The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Airship
Joseph Späh had to feed his dog; nothing strange about that. The problem was that Ulla, an Alsatian, was mostly confined to the freight room—off limits to passengers. Had everything gone according to schedule, this would not have been an issue either, except for gruff remarks from crewmen not appreciating the needs of this canine friend and co-worker in Späh’s stage act. But this flight did not go according to plan, and Späh’s frequent visits to the rear of the Hindenburg would give him problems in the years to come. The US Department of Energy, and its counterparts in Europe and Japan, are currently spending billions on developing the use of hydrogen for future energy applications—for example, as a fuel for cars and buses. The main advantage is the clean combustion of this fuel: two molecules of hydrogen gas will combine with one molecule of oxygen and give two molecules of water. The future belongs, perhaps, to the ‘hydrogen economy’, but unfortunately for its proponents, the popular history of hydrogen as a fuel is bound up with the tragedy of the Hindenburg. We will get back to Joseph Späh’s poor dog in a while, but for now ponder the fact that over the dog, and above everyone else aboard the comfortable and luxurious Hindenburg , there were huge ‘bags’ filled with hydrogen—the lightest of all the elements, with only one proton and one electron. It has the lowest density of any gas, and is formed by two hydrogen atoms combined together via a single chemical bond, made by sharing the two negatively charged electrons between the two positively charged nuclei. This H2 gas had carried the world’s largest airship from Frankfurt to Lakehurst outside New York, and before that on successful tours all over the globe during the preceding year. These days, we tend to wonder how people could even contemplate the idea of travelling around in what can be described as a flying bomb.