ROMANCE OF THE AIR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20986, 24 September 1931, Page 11

ROMANCE OF THE AIR.

SOUTHERN CROSS STARTS. THE "GLORIOUS ADVENTURE.*' OVER THE VAST PACIFIC. GIFT RING AS A MASCOT. BY AIR-COMMODORE KINGSFORD SMITH. (Copyright.) No. Y. I have a vivid recollection of the morning of May 31, 1928, when, with a roar of the engines, wo took off from Oakland airport. The morning was misty, but the weather forecast was good, and as we headed out over the Golden Gate I experienced a sensation of relaxation and relief from the worries and anxieties of ' the previous nine months, and at the same time a tremendous elation at the prospect before me. To me personally all our troubles were over. What lay in front was a glorious adventure —and a glorious achievement. It is true that others had pioneered the path before us as far as Hawaii, but after that we were going into the unknown. Balbao had been the first white man to set eves on the Pacific; Magellan had been the first to furrow its waters with his keel; Bligh had navigated its unknown waters'for 3000 miles in an open boat. I felt that we were following in the footsteps of these great predecessors and that we could claim kinship with them. They had traversed virgin waters; we were about to traverse virgin air. On my finger I wore a silver ring. Just as we wer? leaving the ground I had been approached by Mrs. Eichwaldt, the mother of Lieutenant Albert Eichwaldt, | who had perished with W. P. Erwin while searching for Miss Doran after the Dole ; race disasters. She bade us Godspeed, : and then asked me to wear the ring I which her son had made from a franc I piece while serving in the war. The inj cident touched me deeply and I gladly I assented to her wish. I Over the Golden Gate. And now below lay the Golden Gate 1 shimmering in the haze and our bows ! were pointed Westward Ho! The outlook was most propitious. Not a single "low" or depression was on the weather chart. The engines were revolving perfectly; their roar prevented any conversation, so that we were forced to rely on pencilled notes. Beside me in the cockpit sat Ulm, and in the after-cabin, though I could not see them, were Warner and Lyon, the former busily engaged in receiving and transmitting radio messages and listening . ( for the buzz of the wireless beam, while Lyon was continually checking our course, speed and drift. My chief concern was with the engines and with the weather ahead of us. The roar of those three great Whirlwinds, which in trial flights had grated heavily on my eardrums, became now a harmonious symphony, to which I listened hour after hour with an ear attuned to catch the slightest hesitancy in their beat. On them everything depended, and they had a tremendous call upon them, for I demanded that they should maintain an average of 1600 revolutions a minfite-for three prolonged periods of 27i hours, 34£ hours and 20 hours respectively. My next concern was with the weather 'ahead, particularly the probability of running into cloud, which I feared and hoped to avoid. I wished to fly at a height somewhere less than 2000 ft. if I could avoid clouds, as it was the climbing above the clouds that ate up our petroL Right through the flight it was my aim to fly as low as was consistent with safety. Anxiety Regarding Petrol. Our petrol consumption was in fact my chief source of anxiety. Though I was convinced in my heart of hearts that we had ample reserves to give us a wide margin, doubts continually assailed me. Were our estimates of consumption correct ? Perhaps the motors were eating up more petrol than I thought, and after the first few hours when I had to climb to nearly 3000 ft. to avoid ranges of cloud, the fear that more climbing might be in front of us worried me. Our speed was between 70 and 80 knots, and at noon, when the navigator put on the clock 15 minutes, we were going strong, and had covered 340 miles of the 2400 which lay before us. It began to become monotonous. In the cockpit, where Ulm and I sat, there was just room to crouch in a 'huddled position for a doze, but refreshing sleep was hardly possible with that tremendous roar in our ears. As the day drew on the monotony increased. We were enlivened from time to time by cheery little messages from Lyon. We had taken off at six minutes to nine that morning and by six o'clock that evening we had been flying for nine hours at an average speed of 78 miles an hour. We had covered 700 miles and still had 1390 to go. Away on the starboard bow the sun was setting in a great ball of fire and I witnessed such a spectacular and glorious sunset as I had seldom seen before. It was a marvellous spectacle, but I was concerned with the night flying before us, and climbed to 4000 ft. as darkness descended. The moon was astern of us, and we flew along over the silver path 'which she cast on the sea below. Overhead, in the clear night air, the stars looked down on us as we roared on—the vivid flame from our exhaust pipes trailed out astern of us. Climbing Above the Rain. Just beforo midnight we ran into some heavy clouds at 4000 ft. and then rain. It was the first time we had struck rain, and for some minutes I was flying blind, climbing to 4800 ft., when fortunately we cleared it and all was serene again. At midnight we were at 5400 ft.; our speed was 67 knots; we calculated that we had 570 gallons in the tanks; the stars and moon shone on us; everything was proceeding "according to plan." Just before 2 a.m. we caught sight of some tiny pinpoints of lights below us I on the port side and made out the black blur of a steamer. It was the first sign of human activity we had seen since leaving land, and"l felt a friendly feeling toward this only other occupant of the vast and dark space beneath us. While Ulm took the controls and headed the Southern Cross toward her, I called her up with our searchlight, which was fitted with a Morse key for signalling, and flashed "0.K.5.C." for "O.K. Southern Cross." She signalled her name Maliko, on? of the Matson Line's ships, and from her Warner received a radio bearing which gave us a fix on our position. Alone on the Trackless Void. Soon after we had passed the Maliko Warner was in radio touch with the Manoa. We were then at 4600 ft. and going well at 65 knots, and a little later I sighted her lights, far away below us. Ulm once again flew the Southern Cross toward?her while I signalled with the searchlight. These were the only two ships we met in the whole course of the flight across the Pacific. They both belonged to the same line: we sighted them both within an hour of each other and we passed them both at night. By a quarter to three the Manoa's lights had disappeared astern and wo were alone- on the trackless void once more. Meantime the outboard wing tanks containing 192 gallons were empty and we had 16 hours yet to go before we reached Wheeler Field. We longed for the dawn; the night was chill and though the deep wicker chair in which I sat was rpomy . and comfortable and I coulu s *y e . c 1 njv legs and lean back and fall into an uneasv dose while Ulm relieved me afc r;i„M. "«■ !?» d th« engines allowed onfy fitful sleep. (To be Continued.) , • gjfjg . , : - • • - - - -• • • ' - v - '-*jS£ Jl-.Jsa®