Famous Flyers and Their Famous Flights

“He had a grandmother, too, who gavehim a goodly supply of what it takes todo great deeds. That was Jane Byrd, whowas the sort of person around whom legendsspring up, and are carried down from generationto generation. In fact, one of themwas a famous story of her killing of a hugeblacksnake. It was during the Civil War.Her husband and her brother were both fightingfor the Confederacy, and Jane Byrd wasleft alone to manage the great plantationand farm. And manage it she did. Oneday she went to gather the eggs in the chickenhouse, and found a great blacksnake hadswallowed twelve prized guinea eggs thathad been set under a setting hen. She clubbedthe snake to death with a club, takingcare not to strike the twelve bumps thatshowed all down its body the places wherethe twelve guinea eggs reposed. Then shecut the snake open and took out the eggsand put them back under the hen, withouta bit of fuss or excitement. She took seriouslythe charge that she must take care of theestate while her men were away fighting.

“Richard Byrd couldn’t have had betterancestors to back him up in his adventures, but every ounce of courage, every bit ofperseverance that he inherited, he needed. Hewas a man who met with hundreds of disappointments, and innumerable obstacles incarrying out the plans that meant so muchto him and to the world. But he was neverdowned by them. Set-backs that would havemade other men, men of lesser caliber turnfrom their paths and give up their plans, were just so much more of a spur to him.

“Dick Byrd was never a robust man. Hehad the physical handicap of a bad ankle toovercome, and his general build has alwaysbeen slight. He is not the huge, strappinghero of story-book fame; he was the littleNapoleon with a great determination thatoutweighed any physical weakness. A mandoesn’t have to be big to get places. A littlefellow, if he wants to badly enough, canaccomplish a lot.

“And Dick Byrd certainly wanted badlyto go to the Pole. Even when he was a kidin school, it was his ambition to be the firstman to reach the North Pole. Somebodybeat him to it. Peary got there first, but ittook him a long time, and he had to go onfoot. Byrd flew, and accomplished in a fewhours what had taken days and weeks todo before.

“Not only did he want to go to the Pole – hewanted to go to all sorts of places, and he did, too. Before he was fourteenyears old, Richard Byrd traveled alonearound the world! That took nerve. Andnot only nerve on Richard Byrd’s part, buton the part of his mother! The trip wasn’ta regular round-the-world tour that anybodycan make today on a boat that’s like a littlepalace, but it was a rough, adventurousvoyage on an army transport, and a Britishtramp.

“It was like this. You see, Dick hadstruck up a friendship with Captain KitCarson. After the Spanish American War,Carson went to the Philippines as a CircuitCourt Judge. But he didn’t forget his friendDick. They exchanged letters. In one letterthe Captain mentioned that it would bea fine idea if Dick Byrd came down to thePhilippines to see the exciting time that theywere having down there. Dick took him upon the idea, and made plans to go. At firsthis mother was horrified at the idea, sinceDick was not a strong boy. But with unusualintelligence, she decided to let him go, since the trip would be an educational one, and would do the boy more good than anypossible harm that could come to him. Thevery fact that he wanted so badly to go, and planned his trip so carefully, made herfeel that he had reached an age where hemust be allowed to decide for himself. Thiswas a very wise decision on her part, sinceit was probably this trip, with its adventuresin self-reliance that made Richard intothe successful adventurer that he is.”

“The trip to Manila was made exciting bya typhoon that stuck the transport – somethingthat the boy would not have wantedto miss, although the Captain of the transportcould have done very well without it – hesaid it was the worst that he’d ever beenthrough.

“They got to Manila, though, safe andsound, and Dick was greeted by his friendCarson. Manila was intensely amusing fora boy of fourteen. Amusing, and mightyexciting. The excitement included a lonecombat with a gang of angry rebels armedwith knives – from which the young Dickescaped only by the fleetness of his pony’sheels. That’s the sort of adventure youngboys dream of, and that’s the sort theyshould have to look back on, if they are tolive the full sort of life that Richard Byrddid.

“From Manila, Dick went visiting to DarimIsland. On the island the cholera plaguewas raging, and Dick got exposed to the disease.They put him into quarantine. Hedidn’t get the cholera, but all around himmen were dying in terrible agony. Finallythe doctor managed to get Dick to theseaport, and he got a boat for Manila. Theywere glad to see him back, and he was gladto be back.

“After Manila, Dick went on his merryway around the world by way of Ceylonand the Red Sea to Port Said, where he reshippedfor the last lap of his cruise. It was awonderful trip for a boy, and there’s nodoubt that it had a great influence on allthat he did later.

“When Richard got back, and had settleddown more or less, his parents decided thathe should go to Virginia Military Institute.He was popular at the Institute, as he waspopular wherever he went, for his spirit – thatold spirit that carried him around theworld, and later across both of the earth’spoles. It was the same spirit that made himtry out for the football team at V.M.I. – andcarried him to the position of end onthe first team. It was at that time that anincident occurred which was to be very significantin his later life. In one game of theseason he broke his ankle. This was notimportant in itself – but it happened to bethe first break of an ankle that was going tobother Dick again and again – and almostat one time defeat him entirely.

“But I’m getting ahead of my story. Afterbeing graduated from the Military Institute,Dick Byrd went quite naturally to Annapolis.He entered in 1908. He carriedhis popularity and his success with him tothis place. His grades were not of the highest, but he excelled in athletics, going outfor football again, besides track, boxing, andwrestling.

“In his last year at Annapolis, Dick’s anklemade itself felt again. Dick was Captainof his gym squad, which was competing inthe big exhibition of the year. Dick, asCaptain, wanted to make a spectacular showing, and cinch the meet for his team. Todo this, he invented an intricate, complicatedseries of tricks on the bars, calculated tostir up the most lethargic members of theaudience. It would have been a great trick – ifit had succeeded – but it didn’t. Dickslipped, somehow, and his hands failed toconnect with the bars. Down he went – onthe same ankle, breaking it once more.

“In 1912 he got his commission, and becamean ensign. And he also began toformulate plans for his great adventures. Connectedwith the Navy – there was no tellingwhat opportunity for adventure would cometo him. But he reckoned without his ankle.It gave way a third time – this time whilehe was going down a gangway, so that hewas pitched headfirst down. They tried tofix up the ankle – in fact, they joined thebones together with a silver nail. That is,Byrd thought that they had used a silver nail – andwhen he discovered that just a plain, ordinary nail had been used, he felt verymuch deflated. Nail and all, Byrd walkedwith a limp, and an ensign with a limp wasjust useless, so far as the Navy was concerned.So Byrd was retired.

“That must have been an awful blow tohim. Not only was the only career open tohim cut short, but he had been married theyear before, to Marie Ames, a childhoodsweetheart from Winchester. So that his retirementaffected not just himself, but anotheras well.

“It might have floored a lesser man. Butnot Dick Byrd. In 1917 the United Stateswent into the World War, And Byrd, whohad been rejected by the Navy, and whodoubtless could not have found a place inthe army, decided to go into the branch ofthe service that wouldn’t ask questions abouthis bad leg – because it didn’t matter whetherhe had a bad leg or not – in aviation. Soto aviation he turned.

“He entered the Naval flying school atPensacola, Florida. It was a lucky day forByrd and for aviation that he took to theair. It seems that the air was where he belonged.He was a Byrd by birth, and mighthave been born with wings, for the ease withwhich he took to flying.

“He became assistant superintendent of theschool, and was on the commission to investigateaccidents. There were a lot of them, then. The planes were not so highly developedas they are now – and the greenyoungsters who were entering the servicecould not handle them. You can imaginehow horrible it was to see some friend’s planecome crashing down into the ocean, andhave to be the first to go out in the rescueboat, in order to do what was possible torescue him, and to discover what had causedthe accident. A warning from the observationtower – somebody was in tailspin. Adeafening crash! And the rescue boat wouldbe put out before the waves from the greatsplash had subsided. At this work Byrdlearned that more than half of the accidentscould have been avoided with care – eitherin inspecting the machine before going up,or in handling it up in the air.

“Dick Byrd was just too good. That washis tough luck at this point in his career.He was too good to be sent over to France, where he wanted to go. He was sent insteadto Canada, where he was chief of the Americanair forces in Canada. At this job, aswell as at any other that he undertook, Byrdacquitted himself admirably. And eventhough he chafed at being kept in America,he did his job well.

“But his mind was soaring across theocean. As early as 1917 Byrd wanted to flythe Atlantic. But there was always somethingthat interfered. After the war, he petitionedthe Navy again about a cross-Atlanticvoyage, and was given permission to goover to England and sail the ZR-2 back toAmerica. How tragically this may have endedfor Byrd you can see. The ZR-2, on atrial flight suddenly burst into flames andcrashed into the Humber river. Forty-fourof the passengers were killed, among themfriends of Byrd. It was Richard Byrd’s taskto investigate the wreck that might very easilyhave claimed him for one of its victims.

“In 1924 his hopes seemed about to berealized at last. He was assigned to the dirigibleShenandoah, and was to fly it acrossAlaska and the North Pole. But the Shenandoah, too, met with disaster, and Byrd’shopes were again dashed. The Navy rejectedhis petition to go with Amundsen onthe trip that he planned over the Pole, andall hope seemed gone. In fact, as a finalblow, Byrd was retired from the aviationservice altogether.

“But he was as undaunted by this setbackas he had been by his retirement fromthe Navy. He set about immediately to organizehis own Polar expedition, which wasto be climaxed by his flight over the Polein 1926.

“Floyd Bennett, whom Byrd often saidwas the best man in the world to fly with, helped him plan his expedition which wasto be the realization of all his boyhooddreams and visions. It wasn’t easy to plan, and the foresighted planning, they knew, would mean the success or failure of theirproject.

“They chose a three-motored Fokker monoplane, with 200 horsepower Wright air-cooledmotors. It was 42 feet 9 inches long, with a wing spread of over 63 feet. It wascapable of a high speed of 120 miles an hour.

“That was the plane, the Josephine Ford.Their ship was the Chantier, given him bythe Shipping Board. The crew was madeup of picked men, and Byrd knows how topick them. Not one of them failed to liveup to his expectations on that trip.

“On April 5, 1926, all of the plans beingcompleted, and the last supplies of foodto last fifty men for six months being stowedaway, the Chantier sailed from New Yorkfor King’s Bay, Spitzbergen. They got thereon April 29th, after an uneventful trip, andanchored in the Bay. But the problem ofgetting the plane to shore arose. They solvedit by building a huge raft, loading the heavyship onto it, and towing it to shore throughthe choppy, ice-blocked water.

“When they got the plane onto the shore, the wheels sank into the snow, and they hadto replace them with skis, which seemed ampleto sustain the weight of even that greatcraft. How frail they really were was to beproved later.

“Byrd and his men set up camp, andprepared for the take-off to the Pole. Theyhad to work fast. The Amundsen-Ellsworth-NobileExpedition with its dirigiblethe Norge was well on its way with its preparations, and while there was no bitter rivalrybetween the two expeditions, neverthelessthe distinction of being the first to fly overthe Pole was one not to be sneezed at.Everybody worked – eighteen hours a day, with meals taken on the run. And nobodythought to complain – the morale neverbroke once. That’s the sort of man Byrdpicks to take with him – and that’s the sortof respect they have for a man who choosesthem. Byrd’s a leader. No matter wherehe has come in contact with men, he haswon their love and respect, and has gotmore work out of them by his kindness andgentleness than anybody else could have byslave-driving. They worked for Byrd becausethey liked to, not because they had to.He imbued them with his spirit of adventure,so that every man of them was determinedthat his expedition should be successful, andthat Byrd should be the first man to flyacross the Pole.

“One of the hardest jobs of all was packingdown the snow into a hard, smooth runwayfor taking off. They had to take offgoing down hill, since there was no levelstretch of snow for their start, and this hillhad to be smoothed and leveled. The firstattempt at a take-off was disastrous. Theplane landed in a snowdrift, with a brokenski. The carpenters worked for two daysand nights to make new skis, and the shipwas ready for its second attempt.

“The second trial flight was a huge success.The ship rolled down the incline andtook gently and gracefully into the air. Atleast they would be able to get off. Thelanding, too, was beautiful. So far, so good.They discovered by this trial flight that theycould make the North Pole and return withoutlanding once, as they had planned before.

“The Josephine Ford was a mighty heavycraft, and loaded with fuel and supplies, which they would need in case of a forcedlanding and overland trek, she weighed fivetons. This accounts for the terrible job gettingher off the ground and into the air.

“Well, finally everything was ready, theweather was just right; the motors had beenwarmed up, and Bennet and Byrd climbedinto the plane, ready to start. Down therunway they coasted. There was a tensemoment. Would she lift? With a groan, the men on the ground saw her lurch, rollinto a snowdrift, and all but turn over.

“A lesser man, as I said once before, wouldhave been discouraged. But not Byrd! Hegot out, inspected the plane, and found to hisjoy that it had not been damaged. No delay!Off again. They lightened the loadas much as they dared by taking off somefuel, then taxied the Josephine Ford up thehill again. The men worked like Trojansto get the runway lengthened and smoothedout again. At last everything was ready.

“Byrd and Bennett decided to stake everythingon that last trial. They decided togive the engine all the speed they could, sothat at the end of her run she’d either riseinto the air, or crack up once and for all.Even as they planned, they hoped againsthope that it would be the former, and notthe latter. The weather was perfect. It wasa little past midnight. The men of the expeditionwere gathered about, anxiouslyawaiting the take-off. Byrd and Bennettshook hands with them, stepped into thecabin of the ship and started down the runway.The great ship rose laboriously intothe air. There was a shout from their comrades.They were off for the North Pole!Those on the ground cheered lustily. TheGreat Adventure, for which one of thosemen in the air had been preparing all hislife, had begun.

“They had to navigate first by dead reckoning, following the landmarks in the vicinityof King’s Bay. They climbed to a gooddistance so that they could get a perfectview of the land below them, and lookeddown upon the snowy mountains, scenerygrander than any they had ever seen before, and terrifying, too. In a short time theyleft the land behind, and crossed the edge ofthe polar ice pack.

“There are no landmarks on the ice, andwhen they reached the ice pack, they had tobegin their careful navigating. In the firstplace, they had to hit the Pole exactly, chiefly because that was the place they hadset out for, and then because if they didn’thit it exactly, they would have no way ofreckoning their path back to Spitzbergen, and would be lost in the arctic wastes.

“But expert navigating was Dick Byrd’sstrong point. He had developed a sextantby which the altitude of the sun could begaged without reference to the horizon line, and that was exactly what he needed now, because due to the formations of ice, the horizonwas irregular. But figuring out positionby means of the sextant requires at leastan hour of mathematical calculation, and bythe time the position had been figured, themen in the airplane had advanced about ahundred miles or more. So they used amethod that they had learned, whereby theirposition could be judged by means of takingthe altitude of the sun and laying down theline of position on a sort of graph.

“Their compass was of little value. Theywere too near the North Magnetic Pole, which had a tendency to pull their magnetfrom the geographical Pole to its own position, about 1,000 miles south. So theyused a sun compass, that indicated theirposition by means of the sun. Of course, thefact that they had sun throughout the wholetrip was an advantage. I doubt if they couldhave made it otherwise. Navigating up thereis too difficult. Then they had to figureon wind drift. The wind, blowing prettyhard, say, about 30 miles an hour at rightangles to their plane would cause it to driftthirty miles an hour out of its course. Thisthey were able to make up for by means ofthe drift indicator, which compensated forthe drift.

“Bennett piloted first. He would glanceback to the cabin where Byrd was busywith the navigating instruments, and Byrdwould indicate to him how to steer his courseby waving his hand to the right or the left.When they were certain of their course, Byrdlooked down on the land that he had desiredto see since he had been a boy in school.Below them, stretching for mile upon milewas the ice pack, criss-crossed with ridges, seeming like mere bumps in the ice from theiraltitude, but really about 50 or 60 feet high.Every now and then they saw a lead, openedby the movement of the water – thosetreacherous leads that had led many a hardyexplorer to his death.

“Byrd took the wheel. He steered withone hand while he held the compass in theother. Bennett poured gasoline into thetanks, and threw overboard the empty cans,to relieve the plane of weight. From thenon they took turn and turn about at thewheel, Byrd navigating incessantly, until hehad a slight attack of snow blindness fromlooking down at the snow so constantly.

“Soon they came to land where no manhad ever been before. It was then that Byrdfelt that he was being repaid for all theplanning, all the hard work and heart-breakingdisappointments that he had experienced.The sun was shining, the Josephine Fordfunctioning perfectly.

“Perfectly? Just a minute. They wereabout an hour from the Pole. Byrd noticedthrough the cabin window a bad leak in theoil tank of one motor. If the oil leaked out, the motor would burn up and stop. Shouldthey land? No. Why not go on as far asthey could, perhaps reach the Pole? Theywould be no worse off landing at the Polethan landing here, and they would havereached their goal. So on they kept. Byrdglued his eyes to the oil pressure gauge. Ifit dropped, their motor was doomed. Butthey would not land, or turn back.

“Luck was with them. At about twominutes past nine o’clock, they crossed thePole. It takes just a minute to say it, buthow many years of planning, how manyyears of patiently surmounting obstacles hadprepared for that minute’s statement!

“Below them was the frozen, snow-coveredocean, with the ice broken up into variousformations of ice fields, indicating thatthere was no land about. Byrd flew theplane in a circle several miles in diameter, with the Pole as a center. His field of viewwas 120 miles in diameter. All this whilehe was flying south, since all directions awayfrom the Pole are south. And now, his purposeaccomplished, his hardest task facedhim. He had to fly back to Spitzbergen.

“Soon after he left the Pole, the sextantthat he was using slid off the chart table, breaking the horizon glass. He had to navigatethe whole trip back by dead reckoning!With the oil fast spurting out, and the motorthreatening to stop any minute, and nosextant to show his position, Byrd had hishands full. They lost track of time. Minutesseemed like hours, hours like ages. Thenthey saw land dead ahead. It was Spitzbergen!Byrd had flown into the unknown,600 miles from any land, had turned about, and come back to the very spot from whichhe had started.

“Maybe you don’t realize what wonderfulnavigating this was. But anybody who hasnavigated a plane by dead reckoning knowsthat it was a feat that called for great skill.

“Nobody was prouder of what Byrd andBennett had done than the men who hadworked so hard to make the trip a success, and who had stayed behind at Spitzbergen, without glory or reward except in knowingthat they had been a necessary feature in thesuccess of that journey. The whistle of theChantier blew a shrill whistle of welcome.The men ran to greet Byrd and Bennett, andcarried them in triumph on their shoulders.Among the first to greet them were Amundsenand Ellsworth, whom Byrd had beatenin the race to be the first to cross the Poleby air. But they shook hands with vigor.They were glad that it was Byrd who hadbeaten them, if it had to be anybody. Byrdaffects people that way. He’s just as wellliked after successes as before them. That’sthe sort he is.

“They were pretty glad to see him whenhe got back to the United States, too. Therewere plenty of whistles blowing, plenty ofticker tape, and parades for the returninghero. But Dick Byrd stayed modest throughall of it. In the first place, he never getsfussed. He isn’t a southern gentleman fornothing. And in the second place, he realizedthat the shouting wasn’t so much forhim as it was for the thing that he did. Hehad brought the United States the honor ofsending the first men over the Pole. Andthe United States was applauding the deed, not himself. But he seems to have forgottenthat if it hadn’t been for his years ofplanning, striving and struggling the deednever would have been accomplished.

“Well, Dick Byrd had accomplished hislife’s ambition. But it didn’t mean that hewas ready to quit. There were new fieldsto conquer. How about flying the Atlantic?He’d always wanted to fly the Atlantic.Anything that was all adventure appealed tohim. So when they hoisted anchor at Spitzbergenafter the flight across the Pole Byrdsaid to his companion Bennett, ‘Now we canfly the Atlantic.’

“The plan to fly the ocean had its originin the same motives that the North Poleflight had. Byrd wanted to make Americaaviation conscious; and he wanted to makeAmerican aviators conscious of the benefitsof careful planning. Dozens of lives hadbeen lost in unsuccessful trans-oceanic flights – thelives of young men full of the love ofadventure, who made hasty plans, or noplans at all for spanning the ocean – whohad no qualifications except a great ambitionto see them through the great grind thatwas before them. Byrd wanted to show allfool-hardy young flyers that care, care, andmore care was needed in their preparations.He had to prove to the United States, too, that if care were exercised in these flights, they were not necessarily dangerous. All thisByrd had to prove. And in the meantimehe’d have the time of his life, steeped in theadventurous sort of work that he craved.