falls back to his sleep like death. Meanwhile, our balloon
climbs on.
Now we sit on the head of a gigantic thunder cloud. It is evil, could I fix
my fur coat better. Uncomfortably my co-pilot crouches in the corner of the
basket. The view to the cloud giants that dance around us is incredibly nice
but also horrifying. One close by especially stares at us and then pounces
on us with all his size to destroy us.
With a whistle we rushed to the deep. I still don't dump any ballast, for
the balloon would not respond to my hands in the falling stream. Black
clouds surround me. The altimeter indicates a quick fall, the needle can be
watched leaping back. With tension I listen to the deep. The horrifying
whistle increases, the clouds grab us from below, lift us up and drags us
down to the deep, towards the giants of trees. Ballast and one more bag of
ballast go overboard, as useless as it is. I believe, I have to do something.
The enormous mountain yawns to swallow us. I believe, the end of the world
has come. We sink into the canyon, where the dry giants of the jungle
enclose the rock-walls. I give a kick to my co-pilot, for I have no more
time to wake him up by other means and yell, shout at him: "We will get run
through!" Zech jumps up, instinctively I throw another bag overboard and we
both jump to the opposite corners of the basket, to escape from the deadly
thrust. The sharp stab of a 150-feet high giant of the jungle passes close
to our bodies. I only get a enormous punch to the left upper arm. I feel no
pain, just tumble to the other side of the basket. We experience, how a huge
branch pokes into the body of the balloon writhing in pain at the lower
hemisphere, slits it open and turns the appendix upwards. On one side below
us we can see the fluttering envelope while the basket, breaking the
branches, sinks deeper and deeper.
Howling and slapping the storm grabs the wreck and tries to throw it to the
deep. As quick as possible we fix the one and only handling line left to the
next branch to keep the basket up when a fall comes. It is 11.14 p.m.
Frightening seconds pass. Spasmodically the wind hits under the envelope,
cuts more and more wounds to it with the sharp branches and finally presses
even the gas down to us. We fear to suffocate, when the next gust of wind
finally throws the envelope on our heads.
Also, the attacking forces of the still not completely deflated balloon are
so big, that the giant tree as a whole grunts and groans and one branch
after the other falls down to the deep creaking. To our horror even our last
fixed point starts rustling in a frightening manner. I try, to deflate the
balloon by ripping off, but it is useless, the envelope has become totally
entangled in the trees and is completely deflated by its many wounds. The
shreds are fluttering already on the neighbour tree.
We have to leave the basket at once. We agree in all steps. Everything is
done with cold blood and objectivity. We cannot recognise, if the released
trail rope even reaches the ground of the canyon, but we know, it touches
the lower trees. So out! The security rope, I always have with me, will then
hopefully lead us to the ground finally.
As pilot I want to stay in the basket. Zech crawls out with some important
tools and disappears to my eyes. It takes a long time, which appears almost
infinitive to me, until I can finally hear from below: „I’m down!"
"What kind of ground?" I shout down. "Swampy" – "O.K., then I’ll dump our
necessary equipment!" Part after part I let fall down. Approximately 40
minutes have passed, before I finally may also leave our doubtful place up
there. With a heavy rucksack full of instruments, camera, binocular a.s.o.
on my shoulders it goes down from the dizzy height. – To climb down on a
rope for hundred meters is not easy at all, especially for me, with a weight
of more than 200 pounds and loaded with a heavy rucksack. Now I also feel
the injury of my arm. A stabbing pain forces the sweat out of my skin. The
trail rope appears endless, I nearly can’t hold myself any longer. Is it the
pain in my arm or appears the response of my comrade, whom I ask, if I’m not
already down, too close – I leave the rope. – Then I fall, hit hard on the
ground and can’t get back on my feet anymore. Broken leg is my first thought.
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So far the report of Ferdinand Eimermacher. Thank’s god,
it wasn’t a broken leg, but severe bruising at arm and leg,
as it was detected by the doctor at Lynchburg after the
rescue. Until he came there, Zech however had to cover a 24
hours walk before he reappeared at the inaccessible landing
place in the back forest with a farmer and his two hands.
The remaining parts of the balloon had to be given up.
Ferdinand Eimermacher recovered on the hospitable farm of
Mister Griffim and then returned to Germany satisfied with
his sixth place. Father Kaulen and son nearly made it, to
take the victory (and thus the winning of the cup) from the
Americans. They came only 1,5 kilometres shorter than Kepner/Eareckson.
A very close result after a total distance of 740 kilometres.
In Münster in Westphalia, Eimermachers home-town, something
had happened which is called a „super-canard" in the
newspaper world. There, on July 3rd, the „Münsterische
Anzeiger" came out with an extra edition showing as headline
on page 1: „Eimermacher winner in the Gordon Bennett Race."
The report: "New York, July 3rd – In the Gordon Bennett Race
the German balloon “MÜNSTER VIII” won with the pilot Mr.
Eimermacher Münster (co-pilot: Zech-Herford)". How could
this have happened? – About seven hours after the
involuntarily landing of “MÜNSTER VIII”, the people of
Lynchburg had seen two other balloons. So for the time,
Eimermacher was ahead. So from this advance of seven hours
and the wish to win, it could be, this false information
developed. A little subdued (and in much smaller letters),
the "M.A." wrote the same day:
"The cheer was to soon. The flag at the town hall, run up
this morning, when news came up that the balloon “MÜNSTER
VIII” had gained victory in America, is taken down again. A
bad fortune did not only take the victory from Eimermacher
but has also hurt him and robbed him his balloon. After long
hours of fearful doubts, torturing but still hopeful
uncertainty the following telegram arrived at the family of
Mr. Eimermacher at 8.30 p.m. yesterday in the evening:
Lynchburg, 1.03 p.m.: In the second night, 11 o’clock,
balloon damaged. Strong gusts of a thunderstorm made balloon
rise to 5000 meters, then threw him to a canyon on a dry
giant trees. The gas escaped. Condition of the balloon
unknown. Recovery appears impossible. Co-pilot is well,
myself slightly hurt, pulled tendon, haematoma on feet and
arm. After an arduous walk finally here.
As well as a success for Mr. Eimermacher, it would not have
been his private affair, also his misfortune is not his
personal thing. But as hard as this strikes German aviation
and the town of Münster, it strikes Mr. Eimermacher even
harder in his sporting ambitions. His wish to win was so
big, much bigger than the hopes, that were with him. So this
set back hits him extremely hard, and he does not need to
know, that due to false information– he had been celebrated
as winner for 12 hours."
When Eimermacher returned to Münster in the afternoon of
July 26th, he gets a welcome as if he had won. Considering
the strain he stood, his courage and dare devilry, this must
be allowed with full heart. But looking back to the reports,
the fact is interesting, that the success of father and son
Kaulen is not mentioned with a single word (not to talk
about the participation of Bertram/Fröbel). May local
patriotism make people really so blind, that the son of the
home town is put equal to the faith of the whole German
aviation?
The balloon “US ARMY” won the race, so the second cup went
to the final possession of America. Henry Ford soon agreed
to sponsor a third cup. So the Gordon Bennett Races were not
at the end, they could continue.
Another anecdote of the 1928 race should be told: Orville
Wright, first man in a plane, was the director of the race.
One of his duties was, to set up additional rules. So he
requested that every participant had to send a telegram with
the required data to the championship-office within 24 hours
after the landing. When one competitor tried to follow this
rule, the man at the telegram office told him, he could not
send the telegram: A balloon had landed nearby and destroyed
the wires!
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