MODERN NAVIGATORS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22350, 22 February 1936, Page 28 (Supplement)

MODERN NAVIGATORS

MEN OF THE AIR LINES COURAGE AND EFFICIENCY BRITAIN'S SPLENDID PILOTS Around 8.30 every morning a sturdy figure passes through the gates of Croydon Airport, writes Victor Bur. nett in the Daily Express, London. He walks through the booking hall and out to the tarmac. There, sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in. rain, a great air-liner waits, tiny figures clustering beneath the shadow of its silver wings. And a new activity runs through them as the newcomer draws near. The commander has arrived. Within half an hour the morning Paris ship will take off, with that man at the controls, touching down at Le Bourget two hours later with the regularity of clockwork, There are ' nearly a score of these ' men—all of them responsible for the safety of lives and mail as they command Britain's air liners on the Continental routes or along the air lanes of the Empire. Thousands of passengers know them by sight—Jones of the trim beard and the sea-dog air, Horsey of the twinkling eyes, Walters, Britain's master pilot No. 1, Tweedie, th-j only Scot in the service, Youell, Alcock, and Rogers. Keady to Start But what is -the; routine of their daily lives, what dothey do, these men who stand for security and safety in the air? Take Captain 0. P. Jones, the man of the "beard, best known of them all. He lives at Coulsdon, near .the airport, with his wife and son, naval cadet in the Worcester. | When he arrives on the tarmac everything is ready for him, ithe machine overhauled and fuelled. His first officer has been over the liner, too, and is ready to report it all correct to the commander. So Captain Jones consults the meteorological officer to find out what type of weather awaits him along the' route. Passengers arrive. While they are embarking the commander checks the load sheet, taking ful{ responsibility that the machine is not overloaded. r £hen, entering the control cabin by his own gangway, be seats himself next to the mate, also at a duplica'te set of controls. Masterful In Emergency > On the tick of scheduled time he lifts the heavy machine off the ground, up into the region of calmest air, through clouds and rain, until sheis set on her course. When all is well ha hands over to the first officer, himself a pilot of years' experience, and walks back to the passenger cabins. , Here and there he s vrill stop for a chat with a frequent traveller. He must see that the other passengers have all they want, and • that the stewards are attending to them properly. He is not only the pilot but the captain of his ship responsible for the well-being of everything in it. During the landing, in an emergency or if the weather is bad, he is back at the controls, quiet, masterful, -He will bring another machine back to Croydon, and then, in the winter, his day is done. Five hundred miles flown, four hours or more in the air. Inthe summer he will take four services, covering nearly one thousand miles. Adventures in the air? Narrow escapes ? He won't tell you of any. His job is to see that his ship arrives? and it does arrive. Flying Blind ... But there are moments up in that control cabin that the passengers don't know about, don't even guess. Once, flying his forty-two seater over the Channel, a waterspout formed ahead of him. The passengers were interested in the unusual sight. It made a good story for the evening papers. But suppose that water spout had smashed into the silver machine. # _ 0. P. Jones saw to it that it didnt. And the passengers still think it was just an unusual sight. He did have a crash once—in his car. There was one time, though, over Seyenoaks, when he came near it in the air. Picture it—the great machine, outdated now, flying blind. Great drops of rain lash its cabin windows, patter like machine-gun fire on the wings. Wind sobs through the flying wires. Black clouds blanket the ship, cutting out earth and sky. Suddenly a staggering, jagged fork of lightning crashes right through that flimsy aeroplane, shattering the windows of {he control cabin, 'smashing radio and compass. Stopped a Panic

"What did I do?" he says._ "Well, I thought the passengers might _be frightened, so I tried the communica-. tion door of their compartment. But it had jammed. Then I wrote a note on a piece of paper, telling them not to* worry and that was all right, and shoved it under the door. After that I landed her at Croydon." That's all. He just landed her at Croydon. Just like that. But he saved his ship, stopped panic in the pas« sengers, and brought hiss command down safely. He likes to tell you how he found a wasp in the air thousands of feet up, where no wasp had been seen before. That is far more interesting to him than talking about narrow escapes. The point is that these men don't have narrow escapes. They are there to see that no such thing can happen—and, with their experience behind the controls, thoy don't happen.