A Zeppelin was a type of rigid airship named after the German Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin who pioneered rigid airship development at the beginning of the 20th century. Zeppelin's ideas were first formulated in 1874 and developed in detail in 1893. They were patented in Germany in 1895 and in the United States in 1899. After the outstanding success of the Zeppelin design, the word zeppelin came to be commonly used to refer to all rigid airships. Zeppelins were first flown commercially in 1910 by Deutsche Luftschiffahrts-AG (DELAG), the world's first airline in revenue service. By mid-1914, DELAG had carried over 10,000 fare-paying passengers on over 1,500 flights. During World War I the German military made extensive use of Zeppelins as bombers and scouts, killing over 500 people in bombing raids in Britain.
Zeppelin is a 1971 British World War I action-drama directed by Étienne Périer. The film stars Michael York, Elke Sommer and Anton Diffring. Zeppelin depicts a fictitious German attempt to raid on Great Britain in a giant Zeppelin to steal the Magna Carta from its hiding place in one of Scotland's castles.
During the First World War in 1915, Geoffrey Richter-Douglas (Michael York), a Scotsman of German descent, is a lieutenant in the British Army. He meets Stephanie (Alexandra Stewart), a German spy with whom he falls in love. She suggests that he escape to Germany, where the other members of his family and his friends are. As a loyal soldier, he reports this contact to his commanding officer, Captain Whitney, who also wants Geoffrey to go to Germany, but on a secret mission to steal the plans of the LZ36, a new type of Zeppelin under development at Friedrichshafen.
Geoffrey pretends to be a deserter and travels to Germany. At Friedrichshafen, he meets his long-time friend Professor Altschul (Marius Goring), who lives with his beautiful and much younger wife, Erika (Elke Sommer).
Zeppelin is a German surname that usually refers to:
It can also refer to:
The coins rest deep in the wells of my eyes, placed gently there after I died. It's a small penance I'm willing to pay for my fare, my fate, escape. But what beauty and grace will remain as our ruins, or relics, or names? They're all constants that stand to remind of what quickly passes by. As we quit the shore, I survey the graves; rows of old stones, unevenly paired, princess with thieves and lovers apart. So where shall I lay? With you? Alone?
The storm is now pressing its weight on all sides as it plunges its nails into pine. The tall waters will wash us away. For now, forget, erase, and leave nothing behind whence we came--no ruins, nor relics, nor names, nor anchors to hang in the tides that slowly still unwind. But we rest assured we're safe in our graves. With faces upturned, we look to be saved, but the rustling of soil will slowly subside and quietly die.