WOMAN WITHOUT NERVES.

Taihape Daily Times, Volume 8, Issue 29, 4 February 1916, Page 2

WOMAN WITHOUT NERVES.

THE DEATH OF MISS TREHAWKE DAVIES. In a cable message from London a few days ago the death was reported of Miss Trdliawke Davies, aviator. Vivacious and venturesome as ever, Miss TrehaAvke Davies left London for Paris to buy another monoplane (stated a London paper not long ago). Her startling escape has already been recorded- —how, when flying near Lille, the' machine swooped down to earth, and she and her pilot (Mr. J. D. Astley (gazed with surprise above the wreckage of the machine, each wondering that the other was alive. ‘■'But, as I always say to airmen,” remarks Miss Davies, “those who are born to be hanged will never be killed in an aeroplane accident. If my machine had not come* to such a horrible I smash I should be flying in it again I to-day. Nothing beats flying. It is 1 the champagne of motion. I do not think I shall ever tire of it. “How did I come to take to the pastime? By accident. A friend persuaded m e to go and see the start for the Daily Mail race for the circuit of Great Britain. That was the first time I had seen an aeroplane. I liked the look of it. I induced Mr GrnhWhite to give me a passenger flight, and I hav e been flying ever since—with intervals of illness, for which the flying was not responsible. It is the most exhilarating delight in the world, even better than being thrown out of a racing motor-car, which also I haw experienced. “There is, I believe, only on e woman who has flown more than I have. J * I intend to break her record. Not as 'a pilot; no, just as a passenger and observer. I am appallingly ignorant about engineering and its mathematics. I just fly because I like it. “You ask me if the smash at Lille smashed my nerves. My only reply is that I am not conscious of the pos- . session of nerves. All I know” is I love flying. I have had more alarming experiences than the tumble at Lille, . though the troubles, happening in the air and not on the ground, were unnoticed. I try to analyse my feelings. I have had qualms about the safety of my pihot. I have, honestly, never had any about the safety of myself. This wish alone has flashed through my mind in a moment of danger: If the end is to come, let it comC at once and not after a week in hospital. “My conviction is that it will not come by means of an aeroplane. And flying is so very, very jolly “Please express my extreme admir- , atiorr tor the coolness and skill of Mr. Astley during the- perilous moment at Lille. And I will toll you a story. As a souvenir he took one part of the broken ropeller and I took the other. When we arrived at Charing Cross we , had the broken fragments in our arms. 'Been breaking up the ’appy ’orae” asked a porter.” The fascination of danger .while rocked in an aeroplane in a furious wind was described not long ago by Miss Trehawke Davies, who was with Mr. Gustav Hamel in her 70 h.p. Bleriot tandem monoplane in a 60-mile wind t

"Every moment was a. thrill, ” she said. "We were up three minutes, and Mr. Hamel was fighting for our lives all l the time. Once? he was jerked violently out of his seat, but he recovered marvellously. There was danger in every motion of the machine. W e tossed and fell, and wore shaken almost breathless. It was gloriously

exciting. Yon never knew what was going to happen next. The most exciting time I over experienced was in flying with the late Mr. Astley over Germany, Holland, and Belgium, when I watched one of the wires getting slack and was unable to do anything l — warn the pilot. I once wrote in the diary I keep while flying; 'This is our last moment alive in the air; it will be our first moment dead on the ground.’ “I hope when death does come I shall fall several thousand feet and be killed instantly, rather than drop from a short height and stand the chance of being horribly maimed and yet still alive. I won’t wear a lifebelt or a helmet, because I like to feel free to fling myself clear of the engine when the crash comes.”