No. 16 - 'Imperial' - Reaching for the Sky

Between the wars, aviation became a national obsession. Besides the thrill of it, its potential for drawing the rest of the empire closer was increasingly appreciated - and unfortunately the Great War had also proven how effective it could be in attacking an enemy. Not that aviators were much safer in peacetime, in rickety wooden planes and gas filled dirigibles.

R101 at its Cardington mooring tower (British Newspaper Archive)

In November 2024, I caught a train to Bedford to meet a friend and former colleague. I had long intended to visit the nearby villages of Cardington and Shortstown and as he lived locally, I thought it would be a good opportunity to share a pint or two. In the event, he not only agreed to the pint, but was kind enough to be my guide and chauffeur. It would have been much trickier by bus. But where was I going? And why?

The Royal Airship Works

In 1919, the RAF's Cardington Airfield became the Royal Airship Works. I longed to see for myself the two gigantic sheds, or hangars, that once housed British dirigibles, because incredibly they are still standing. When I first spotted them, from a considerable distance, I was excited, for these enormous green buildings were a real, unmistakable part of history from the period that most interests me. The miserable, grey day somehow enhanced the atmosphere and made the giant structures even more awe-inspiring.

Cardington sheds. No 1 on the left was the home of R101

R100 and R101 were the prototypes heralding Britain's Imperial Airship Scheme. R100 was the 'capitalist airship', designed and built privately in Howden, Yorkshire, and R101 was the 'socialist airship', state funded in Cardington, Bedfordshire.

On 4 October 1930, R101 was pulled from No 1 Shed by a small army, and taken to her mooring tower. At 6:30 pm she finally embarked on a much anticipated journey to Karachi, then in India. First she flew over Bedford to give the town a glimpse of its own luxury airship before heading towards London and the English Channel.

Only seven and a half hours later, in bad weather, she came down quite gently on a wooded French hill. There was a spark, and the bags of hydrogen that had lifted her exploded rapidly, one after the other. In later years one of the six survivors when asked whether at first the crash site had been a scene of confusion, replied: "There wasn't really anyone left to be confused."

There had been huge private and public investment into the airship scheme, drawn by its potential to dramatically reduce the time it took to travel to all corners of the British Empire. That dream perished in the flames along with the 48 victims of the R101. R100 never flew again and the planned R102 was never built.

R101 victims lying in state. (British Newspaper Archive)

There are many books and YouTube videos on how and why this disaster happened, but it is the impact on people that I concern myself with. The tragedy features in my novel When Summer is Gone. Although none of the characters are directly involved, the R101 flew low over Poplar and the Isle of Dogs only hours before it crashed, and the unfolding story of its doom would surely have distressed all those who watched it pass overhead. It had an effect on the general public that some compared with the loss of RMS Titanic in 1912.

Today, east of Shortstown, a housing estate dubbed New Cardington has been built in the shadow of the sheds. Its streets bear the names of some of the R101's crew, like Hastings Crescent after engineer Alfred Hastings, Potter Meadows after a Flight Sergeant Walter Potter and Megginson Way after galley boy Thomas Megginson. There is even a Beauvais Avenue commemorating the place it floundered.

Shed No 1 from Megginson Way, New Cardington

The scale of the sheds is made clearer by the proximity of the houses. Today they form Cardington Studios and offer one of the largest indoor spaces in Europe, for film-making, stadium tour rehearsals - and who knows, perhaps one day, building another airship.

In Cardington cemetery we visited the mass grave of R101’s victims, ranging from 55-year-old Lord Thomson, the Air Minister and greatest champion of the Imperial Airship Scheme, to Thomas William Megginson, the18-year-old galley boy. After a memorial service at St Paul's Cathedral, their flag-draped coffins lay in state in Westminster Hall - the first time civilians had been afforded that tribute. 90,000 people filed past into the early hours to pay their respects. The funeral procession through London was watched by an estimated million people before the victims were taken by special train from Euston to Bedford, and on to Cardington for burial.

The mass grave of the R101 victims, Cardington Cemetery.

With me there's usually a pub involved, and after paying our own respects we had lunch at the King's Arms in Cardington, where old photographs of the Airship Works adorned the walls. I couldn't help wondering how many of the crewmen sunk their last pint in that pub. Because the R101 was overladen, the crew were allowed no baggage but a single change of clothing in a paper bag, whereas Lord Thomson took several cases of champagne and a heavy Persian carpet for state banquets. This is a bitter reflection I find hard to relinquish.

These Imperial airships were intended as symbols of the British Empire, and with one destroyed, the other broken up and scrapped, perhaps they were more symbolic than anyone realised. Other nations had disasters too. The French Dixmude (50 dead), the American Akron (73 dead) and the German Hindenburg (36 dead), to name but three, led to the conclusion that airships would never become a trusted mode of intercontinental travel. The wreckage of R101 was melted down for scrap and five tons of it were bought by the German Zeppelin company. They used it in the construction of Hindenburg.

Croydon Aerodrome 

The fate of the R101 ensured that British airships were finished. Aeroplanes grew in importance, and the Imperial Airship Scheme was superseded by Imperial Airways. London’s first passenger airport was in Croydon, where the 1928 terminal building remains. Although now an office block called Airport House, it retains much of the glamour its wealthy passengers would have expected in the 1930's. It isn’t difficult to picture how it must have looked in its heyday, with the aid of the photographs and models provided. They have allowed room for a museum, which includes the original control tower, complete with vintage equipment. Croydon Aerodrome can be be visited by booking a guided tour. The guides are friendly, knowledgeable and enthusiastic. The Croydon Aerodrome Hotel nearby remains a going concern.

Former Imperial Airways Empire Terminal and detail of 'Speed Wings over the World'.

Imperial Airways Empire Terminal

The striking art deco building on Buckingham Palace Road that now houses the National Audit Office, was originally the Imperial Airways Empire Terminal, designed by Albert Lakeman. Over its main entrance a dramatic sculpture welcomed passengers - Speed Wings over the World by Eric Broadbent. The building was extended in the 1960's, but even its original size was a measure of the growing demand for commercial air travel, even though it remained the province of the wealthy. International passengers would check in at the terminal before going to the building’s own railway platform on the way out from Victoria Station. From here passengers and baggage would be ferried to Croydon for domestic or short continental travel, or to Southampton to catch a flying boat for longer journeys. The terminal was completed in 1939, so it enjoyed only a few months of operation before it was overtaken by the onset of the Second World War.

1934 Air Timetable, Croydon Guides and Imperial Airways clock (fake of course)

Art deco enthusiasts can also cast an eye across the road at the Grade II listed Victoria Coach Station, designed by Wallis, Gilbert & Partners, which opened in 1932.