MUCH INFORMATION GAINED DURING ARCTIC FLIGHTS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18960, 6 January 1930, Page 15

MUCH INFORMATION GAINED DURING ARCTIC FLIGHTS.

Practical Value Of 'Planes Is Proved In Recent Expeditions.

(By SIR HUBERT WILKINS, At.C.) ! Although General Nobile and his crew got stranded in Arctic wastes; and Amundsen, in a heroic attempt to locate them, got lost, giving rise to grave fears that a worse disaster has befallen him to the irretrievable loss of science—yet I am still viewing Arctic flights with the confidence that springs from practical experience. When trans-Arctic transportation becomes common, when air routes take full advantage of great circle courses, when we travel from New York to New Guinea via Point Barrow, Alaska, from Chicago to China, almost hitting the North Pole on the way, and from San Francisco to Moscow via Spitsbergen, then, and then only, will those concerned with aerial transportation realise the facilities the Arctic affords the aerial navigator. It has been our privilege and pleasure, Lieutenant Eielson’s and mine, to help establish trans-Arctic transportation as an actual fact, and I will mention some of the problems met, explain how they were dealt with, and draw attention to the problems still to be overcome. The possibility of flying in the Arctic was first brought to my notice in 1913, when with Stefansson’s Canadian Arctic Expedition. We had lost our ship and most of our food and equipment, and yet Stefansson xvith great courage decided to carry on. He was convinced that his theory of living off the country while exploring was sound, and wanted to prove it, and prove it he did. But the proof was long and arduous. I was brought up in the Australian bush, where horses were always at hand, and where walking was considered an unnecessary means of locomotion. Unaccustomed to walking or to working, it was no wonder that when under the continuous sunshine and the calm air conditions of an Arctic spring and facing a tramp of a thousand miles over foot-clodding snow, my thoughts turned to some method other than dogteam travel.

Landing Grounds. Many times I suggested to Stefansson that he should return, secure aeroplanes and pilots, and cover in a day instead of a year the area 4n which he was interested. I believe the machines available in those early days of flight would have functioned in Arctic conditions. This range was not far, but they could travel as far as any explorer carrying his own supplies might travel on foot, and there was always the chance for the explorer by air to use his feet if his aeroplane should fail. The question of possible landing fields on the Arctic was of greatest importance. An aeroplane then, and even now, is ill-provided with means of taking off the ground and coming to rest. In most instances fields must be prepared before they are fit for an aeroplane to land on. But along the lagoon-fringed shore of the Alaskan Arctic there were hundreds of miles of ice as flat as a table. Throughout much of the year this ice was covered with a smooth surface of snow less than twelve inches deep. Having gained considerable experience with aircraft during the years between 1910 and 1913, I was able to look at a surface with a pilot's point of view, and day after day as I travelled along the Arctic shores and over the sea ice, my attention was drawn to many suitable landing fields. In summing up the conditions it was my estimate that near the Alaskan shore, both right next the land and on the sea, emergency landing fields would be found within a radius of twenty miles. In my mind the problem of landing fields was settled. I believe that more suitable emergency fields would be found on the pack ice then in most unsettled country districts.

Engine Problems. Many engineers doubted that engines would function in the low temperatures experienced in high latitudes. From personal experience with internal combustion engines used on the Stefansson expedition, I knew that gasoline motors would not function if exposed to such temperatures as we would meet during an Arctic winter or spring. Many times during the spring and fall I had to resort to an oil stove placed right beneath the carburettor in order to keep that part of the engine free from ice. It required little inventiveness to arrange a convenience for heating the air before it entered the carburettor, and it would be an easy matter by means of suitable cowling to insulate an aeroplane from the cold. I could see that problem number two would be easily solved. There was the question of lubrication. Provided the oil and the engine were warmed at the start, the other arrangements just as mentioned, then the heat generated by the engine at work would both heat the engine and the oil before starting. Metallurgists knew, but the average flying man did not know, that the low —not extreme —temperatures to which the engines and equipment would be submitted in the Arctic would not, by the difference of coefficient of expansion, seriously endanger the perfection cf engine assembly, and in any case wliile it might have been inconvenient tc arrange, it would be impossible to keep the engine always above freezing point. I had managed to do this for many days at a time when operating internal combustion motors in the Arctic. I found that when covered with a close-fitting canvas cover of double thickness I could, with an ordinary huricane lantern, keep a 100 horsepower gasoline engine warm while at rest even at temperatures ranging far below zero.

Experience taught me that if trouble was to be avoided it was necessary to use a double cover; one covering must be of some material neither wind-proof nor water-proof, the outer covering should be both water-proof and windproof. This arrangement was neces-

sary in order that the warm air would condense not on the engine and ignition system, but on the outside of the inner cover and the inside of the outer cover, thus excluding the dampness from the engine. Therefore, all the difficulties with the prime motive power could be overcome; the engine certainly would not work in the low temperatures, but it was easily and economically possible to protect the machinery from thest* low temperatures and create about it an air condition that was normal, in fact suit the conditions to the engine, not the engine to the condition. Man has been doing this with regard to his body for many thousands of years; we do not suffer the cold if we are well dressed, as are protected from it. The Human Element.

It was a question in some minds whether the wings and the fuselage of the ’plane would withstand polar conditions. All doubt about that was cleared by the evidence collected during Sir Douglas Mawson’s expedition in 1912, when he used in the Antarctic in temperatures well below zero an aeroplane fuselage. It showed no ill-effect because of the temperature conditions. With regard to the atmospheric actions, it needed little deep thought to show that if a square footage of wing sur-

face under power in the tropics would support a machine in the air, it would

certainly do so in the heavier, colder air in the polar regions. And so all other apparent difficulties with regard to equipment seemed to me to be solved. It was only a question cf adaptation by human hands.

When all was considered, it was not a matter of whether the machinery

could stand the gaff, it was whether the humans in control could accommodate themselves to the strange conditions. Some of us had been privileged to experience polar conditions and knew how really comfortable they could be, but this knowledge was gained only by experiencing in our early ignorance real hardships, and by learning gradually the ways of comfort. We learned also that the human mind can only fully comprehend that within the bounds of its own experience. We knew from our own experience that the job of flying in the Arctic could be done, nevertheless it was doubted by others, some with and some without experience. We might not do it successfully, becaUvSe any man or machine is prone to fail, but it did not alter the fact that some day someone would prove to the satisfaction of the world that polar flying was not an impossibility. Fifteen years ago it was not possible to obtain a serviceable airship. But to provide an aeroplane with a range of five hundred miles could have been obtained with comparatively little expense. There was, of course, in those days, the question of engine reliability, but as mentioned before an explorer with aeroplanes forced to land would, if he landed safely, have an equal, if not a better opportunity of using his feet than he would if he had first struggled over the ice on the outward journey.

Meteorological Stations. Although it was fifteen years ago when I first planned an Arctic expedition by air, it was not until 1926 that

was able to do any flying, in the Arctic regions. Eielson had been flying in Alaska during winter several years before and was, as a matter of fact, the first pilot to fly during the winter in high latitudes in America. Our plan for 1926 called for two flights of five or six hundred miles into the unknown Arctic. We wished to go first northwest, then north-east of Barrow, and then, if our experiences made it seem possible, make a flight from Barrow to Spitzbergen. My interest was not principally the possible geographical discovery, but the possibility of locating a meteorological station somewhere in latitude SO and between 180 and 135 west. This meteorological station was to be one of a chain I expect to see established in the future about the North Pole.

My efforts in the Arctic for the last three years have been solely in the interests of a meteorological plan of international importance, but the meteorological plan is a subject for the attention of the Meteorological Society, and here I will confine myself to the use of aeroplanes in the polar regions. There was much of the polar regions yet unexplored. If suitable sites are to be located for the meteorological stations, then aeroplanes can be used for that purpose both in the Arctic and Antarctic regions.

Selecting Machines. The machines chosen for our first year’s work in the Arctic were Fokker monoplanes, selected for several reasons. It seemed to me that high-lift wooden-winged monoplanes would be of great advantage under Arctic conditions. In the first place they had proved their efficiency. The Fokker was the _ only three-engined machine then available. It was my private opinion that the multiple-engine machine loaded to its maximum capacity was not an additional factor of safety, but public opinion was such that it seemed to demand the use of a threeengined machine for hazardous ocean flights. The high-winged monoplane, giving maximum clearance and wide landing gear, would be an advantage if a forced landing had to be made in the Arctic pack. The Fokker machines were comparatively fast, a quality in my mind highly important for the work we had to do. Without meteorological . information from outlying districts, it would be necessary to wait for a favourable opportunity to hurry the j°b- _ So far as I knew the aerodynamic qualities of the Fokker wing curve was the most efficient available, and would allow of the greatest loading per square foot commensurate with speed. Only one tri-motored machine was available; it was the first 72-foot winged Fokker machine ever made. Since that time a similar machine was used by Commander Byrd on his flight to the Pole, and the same type of machine was used for his New York to Paris flight. The other machine available to us was a 63-foot Fokker monoplane fitted with Liberty water-cooled engine. If we were to take advantage of the best weather conditions for Arctic exploration by air, we had, after the machines were available to our expedition, no time to test them in New York. Neither did it seem necessary to do so. Our final tests would have to be made a t Fairbanks, Alaska, in temperature far below zero, and any flying done in the moisture-laden atmosphere about New York during winter would be of little value.

First Flights. Our machines reached Alaska on schedule time, but unfortunately, due to slight errors of judgment on the part of the pilot, both machines were badly crashed on their initial flights. 1 was perhaps the only one connected with the expedition who realised what those crashes meant. They really meant that it would be impossible that season to have even a small chance of successfully carrying on our flights of exploration. By the time the machines were repaired and our gasoline forwarded to Barrow, the season for successful flights for Arctic exploration would be past. And so it proved. It was three weeks after the crash that the first machine was ready for work, and six weeks before the three-engined machine —which was intended for use over the ice—was fit to take the air. Our chances for much work in 1926 were small. Still, on the first flight north we went out over the unknown Arctic pack for 150 miles—about 200 miles from shore—before coming to Barrow for the first landing. This flight gave the additional assurance that a forced landing on the Arctic pack would not necessarily mean disaster. We saw many possible landing places. It was the only flight over the ice we made that year. But our experiences proved to those who needed proof that both water-cooled and air-cooled engines would function if properly cared for even in temperatures of 50 degrees below zero Fahr.

In the spring of 1926 we did over 6000 miles of flying within the Arctic Circle; the lowest temperature experienced on the ground and in flight with the water-cooled engine was 52deg. below zero Fahr. There was not the least difficulty experienced with the watercooled engine, but we found that the propellers supplied and said to be suit-

able for work in warmer temperatures were not suitable for the Arctic regions. Because fog and clouds continually cover the Arctic Sea during late spring and summer we were forced to abandon our work for that year. The conditions we met had been just as my five years’ previous Polar experience had led me to expect. Our machines when well handled gave us no trouble except for the faulty propellers. Meanwhile Byrd had flown to the Pole, and Amundsen, Ellsworth and Nobile had crossed from Spitzbergen to Alaska. The Pole had been reached by air. The public thought that the work in the Arctic had been accomplished. It seemed to the uninformed that we had been badly beaten in the race, and that there was nothing left to do. They had forgotten that our work was not at all to reach the earth’s geographical centre, but to explore the unknown area in the Arctic.

Forced Landing. In 1906 it was assumed that Amundsen had proved that no large area of land existed directly between Barrow and the North Pole, and as our short flight of reconnaissance over the ice gave me the added assurance of finding landing fields in the pack, our plans were slightly changed. Instead of making non-stop flights to the northeast of Barrow, we would take lighter machines needing a shorter runway for a take-off, and with sufficient range to enable us to fly our 500 miles and, if land was not seen, take soundings and ireturn to Barrow, The Stinson biplane built in Detroit, powered with Wright Whirlwind motors, a machine that was new in design, but which had proved its efficiency, was selected. Two of these machines were taken to Barrow, and using the supplies we had placed there the year before we commenced operations. .Knowing something of the meteorological conditions at Barrow during late March and early April, I planned to take advantage of a small storm approaching from the east, fly north-west with the wind, land, take a sounding; we would then fly south in a more or less calm belt and on the return trip take advantage again of the wind, which would, under ordinary circumstances be, by the time we turned for our base, again in our favour. These plans might ha%*e carried well but for the fact that our engine gave trouble, mostly due I think to interference in the gasoline supply, but partly due to faulty ignition. We were forced to land on the ice about fifteen minutes before I had planned to do so. A landing field was selected, and a landing was made on the Arctic pack about 560 miles from shore. We sounded and discovered that the sea -beneath us was 5400 metres deep. There was little chance of an island being found in that vicinity. We started back for Barrow fifteen minutes later; we were again forced to land, and a safe landing was made. This time we cleared the gasoline system and thoroughly overhauled the ignition; in three hours we were ready to start. We had used so much gas that there was no chance to go south and take advantage of the Pilot’s Skill. As we approached land we must fight against a strong wind on our beam and hope for the best. The wind proved our undoing. We were more than seven and a half hours trying to cover the distance we had made in five on the way out, and our gasoline gave out when we were seventy miles from our base. We were forced down to the Arctic pack again, and this time in the midst of a high wind and snow storm. On no other ocean in the world could three safe forced landings be made with a land plane. The third landing was made late at night. It was greatly due to Eielson's skill as a pilot that we escaped with our lives. In utter darkness on that third landing he kept the machine level and into the wind, but Providence had a hand in guiding our destiny. It was impossible for us to select a smooth landing field; we could not see beyond the windows of the cabin, yet we came easily to rest on a smooth patch of ice scarcely half an acre in area and surrounded by high ice ridges. It would have been difficult for the most expert pilot to have put a machine down in the position we found ourselves when when the weather and the blizzard cleared. Out of gasoline, drifting on badly broken pack ice, unable to communicate with our base, we would have been in a difficult posi tion had it not been for the training I had received from Stefansson during the Canadian Arctic Expedition. As it was it was only a matter of time before we reached the shore and safety. Sorrowfully leaving our machine behind, we walked and crawled over the ice, and in eighteen days reached a trading post on the Alaskan coast. By the time we were ready to set out with our second machine the season had advanced too far to allow successful flights of exploration. We started on two occasions and flew for 250 miles to the north-east over low fog and cloud, hoping to find clear weather further north, but the fog seemed interminable and we had to postpone our efforts until 1928. With our machines in 1927 we did in all more than 8000 miles of Arctic flying. The sounding we had taken showed that there was little chance of finding land in the area north-west and within 600 miles of Barrow. Amundsen had covered the area directly north; there remained the north-easterly sector.

Another ’Plane. We had used Fokker monoplanes and Stinson biplanes with a certain measure of success. With the information then on hand, our plan for 1928 then demanded the use of still another type of ’plane. True, the Fokker 'planes we had used the first year would have served our purpose, but they were no longer available. I decided this year to reduce the staff, arrangements and expenditure to the minimum. I would select the fastest 'plane capable of carrying the necessary polar sledging gear, sounding apparatus and other scientific and navigation equipment, two months’ food supply, a radio outfit, the pilot and myself, and enough gasoline to cover a distance of 2700 miles. We planned to fly north-west from Barrow, dumping part of our load and landing if we saw land or indication of land within the first 600 miles. But if no indication of land was seen we proposed to keep on to Spitzbergen and fully complete the programme commenced in 1926.

The Lockheed Vega monoplane, built in Los Angeles, seemed best to suit my purpose. I saw the first one of its kind —it came to grief on the flight from San Francisco to Hawaii—but a cursory examination of that machine and a close study of the designer’s figures and drawings assured me that the Lockheed was the ’plane for us to use. r placed an order for the second machine to be built, and watched its construction. It was to be of the standard cabin design with just a few slight alterations for the convenience of Arctic navigation. These alterations would not affect the aerodynamic qualities of the machine. In detail they amounted to a different distribution of windows, an arrangement to give the maximum light in the navigator’s cabin and facilitate his ability to take observations of the sun and drift and ground speed. An addition was made to the instrument board in front of the pilot. It held beside the ordinary tachometer thermometer, pressure gauge, altimeter, air-speed’ indicator, and watch, an additional alti-, meter, registering accurately to two 1 feet, a turn and bank indicator, a fore

and aft inclinometer, a lateral inclinometer, one fast-moving compass and one slow-moving compass. The navigator's equipment was an ordinary eight-inch boat compass, a prismatic surveyor’s compass, a Royal Air Force bubble sextant, a pocket sextant, a Pioneer Instrument Company’s drift indicator, a course and distance calculator, protractors (one arranged to serve as an azimuth circle), charts, log books, tables designed curves cut in celluloid, nautical almanac, etc., provided and arranged by Mr O. O. Miller, officer in charge of the School of Surveying, American Geographical Society.

Complicated Course. In theory the correct navigation course between Barrow and Spitsbergen was complicated and its complications magnified by the fact that we planned to swing to the east and not follow a meridian of longitude north of the Pole and south of Spitzbergen. On the course we wished to follow we would cross through 171 degrees of longitude and through a difference of 315 degrees of compass declination, and in an area where horizontal forces influencing the compass were small and perpendicular forces strong and unknown. The course I plotted was a great circle course for the first 1300 miles, then turning obliquely to the right on another great circle course for 900 miles, 2200 miles in all. I planned to make it in legs of a hundred miles, changing our course about every hour, depending, of course, on ground speed and the meteorological conditions encountered.

At first it seemed as if the complications would make the steering of a compass course an impossibility, but J found that on carefully working out the track, applying the corrections required for declination and the frequent change of longitude, it would not be so difficult. The greatest alteration in our compass course would need to be between the ninth and twelfth hours of flight, but the greatest, changes in any one hour would not be more than 25 degrees. The actual change of direction of flight, since our course would cross the top of the world, would be much more. There was also the question whether our compasses would work in the air in those longitudes. T myself was in doubt about this. Queries from Eielson during our flight brought the repeated reply: “One of my compasses swings all the time and the other stands steady at three-thirty degrees.” My compass in the cabin, free from all engine and other metal influence, was remarkably steady. Naturally it was not possible to sheck it with absolute precision. It never is possible in an aeroplane when flying through a variety of atmospheric conditions to mark with exact precision the reading of the compass at any point of the journey. Every pilot will vary his course a few degrees to one side or the other and it is necessary for the navigators to be constantly on the watch, constantly recording and allowing for such movement. One acquires, with experience, ability in this matter which no amount of figuring can master.

Aids to Navigator. Now I come to the point mentioned at the beginning—the facilities the Arctic conditions afford the aerial navigator. Most, if not all, successful long-distance flights depend in a measure on piloting—as piloting differs from navigating. By piloting I mean in this instance dead reckoning and taking advantage of ground observations. Dead reckoning depends on the accuracy of observations for ground speed and drift. Accurate corrections to offset the drift can only be had with a knowledge of time or travel, and the height above the object observed. With regard to the latter, travelling over the Arctic Ocean affords the same facilities as travelling along a coast. There are always points on which to observe, and from the altimeter which registers only the height above sea level we know our exact height above the object observed. This simplifies the problem to a great extent. There are many conspicuous points on the Arctic Sea ice which the pilot can rise for a line-up, and hold his machine steady while the navigator takes observations, but there is one warning I must announce, the pilot should only use these points during the periods of observation. He should, if possible, steer by his compass, otherwise if the pilot keeps his direction by observing objects ahead and allowing for the wind the navigator would be unable without constant watch on the drift indicator and a multitude of calculations to know the extent of the a . on a great circle course where it is often necessary to fix positions and take so many points of departure it would surely lead to trouble. For short distance flying, however, these possibilities for ground observations are a great aid to the pilot. There are many other conditions which aid the man with experience to keep his course if the weather is clear during a journey over the Arctic ice—the direction of drifts on the ice, the movement of ice on the leads, the direction of the leads themselves, and the effect of the ice pressure. We know from experience that the ice pack shows the influence of a wind far from the position of observation, and it is sometimes possible to forecast with accuracy from the observation of ice movement the wind that will be later experienced.

For the navigator’s aid in the Arctic spring and summer there is the sun constantly above the horizon. During spring it is generally visible at all times from the ground. During summer it is generally hidden except from an altitude of three or four thousand feet, but at that height it would be possible, on long-distance flights, to depend with more or less accuracy on sun observations for locating position. With a bubble sextant of the type made by the Pioneer Instrument Company, New York, or of the RAF. type used on our flight this year, it is possible if the air is smooth and if the pilot flies the ship steadily to obtain comparatively accurate observations, i and by using stereoscopic charts and the simplified methods arranged by Mr O. O. Miller, of the American Geographical Society, it would be possible to maintain a fairly accurate course. That my sun observations, dead reckoning, and compass control kept us within a few miles of the course we had planned was fortunate, but all the knowledge of navigation in the world would not serve were it not for the aid of a skilful pilot, a serviceable machine, and a reliable engine. I was well favoured on the Arctic flight by having a reliable Wright Whirlwind, the perfect Lockheed Vega monoplane, and such a companion and pilot as I have found in Carl Ben Eielson. (Anglo-American N.S. Copyright).