ONE LONG THRILL.
DODGING DEATH ALOFT. FLIGHT OF PARER AND McINTOSH AVIATORS' STORY OF THEIR ADVENTURE. [Lieutenants R. J. Parer and J. C. Mcintosh arc not journalists, and in the writing of the following interesting Btorv of their thrilling and successful flight from England to Australia they were assisted by the Sydney "Sun's" correspondent at Darwin. Both Parer and his Scotch-Australian mate tell of wonderful and nerve-racking experiences on their long journey, even the preparations in England for the flight, they say, being enough to break the heart of iron men, comments the Sydney "Sun."]
It has to be remembered that Sir Ross Smith had already demonstrated to the world that flight to Australia was possible, and had won his great Commonwealth prize of £IO.OOO. , ~ , Parer and Mcintosh found little encouragement from anybody in England. The London "Times" turned their project down, and even the firm who supplied the machine, a de Haviland No. !). refused to assist, and would not even install a larger benzine tank when requested to do
so. However, a -determined Australian is a creation unto himself, and they were not to be thwarted. They financed themselves and bought the bus, and with this business completed i'tO between them was the joint capital they could raise. Permission was then refused them to leave England, it being thought by the air control experts that the idea was foolhardy in the extreme owing to the fact that the dc Haviland was an old type of bombing machine used in the early stages of the War, and altogether unsuitable for a long, sustained flight. A good friend in Mr Peter Dawson, of whisky distilling fame, gave some monetary assistance which made things a' bit easier, but still the authorities were adamant about allowing the two to leave England. Bound for God Knew Where. So thev escaped. Quietly, on the morning' of January 8, they went down to Hounslow, where their machine was stalled, and, as Mcintosh says, they "tuned up the old bus and buzzed off, and the old birds haven't seen us since." The weather reports of that morning showed that a 60-mile gale was raging at an altitude of 2000 feet, but it was blowing the right way, and rapidlv climbing to that height, the 'plane sailed at a terrific pace, crossing the English Channel in 12 minutes, bound for France and God knows where. Ere long the aviators ran into a blinding fog, which forced them to descend, and in landing they broke one of the wheels of the undercarriage. Being practically deserters from England, thev feared to announce themselves, but by stealthy foraging within five days they managed to get an old wheel in the district, to alter it slightly, and to adjust it to the machine and make another start. Arriving at .Taranto, in Italy, they heard that official permission had been granted them to leave England, but, as they smilingly say, they beat the bell by a good many weeks. Attacked by Arabs. Full of daring, they flew straight over the crater of Vesuvius, which was smoking ominously over the blue waters of the Bay of Naples, —and this very nearly ended themselves and the whole prject. At a great height over the crater the current of hot air upset their equilibrium, and the machine fell out of control, vertically, for nearly 800 feet. Every stay in the 'plane creaked and groaned, and it seemed as if the machine would simply crumple up, but luckily it withstood ~ the ordeal. As Mcintosh said, they cut volcanoes out of their future programme. A flight of over 200 miles without maps across the Mediterranean Sea was safely negotiated, and then they flew over the Holy Land and across the Arabian Desert, where, owing to engine trouble, a forced landing became necessary. Here thev were attacked by a band of nomadic Arabs, but a few bombs which the aviators carried in the 'plane were thrown," and their assailants disappeared across the blazing sands. A Regular Menagerie. Three months after leaving England Paler and his mate reached India. By now they were in straitened financial circumstances, but the happy inspiration came to them of giving a stunting exhibition in Calcutta during race week. The project was heartily taken up by the authorities, and as a result of their enterprise these two Aussies netted 1300 for their afternoon's work.
Thcv started passenger flights, and in eight days bagged over £IOOO, but, as they tell, all that and more went to defray the expensive cost of their four crashes in different parts of the Malay Peninsula.
Somewhere in Burmah they came across the Frenchman M. Poulet, who, having temporarily abandoned his flight to Australia, was doing well by Riving exhibition and passenger flights throughout the East Indies.
In those tropical parts, Parer says, the 'plane was a* regular menagerie. They were presented with all sorts lof mascots, including a young Malayan sun bear, which went asailing for three days, and then, because while in a playful mood it. tried to make a meal off Parer's thumb, it was returned to earth, and was left behind in Malaysia. Narrow Escapes. A run of bad luck then dodged both men and machine. They crashed in the jungle, the 'plane being badly broken. But Australian ingenuity surmounted all ditliculties, and with roughly-hewn wood, lashed up with bits of wire, the I).II. No. 9 was soon coaxed towards distant Australia. At Sourabaya the machine crashed again, and the airmen were full of thanks for the assistance rendered them by the Dutch, as the result of which within three days the 'plane was fit for the aerial track again. Soon after leaving Sourabaya, perhaps the most startling experience of the whole trip took place. The 'plane, at a height of several thousand feet, was overtaken by a violent thunderstorm, and a huge hole was blown clean out of one of the wings. With -difficulty a landing wai effected safely, and with a few days' delay the flight was resumed once more. "Some Slide." Eventually Timor was reached, the landing place being at Andipopp, at the western end of the island. Here the final touches were put to everything, for the hazardous dash from Asia to Australia, across the heaving Timor Sea. On Monday last long before dawn Parer and Mcintosh were up and breakfasted on a couple of eggs and a cup of Dutch cotfee. A ride of seven miles on ponies to the airdrome followed. Testing the machine, preparatory to starting, they found that a rubber connection had fouled the filter in the benzine tank. This necessitated two hours' work, and it was 9 a.m. before they pushed off for Australia, over 400 miles to the southeast. The old bus, Parer states, was heavily laden, and they gradually and laboriously rose higher in order to clear the central mountain range of Timor. They cleared the topmost peaks with only a few hundred feet to spare, and they started to slide down the other side, and, as Mcintosh says, in his droll, whimsical way, "it was some slide." They expected to sight Australia in a four hours' run,.but actually it was nearly six hours. No "Juice" Left.
It was a cloudy day, and the shadows of clouds thrown on the ocean far below, whilst making an unforgettably beautiful picture, rendered it extremely difficult to distinguish land from vapour. For a long weary hour they sped .towards a something which ever seemed to be moving away, but before long their hearts were delighted beyond measure when it proved to be the hazy outline of Melville Island—a great, lonely sentinel sprawling in the ocean 50 miles to the north of Darwin.
Parer, who, by the way, is a tiny little fellow physically, admits that the words have not been invented in any language that would express their inmost feelings at the sight of their Australian homeland, as the 'plane sailed across the entrance of Darwin Harbour. An hour later the feed indicator showed that there was barely a pint of petrol left in the tank, and 10 minutes afterwards when they landed not enough "juice" remained to run the 'plane up the ground. This was a veritable change of luck from that which had dogged Parer and Mcintosh since they started their adventurous flight, just seven months ago.
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Bibliographic details
Sun (Christchurch), Volume VII, Issue 2031, 18 August 1920, Page 12
Word Count
1,390ONE LONG THRILL. Sun (Christchurch), Volume VII, Issue 2031, 18 August 1920, Page 12
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