The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND MONDAY. OCTOBER 15, 1928 ANOTHER TRIUMPH FOR WINGS

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 485, 15 October 1928, Page 8

The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND MONDAY. OCTOBER 15, 1928 ANOTHER TRIUMPH FOR WINGS

THE elements that made the first trans-Tasman flight a swift * and seemingly simple business were absent from the second crossing. This time there was no deviating, at the end of the journey, to make a triumphant circuit over a slumbering city. The giant plane had no wind “on her tail” to whip her through alternate storm and tranquillity in rapid time. Instead, she was buffeted all day Saturday by adverse air-currents. Her passage was neither smooth nor swift. But it was another convincing proof of the skill of her pilot, Captain Kingsford Smith, who owns a skill that amounts, really, to genius. His record as a voyager over the open seas is now unchallengeable. In addition to reflecting his genius, the flight on Saturday put one more great ocean crossing—the flight from New Zealand to Australia —among the growing list that enumerates the achievements of the new race of adventurers. It was another triumph for wings. The conquest of the air has extended over the sea. The Atlantic crossings, pioneered by British airmen and reaching a climax in the daring and spectacular solo flight by Charles Lindbergh, have lately become so frequent that, while still attended by the grim possibility of tragedy, they are little less commonplace than a Channel swim. Greater feats have been performed in the South Atlantic, where Italy won the laurels of long-distance flying through the achievement of Del Prete and Ferrarin, who made a non-stop flight of over 4,000 miles from Italy to Brazil, and were in the air for over 50 hours. Their great Savoia-Marcheti crashed a few days later, and Del Prete died of his injuries—a reminder that death still rides on every plane. But the elimination of risks has been the most notable feature of recent flying progress. Kingsford Smith and Ulm have given the safety of the air its finest testimonial. Wilkins has flown across the North Pole from Point Barrow to Spitzbergen. Byrd is preparing to emulate him in the South, and new records in altitude and endurance flights are almost the order of the day. Some of these flights have been decried as stunts. It may not be possible to separate them entirely from the merely theatrical; but the place of the stunt flight in modern progress must not be overlooked. Deeds spiced with an alluring sense of adventure have played a part in other spheres than that of aviation. The motor-car could not have reached its present day perfection had the engineers not been assisted by the racing- drivers, daring all hazards of breakneck speed to test some new device under pressure. Going further, it is reasonable to assume that the navigators who followed new paths upon the sea —just as Kingsford Smith, Lindbergh, Cobham and the rest have blazed new trails in the sky—were no more than the stunt seamen of their day. The Viking spirit which led Tliorfinn Karlsefne to remote shores, and the unconquerable urge which sent Cabot, Magellan, Drake and Frobisher in tiny caravels across strange seas, finds its new expression in the spirit of air adventure. Columbus, in his day, was stumped for funds, just as Kingsford Smith and Ulm were before Hancock came to the rescue. The rewards were the same then as now. So, too, were the sequels in their bearing upon human advancement. New Zealand can look upon the Tasman crossing with the narrow view that it has left her, subject to certain precautions and favourable conditions, less than a day away from Australia. But there is a wider view, embracing the prospect of a new era in world transit, with quick communications and closer social ties binding the peoples of the globe.