"It's smoke and it's flames now . . ."

LXIX

It seemed to go on forever. But it only took 36 seconds.

Thirty six seconds. One second less than it took for the Titanic to strike the iceberg after sighting it. 

The people on the ground thought their eyes were playing tricks on them. Some saw the interior of the ship just ahead of the tail fins light up like a Chinese lantern and flicker for the space of a breath. Others saw a small spout of flame erupt --- Commander Rosendahl later described it as a “small mushroom-shaped cloud” --- just ahead of the tail fins. Others saw it as a lick of flame. Professor Mark Heald, of Princeton University, who was present at the landing claimed to have seen a ghostly blue light flickering over the top of the ship just seconds before he saw a “geyser” of fire erupt from the area just fore of the tail fins. 

The area where the fire began. Some people claimed to see a spout of flame at the top of Cell 4, while others claimed flames began on the upper flank of Cell 5 near the axial shaft (midline of the ship). It is a good bet that a structural or functional failure involving Ring 62 and / or the ventilation shaft (which contained a hydrogen valve) led to the disaster

 

For an incident that lasted only 36 seconds, scores of photos of the Hindenburg's destruction exist. Many people awaiting the landing had cameras with them, airship fans always gathered to take shots of the Hindenburg at Lakehurst, and five movie cameras were covering the landing. Amazingly, not a single photo of the onset of the fire exists. Apparently, everyone was watching the ground crew when the deadly "POP" that doomed the ship occurred. By the time they got their cameras to their eyes this is what they saw

Inside the ship, one of the crew working near the lower vertical stabilizer looked up when he heard a dull whump, just in time to see the interior of gas cell number four light up. He knew what it meant, and instinct took over. Hollering “Feuer!” at the top of his lungs he leapt down into the auxiliary bridge. By then, gusts of flame were roaring over his head. 

At a distance, observers watched in horror as the blazing hull buckled

It was that quick. Most of the men working nearer the stern never knew what hit them. 

Men working amidships in the keel knew, and they ran for the bow. But the ship, its aft gas cells being consumed at an ever-increasing rate of speed as their own gas fed the fire that was destroying them, went down sharply at the stern. A lucky few at the very back of the ship literally fell out as the fins hit the ground, crumpling. Most of the crew in the after part of the ship found themselves running uphill for their lives on a path that was getting steeper with every racing heartbeat. Many fell backward into the fire, screaming, and died. A few clung on, desperate. But in the next moment the Hindenburg’s nose rose high in the air, and a great gout of flame rushed up what had suddenly become a chimney and exploded out the bow.  Everyone in the path of that fireburst died. 

Crew locations at the time of the explosion. Being in the right spot meant life. Being in the wrong spot meant death. Names in green survived. Names in red died. Two of the dead were Stewardess Emilie Imhof and Captain Ernst Lehmann. Heinrich Kubis, the Chief Steward, survived

The stern hit the ground, spilling some more fortunate crewmen out onto the ground. Flames rushed up the body of the ship as if it were a flue

In the main gondola, the first sign of trouble came with what sounded like a slap. Captain Pruss thought that one of the mooring lines had let go. But just as he turned to talk to his Exec, Captain Sammt, Sammt’s attention was caught by an orange reflection in the glass of the control car windows. “The ship’s on fire!” Sammt shouted. The ballast man, reacting instinctively, dumped all the water the ship held, but nothing could extinguish these flames.

 

The motormen and engineers in the engine gondolas jumped for it even as the cloth right outside their car doors vanished before their eyes.

Flames burst from the nose

It took only a second for the greedy fire to eat away at the forward gas cells. As it did, the nose settled and burned

A colorized shot. The orange flames came not from the hydrogen, which produces a clear flame, but from the chemicals in the doped envelope, which, when heated, reacted chemically, becoming thermite

On the Promenades, the passengers were chatting gaily, waiting for this seemingly endless landing procedure to finally end. A few fretted over the delays, worrying about their loved ones, about inconvenience, about missed connections. One or two might have pricked up their ears at an unfamiliar sound, but most of them only became aware of trouble when the air itself took on a dull orange cast.

 

The name HINDENBURG vanishes in flames

 “Fire!”  

Spectators ran from the wreck. The ground crew, comprised of U.S. Navy men, ran toward the fire, looking for survivors

Parents acted autonomically, snatching their children up and tossing them through the big open Promenade windows to the ground below. Adults followed, burning their hands on the suddenly searing window frames, being sprayed by shards as the windows exploded from the heat. Even as they jumped their clothes and hair were frizzled away. A few people turned and ran for their cabins to search for their loved ones who had gone to retrieve a bag or a coat or had gone to take a nap while the ship danced around in seemingly pointless circles.  They died, along with their loved ones. 

After her skeleton hit the ground her remains kept burning

By this time the hydrogen was gone, but the diesel fuel kept burning, along with other chemicals, the interiors, bodies, and remnants of the doped cover. The engine gondola lies to the left, a sad remnant of a proud ship. Amazingly, no one even thought of putting on face masks when nearing this cloud of chemical soup

The ship contorted. Little more than a glowing skeleton now, she fell to the ground, crushing under tons of sizzling Duralumin and burning canvas those who were unlucky enough to drop in the ship’s shadow. She raised her head, humanlike, as the flames devoured the name at her bow --- HINDENBURG --- and then lay down in a rictus of agony, the fire still roaring, diesel fuel tanks sending long black crepes of smoke into the sky.  

The wreckage smoulders. Note the onlookers

After the wreck, guards were posted to keep away the curious and souvenir hunters