An eye-witness of the fall of the airship writes[1]: ‘I live in the country just outside the fringe of the great searchlights which guard the London area. From the verandah of the house one can obtain a wonderful view of any “pyrotechnic” display within a distance of twenty odd miles. The household is most familiar with Zeppelins, aeroplanes, bombs, guns, and searchlights. We have seen all the raids, we have seen three Zeppelins destroyed, and bombs have fallen all round us; but happily our little district has so far escaped damage. So accustomed are we to all these aerial affairs that we seem to know instinctively when a raid is due. And it was so on Sunday. The sky at eight o’clock looked very ominous. Some time later came the warning to the special constables, and at the same time the sky in our immediate neighbourhood was lit up by powerful rays from searchlights. I rightly surmised that the Zeppelin would attempt to reach London from the north. By now (I live close to the railway) the searchlights were sweeping the cloudless sky, and the air was quite still. About half-past ten we heard the beat of the Zeppelin engines; she was due north of the house. Then she sailed towards the east. The night was so clear that she was seen quite easily. With the aid of a night glass she appeared about a yard long. ‘By the sound of her engines we could tell she was circling the fringe of light, for she gradually altered her course from east to south-east. Then we heard her wheel round to the left. She made a circle of some miles, and finally went south-east again, when we heard the engines no more. Meanwhile my children, two girls, aged eight and eleven, insisted on dressing: they wanted to “see the show.” With their mother they made themselves comfortable on the verandah. About half-past eleven, away to the south-east, we saw flashes from falling bombs, and the bursting of shrapnel, with the boom of heavy guns firing. The children were getting very interested. Suddenly a score of searchlights seemed to concentrate at one point, and quite distinctly we saw the Zeppelin “held.” Shrapnel was bursting all around her. Then the guns ceased, and we could see no Zeppelin. We thought she had managed to slip away. But our airmen were on her track, and soon there appeared a yellow light; it became larger and larger, until we realized that it was the Zeppelin alight. From yellow the flames changed to ruby; they seemed to spread from the centre to each end of the airship. When she was aglow from end to end she tilted, gradually became perpendicular, and fell slowly to earth. The flames lit up the country for miles; the framework of the machine was plainly visible. You could see smaller portions of her ribs, loosened by the heat, falling like small sparks. She fell five miles from my house, but I thought I heard the whole of England cheering.’