With the war in 1914, our lives were turned upside down and steadily we watched as increasing numbers of our friends and relatives went off to fight on the Western Front. I imagine your memories of that time are no less frightening. Working on the farm, Tom and I had plenty to keep us busy and I have to say that neither of us had any great desire to join the army - in any case, I was still too young.

From the early part of 1916, we faced a more immediate threat to our safety. Zeppelin airships began to attack the eastern coastline with frightening regularity, bombing coastal ports and towns and terrifying the local population. You will understand that we were not used to such attacks and were unprepared for the war to be brought to the doorsteps of our homes and farms. In fact, I am sure that the fear of those attacks was generally much worse than any actual damage the airships inflicted.

It was during one of those early airship raids that my story really begins.

I was woken in the early hours of 12th August, 1916 by the familiar sound of artillery guns further down the coast. Instinctively, I ran to my bedroom window and looking skyward saw a continuous tornado of shells being sent up against what I imagined to be a German raiding party. Searchlights from the ground were moving across the sky trying to locate the attackers and at one point I saw the lights catch and hold a Zeppelin in their grasp. I could hear the sound of the airship’s engines droning high above. All the while, the guns continued to pound. For whatever reason, I decided to dress and go outside.

Out in the cold air, I watched as the Zeppelin continued across the sky, tracked by the searchlights, and visible in the growing dawn of the new day. I had made my way down through some woodland about a mile from our farmhouse and pulled myself up onto a wooden gate. At this point, the guns fell silent and I could see the lights of three or four aircraft rising up to attack the airship that, by this time, had shut down its engines and appeared to be drifting out of control towards the coast. The aircraft began to attack the Zeppelin, the rapid bursts of their machine guns being clearly audible from where I sat.

As I watched the events unfold, I was startled to see and hear an explosion at the rear end of the airship. Bright orange flames began to appear above the tail of the craft, moving steadily forwards towards its nose. You might think that I would have felt some joy at seeing the destruction of this hostile invader, but I can say that I felt only horror at the thought of the airmen trapped aboard her flaming hulk. I could hardly bear to watch as the airship dipped at the rear and began to fall to earth. But it was then that my fears become more acute. Over the course of the next five minutes, I watched as the ship fell closer and closer towards our land.

As the Zeppelin fell, I could see a tall column of fire stretching up above her and a long trail of black smoke tracing out her descent. Getting ever closer and nearing the ground, I watched as the stricken craft barely cleared the woods to my side and passed overhead, showering hot debris throughout the trees and across the open field ahead. I remained fixed to the gate, too terrified to move. At less than one hundred feet from the ground, I saw what I thought were black bombs being launched from the airship, but as I watched and waited for the explosions, I realised to my horror that these missiles were in fact the bodies of some of the crew jumping or falling into the field. At that point, the Zeppelin hit the ground with a tremendous bumping, grinding and twisting of metal and continued to travel across the ploughed soil before coming to an abrupt halt on the far side of the field. A large explosion followed and numerous fires across the site flared up and continued unabated.

I could go on at length to tell you about the aftermath of the crash and the efforts made by countless Englishmen to save the few crewmen that remained alive in the burning debris. To explain how the crash site attracted thrill-seekers from far and wide and to commiserate with you about the fact that in the end, all nineteen German airmen lost their lives in this tragic episode. No doubt you will know much of this, and I imagine you will already have guessed how you are linked to the story. But there is much, much more, to tell.

For the two hours immediately following the crash, most attention was focused on the field where the Zeppelin came to rest. All but one of the crew died there, having burned to death in the craft or having fallen from the airship before it crashed. The one crewmember not found there had jumped from his position in the rear engine car of the airship as it passed over the woods adjoining our farmland. He had been spared the agony of burning to death, but as he fell through the trees at speed had broken numerous bones in his body, including his neck. He lived for an hour after the crash before being found by an English Army doctor. I know this because I spent those last precious moments with him, comforting him as he passed away. You need to know this, because he was your father, Franz George Descartes.

I appreciate that it may be difficult for you to come to terms with all that I am about to tell you, but you must bear with me. Franz would have wanted it that way - he told me so.

I did not move from the wooden gate until the airship had hit the ground. At that point, I realised that I must get help. In fact, I need not have worried as within minutes people from the village began to arrive at the scene, running across the field towards the burning ship. As I jumped down from the gate intending to follow the others, I heard a voice from the woods nearby. I climbed back over the gate and proceeded into the trees, following the sound. I could catch only odd words as I stumbled through the semi-lit woodland, but recognised that those words were in German .

When I finally reached Franz, he lay on his back as if sleeping. As I stood above him, unsure what to do next, he smiled up at me and said in perfect English, “Please do not be afraid, my friend, you can see that I am in no position to hurt you!”

I was surprised by the calmness in his voice, as I could already see that he was unable to move his limbs and must have been in tremendous pain. “Please, sit beside me,” he continued. “I may have only a short time to live and have much to say. What is your name? Please, do not worry about getting me any food or water, it will only waste time.”

I told him who I was and how I had watched the airship descend. He then asked me if any of the others had survived the crash and I told him that I thought it unlikely. He appeared to be upset by this and fell silent for a few moments. I asked him where he came from in Germany and he told me that he lived in Hamburg with his wife Gretel and young son, Heinrich. He seemed pleased that I had asked him about his homeland and said that his family meant more to him than anything else in the world. It was for this reason that he needed to talk and he asked only that I listen to what he had to say. I was in no position to argue, and my only fear was that we would be discovered before he was able to finish what he had to say. I then sat beside him and listened intently to every word he uttered.

Let me begin by saying that Franz was an incredible narrator. Even in that final hour, suffering untold pain, he was able to tell his story with colour and vivacity. And in those passing moments, I think he recognised in me a yearning for adventure and an eagerness to hear all that he had to say about parts of the world I had yet to explore. I have never been a deeply religious man, but I have always thought that there was a degree of predetermination in the way that our lives were brought together that fateful morning .