MY LIFE STORY

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23058, 8 June 1938, Page 23

MY LIFE STORY

SECOND LAP

(.' DESERT flying ■■ "■■■ SAND AND SUN : SWELTERING HEAT • U ?i # > < POOE VISIBILITY ■ BY JEAN BATTEN ; \ '/ (Copyright) CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued) leaning back in the deep seat of the fports car I breathed a sigh of conttofoMnt. The flight so far had kept to schedule, and now I was able to relax f° r a few hours. We were approaching tho outskirts of the city, and flie lun, ,setting in a blaze of gold, tinted the low white houses shades of pearly iridescence. The car flashed past a herd of native cattle jolting along the road, and farther on passed two Arabs riding on donkeys and. picturesquely clad in hooded garments of orange and black striped cloth.* , { As we drove through the deep shadows of the narrow streets at times we would h#vc to stop as crowds of natives made for the car. In some of tho doorways Arabs were squatting cross-legged looking pipes, and here and there the rays of an odd lamp would catch the handsome features of some Arab youth padding noiselessly along tho street or jogging homeward on a mule. Moroccan Hotel i With a jolt we pulled up outside a large white building, which was appropriately enough called the Hotel Atlantic. A native wearing a long striped garment and a red fez dashed forward to carry the luggage, and I laughed at the look of amazement and incredulity 011 his face as I emerged .carrying the thermos and tiny leather bag. My kind friends agreed to call for me «t 3.30 a.m., and after ordering tome dinner to be sent to my room I retired. The furnishings of tho room to which I was -shown were typically Moroccan. The floor/was tiled and partially covered with s6ver.il beautifully coloured Mtire ruga. The main feature of the bed was a largo mosquito not, which completely enveloped it, and the orange and black'striped coverlet was of woven doth 1 . , , * . Impatient Alarm Clock fey the time I had dined, checked pver the maps for the next section of the flight,', arranged to be called at 3.80 a.m., and instructed the native attendant jn the art of filling a thermos $ raa nearly midnight. As soon as my t#ad touched the pillow I fell into a Step sleep, only to be awakened three tours later by the shrill note of my jlann-clock- Sitting up reluctantly, I poped about for the clock that I might iilence its' impatient ringing. Where iad I",j)Ut .the wretched, thing£ Before V had'disentangled myself .froiil the foldi the mosquito net and discovered the clock on the floor the impatient ■scfeaming had- terminated abruptly. '"Every ono in the hotel is probably awake by now," I reproachfully myself. I listened for the angry muttering and smothered oaths |hat these early notes of my alarmdock usually brought forth from disgruntled guests in adjoining rooms, but there was not a sound to be heard. Hasty Breakfast v'li did not take me long to struggle mto my flying-suit, and after a hasty rap of tea and some biscuits I joined my friends, who had arrived punctually ind were awaiting me in the dimly lit kail. The 'native attendant had faithfolly carried out my instructions, and had the thermos, filled with coffee, and tome sandwiches ready for me. We werp soon on our way to the "wodrome. The white houses looked i&ite ghostly in the moonlight as we

through the sleeping city, and deep silence was only broken by jOe occasional distant howl of a dog. "itn the deserted streets to ourselves good progress, and soon ar•*T«u at the aerodrome. There was my Passport'-'to retrieve from the customs 3%50 while the aeroplane'was being Reeled .out of the hangar I walked -to the control office and colfinri * a ' SO obtaining a weather reAgadir. Bidding good-bye to JvFrench* friends I climbed into the jvpP'V ran the engine up, and, re- ,, n ng the brakes, taxied slowly across and turned into the rh car efully checked over the infuments on the dashboard once again, ODef- the stop-watch and air-log into enm i°n and adjusting the illuminated cirri w hich shone up at me like a „ let of diamonds from the floor of .. cockpit. Switching on the naviga■;.T J ights I took off. Time Factor eon+i ave the engine full throtle and Wj'y Pushed the control column foraoJj aeroplane roared across the „ adrome. As the tail lifted 1 eased back and the Gull climbed e . t^ie re d boundary lights. J% gaining height I throttled the torn!*! -? n *° cruising revolutions and dron? knok across the aeroWan en in the darkness Casatitv w'u. w hite —almost like a fairy liffh+o tt i ts ro.vriads of tiny sparkling '®cr«a i - s *' le light southerly wind Ifcto ? in strength 1 should pass over t tf!« 0 L On +i, , ® factor was a great problem K flights, for each place had few,, V ooß ' time, and as I was flying Pistil wes tward, that is, travelling %lifcU s " u was ac tually gaining +v. Australia flight t •whiT °PP° s ite had been the case, [.- with every thousand miles I had

flown eastward approximately an hour's daylight had been lost. To prevent contusion J. made all my calculations in breenwich Mean Time, and this also enabled me to know to the minute the number of hours of daylight there would be for each day of the flight, litere were two clocks 011 the instru-ment-board, one which was set to bri eenwich Mean Time, and the other 1 altered at each stopping-place to the local time, for naturally the authorities at each aerodrome had to know my estimated time of departure in their own local time. CHAPTER IX. WATCHING THE DAWN • back at Casablanca, which in the distance, with all the lights blurred together, looked exactly like a great, sparkling diamond. The brightness of the city was accentuated by the fact that apart from the aerodrome there was not another light outside the boundary of the town, and the surrounding country was m' pitch darkness, for by this time the moon had set. Leaning forward I turned off tho navigation Tights to conserve the battery, and switched on to tho roar petrol tank. Tho aeroplane roared along like a steady ship cutting through a calm sea. I looked down, but could distinguish nothipg in the blackness which enveloped the earth beneath. Tho sky was clear and exquisitely lovely—and encrusted with stars, like myriads of diamonds scattered at random across the vault of heaven. One by one I watched the stars fade before tho oncoming dawn, and gradually the darkness gave way to a cold grey light through which I bogan to distinguish the country over which I was flying. Miles and miles of sandy ridges met my eye, with here and there a. rocky patch sparsely covered with vegetation. The Atlas Mountains To tho east the dark outline of the Atlas Mouutains towered, high in the sky. It was growing rapidly lighter, and from behind the purple shadows of the Atlas a single ray of gold pierced the sky. The effeot was unbelievable; the sky tinted tho most gorgeous of colours —layer upon layer, from deep orimson to exquisite shades of rose, all wonderfully blended, A solitary little cloud high up in the greeny blue above the strata of colour took on a pale gold as one by one the rays pierced the Bky and the sun rose from behind the mountains. Paling the rich colouring to pastel tints it shone down, completely dominating the clear blue sky. I was passing over Mogador, and ahead were the rocky peaks of - the Atlas Mountains as the range terminated abruptly at the coast. The towering peaks looked like great giants whose progress farther westward had been checked by the mighty Atlantic. What a huge range it was too, for even here by the coast where the mountains were lower they rose to a height of over 2000 feet, while about a hundred miles inland some of them reached a height of over 12,009 feet. The mountains rose in some places almost sheer from the sea, and I decided to fly some little distance from the coast so that 1 should be sheltered for the next sixty miles or so from the piercing heat, of the sun, which was now burning down with fierce intensity. A Meal in the Air .It was time for breakfast; so absorbed had I been in watching the sunrise and sighting Mogador that hunger had been forgotten. I now thought longingly of bacon and eggs, crisp toast, and a cup of hot tea. This being ou£ of the question, I surveyed the contents of the larder. On the floor of tho cockpit was a box -1 named the tucker-box. It was well within my. reach,' but unfortunately near enough to the auxiliary tanks to allow all the food to be permeated by the unappetising odour of petrol and oil. The contents of the box formed the daily rations, which consisted of ham sandwiches, ordered overnight, chocolate, which was now in a state of liquid, milk tablets, apples, dates, barleysugar, raisins, cereals, cheese, ono thermos flask of black coffee and-one of water. Not a very long list for breakfast, lunch and tea in tho air. The other things would keep, I thought, selecting a ham sandwich. Holding tho control column in mv left hand I managed to sip some coffee from tho flask without spilling a droj> on my white suit. Fortunately the air was calm here in the shelter of the mountains, for this was an extremely difficult feat to perform. To hold the control column in the left hand, keep one eye on the instrument board and the other on the compass, and while keeping the aeroplane flying straight and level attempt to pour out a cup of coffee from the thermos flask is no easy task. More

than once in tlie past when trying to perform this feat in bumpy weather a shower of hot coffee had been precipitated over .me, so nowadays I' usually drank out of the thermos itself after leaving the cap off for some time previously to cool the liquid. After finishing my breakfast with an apple I felt decidedly refroshed, and was now flying over a rocky promontory and rounding the curve of the mountains to Agadir. Should I land at Agadir.and obtain a weather report for Vdla Cisneros, for the report given to me at Casablanca only covered the route as far as this French military outpostP It was already 7.30, G.M.T., and if 1 were to make Thies before sundown, allowing for one hour on the grohhd at Villa Cisneros, there was no time to be wasted. In any case, I thought, if the sand were blowing there would. be a sufficient margin of petrol left for me to turn back to Cape Juby, which would be the next landing-ground I should pass over about three hundred miles farther on. Barren Country The farther southward I flew the more wild and barren became the country, until it was so featureless that there was nothing to look at but mile after mile of sandy coastline. It was easy to realise now why 1 had been ordered to carry all the additional equipment; There was no sign of civilisation to be seen: no living thing apparently existed on this forsaken-looking country. Even a stray herd of camels would at least have relieved the monotony of the yellow sandy expanse. Opening both windows that I might gain some respite from the close, suffocating heat inside the cabin, J struggled to remove my heavy coat. The rnontony was not to last long, however, for soon a series of bumps which seemed to shake the whole structure of the aircraft roused me from my» lethargy. The sky was partially covered with fluffy cumulus clouds,

above which I climbed in an endeavour to reach calmer atmosphere. Almost two hours out from Agadir I caught sight of a small encampment through a gap in the clouds, and shutting off tho engine glided down that I might make sure I had not passed over Capo Juby without checking it. There it was, a group of square white houses and a landing-ground marked with a circle —a welcome sight to a lonely pilot. Sotting a direct course for Villa Cisneros I climbed once more above the clouds, which were assuming a yellowish tingo witli the dust which a fresh wind was whirling up from tho desert. It looked rather like a storrn blowing up, and I hoped the weatljer' would hold at least long enough for mo to get through to Villa Cisneros, another 350 miles farther 011. Monotonous Flying An hour later I decided it was a case of jumping from tho frying-pan into the firo. Up hero I certainly avoided the bumps and bad visibility, but the sun was scorching, and looking down on to clouds was oven more monotonous than the barren desert. Gliding down through a gap I found,tho clouds offered a certain amount of shelter from the sun, and although it was bumpy visibility had improved a great deal. I strained my eyes for some sign of an Arab encampment, remembering all the tales I had heard about the Riffs, who apparently lived in this part of the world. Years ago when the French were surveying a route over the Sahara Desert, and across which they now operate two motor-car services and a regular air service,- they experienced a great deal of trouble with the natives. On this west coast routo, however, the natives had been tho most troublesome, for they soemod particularly cruel and warlike. During those pioneering days aeroplanes had frequently been forced down on this territory, and some of the men captured by the Riffs had been cruelly tortured. Eventually the French Government had made the Riffs understand that an aviator was worth money to them if delivered safe and sound. ' i : ■ < the worst that could happen to any aviator who made a forced landing 011 this desolate stretch would be that ir captured by the Riffs he would bo held to ransom. That may have had something to do with that 100,000-franc guarantee that I had to arrange, I thought, wishing the time would, pass more quickly, so that I could once more roach civilisation. All the same, my curiosity prompted me to wish for one peep nt a Riff. Not a horde of them such as I had seen in Foreign Legion pictures, where thousands dashed across tho screen, but just one or two viewed from 1000 ft. couldn't bo very dangeious. However, they were either very elusive or encamped in the sandhills farther inland for I failed to see any sign of life whatever, although I knew from past experience how natives could apparently spring from nowhere when a stranger ianded on their territory. Atlantic Dangers To tho west stretched the mighty Atlantic, with its blue expanse seeming to stretch into infinity. Although it provided a certain relief from the intense glare of the desert, I viewed it with a certain uneasiness. It was a constant reminder of the 100 per cent efficiency that would be demanded of the trusty engine which purred so happily hour after hour. I wished that tho taking-off point for the South Atlantic crossing were not so far from England. The three thousand miles to West Africa seemed a Jong, gruelling flight in itself rather than a prelude to an Atlantio flight. Neither the engine nor myself could be expected to be quite as fresh as when we left .at the commencement of the flight. A severe test was in store for the aircraft, too,"- hiid for the big auxiliary eighty-gallon petrol-tank, which almost completely filled the cabm, leaving me only, just sufficient room to climb in front of it to take my place at the con•trols..JlFor the flight across the Atlantio Ocean it would be necessary to fill all •five petrol-tanks to capacity, so that the aircraft would be very heavily laden for the take-off. For the flight to the military aerodrome of Thies, from where 1 proposed crossing to Brazil, \it was not necessary to fill all the tanks, for there were aerodromes at reasonable intervals Avhere it was possible to refuel. For the 1907-mile flight from Thies to Natal it would be of the utmost importance to have a safety margin of petrol. Heavy Dust Haze

The horizon was blurred by a yellow dust-haze, . and visibility became steadily worse, until at last I was forced to fly very low over the coastline so that I might not lose sight of it altogether and perhaps miss Villa Cisneros. After flying so low that at times I was obliged to hurdle the machine over rocky boulders on the shore, at last the air became * clearer, and running parallel with the coastline I noticed a line of fairly Vhigh sandhills. These hills were of peculiar undulating formation, and were marked on my map

as "Las Almenas," terminating about twentv-five miles north-east of Villa Cisneros.

Very soon I was passing over a long, tapering sandy stretch, its golden yellow accentuated by the deep blue water of an inlet which almost severed it from the mainland. Picking up the mup I read, "Ed Dajla Sahria Peninsula," and looked ahead for a glimpse of Villa Cisneros, which should be at. the southern end of the peninsula. Early adventurers in these parts had evidently mistaken the large inlet for the mouth of some great river, and not bothering to explore the blue strip had given it the name of Rio do Oro ("River of Gold") and sailed away. I wondered whether there was really gold here, or whether the name referred to the golden sands on each side of the inlet. ... . To the south of the sandy strip I could see radio masts of Villa Cisneros, and was soon flying over the 'rows of tiny black tents of an Arab encampment. After circling the square whito tower of the fort I'flew across the aerodrome. There were wheel and tailskid marks on the ground, so evidently the surface, if hard, was crusty or covered with a soft layer of sand, I thought, shutting off the engine. The aerodrome was really a large part of the desert fenced off with barbed wire, and as I glided down to land it was as if I were entering a furnace, so intense was the heat. (To be continued daily.)