SLOW SPEED; LOW ALTITUDE

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 484, 13 October 1928, Page 1

SLOW SPEED; LOW ALTITUDE

TAKE-OFF FROM BLENHEIM IN FIERY DAWN THOUSANDS WATCH PLANE OUT OF SIGHT r[ILE the sun rising l behind the clouds splashed an arc of flaming red across the sky, the Southern Cross, like a great planet with the two Bristol Fighters as attendant satellites, swung round away from Blenheim at five o’clock this morning. Four minutes after the hour she was a speck in the sky, merged into the heavy grey of low clouds. The brilliant colours of the sky faded as the light grew stronger. Over Cook Strait the big monoplane ran into a blustering northerly of almost gale force. At one p.m. the Southern Cross reported that the weather was clearing. The wind was still strong, however, and the plane was only making 50 knots. Just before 1.30 the plane reported that if the wind continues the flight will take over 24 hours.

BLENHEIM, To-day. By a few minutes after 3 o’clock the airmen were out of bed. Dr. Kidsoa’a Anal advice was to take a northerly course. After a hurried breakfast they were at the airdrome by 4 a.m. It was still dark. A cheering crowd of more than a thousand people, which grew to between 4,000 and 5,000 In the next half-hour, welcomed them. Calmly, and obviously unworried at the prospect of the hazardous day before them, they set about making sure that everything was as It should be. People swarmed on to the rope barrier and all round the hangar, to see the last of the men who were about to stake everything on the strength and faithfulness of the great silverwinged machine, with its three com-monplace-looking engines. It was a stirring though troubling thought that any little defect in those steel masses might mean that the four men, who were laughing and chatting with their friends, would never be seen again, and the whole crowd feeling it, was taut with excitement. A* Kingsford Smith sat at the controls, Lieutenant . Simpson twisted the starting handle of each engine. One cough, and each in turn caught up its steady roar, with never a miss of a beat. The flyers climbed down while the Whirlwinds warmed up, and spoke their farewell messages to New Zealand through a microphone. airmen climb aboard There were a few farewells, handshakes, good luck’s and cheerios’s exchanged, and the airmen turned to business. Kingsford Smith and TJlm, in bulky flying-suits, with thick rubber boots, clambered up into the cockpit. The Pilot played with his engine controls, first one engine, then another he “revved” up, until there was a mighty roar of the motors and one crackle of the propellers drowning the cheers of the crowd. The navigator, Mr. H. A. Litchfield, in a helmet and an ordinary suit, got in and started to work, followed by Mr. T. H. McWilliams, the wireless operator, who wore a flying suit but no helmet. One or two friends ran to the side of the plane and shook hands through the open window. The engines roared again, the short exhaust Pipes spitting yellow flames in the Quickly lifting dusk, and soon glowing a dull red.

Cars rushed upfield, ordering the people back, and the mile-long stretch, as smooth as a bowling-green, was soon cleared. This time there was no false alarm. Slowly at first, the Southern Cross began to move, then, speeding up fast, was off up the runway, which pointed not quite dead into the nor’-west wind. The crowd cheered at first, as Mr. Litchfield and Mr. McWilliams waved a last ,good-bye. Then, as the tail of the Southern Cross lifted, there was silence except for the noise of her engines, and those of two Bristols just getting off the ground. Would she get off all right? was the question in every mind for a tense minute. Then there was one great sigh of relief and smiles on every face when it was seen that the wheels were off the ground 650 yards from the start.

It was three minutes to five as the wheels left New Zealand soil. Very, very slowly she climbed with her six-ton load, circling round a mile beyond the field, with the Bristols darting above. Then she turned, heading straight over the hangar, at a height of less than 100 feet, on a northeasterly course, which would take her out above the sounds. The crowd tried to beat the din of the engines with cheers as she passed right over them, the Bristols taking up formation in position behind her. All eyes followed the planes, which were gradually growing smaller, till first the smaller insects, then the bigger dragon-fly in the middle, faded right out. Then Blenheim, after its fortnight of glory, delays and disappointments, but always excitement, went home to work, or in many cases to cluster round radio sets listening to reports all day , . Almost every hotel or shop in Blenheim boasts a loud speaker, and crew both inside and on the pavement where they are standing in a steady drizzle, are listening eagerly for the broadcast progress reports. A deaf man could follow the flight by watching the changing expressions on the faces of the listeners as they are told of the varying fortunes, of the flyers. battle of the winds The great moment had come and gone and the great adventure of the return flight across the Tasman, with the prospect of fighting head winds all the way, had begun Every person in the crowd wished and prayed for good luck. Those who had watched the preparations and knew the men, did not worry. They knew that if almost superhuman thoroughness, courage and skill counted for anything, the battle of the Winds would be won and the Qmithern Cross would reacli Australia. As the petrol aboard the Southern Pross gives her a radius of . from 26 to 98 hours and the distance the plane will travel on the course set is 1,534 miles she will have to do an average for the whole trip of a little more than fiO knots to be on the safe side. This will easily be made up if the head winds lessen. Half an hour later the Bristols which had followed the big monoplane

The crowd was cleared from the front of the hangar, and while the Bristols were warming up, the chocks were removed and the Dig machine taxied out. Twenty helpers lifted the tail, swinging the monoplane round till it stood on the runway. It was now quite daylight, so that the searchlight, which had been sweeping the field, was put out. The engines roared then quietened for a moment, as Ulm Put his head from the cockpit, shouting that he wondered if the fence across the runway had been removed. Ke was reassured and the engines again “revved’* up for the start, when half a mile along the runway a few broke from the wall of people on either side and ran across the track. INTO NORTH-WEST WIND

Again the Whirlwinds were throttled uown as Kingsford Smith shouted Keep those fools o the runway.”

seven miles out to sea returned. “She is going well,” said Lieutenant Simpson, the passenger. Captain Buckley told how he had caught the Southern Cross at a height of 1,400 feet opposite Port Underwood, just as they turned and waved. “They all waved. We saw Litch and Mac waving in the cabin.” So four brave men, who have proved themselves good fellows, bade farewell to the last men they will see for many hours. Speeding between grey sea and cloudy sky, the Southern Cross flies westward, borne on the air with only space defying radio and the skill of one of them to tell the anxious world “All’s well.” Captain Findlay returned to Christchurch at 7 o’clock in the DHSO. Captain Buckley and Lieutenant Simpson will take the Bristols back this afternoon.