Word: huenefeld
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...motor was whirled. Once it spat and died, again it sputtered and coughed, finally it roared action. A man picked up the butt of von Huenefeld's discarded cigar for a souvenir...
Unheralded, unawaited, after a secret start from Berlin, the Bremen dropped from the sky above Dublin on March 26. Three head-erect Germans stepped from her cabin: Baron Ehrenfried Gunther von Huenefeld, monocled Prussian nobleman, owner of the plane; Capt. Hermann Koehl, stolid flyer from Berlin, proud possessor of a heroic war record; Arthur Spindler, co-pilot and mechanic, who had been Capt. Koehl's sergeant during the War. They announced themselves on the way to the U. S., determined to be the first to make the hazardous wind-bucking passage East to West...
...followed day. Impatient, fretful, the three Germans waited for clearing weather. There was nothing to do but pace the turf of Baldonnel Airdrome, inspecting and reinspecting their Junkers plane and its powerful Junkers engine. Talk in idleness led to argument. Baron von Huenefeld spoke a fiery word. Mechanic Spindler packed his bag, left, and then there were only two. No one dared ask the tight-lipped Prussian exactly...
...12th, the roads to Baldonnel were burdened with men, women, children, donkeys, cycles, motorcars. The Bremen was trundled from her hangar and poised for flight, away from a perfect dawn. Koehl and Fitzmaurice, devout Catholics, made their confessions and Father O'Riordan blessed the plane. Baron von Huenefeld, doffing his yachting cap, hung a silken flag of the old German Empire beside that of the Irish Free State. President and Mrs. William T. Cosgrave, the German Consul-General, the Chief of Staff of the Army and other officials, watched...
Shortly after 4, von Huenefeld, monocle anchored in his right eye, sat down to a hard-boiled egg breakfast. Then he lighted a cigar and offered another to the Irishman, who smilingly declined; he could "wait till we get to New York...