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Aviation History
1941
1941 - 1601.PDF
JULY 17TH, 1941. FLIGHT 37 COMFORT AND CONFIDENCE ON LIBERATORS two hours the Guli of St. Lawrence was reached and we were out at sea. Newfoundland came in sight, and, to my surprise, it seemed a land of snowy pimples which later gave way to black forest country and lakes. This wild country continued until, four hours after starting, we again crawled into our dusky den and waited in pleased anticipa- tion for the landing. It was like landing on a billiards table. We crawled out and looked round, expecting to see the snow field which had turned us back the day before. Instead we saw a perfect Macadam surface with runways three hundred yards wide and not a speck of snow. We had left at 9 and landed at 1.30, a distance of over 900 miles, evidently with a tail wind. After lunch we were ready to go at 6 p.m. and climbed into the body. The engines roared up and then stopped. We got out and were told the compression had failed. We stood about while the outer starboard engine was examined, and after considerable work it was found that the shaft of the ancillary pump had broken. Fortunately another was found, and the aircraft was again in flying condition. We took off at 8.15, and then we came out into the two rear compartments. We were over forest land and soon approached the sea ; the Atlantic that I had once before approached and crossed, but in a fog, on the airship Hindenburg. Now it was clear and getting cold. We all wore flying suits, and some had overcoats lent to them. Having two coats myself, I lent the outer one to a ferry pilot; the flying suit then went on easily over my under-coat. I was happy for many reasons—going back to activity and to great expectations. Freedom to circulate arid to smoke except in the cubby hole made up for the lack of seats ; and there were cheery faces round ine without a trace of anxiety on any. Wrong Address I was asked whether I knew the tailor who was to supply the Virginian's uniform, and found on the address that he was to get it at Bow Street. I assured him that from the address I should say it would be nearly a West End cut. Another American enquired about wartime food; yet another, younger than the rest, who had never been to England, asked about the beauty of the English girls, but I pleaded that I was out of date on both these subjects. It was like going back to school, not a soul on board being half my age. As night approached and altitude was gained, the aft compartment became colder, and each ferry pilot made his bed on Kapok life-belts and rugs. I slept at intervals in assorted positions, with woollen pants wrapped round my Stetson, on the well-proved theory that to keep your feet S^arm you should wrap up your head. The young hold the belief that the candle of life is nearly spent in the eve of life. I was pleasantly aroused by the wireless man coming to me with an invitation from the Captain to go forward to the control room to get warm. 1 followed him to the holy of holies over the sleeping pilots on the mattresses, hurting them as little as I could, and was given a seat behind the Captain, who was busy taking celestial observations with an aircraft sextant and plotting his readings on the chart. The pilot having made some tests through the two-foot glass skylight, it was noiselessly hinged down and I looked up into the open black of the summer night. The open gap admitted no draught in spite of our speed of two hundred miles through the sparkling air. The sextant received the image of the chosen star and the pilot turned to mark his record, when the skylight closed as noiselessly as it had opened. This process was repeated, and our posi- tion in the heavens was noted with mathematical precision How I envied the skill of that pilot! His was a job well worth while, and one that he enjoyed, while not forgetting the flickering candle to whom he had given refuge. The warmth of the control room and my intense interest in my hosts' doings warmed my heart and restored my flitting soul to normal. I sat silent for an hour watching and enjoying, and then completely refreshed proffered my deepest thanks and crawled back over the snoring sleepers to my observation post in the tail. I did not want to sleep, I hated to miss any of that night's experience. Sitting on the floor step I kept warm and comfortable, but • with full confidence in the aircraft personnel my mind was so completely relieved of care that I could not keep awake continuously, and I dozed off for ten-minute naps and woke after each nap refreshed to look around. Dawn above the clouds brought back familiar memories of Gordon Bennett balloon days which, however, lacked the freedom from alertness for reason of the job then in hand. Now freed from all anxiety I could watch the dawn develop and experience the glow of the rising sun warming up the fuselage. Soon I had to discard my woolly head covering and next my borrowed flying suit. The warmth brought the hibernating pilots out to catch the first glimpse of the land of their ancestors, and the big Thermos flasks went round with early morning coffee. There's no drink like hot coffee at ten thousand feet on a summer morning when approaching home. It's pretty good on a balloon race, but not quite the same because one is getting farther from home all the time. But here 1 have to stop, for it is wartime. The label on my bag says "Brewer, U.K.," the shortest address in my experience. At the airport the Americans enjoyed a good British breakfast, and in due time we were on our way to London where I hope that the Bow Street tailor came up to the expectations of my enquiring friend and that the youthful ferry pilot was not di'^ppointed in the fresh complexions of my friends in our beloved but somewhat battered old '' home town." SAFELY ON BR TISH SOIL : A Liberator shortly after its Atlantic crossing.
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