CRITICAL MOMENTS

Evening Post, Volume CVIII, Issue 135, 4 December 1929, Page 11

CRITICAL MOMENTS

CLIMBING THE RANGE

FOOD DUMPED TO GET LIFT

(By Commander Byrd.—Special to the

" New Sork Times.")

BAY OF WHALES, 2nd Dec. Continuing his story of the Polar flight, Commander Byrd says:

We headed for the Axel Heiberg Glacier. Wo knew that Amundsen had reported that the highest point of the pass there was 10,500 ft, with towering peaks on each side, but would they be so close together that the air currents would dash us to the ground, hovering as we would be with our heavy load near the absolute ceiling of the 'plane, near an altitude where the controls would no longer function?

To tlie right there was another great glacier which we had seen on our baselaying flight. It looked passable, but was it wide enough? Were there mountains beyond that which would block us over which we could not fly? The top of the pass was partly cloudcovered. Would the Heiberg Glacier be entirely cloud-covered, as clouds so frequently hover around the tops of these mountains? Even on the clearest days the sun on bare vertical rocks sends up warm currents, which, striking the cold above, form clouds. .For a while 'Bernt and I conferred. Would he choose the unknown glacier? If we should fail to get over and have to turn back down the glacier to select another pass wo could not reach the Pole. The gas would be too low. We would have to turn back to Little America. It seemed a flip of the coin. We decided to stake success on the unknown glacier to the right. THE PASS TO THE PLATEAU. White clouds round tho mountains that bounded the top of the pass to the right and left merged with white in the centre pass. Was it snow or clouds, and if clouds, could we fly above them1? Would the clouds stretch over the plateau to the Pole, making flying impossible? We would have to keep out of the clouds while dodging around amongst the mountains, for in the clouds we would almost certainly collide with a peak. Soon we had passed near our little cache of food and gasoline, more than a mile above it. It was', of course, too tiny to be seen from our altitude. When we had lauded at that base mountain ridge, running in an easterly and westerly direction, about four miles, loomed a very large mountain. Now we could see behind it and towards the south and south-west towering peaks that made our base mountain look like a pigmy. We realised forcefully then how very little indeed a foot traveller sees.

Now below us was the ice line of tho groat glacier. For a distance it was terribly crevassed, cracks, running parallel, looking liko a great washing board, and a bad landing place. The mountain peaks and formations that wore in our view were awe-inspiring in their majesty and terrible in their colossal shapes, that had been carved into extraordinary jagged rounded forms by ice cutting through them for the untold years that the bottom of the world has been in the clutches of tho ice age^ As wo eagerly looked around wo fel/very insignificant and small among ' these lofty eternal peaks which siuco the childhood of mankind have symbolised its inspiration.

Everywhere wo looked thcro was somo formation that probably 110 living thing had over before seen, for this area is tho coldest on earth—it is dead. But there was little time for such thoughts, our 'piano was a busy place— a great contrast to our lifeless surroundings. There was Mac with his great aerial camera, elated at this opportunity to record for geography the unknown things about him, snapping picture after picture, and panting from his strenuous efforts in the rare air of our high altitudes. The air dumps wore throwing him about as he .aimed his 501b camera through the window, but all of it did not prevent him from looking around and smiling at us occasionally. There was Harold cranking away at tho moving picture camera to get a panorama of the mountains or dashing over to the radio to report our position. TESTING PETROL SUPPLY. A critical time has como now, the moment we had discussed a thousand times. What had been our gasoline consumption? Would we have enough left to reach tho Pole? Would we have too much aboard to climb over the humps? Calmly, even tranquilly, Harold stands examining the gauges of the livo gas tanks in the great wings. Then he unscrews the cap of the tank in the fuselage, and measures with a graduated stick tho gas left there. Then ho cuts open some sealed five-gallon tins and dumps the gas into tho tank, so that we can throw the tins overboard. Each can weighs hardly a. pound, but every pound counts at this critical ceiling of the 'plane. Harold figures for a moment on a pad, aiid hands me the results with a smile. We had enough gas to go beyond the Pole, if wo did not have to dump any. Then Harold looks at the. engines, listens to their hum, and examines the gauges. Harold is as expect a mechanic as he is a pilot and radio operator.

There was Bernt concentrating on his fight to gain altitude, still with uncertainty ahead, for the glacier was a long ono and the lowest point of the pass before us was still above the nose of the 'plane. Confused air currents from the cliffs had begun to toss the 'piano about more violently. We could note the tenseness and strain on Bernt's face as lie put himself into his job. He was going so well in the air, and on the ground he plays the game—always a true, capable, and dependable man. The air began to get rougher. Bernt hugged tho peaks on the lee side of the pass, whero the bumps would be more likely to carry the 'plane up and down. We were getting close to the highest altitude the 'plane could reach. A vino-thousand-foot peak was near us on our right, and a wind from our left was striking it, being shot upward and helping us, we thought. The altimeter showed ten thousand feet, but we could not depend on that. The barometer here was likely to read the same as over Little America, because of the local pressure change. Our weight was a bit over 13,0001b. To the right we saw some deep gorges that surely would mean turbulent air. Bernt eased over to the left, where there was a long, fairly' smooth slope running up to a peak fifteen thousand feet high. He avoided the turbulent area, but the clown currents here made more difficult the fight for altitude. The ailerons failed to respond, and the wheel turned loosely in Bernt's hands. Still we were not high enough to safeiy get over the pass ahead. We saw now a great plateau through the clouds hovering around the peaks to the right and left. LIGHTEN SHIP OR GO BACK. It was a critical moment. The air was too rarcfield to hold up our heavy loads. Bernt yelled in my car, above tho roar of the engines: "We must drop 2001b immediately, or go back." Harold was standing by the dump valve of our fuselage tank. A little pressure on tlio valve ana wo could let go

6001b of gaosline. If we dumped that gas wo could not reach the Pole and get back to the base. Food was the only thing left to throw overboard, but would it be fair to thoso three fellows it wo dumped precious food? We would be a long time on the plateau if we should have a forced landing. We had the food packed in 1251b bags. JNear the trap-door, ready for quick action, was a bag of food. "Over board," I ye l3ed to Harold. Ho signalled to Mac, who was standing by the trap-door. "Shall I do it, Commander?" Mac shouted. I nodded. Over went one of the brown bags. Bernt looked round and smiled. That little weight had an immediate effect on the plane. When it is hovering near its absolute ceiling it is like a balloon. A tew pounds overboard will make her shoot up. Things were better now, but I was not sure whether it was fair to thoso fellows to dump the food. Bernt was easing over to the right now, where luckily it was clear-over the lowest part of the pass. We would get out of the descending currents and probably be helped by ascending ones. We were not high enough yet. I looked around: Mac was hard at work, with his camera—no matter what would happend he had to record those mountains. I felt then that if we had gone down in a tailspin Mac would have taken pictures on the way down 1A * c ha(i been tiDle- I mi Sht have toJd Mac he would have to throw his heavy camera overboard to gain altitude. Mac is a true soldier, and he would have obeyed orders, but I am sure he would have followed his camera through the trap-door. Harold went nonchalantly about hi 3 many duties as if it were all in the day's work. When he listened to the engine his pleasure plainty showed in his face. A great cyclone and whirlwinds went on roaring sweetly. If one o± them should stop, down we would go to tho glacier unless we could' dump many hundreds of pounds. Very luckily we had gradually gained more altitude, but not enough. A few hundred feet now might make the difference between success or dismal failure ■How much hung upon those few hundred feet. It was very rough now, and Mac and Harold could hardly hold their feet. EXCELSIOR AT LAST. Very slowly we went up. Suddenly tho wheel turned loosely in Bernt's hands. "Quick! Dump more!" he shouted. I pointed to another bag of rood. Mac shoved it through the trap door, and we watched it hit the glacier—two hundred and fifty pounds or tood. A month's supply for four men, lies out thei-o on that lifeless glacier. Again it did the trick. We seemed to shoot up. We could not let any more food go, nor could we dump gasoline and have any reserve supply left for reaching the Pole. There was nothing more to dump. We mustmake it. The minutes went very slowly. .

At last we reached the pass. We had a few hundred feet to spare. Bernt gavo a shout of joy. There were no mountains beyond the pass—the plateau stretches away cloudless and glistening in the sun, giving an unobstructed route to the Pole. We were over the dreaded hump. The Pole lay dead ahead over the horizon.