ST MARY’S INSTITUTE OF HISTORICAL RESEARCH INCIDENT REPORT
Competition entry by Harry Lee James
Mission Report: The Balloon Incident, 12 September 1918
Employee Involved: Gavrilo Wilson-Mayes, Intern, Technical Section
To start with, I’m just an intern.
It was a Wednesday evening, and I was working late. Just one more week, and I’d be back at Thirsk U, with my advanced computer programming internship done and well on my way to my degree.
St. Mary’s had lived up to its reputation as being a bit odd, but the rumours of employees ending up disappearing, developing mental issues, and/or missing limbs had yet to come up in my work.
I was developing a process to automatically initiate the air filters on the Pods when a sensor detected a specific level of cabbage smell.
Out of nowhere, a Historian (don’t know his name; people had shouted “Quentin” at him once, so I assumed that’s it) came flying through the Pod Bay and threw a rough woolen blanket at me.
He said, “Put that on!” Then gave me a surprised look. He then asked, “Who the hell are you?” I started to explain my internship.
He said, “Don’t care, couldn’t care less - thought you were somebody else - never mind, you’ll do.” He then turned his back, and that’s when I noticed that the “blanket” was actually a uniform.
I put it on. It was a bit of a loose fit. He then led me over to a Pod.
He explained, “We’re going to make a simple little jump to September 12, 1918, and you are going to join the 12th Balloon Company as they launch a test balloon on the morning of the St. Mihiel Offensive. We’ve had a small digital camera on their basket filming how they trained and prepared to use the balloons in the coming battle. You and I are going to go pick up the camera and its recordings. I would have gotten someone else to do this, but it seems everyone is involved in a major reenactment out on the front lawn. Ready?”
I’d never been on a jump, but this sounded pretty easy: jump, snatch, and Bob’s your uncle.
Quentin closed the Pod door, pushed some buttons, and everything went white.
I finished throwing up in a bucket as Quentin said, “Take that with you as you go out. We’re just down the road from where the 12th Balloon Company parked their Cacquot Type R balloon at the bottom of a ravine. Remember, grab the camera, then straight back here.”
He opened the door to a sudden gust of wind. I stepped out, dumped the bucket over in a big hole next to the pod, and then looked up.
I was surrounded by devastation like I had never seen before: mud, shell holes, and blasted tree stumps as far as the eye could see. A short walk away, a large group of men were gathered around a vehicle overtopped by a huge balloon tethered to a mechanical cable spool mounted on the vehicle. Attached beneath the balloon was a large wicker basket.
The basket held one man who was putting on an elaborate harness while the ground crew fought to hold the balloon in place. The camera was supposed to be on the right lower corner of the basket, disguised as a small toolbox.
As I walked towards the balloon, a Sergeant stopped me and said, “Private, see that tent over there…that’s Lieutenant Hinman’s tent - he left his thermos of coffee in there. Go get it and bring it to him. Also, see the tent three over - please inform Lieutenant Tait that we’re waiting on him.”
I made it to the first tent, saw the thermos, grabbed it, and went over to the next tent as a young Lieutenant stepped out.
I told him that they were ready for him at the balloon. He waved me to lead on, and we began a brisk walk over to the balloon.
As we reached the balloon, it was obvious that the ground crew of over 40 men was having a rough time keeping it from taking off on its own.
I helped Lieutenant Tait climb into the basket and connected him to his parachute harness, which was attached to a folded parachute affixed to the side of the basket. I then moved in to grab the camera.
That’s when an Officer, wearing a headset, gave the command, “Ease Off!”
With that, the soldier working the winch released the brake, and the balloon began to ascend.
The camera was gone.
I stood with the other soldiers, thinking that I’d wait for the mission to end and try again for the camera.
As I waited, a soldier ran up to the officer with the headphones and said, “Sir, Major Jouett says to reel them in - one balloon from the 10th has already crashed - nothing more can be done until the weather clears.”
The officer ordered the winch operator to begin reeling in the balloon. Seeing the balloon being quite mistreated by the winds, the operator thought to help the two men by speeding up the downward pull of the reel. This only made the balloon sway worse, and it was soon moving in a great circle as it descended between the hills. As it neared the ground, a great gulp of air hit it, and it smashed to the ground, covering myself and the ground crew in a mass of control lines.
I was engulfed in the mad scrum around the basket, trying to get the two men out. I saw my chance, snatched the camera, and then fell backwards as another soldier fell on top of me and pried at the camera.
His hot breath was close on my ear as we tussled. “I’m afraid I need that. No need for St. Mary’s to see me.” He pried at my fingers as we were rolled up in the tumbled group of men around the balloon.
As I pulled back from him, I felt my foot get caught in a jumble of lines.
Suddenly, one of the parachutes popped out of its holder, nearly took my leg with it as it quickly inflated, and pulled the balloon up towards the tumbling clouds. I heard the loud snap as the cable broke.
I pushed myself up and looked around for my fellow time traveller. He tried to lunge towards me, but he was too entangled in the crowd of soldiers trying to get up and see where the balloon went.
I ran back towards the pod. Quentin had the door open. As I jumped in, he pointed up at the sky and gave me a stern look.
I explained how it was not my fault. Some guy had tried to get the camera. He seemed worried he’d been recorded.
That’s when I opened my hand and saw the pieces of the now useless, crumpled camera.
I once again explained that it was not my fault. Quentin frowned, closed the door, and we came home.
In closing, I’ll miss St Mary’s, but my first jump was definitely my last!
End of Report
Historical Note
The incident referred to actually occurred. The wayward balloonists, Lieutenants Hinman and Tait, were lost as described on the 12th of September 1918. The soldier who got tangled up in the parachute cord was never identified. The balloon flew for 42 minutes over a distance of 26 miles, through an artillery barrage, and eventually crashed-landed in German-held territory near the town of Habonville. Both balloonists survived and spent the rest of the war in various POW camps in Germany. They were released on the 29th of November 1918.
Their story can be read in:
Popular Aviation Magazine, July 1931.
Military Records relating to this incident can be found in Gorrell’s History of the AEF Air Service 1917-1919, Series F, Volume 3, Balloon Section.
The description of the bumbling soldier who pulled Lieutenant Hinman’s parachute out of its container was taken from his statement (found in Gorrell’s History) made after his repatriation at the end of the war.
“One man of the basket detail rushed at the basket, stepped on Lieutenant Hinman’s parachute rope, pulled the parachute out of the container, and received a tumble when the balloon rose.”
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