MY LIFE STORY

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23057, 7 June 1938, Page 19

MY LIFE STORY

FIRST STAGE

SOUTH TO AFRICA non-stop flight CROSSING OF SPAIN CASABLANCA LANDING /' BY JEAN BATTEN (Copyright) CHAPTER VIII. SOUTH AMERICAN* FLIGHT 1 I get my stop-watch and air-log as I left Lympne aerodrome. The time was exactly 6-30 a.m., G.M.T. I did not follow my usual practice of circling the aerodrome to gain height, but sot straight off across the English Channel, as I had no time to waste if I were -to make Casablanca before dark with this head wind. Climbing gradually as I went, very Boon I was high up above the mist and cloud in a world of my own. I had set a compass course for Biarritz, and could only navigate by deftd-reckoning, as seconds resolved | into minutes and minutes into hours, ] until now I was more than two hours I out and still above the clouds. | Blue 'sky and sunshine above, and ] below as far as I could see stretched a white carpet. Sometimes it was smooth as ice, and at other times mflsd like swansdown. For company I watched the shadow of my aeroplane on the clouds beneath. Often on my ! | flights I had watched that shadow speeding along, sometimes silhouetted against the .sand? of the Syrian Desert, sometimes : on white clouds such as these, high above some lonely part of the world. Something dark caught my «y»—» gap in the clouds. Very soon more gaps appeared, and here and there I caught glimpses of the pasture lands of France as hour after hour slipped by. • ? , . • ' " When nearing the Spanish border I expected to see the great snowy peaks of the Pyrenees silhouetted agamst the skyline. To my consternation there. was not aSmountam to be 6een —only dark, | treacherous rain-clouds, which ! knew were concelaling the peaks. Heavy raindrops splashed on to the windscreen, to be whipped into tiny rivulets by the ilipstream of the propeller as the aeroplane plunged into the storm. Visibility became "steadily worse as I flew south, land the raindrops formed a prelude to thousands of tiny silver arrows which beat against the cabin windows as if vainly seeking admission. Hail . . . I thought of that voice rapping out the weather report . . . " possibility of bail." : • ' Above the Storm-; Flying lower and lower that I might see the coast, I suddenly lost it completely- - as' the machine nosed into 'the raftt-clouds. This* would never do. 1 was flying into a trap. Only a few hundred feet "up and heading at 150 miles' per hour straight for the moun- > tains. Wheeling the machine about I toned back. Should I return to Biarritz and wait for the Btorms to dear? Over the Bay of Biscay the low irain-clouds foretold more storms to tome, and if this flight was to be a ■ record every minute was precious. I dei cided to keep to my schedule. There -was only-joub alternative, and that was to try to climb above the clouds before attempting -to: cross the mountains. I j wondered to What height the clouds extended. Giving the engine full throttle,/I turned the machine back on to its course and put it into a climb. Up and up I climbed . . . 5000 ft. ■f. . . 6000 ft. . . . 7000 ft. As soon as j I would rise above one layer of cloud it was only to find another above. I watched the needle of the- altimeter creeping steadily higher as my trusty aeroplane roared upward through the v great cloud-banks. Twelve thousand feet—surely the clouds could not be higher. Outside the cabin the grey ana white mass seemed to press against the cabin windows of the machine! and threaten to engulf it completely. I began to despair of ever penetrating the sea of cloud. Suddenly, at 14,000 ft.. I emerged into brilliant sunshine. How wonderful to see the light again after that dark, choking mass, which made me shudder at the thought of it I Able to relax now •*ter the/jong climb, I realised how cold I was. My fingers gripping the control column were numb, and I welcomed a drink of hot black coffee from my thermos. I seemed to be in a world of my own, for as far as my eye could >ee there stretched a vast, billowy carpet of cloud. It was bitterly cold, and at such a' great height I wondered if conditions were favourable for iceformation. I anxiously glanced out at the wings of the aeroplane, but was reassured by the answering gleam which flashed back at me from the smooth silver surfaces of the wings. I became overwhelmed by an intense feeling of loneliness which only the long-distance pyer knows, and found myself listening intently to the rhythmic beat of the i engine and trying not to think what the consequences of an engine-failure now would mean . . . the thought of gliding down through that white carpet beneath me that nid the mountains, where it would be almost impossible to make a forced landing. It seemed strange that I should be crossing a great mountain range like the Pyrenees without glimpsing even one mountain peak. Over Spain | Away to the east of my course the seemed to assume fantastic shapes, rising and falling like waves. | l wondered what strange currents caused such peculiar formations. Suddenly I realised that these irregularities »he billowy cloud carpet were in reality snow-capped mountain peaks. a aey looked cold and unfriendly, these snowy peaks rearing themselves 'majestically above the sea of cloud like sentinels. spirits rose as I flew southward, the clouds, were lower, enabling me JO descend to 10,000 ft., where it was not Quite go cold. Gradually the billowy betteath me began to break up, na here and there I caught glimpses ■J* we earth and was able to check up ®y position. Through one break in the wouds I looked down into the yawning 5 a P of a deep, grey, rocky crevice. So °!fP, J t seemed that I thought it must n e v descend hundreds of feet into tin! bowels of the earth. Another ®e I caught sight of a precipitous fort-* ai? a narrow road winding str i a „ cas tle and looking just like a ha* i w hite cotton thrown hapsoo +1 0n the mountain-side. Very the clouds disappeared, giving way mftA T ast panorama of purple-grey a]i "tains and green valleys. Occasion•■would fly over villages with their »a«i J? ouses clustered together. What cirrU• iV- open s P i D the shape of a till. « ™«geP Of course . . . the bull-ring. Rugged Country of • 1 • Half-forgotten tales m™* childhood came back to me— S Da ®.°? adventure, hidden treasure, and Cflivai galleons; of flashing swords and to def° co,l( l u i s tftdores who fought some lovely princes in a lonely E ven ' There were the castles all right, dp ftn nDw 1 , w 'as passing over one high an 5 4 fountain. It might have been «inr<f'« one( l medieval fortress long .|°gotten, but it wo* evidently Ihe l a tiny flag fluttered from •

ruo^l/1 1 tho " gbt > as 1 scanned the rugged mountainous country ahead. My eyes swept across the instrument-board. , ml pressure, 421b.; engine revs., 2000; altitude, 9006ft.j air speed, 100 m.p.h. Leaning down to reach a petrol-cock on the floor of the machine I sw itched over to the port wing-tank. Number 2 tank I called it, for there were five tanks in all to watch and sw itch from one to another as the indicators of the little gauges on the wingtanks neared the red zero mark as the petrol was consumed by the engine, which purred faithfully on hour after hour. I had to be quick, though, to switch over, then turn -off the cock of the empty tank so that the two automatic pumps on the engine should not draw air and, forming an air-lock, cause an engine-failure. On the right side of the cabin Was an auxiliary oil-tank, and every hour I would pump air into the tank from where the oil flowed out under pressure to the main oil tank in the wing, where there was yet another gauge to be watched. I checked up my position and jotted it down in the logbook on my knee.

I was soon approaching the lo,vely,' undulating purple line of the snowcapped Sierra de Guadarrama. Above the highest peak a solitary fluffy white cloud floated like a pennant. Villages and roads became more numerous, and now I was beginning to enjoy Ice flight. In the distance to the westward of my course I saw the great white city of Madrid, and felt tempted to alter course and explore the beauties of the Spanish capital. I made a resolve to return one day and learn more of this fascinating country. How strange it seemed that on my first visit to Spain I should fly the full length of the country with no intention of landing. Why, even Don Quixote would have raised his eyebrows at the very thought of such a journey. The vast plateau over which I had been flying was 2000 ft. above sea-level, and now I was nearing the edge of it there were still more mountain ranges ahead. The country beneath me reminded me somewhat of my own homeland, New Zealand, with the majestic mountains and fertile valleys. Frequently I would fly over the acres of orderly dark green trees of orange groves. Tangier'* Harbour Crossing the broad, sweeping curves of the Guadalquivir River to the east of Seville I continued on, until at last I sighted the blue waters of the Strait of Gibraltar. The mountains here were lower and the country much greener, and very soon I was nearing the southern coast of Spain. A strong westerly wind and myriads of white-crestea waves were my impressions of the Strait as I left the coast of Spain east of Cape Trafalgar , and crossed to Northern Africa. I had my first glimpse of Morocco nearing Tangier, for although the wind was strong there was a slight dust-haze which limited visibility. Tangier . . . The graceful curve of an unbelievably blue harbour backed by green hills. What an exquisite Betting for such a gem! White, flat-roofed houses, with here and there a Moorish tower or dome; wide, cool terraces sloping down to the sea, and palms and flowers in profusion. The sun beat fiercely down as mile after mile of the sandy coastline slipped beneath the silver wings, which reflected the glare and shone like burnished steel. England seemed a long way off . , . . . 1200 miles away, for I was now eight and a-half hours out. Only another 190 miles or so to Casablanca, I thought, pulling on my cork sun-helmet and wondering how I should ! stand the sun on the next day's flight to West Africa. Almost There. The country was flatter now and much greener than I had expected. I was passing over a fairly large town. Picking up my map I read- " Rabat." A sleepy-looking place. with square, white, flat-roofed nouses and narrow streets. It seemed to be completely deserted, but then I was too high up to distinguish any figures, and the only sign of life seemed to be a herd of animals wending their way along a street leaving the city. Looking back, I decided Rabat looked interesting and rather pretty, probably worth a visit some day; I flew.much lower, and was

able to distinguish the figures of some Arabs, their draperies flying in the wind, as they galloped their hprses along the beach. Approaching a lighthouse I saw three tiny native fishing smacks, and far ahead the white buildings of Casablanca gleaming in the strong sunlight. Well named . . . Casablanca, for almost without exception it seemed that every flat-roofed house was white. So strong was the light that I could easily distinguish people walking about the streets, and as I flew low over the aerodrome could see the little crowd that had gathered to welcome me and speed me on my wav. , . ... , Shutting off the engine, 1 glided down to land; then as the wheels touched earth started, to taxi across to the hangars. I paused for a moment: I made a hurried entry in the log-book: " Landed Casablanca 04.15 p.m., G.M.T. Day's run, 1350 miles." Arriving in front of the hangar I switched off the engine exactly nine hours and three-quarters after leaving England, and, opening the door Of the cabin, stepped but. I felt a little stiff as I climbed down off the wing, to be immediately surrounded by a group of friendly French people. Handshakes and congratulations, murmura of " Bon voyage!" and "Bonne chance!" " Why, I've only just started the flight, I began. This is the first stage." " Ah, oui, but what a record to start out with! Non-stop from England to Casablanca in nine hours and three-quarters! " Yes, of course, I had not thought of that, for there were the preparations for the next stage to think about. Phew! It was hot. Discarding the heavy woollen coat in which I had set out I felt the sun _ burning my shoulders through my white flying-suit. Accompanied by the president of the Aero Club de Maroc, I walked across to the customs office, where once again G-ADPR was cleared outward bound,

but this .time for Rio de Oro, where I had arranged for a supply of petrol to be ready for me at the tiny Spanish outpost of Villa Cisneros. Willing hands pushed the machine into the shade of the hangar. _ A French mechanic was waiting to give any help I should require with the engine, for I was not'going on again without first servicing the machine and having some food and sleep. There was another flight of some 1600 miles ahead before I reached the taking-off point for the final stage of the flight across the South Atlantic Ocean of nearly 2000 miles to Brazil. I must conserve my energy, for the successful navigation of that ocean depended on a clear brain and a steady hand. A cup of tea and some ham and salad in the club-house was a welcome interlude. There was a considerable amount of talking going on in the adjoining room, and it did not occur to me that I was the subject of discussion. The President left me to finish my belated lunch, and joining the group was himself soon engrossed in the deep discussion. As I was finishing my coffee he returned and said that the health 'officer wanted %o know if I had been vaccinated. Giving myself a mental pat on the back for my careful organisation I searched through my papers until I came to a medical certificate' attesting that I had been vaccinated for smallpox. No, that would not do, it appeared. I must produce a certificate stating that I had been inoculated against "pest." What was "pest," 1 wanted to know. It was not mentioned in the long list of "conditions to be complied with in flights to French West Africa" that had been sent to me from the Air Ministry before my departure. Emergency Precaution* Had I not complied with all these regulations, and already shown the customs officer the mooring equipment, signal pistol complete with red and green rocket cartridges, the insurance policy for 100,000 francs to assist in paying for a search in the event of a forced landing on the lonely stretches over which I must fly to reach Thies? There were also the big two-gallon water-con-tainers, the packets of emergency rations sufficient to last for fourteen days, the 20 per cent petrol margin, glass tubes containing chemicals to indicate wind-direction on impact with the ground, and, of course, the heavy service revolver with twenty cartridges. I thought with a twinge or regret how these new regulations nad already layed the start of my flight for one month, Surely there could not be anything I had overlooked. No, no, I must not misunderstand them, the President assured me with a smile. I had certainly complied with till the regulations. The health officer had received notification that plague had broken out in Senegal, and no one who was not inoculated against "pest" could enter Moroccan territory from there. "I don't want to," ,1 began. "You see ,1 am flying on, from Senegal to South America, and will only land at the military aerodrome of Thies." "Yes, but you run a terrible risk, and once having entered Senegal it would not be possible for you to return to Morocco should any contingency arise and you wish to do so. It is wiser that you wait in Casablanca for a few days and be inoculated before proceeding." Refuelling Completed I closed my eyes for a second: the bottom seemed to be dropping out of my world, so disappointed did I feel. "There must be a way out," I thought, determined not to give up. "Can I go to Villa Cisneros?" I asked. "That's Spanish territory, and the authorities there might let me^ proceed to Senegal." If not I had decided to return to 'England on the following day and make the flight in another month or two. To my mind that Beemed the only solution, for apart from the record the thought of being inoculated in the unaccustomed heat of Morocco for such a horrible plague as "pest" seemed to be, and immediately afterwards attempting an Atlantic flight, was not to be entertained. The President promised to see if there was any alternative, and departed to the adjoining room, to return almost immediately with a man whom I took to be the health officer. They were not at all happy as they told me that if I liked to sign a document to the effect that having been warned about the

plague I proceeded entirely at my own risk I should be allowed to fly on to Senegal. Ah, fate was kind. Yes, I would sign the paper, I declared happily. They all looked at me in astonishment. I had no first-hand knowledge of plague, and did not realise the terrible scourge that it was, sO the thought that I might encounter the deadly "jiest" did not enter my head.., Once the document was signed we returned to the machine. Refuelling operations were soon In full swing; the mechanic, eager to carry out any work I could give him, busied himself draining the oil, cleaning filters; and refuelling the petrol tanks. At last everything was in readiness for an early start, for I proposed leaving about an hour before dawn in order to arrive at Thies before sundown. Taking the thermos and the small leather bag containing my few belongings from the cockpit. I smiled at the crowd, who seemed so genuinely pleased that everything was going to schedule. Several people had already offered to drive me into the town, and after arranging for a guard to watch the machine I departed, leaving the aeroplane still surrounded by an admiring group. (To be continued daily.)