AFTER CHARLES Lindbergh made the first crossing of the Atlantic by air in 1927, the more difficult east-west crossing was the next aviation frontier. This day’s newspaper in 1928 carried several articles on the flight of the Junkers aircraft, Bremen, which took off from Baldonnel Aerodrome on the latest attempt to fly to America.
On board were the pilot Hermann Köhl, co-pilot Commandant James Fitzmaurice, the commander of the Irish Air Corps, and the aircraft’s owner Baron Ehrenfried Freiherr von Hunefeld.
THE TAKE-OFF
START OF THE GREAT ADVENTURE
From Our Special Correspondent
Dawn was early in the sky yesterday morning, and its grey gleam was beginning to rise above the city as I arrived at Baldonnel Aerodrome shortly after four o'clock. There was intense activity in the space between the two great hangars where the Bremenwas resting in readiness for her great adventure. Half-a-dozen fierce motor headlights were focused on the machine in order to facilitate the work of the mechanics, who were giving it a final overhauling, and in the half light wraith-like forms could be seen flitting hither and thither as the preparations for the flight hurried to completion.
There was a breathless moment as the last signal was given; and then, almost imperceptibly at first, the great machine began to move slowly along the concrete floor. Rapidly gathering speed, the Bremenran across the aerodrome towards the south, and, as she ran we all rushed after her in order, if possible, to catch a last glimpse of her gallant crew. Then, suddenly, the cheering ceased, the two German mechanics dashed madly down the runway, an officer half-whispered, half-groaned, "My God, they'll crash!" and to the onlooker it seemed as if the Bremennever would rise.
People looked apprehensively at the two motor ambulances which were waiting on the aerodrome. Could she lift that huge weight of 5.6 tons? Would the Fonck tragedy be repeated? The Bremenhad disappeared over a rise in the ground. Seconds that counted for hours passed, and still there was no sign. But we were forgetting the consummate aircraft of little Köhl. A great cheer startled the skies. The staidest of us flung his cap in the air; for down there, at the end of the aerodrome, almost a mile from where we were standing, a graceful shape, like a huge bird, was seen to rise slowly from the ground.
“By the holy, he has done it!” shouted an excited soldier; and he had. Captain Köhl apparently had kept his machine deliberately on the ground until the last possible moment, in order to gain the maximum amount of speed for the take-off; and then, when to the uninitiated eye disaster seemed imminent, he calmly raised her from the aerodrome with the ease of a feather lifted by a breeze.
Even then, however, we were not quite sure. The great weight of the machine prevented rapid climbing, and as she turned for the west it looked as if she would hardly top the hills that lay between her and the open plains of the Midlands. But once again the Bremen answered faithfully to the control of her master, and when we saw her last she was skimming beautifully across the trees, flying low towards the peril-laden west.
The Bremenwas last sighted over Connemara some hours later and nothing more was heard or seen of it until the next day when it landed on an island off the coast of Labrador.
It did not make its planned destination, New York, but did achieve the first east-west crossing of the Atlantic.
To read the full report and the other stories around the flight go to www.irishtimes.com/150