WIRELESS,

Hokitika Guardian, 3 May 1920, Page 4

WIRELESS,

WHAT AN OPERATOR HEARS

(Uy Laurence H. Hardingliam, wireless Engineer, late of the American

Marconi Company.)

Senator Marconi’s startling revelations in The Daily Mail of the mysterious signals from the unknown are arousing widespread interest in the ranks of wireless telegraphists. The signals received are of such regularity as to make them quite different from the atmospheric interruptions commonly experienced by radio operators in the pursuit of their fascinating occupation.

For the wireless operator’s life is undoubtedly one of great fascination. In the quietness of his cabin ho alone of all those in a ship is not completely out of touch with the outside world. lie site in his'cliair and listens to the voices of the “nito” (that is the way it is spelt in radio), some faint, some loud, some like violins, some like flutes and clarionets, and some like round-toned saxophones; some deep and resonant like a resolute man and some “coming in” with a wail like a ghost in pain—all weird and unearthly, and of the night, because wireless communication (except on very high power) is good only for short distances in daylight—why, we are not yet sure. * ' * * * * * * I recall one night on the Pacific Ocean where greater distances can be worked over than on the Atlantic. 1 was sitting at the desk in the radio cahin a few days out from San Francisco. was about ten o’clock.

“Listening in” with a pair of telephones strapped to my head, first I heard the great Navy Station at San Francisco, talking to a coast boat, telling me to keep quiet—l was causing too much “interference.” Then San Diego, a thousand' miles away, is “in” with a jumble of code words to a naval vessel. From two thousand miles away is heard, like an echo, the bass voice of the Honolulu wireless set sending Press messages to the ships around the Hawaiian Islands.

Then there is an awful noise: it sounds as though an operator had forgotten the code; hut it is only a Japanese vessel using his own country’s code of 49 letters and with about twice the power other ships use. Radios from these Japanese vessels, frequent}’ drown out others entirely. The most uncanny thing of all is when one hears human voices “out of the air.” On this particular night I hear two battleships using their wireless telephones. The voices are clearer than on an ordinary wire telephone. Then silence for a few minutes, and I hear a high-pitched little whistle tuning up. The operator is calling me, and I think I recognise that note—yes, it is a young friend of mine who is operator in a large passenger vessel. Ho is in trouble. His ship is riding a severe gale, his aerial is half blown away, and he wants me to help him to get a message through to Sail Francisco. He is three days away from me, and, after taking his message,.T ask him for a report on his weather conditions, for wireless telegraphy is an invaluable aid to navigators in warning them of stormy weather ahead. The operator gives me his weather report, and I thank him and bid him good-night.