OVER THE POLE

Southland Times, Issue 20949, 5 December 1929, Page 5

OVER THE POLE

BYRD’S SUCCESS 'A FLIGHT OF CONTRASTS TWO MILES ABOVE SEA ENGINES FULLY TESTED (By Russell Owen. Copyrighted 1929 by the New York Tinies Company and the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.) (All rights for publication reserved throughout the world.) ' (Wireless to New York Times.) ’(Rec. 9.0 p.m.) Bay of Whales, Dec. 3. Continuing his story of the flight to the South Pole, Commander Byrd says:— There were no fewer than 300 miles between us and the Pole. If the sun remained the sun compass and the wind drift indicator should take us there as straight as a bee flies. We would have to ride the engines all the way. The plateau was so high that if one of the three engines should stop we would have to land on the snow, which at places was nearly two miles above sea level. * An uncertain thing at any time and more uncertain with a load aboard, the engine’s must keep going. I was saying this to myself when the starboard engine began to splutter. Bernt nosed down, and Harold rushed to the gas tank valves and stood looking at the engine and listening to the jarring interruptions the missing cylinders caused in the rhythm. Mac for once hesitated in his mapping work. After winning our hardest struggle, was our flight to be ended so near the objective? Bernt hurriedly manipulated the altitude control. In an effort to economize on the precious fuel, the gasoline had been majle too lean. The motor began to sing again; I say sing for its roar was music when it was not missing. But flying on a flight of this kind is full of contrasts, everything is perfect one minute, the next everything is black. All was well again. We looked around; ahead was an apparently limitless plateau glistening in the sunshine. The great Polar plateau at last! It was good to see it after the months we had wondereel about it and the hundreds of times we had asked ourselves if we would ever be lucky enough to reach it. High Mountain Peaks. To the left were great mountains, masses looming high above our level. I would hesitate to estimate their altitude, but they are very high as at this place the plateau itself is about 10,000 feet above sea level. Mac’s photographs must tell the story. Beyond this mass were separated peaks of many different shapes running to the southeastward. There was one great isolated peak completely snow-covered and looking like a great inverted white porcelain bowl. At the back of us running east and west along the rim of the plateau were enormous peaks lifting their heads high into the air. I looked over to the right and got one of those kicks that pulls a man away from civilization, which repays him for his efforts. There was a new mountain range in the distance running north and south, a new bit of land to add to the map of the world. Mac would “shoot" with his camera. We felt that it was worth while bringing him for that alone. It occurred to me as I looked around at the mountains that they must fringe the whole plateau. It will not be revealed at present. We can only guess what lies beneath that great ice cap and what its depth is. It is one of the world’s mysteries. That imaginary point the South Pole is in the centre of an uplifted plain hundreds of miles in diameter, a magnificent edifice seemingly built to make more inviolable the tiny spot which we were seeking. 100 Miles an Hour. The plateau seems to range from 7,000 feet to 11,000 feet altitude. Beyond the new mountain mass we saw a small peak sticking up through the great expanse of snow—a very lonely little black speck. It was hard to realize that it was the top probably of a mountain about 9,000 feet above sea level. On we went flying at the rate of 100 miles an hour through the air towards our goal. Our drift indicator showed a wind from the left. We had to head the plane a dozen degrees to the left in order to fly straight south. It was impossible to tell our exact altitude above the plateau and therefore not easy to get our actual ground speed as it would have been over water or ice near the sea level, but there was a way. With a stop watch we got the time it took a smoke bomb beneath to traverse the length of a twelve inch wire in the bottom of the plane. Turning south we took the time over the same object in the same manner, then with simple arithmetic calculated the speed. To do this we were forced to open a two-foot trap-door. A strong wind coming up through it quickly numbed the face. I observed that it was ten below zero and getting colder as we approached the Pole. We found the wind against us, and instead of flying 100 miles an hour over the plateau were making only 84 or 85. This was a disappointment. It would take us longer to reach the Pole than we had calculated, but we would come back faster. We took a look back at the mountains, and when we saw their great height realized that we must be very careful to allow for wind. Unless we reached our pass on Axel Heiberg Glacier and flew through down to the barrier, we might be trapped by mountains we could not scale. Great Care Necessary. There were many very important reasons then why the wind drift indicator and the sun compass should be used with the greatest care, and why Bernt and Harold should steer carefully. Suppose the clouds should close in around the mountains before our return? That would indeed trap us, but it was one of those chances we had to take. The character of the plateau surface varied greatly from time to time. We saw to the left the foot of a magnificent glacier running down from the mountains and showing chaotic masses of crevassed ice shining blue against the white snow. This may have been the devil’s ballroom, that dangerous area wjiich Amundsen traversed. We passed over groups of haycocks, those small domes of snow which cover bottomless pits. There were wind formed sastrugi, arrow shaped, which appeared hard with knife edges and glistened more in the sun than the other snow surface. That area must have been one of violent winds. A landing there would have been like landing among rocks. It was in great contrast to the surface we reached later, which was smooth and had the appearance of soft snow in an area of light winds. While the mountains were still looming large on the left we attempted to “shoot" the sun with the sextant to get our altitude and so give us the sun line that would cut our line of flight and at the point of intersection tell us what the sun had to say about our progress, but the air was not smooth enough. The 525 horsepower engines in the nose of the plane were exerting great force to keep us two miles high and seemed to add to the weaving motion of the plane. Altitude Maintained. - It was impossible at this time to keep the sun and the bubble in the sextant together long enough to get a dependable sight. We hoped that things would be favourable later on, but this did not worry us, for our distance was so short that we could hardly miss our objective. Out alti-

meter showed us to be keeping about the same atmospheric pressure, and we were therefore not changing our altitude very much. The snow beneath us seemed getting farther away, so we judged that the plateau was sloping down with a gentle incline.

Back in the tail of the plane was a metograph recording changes in the temperature pressure and humidity which, after the flight, would tell the whole story. We would know the exact moment of taking off, the time of every subsequent altitude, and the moment of landing at the mountain base and at Little America. Beneath us somewhere was the trail that Amundsen had blazed to the South Pole. The trail is now buried far beneath the snow. My admiration for that great explorer increased tremendously when I saw what he had to contend with. In his honour and in honour of Bernt and other Norwegians at Little America and the whalers who, with such great generosity, have helped us, we carried with us a Norwegian flag. We also carried with us a French flag. 1 have not forgotten the extraordinary hospitality France showed transatlantic flyers,, nor the friendship demonstrated for America at that time and the sportsmanship displayed, at 'the success of Americans in the face of the loss of their gallant flyer who had set out on a more difficult feat. Close to Dead Reckoning. Half an hour past midnight we again tried to get the altitude of the sun. The sight was better this time and showed us to be close to our dead reckoning position. That was good, but there was still enough movement in the plane to prevent our being certain about that sight. There was probably an error in it and just how much we could not tell. We felt confidence in our sun compass and drift indicator, and luckily our sight did not change our calculations. The temperature seemed to be falling as we neared the Pole. The mountains abaft the beam were fading now and clouds which may have covered unseen mountains showed on the horizon off the port bow. Harold was piloting and Bernt came aft to tell me that it was not quite so clear ahead and that we might find mist near the Pole. Once or twice we thought we saw snow drifting beneath. An Antarctic storm seemed to be closing in on us, but we thought we could get back to the mountains ahead of it. It was a great plane with great engines, and with reasonable luck we should beat that storm. We had extended the Grosvenor trail now so near the Pole that within easy visibility lay the trail of Scott, who with his companions had perished on his way back—that great hero who had shown there are things more important than life, who in failure won immortal success. In his memory and that of his gallant comrades and in honour of our cousin and friend, the British Empire, we carried with us the British flag. A Disturbing Thought. There flashed through my mind the fact that some had attempted to start a wild controversy covering the territorial rights of the British Empire and the United States as a result of our discoveries. What a pity there could be such a controversy. This is a peaceful and scientific mission trying to extend the boundaries of land and knowledge made by those heroes who gave their fives here. If the spirit of this expedition towards these gallant men of the nation that they represented could be known and felt, it would add its mite towards furthering good fellowship, which is so vitally important now that our country has joined with other nations in a sincere effort to secure peace and harmony for the world. The Barrier edge was now about four hours’ back. No wonder the boys thought I was flying beyond the Pole, which was only a little more than 300 miles from the barrier's edge. The wind had caused us to take longer than we had expected, but at last the big moment had come —that imaginary point, the very bottom of the world, was, according to my reckoning, somewhere beneath and within our view. I handed Harold the following message to radio to our comrades at Little America: “My calculations indicate that we have reached the vicinity of the South Pole. We are flying high for a survey, and will soon turn north.” Bernt turned the nose of the plane to the right while I attempted to get the altitude of the sun with the sextant, but there was far too much movement of the plane for results. We knew exactly what the altitude of the sun should be, since the altitude of the sun’s centre at any moment at the Pole is equal to the declination of the sun, which at that time was 21 degrees 27 minutes. The sun circles that point without any noticeable change in altitude. Past the Pole. We flew on to the right for five or six miles, then circled and flew to the left an equal distance and followed our original line of flight five or six miles further. I had wanted to go 50 miles beyond the Pole instead of half a dozen, but we had been a long time in reaching it. I saw Harold’s and Bernt’s anxious eyes on the gasoline gauges. It would not be fair to these fellows to go any further. We turned the nose of the plane back towards Little America. When we reached the place at which we had turned to the right we opened the trap door and dropped the American flag weighted with a stone from Floyd Bennett’s grave. We stood and saluted the spirit of our gallant comrade and our country’s flag—that little silk flag and that small stone tied together at the bottom of the world. We were about 2500 feet above the Pole, and the temperature had dropped to ten degrees below zero. Visibility was good in most directions, but what was direction ? All directions are north from the Pole. When we passed over the Pole we had changed our time a whole day; now we had changed it back again. We still had a job to do. The winds were gathering in force. In a short time we could see more patches of drifting snow beneath us. We watched the sun compass and drift indicator like hawks. We must hit the mountain pass. On and on we went. The time that seemed long before crawled now. The first mountains to the right, which had been clear on the outward journey, were half covered with clouds. ■ Mac photographed them. Apparently the storm had just reached there. Bernt had increased the motor revolutions and the great cyclone engine was doing its stuff. Back Down the Glacier. We aimed our course a few degrees to the right so as to reach the barrier more to the eastward than we had left it to get a better view of Carmen Land and to obtain survey photographs, geographically of great importance. Suddenly Bernt gave a shout of joy. A little to our left was the pass we had come through only partly cloud covered, and what we took for Axel Heiberg Glacier was almost ahead. Ahead clouds were beginning to form. We were just in time. We were very thankful that we did not have to waste precious time and gasoline looking for a way through the mount„.ns. Soon we were sliding down Axel Heiberg Glacier. It was very rough, but the plane was light. In another few minutes Harold brought her down gracefully on the ice at our little mountain base. We put aboard 200 gallons of gasoline and left 350 pounds of food, 10 gallons of gasoline, ten gallons of oil, and a gasoline stove for Larry Gould’s party. In an hour we were ready, and Harold lifted the Floyd Bennett easily from the snow and headed for the camp. We looked north over the rolling white plain and it seemed to us we could see all that we had left behind. A few more weeks’ work, then home.