FLIGHT TO SAVE LIFE

Greymouth Evening Star, 27 March 1930, Page 9

FLIGHT TO SAVE LIFE

1,200 MILES FOR SERUM SAN FRANCISCO, February 19. One of the most dramatic episodes in the history of aeronautics was written when a timid-looking young airman set down his aeroplane on Crissy Field, in San Francisco, after an epic flight from the apple region of Wenatchee, in the State of Washington, having covered 1,200 miles in record time, after scores of hazards over mountains and through frigid weather, to carry a dying woman, Mrs Irving Edwins, wife of a poor rancher, to San Francisco to receive the anti-cancer extract recently discovered by Dr. Walter B. Coffey and Dr. John Humber.

Irving Edwins was spurred by a last desperate hope that his wife might be saved by the serum, and mortgaged Ills property in order to raise 'the necessary funds to pay for the ambul-ance-aeroplane journey over mountains and valleys south to California. When Edwins arrived in San Francisco, after having administered opiates all the way down the coast to his unconscious wife, he said: “I want my wife to live. If she dies it will be the blackest tragedy of my life. They say I’m a wealthy man. That is untrue. This trip down here was made on borrowed money; and if the aeroplane company had not been considerate and given me ' a reduced rate of 400dol I never could have come, [’ll be ruined - financially when I get' □ack, but I am ready to spend every penny I have in the world to save my wife. I’ll face poverty gladly if I can face it with her by my side. As a matter of fact, I shall have to sei: my fruit ranch to clear some of my debts. I have only a few dollars left in cash. But if my wife lives I won’t care about other things. “I had given up all hope until I read about the extract discovered by Dr. Coffey and Dr. Humber. It was like grasping at a last straw, but I grasped. It' was a ray of hope and I was so excited I acted, like a man gone insane. I borrowed some money, and then arranged for an aeroplane, meeting that great young pilot Charles Rector. They told me an aeroplane would cost 700dol to fly us to San Francisco. I did not have that much money, and I could not come by train, because our doctor at Wenatchee said a train ride would kill my wife. “Those air company officials had a heart, and when they heard what I was up against they cut their rate to 400dol. I jumped at the offer and chartered a ’plane. My wife was in agony, byt seemed to understand what we were doing. To ease her suffering we gave her opiates. All the way down she kept moaning with pain, in the ’plane, and I kept administering opiats. Now we are here, and my happiness depends on whether- they can save her.”

AIR DEATH RACE Charles A. Rector, pilot of the Intercity Air Express cancer aeroplane, in an interview said: “It was a race with death every inch of the way. In fact, I felt death was riding on the wings of the ’plane. We took off in a raging blizzard, taxiing off the field in 2ft of snow. The landing gear ploughed through, but we had to make it at top speed to get off the ground. Then I first realised that the fellows at the field might have been right after all. They swore it could not be done. The icy wind whipped against the fuselage, making it veer crazily. Finally I felt the tail lift, and we knew we were on our way. Imagine the weight of responsibility that hung over that cockpit! The lives of a woman and her husband, both in no condition to take chances, and every second of the way we were taking desperate chances. We had to take them. The fog in the Columbia River gorge had me as worried as I ever expect to be. Our ceiling was only 50ft high. Skimming along the ground with the precious cargo, occasionally tipping the water, was no picnic. Finally we made it above the clouds. That was better. In a few minutes that seemed centuries my calculations told me we were over Portland. The fuel was running low, and below us was an impenetrable blanket of fog and rain. “If it had been a case of myself alone I probably should not have minded. But behind me were that poor woman and her husband. She was stretched out on an improvised cot, and he was holding her hand. How was I going to get down to refuel? We could not stay up there forever. Eventually I decided .there was just one chance, and I decided to take it. Catching sight of the best opening afforded in the cloud bank, I side-slipped through. It was a long chance, but Fate for the moment was with us. For there in plain sight was Portland, and at the edge of the city was the brown square of the landing field that meant safety, for a little while at least. When we made that landing I felt as if I had come back from a land where there was no living being but that woman, her husband, and myself. How did I know I was over Portland? Well, to tell the truth, I wasn’t too sure. I flew all the way from Seattle to Portland with only a railway map as a guide.

ENDANGERED BY CROWD’ . “Of course, I didn’t , tell them, that half-frantic husband and his poor halfdead wife. They had enough to worry about. At the Portland field we were rushed by a mob that had gathered for no good reason. At least, there did not seem any good reason. They rushed the plane as we landed, and I was afraid the trip was going to end right there xvith a crushed wing. But the few policemen managed to bold them back after a fashion. “There was the routine business of refuelling and testing the instruments. That was over in a few minutes, and we were ready to take off again. “For one brief minute before yelling ‘Contact,’ I sat there and thought. Above was that no man’s land of fog and sleet. But here on the ground was that woman, hourly moving nearer and nearer the shadow of death. ‘Contact.’

“That was my decision, and I’m glad I made it. The propeller whirled, and we were off, heading back into that heavy sea through which no eyes could pierce for more than an eighth of a mile. Along about the California border the earth gradually broke into sight. Wisps of fog still hampered visibility, but it was getting better. At 4 p.m. we were in .Redding, and the sun was shining. From then the trip was comparatively easy until dark. I never had landed at San Francisco at night before. The air beacons at Criley Field were life-savers in the strictest sense of the word. I landed, and the trip was over. Even if it was in vain, I'm glad I made the trip. It

was worth the chance, and I’d do it again to-morrow.” Only a handful of flying field attendants and newspapermen greeted the silver monoplane at Crissy Feld when Rector brought down the ambulance aeroplane in the darkness. Unhampered by strange surroundings and a lack of landing lights, young Rector put the plane down on a perfect, threepoint landing and jumped out to await the ambulance waiting at the field. “Yes,” said Edwins, “Rector is a great boy and a. wonderful pilot. He brought us to San Francisco safely. I had too much on my mind to notice anything en route. I guess the trip was uneventful.”

Ou the following day the anti-cancer extract was injected into Mrs Edwins in a hope that she might recover, but doctors declared that she was in too advanced a stage.