Kitabı oku: «Famous Flyers and Their Famous Flights», sayfa 4

“Gee, how did it happen?” said Hal, hiseyes wide.

“Wait a second, I’m coming to it,” saidBob. “He and another officer were to goup and attack another plane that they calledthe enemy. It was a sort of problem theyhad to work out. Well, Slim dove at theenemy from the left, and the other fellowfrom the right. The enemy plane pulledup, but Lindy and the other officer kepton going, dead toward each other. Therewas an awful crack, and their wings locked.The two planes began to spin around anddrop through the air. Lindy did the onlything there was to do. He kept his head, stepped out on one of the damaged wings, and stepped off backwards. He didn’t pullthe rip-cord until he had fallen quite a way, because he didn’t want the ships to fall onhim. When he’d gone far enough, he pulledthe cord, and floated gently down. Thatwas the first.”

“And the second?” said Hal.

“The second,” went on Bob, “happened in1927, just about a year before Lindy flewthe Atlantic. He took a new type of planeup to test her. He put her through all thestunts that he could think of, and she stoodthem all right. It seemed as though shewas going to come through the test O.K., when Lindy put her into a tail spin. Theyspiraled down for a while, and Lindy triedto pull her out of it. She wouldn’t respondand went completely out of control. Lindytugged and yanked at the controls, but hecouldn’t get that bus to go into a dive. Hedid his best to save the ship, but it was nouse. He didn’t give up until they wereabout 300 feet from the ground, which isa mighty short distance to make a jump, ifyou ask me. But Lindy made it, andlanded in somebody’s back yard, the wind knockedout of him, but otherwise all right. Thatwas the second.”

“And the third?” asked Hal.

“We’re getting ahead of the story. Infact, we’re ahead of the story already. Beforehe made his second jump, Lindy hadjoined the Missouri National Guard, andwas promoted to a Captaincy in the Reserveand Flight Commander of the 110th ObservationSquadron. That’s how he got to bea Captain, you know how he got to be aColonel.

“Then Lindy joined the Robertson AircraftCorporation, at St. Louis. While hewas with them, he helped map out the firstmail route from St. Louis to Chicago, andwas the first pilot to carry mail along thisroute. Slim had a habit of starting thingsoff. He was the first to do a lot of things.No sitting back and waiting for others tostart things. It was first or nothing forhim. Maybe it was his Viking ancestors, Idon’t know.

“It was while he was flying this routethat Lindy had his third initiation into theCaterpillars. He took off one Septemberafternoon from Lambert Field, in St. Louis,on his way to Maywood. Just outside ofPeoria a fog rolled in, so thick you could cutit with a knife, Lindy could climb up overit for flying, but he couldn’t land blind. Hedropped a flare, but it only lit up a cloudbank. He saw lights, then, through thefog, and knew that he was around Maywood, but couldn’t get the exact location ofthe field. He’d circled around for two hours, when his engine sputtered and died. Thetank was dry. Lindy quickly turned on thereserve gravity tank. There was twentyminutes of flying in that tank, and Lindyhad to think fast.

“He tried flares again, but it was no use.When he had just a few minutes of gasleft, he saw the glow of a town. He didn’twant to take a chance on landing in a townand killing somebody, so he headed for opencountry. In a few minutes his engine died.Lindy stepped out into the blind fog andjumped. After falling a hundred feet, hepulled the rip-cord, and left the rest tochance. Every once in a while his ship appeared, twirling away in spirals, the outsideof the circle about 300 yards away fromLindy. He counted five spirals, and thenlost sight of the bus. He landed in a cornfield, shaken, of course, but all right. Hefound his way to the farm house, and toldthe farmer who he was. The farmer, whohad heard the crash of the plane as it smashedto earth wouldn’t believe that this safe andsound man was the pilot of it. Finally Lindyconvinced him, and they went in searchof the plane, which the farmer was sure hadlanded close to his house. They found ittwo miles away, looking not much like aplane, but a heap of rubbish. The mailwasn’t hurt. They got it to a train forChicago, and the mail went through. It alwaysdoes, you know.”

“Yup, it always does,” said Captain Bill.

“That reminds me of a story,” said Pat.

“Hold it,” said Bob. “I’ve got anotherparachute for Lindy.”

“Fire away,” said Pat. “But rememberto remind me not to forget to tell you myown story.”

“All right,” Bob put in. “Now the fourthtime Lindy jumped was not long before hisbig flight. He was still flying for Robertson’s, carrying mail to Chicago. Just southof Peoria he ran into rain that changed tosnow. Lindy flew around, waiting for thefog to lift, until he heard his motor sputterand die. He was up about 13,000 feet whenhe stepped out of the cockpit and jumpedinto the air. He landed on a barbed wirefence. Tore his shirt, but the plane waspretty much of a wreck. He grabbed theair mail; hurried to a train for Chicago, gotanother plane, and flew the mail through.A little late, but still, it got through. Andhe didn’t bat an eye. Not one of the jumpsfazed him a bit.

“But it wasn’t as though Lindy jumpedat the slightest sign of anything going wrong.He stayed with his plane until the very lastminute, doing everything he could to saveit. He hated worse than anything to havea plane smashed up. Look how long hestayed with that new plane he was testingout – until he was just 300 feet above theground.

“Well, Lindy was one of the best mail pilotsthat the Robertson corporation had, infact, he was their chief pilot. They coulddepend on him to go out in weather that noother pilot would think of bucking. Hedidn’t show off. Just knew that he couldfly through anything, and he did.

“At this time there was a lot of excitementin the air. Orteig was offering his $25,000prize for the first man to cross the Atlantic, and there were a lot of aviators whowould have liked the prize, and were tryingfor it. Of course, the money wasn’t thewhole thing. There was the honor attachedto it. And besides, there was the fact thatcrossing the Atlantic would make peoplesit up and take notice that flying wasn’t asdangerous as they thought. If a man couldfly all that distance in a plane, maybeplanes weren’t the death traps that some peoplehad an idea they were. Lindy must havebeen thinking of this when he first decidedthat he’d like to try for the Orteig prize. Becauseeverything that he’s done since his flighthas been to get people interested in aviation.

“But it takes money to fly across the ocean.You’ve got to get a special plane and allthat. Lindy had to have backers. Hecouldn’t get them at first. Everybody triedto discourage him. In the first place, helooked such a kid. He was twenty-five, andthat’s young, but he didn’t even looktwenty-five. The men he asked to back him allbut told him to run home and wait untilhe had grown up.

“Then Major Robertson, Lindy’s BigBoss, tried to get backers for him. He knewthat Lindy could fly and finally got some influentialmen to put up $15,000 for hisflight. Maybe Lindy wasn’t glad! He tuckedhis check in his pocket and went on ashopping trip for a plane. He tried theBellanca people in New York, but theydidn’t have what he wanted, so he skippedto San Diego to the Ryan Airways, Inc., and told them what he wanted. They puttheir engineers to work on his specifications, and designed him a Ryan monoplane, theneat stream-lined job that was christened theSpirit of St. Louis. It’s a graceful bird – butyou’ve all seen so many pictures of it, you know what it looks like. It has a wingspan of 46 feet, and an overall length ofover 27 feet. They put in a Wright engine – aWhirlwind, 200 horsepower. It’s aradial engine. You two probably know whata radial engine is, but Hal here doesn’t.”Bob paused and turned to Hal. “Do you?”

“Uh-uh,” grunted Hal. “Do you?”

“Of course I do. It’s one in which thecylinders aren’t in a straight line or in a V,but arranged around an axis, like the spokesof a wheel. Lindy’s plane had two sparkplugs for each cylinder, so that in case onemissed, there was another one ready. Shecould carry 450 gallons of gas and twentygallons of oil, and she was loaded to thegills when Lindy took her off the groundat the Field.

“Suppose Lindy wasn’t anxious aboutthat plane. He hung around the factoryall the time that it was being built, andmade suggestions to help along Hawley Bowlus, who built the thing. You know HawleyBowlus. The fellow who held the gliderrecord until Lindy took it away from him – butthat’s later. Bowlus knows how tobuild planes, and Lindy swears by him.

“Well, they got the plane finished in 60days, which isn’t bad time. Out in NewYork, Byrd and Chamberlin and the otherswere getting ready to fly the Atlantic. It’swasn’t really a race to see who would befirst, but of course, there’s no doubt thateach one was anxious to be the first manto cross the Atlantic. Because after all, nobody likes to be second. So Lindy had toget out to the east coast as fast as he could.He could hardly wait for the plane to befinished. But at last it was, and all theequipment in place. Lindy climbed into thecockpit to test her out. The cockpit was inclosed.I don’t know whether I told thatbefore or not. Anyway, he could see outlittle windows on each side, but he couldn’tsee ahead, or above him. So it was reallyflying blind all the time, except for a slidingperiscope that he could pull in or out at theside, in case he had to see straight ahead.But Lindy doesn’t mind blind flying. He’sa wonderful navigator.

“Well, Lindy turned over the motor ofhis new plane, and it sounded sweet. Hehadn’t got it any more than off the groundwhen he realized that this was the plane forhim. It responded to every touch, althoughit was a heavy ship, and not much goodfor stunting. But Lindy didn’t want tostunt. He wanted to fly to Europe.

“It was on May 10, I think, that heleft San Diego. It was in the evening, notquite six o’clock. The next morning, alittle after eight, he got into St. Louis. Tookhim just a bit over fourteen hours, the wholetrip. It was the longest cross-country hopthat any one man had made up to thattime. His old pals at Lambert Field werepretty glad to see him, and he spent thenight at his old stamping grounds. But hedidn’t stay long. Early in the morning hegot on his way, and made New York inthe afternoon, in not quite seven and a halfhours. Pretty flying.

“Nobody much had heard of Lindy untilhe started from San Diego. Of course, he’dbeen a dandy mail pilot, but they’re usuallyunnamed heroes. Nobody hears about them, and they never get their names in the paperunless they crash. Not that they care.They’ve got their jobs to do, and they dothem. But when Lindy flew that grand hopfrom San Diego to St. Louis to New York, people began to sit up and take notice. Hedidn’t say much after he got to the CurtissField.

“Out at Curtiss he spent his time seeingthat everything was ready, and all his instrumentsO.K. He had a lot of confidencein himself – he always has – but there wasno use in taking chances. In back of thepilot’s seat was a collapsible rubber boat, thathe could blow up with two tanks of gasthat he carried with him. It had light oars, and was supposed to be able to float himfor a week in case he decided suddenly tocome down in the middle of the Atlanticinstead of flying all the way across. Thenthere were his regular instruments. He hada tachometer, and an altimeter, an earthinductor compass, a drift indicator, and – ”

Captain Bill interrupted. “Just a minute, just a minute. You say those things prettyglibly. Do you know what they mean?What’s a tachometer? Pat here doesn’tknow.”

Bob looked embarrassed. “Well, they’re allpretty necessary instruments. I’ve beenmeaning to look them up, that is, Gee, Ireally ought to know, oughtn’t I?”

“You ought,” said the Captain severely.“Do you mind if I interrupt your story forjust a minute and give you a few pointers?This is mostly for you and Hal. You’llnever be able to fly unless you understandwhat the instruments on the dashboard arefor. Of course a lot of the old flyers, likePatrick, here, flew just by instinct, and stucktheir heads out over the cockpit to see whatwas happening. A real pilot nowadays, though, can be sealed in his cockpit andnever see ahead of him from the time hetakes off until he lands, just so long as hisinstruments are working. He can keep hiscourse over any country, no matter howstrange. You’ve got to know your instruments.”

“Well, tell us,” said Bob.

The Captain sat up. “I guess the firstthing that Lindy watched was the tachometer.This is the instrument that shows thenumber of revolutions per minute, or R.P.M.’sthat the engine is making. A flyermust know how many R.P.M.’s his enginemust make to maintain a correct flyingspeed, or he’ll go into a stall, which is bad.I’ll tell you more about stalls later. Thealtimeter registers the height at which theplane is flying. It isn’t very accurate atlow altitudes, but it’s all right higher up.You soon learn by the feel and the lay ofthe land how high up you are. The exactheight doesn’t matter in ordinary flying, justso that you keep a good altitude. Thenthere’s that most important instrument, theearth inductor compass. This is much moreaccurate than a magnetic compass, and itkeeps the ship on its course. It operates inregard to the electro-magnetic reactions ofthe earth’s field, and directions are indicatedin reference to magnetic north. To steer bythis compass, you have to set your desiredheading on the controller, and then steerto keep the indicator on zero. If you veerto the left, the indicator will swing to theleft, and to keep on your course you mustbring your plane back to the right. Whenhe changes his course, the pilot consults hismaps and graphs, and makes a change inthe indicator of the compass.

“Then there is the air speed indicator, which shows the speed of the plane in theair. This is necessary so that the engine isnot over-speeded. A pilot never runs hisplane at full speed as a general thing, becausehe’ll wear out his engine. He keepsit at about 80 per cent of its potential speed, which is a good safe margin.

“The turn and bank indicator also readsfrom zero, and deviates from zero when theplane dips. The bubble rides up to theleft when the plane banks right, and ridesup to the right when the plane banks left.When the ship is again on an even keel, the indicator goes back to zero. The pilot, when he isn’t flying blind, can keep his planelevel by noticing the position of the radiatorcap or top of the engine in respect to thehorizon. But in a heavy fog, or if he can’tsee over his cockpit, the horizon doesn’t exist, and a bank and turn indicator is hisinstrument.

“The instruments that are no less importantthan these are the oil gauge, the gasolinepressure gauge, and the thermometer, whichshows whether the motor is overheating. Ifthe oil gauge shows that the oil is at a goodcool temperature, and the gasoline pressuregauge shows that the gas pressure is up, the pilot knows that his motor is runningnicely. The gas pressure gauge won’t tellyou how much gas you have left, though.It’s always best to figure how much gasyou’re going to need on a trip, and thentake some over for emergencies. Most planesalso have an emergency tank, so that if onetank gives out, the other can be switchedon, and will give the flyer time to maneuverabout until he finds a landing place.”Captain Bill paused. “Well, those are your instruments.I’ll probably have to explainthem all over to you again when the planecomes, and I start to teach you to fly.”

“Oh, no, not to me, you won’t,” Bob said.

Hal sat quietly looking out over the valleybelow, saying nothing. He had listenedintently to the Captain’s instructions, butthere was an odd expression on his face.

Finally Pat snorted. Bob and the othersjumped.

“Hi, what’s the idea. Is there a story beingtold, or isn’t there a story being told?Get on with you.”

“It’s no fault of mine, Patrick,” saidBob, looking meaningly at the Captain, whoappeared as innocent as a lamb. “I’m alwaysbeing rudely interrupted. But I’ll go on.Where was I?”

“The Lindbergh lad was at Curtiss Field, waiting this long time to be off,” said Pat.

“Oh, yes. Well, when he got word thatthe weather was O.K., he got his sandwiches, his canteens of water, and startedoff on the greatest flight in aviation history.And I’ve told you about that.”

“We seem to be right back where westarted from,” the Captain said. “Is thatthe end of your story?”

Bob laughed. “By no means. You’vegot a lot to hear yet. What do you supposeI’ve been collecting dope for all these weeks?I’ve got a lot to tell you. Lindy wasn’tsatisfied with one great trip. He’s been flyingsince, and has made some pretty importantjaunts. Things happened to him afterhe got back to America loaded down withabout every kind of medal that one man canget. And I’m going to tell you all of them.”

“I suppose we’ll have to listen. It’s partof the game,” Pat said. “But not now,my lad.” He rose stiffly from the grass.“You’re mother will be looking for us, andwondering what’s become of us. We’d betterget for home.”

“How about continuing in the next issue?”laughed the Captain.

“O.K.” said Bob. “You get the rest ofit tonight, whether you like it or not.”

Hal looked up fervently at Bob. “Oh, welike it, Bob. I think it’s a great story. Agreat story.” The boy’s eyes shown in hispale face. “Golly, Bob, it must be wonderfulto be able to do things like that.”

Bob looked uncomfortable as they walkedover to the car. “Well, kid, I don’t seewhy anybody can’t do great things if he’s gotgrit enough. That’s what it takes – Grit.”

CHAPTER VI – More About The Eagle

It was after dinner at the Martin’s. CaptainBill, Pat, and the two boys had goneout to the garden. The Captain and Bobwere stretched out in two deck chairs, theCaptain’s long legs sticking out a long waypast the end of the low foot-rest. Pat layin the glider, swinging himself lazily, squeakingin a melancholy rhythm at each forwardand back push, Hal, who had got permissionfrom his mother to eat dinner with theMartin’s, lay on a rug thrown down on thegrass. The dusk was turning to dark, andthe Captain’s pipe was beginning to showup as a dull glow in the fading light.

For a while nobody spoke. Then Patsaid, “Well, Robert, tell us the end of yourstory.”

“I’ve been thinking of where to start. Weleft Lindy over in Europe, coming back tothe United States. He didn’t come rightback, though. He had to tour about someof the foreign countries, as an ambassadorof good will, and get decorated with aboutevery kind of medal that was ever made. Itmust have been pretty boring for him to goto banquet after banquet, and listen to allthose speeches praising him. He must haveblushed like anything at some of those flowerycompliments. But he stayed calm, anddidn’t lose his head and get all swelled upover the receptions and cheers and everything.He knew that everybody meant every wordhe said, and that they were mighty pleasedwith him. They gave him all sorts of presents.He could have started a store withthem. But I guess that most of them arein the Lindbergh museum now.

“Well, the honors they heaped on Lindyin France and England and Belgium werenothing to what was waiting for him whenhe got back to the United States. NewYork turned out, it seemed, to a man. Theyhad a parade miles long, with Lindy thechief attraction, sitting on top of an opencar, smiling at the mobs of screaming, shoutingpeople all along the way. It rained tickertape for hours, and people in offices toreup telephone books and added the bits ofpaper to the rainstorm. Nobody could doenough for the Colonel.” Bob looked aroundat the group. “He wasn’t the Captain anymore,” he explained. “He was now ColonelLindbergh. Well, anyway, there were banquetsand parties, until Lindy had to leave.St. Louis started where New York leftoff. After all it was St. Louis where Lindyhad found his backers, and naturally theywere pretty proud of him there. Slim tookit all smiling, just as modest as he’d beenfrom the beginning. There was no fussinghim. And the people loved it. Slim wasthe most talked-about hero the United Stateshas ever adopted. Why, you remember thatalmost everything from candy-bars to swimmingsuits were named after him – and awhole lot of new babies, too. All the kidsin America were crazy about him, and theyall wore aviator’s helmets and made plans tobecome aviators as soon as they were oldenough. It seems that Lindy’s plan waspretty successful. He wanted to get peopleto talking and thinking about airplanes, andbelieve me, they didn’t talk or think aboutmuch else from the time he set out fromRoosevelt field.”

“You’d think that he’d be tired and readyfor a rest after his flight, and his receptions, but even though he may have been tired,he thought he’d strike while the iron washot, and follow up his good work, thisbusiness of getting people aviation conscious.And I guess, too, he felt that he owed somethingto the people of the United States forbeing so kind to him, so Lindy set out ona trip around the country. He stopped at almostevery important city, and covered everystate in the union. He traveled almost 20,000miles. And that’s some traveling. Justthink if he’d had to travel that distancein a train! He’d be going yet. Well, everyplace that he stopped gave him three rousingcheers, and then some. You’d thinkthat by that time he’d be pretty tired. If ithad been me, I’d have turned around and bittensome of the welcoming committee. Butnot Lindy. He stuck it out, and smiled atthem all.

“And after the country-wide tour wasover, he took his Mexican and Central Americanand South American trip. It was thistrip that clinched his name of ‘Good WillAmbassador,’ although he’d been one to allof the European countries that he went to.In December, seven months after his famousflight, he pointed the nose of the old Spiritof St. Louis south, and lit out for MexicoCity.

“They were pretty anxious to see himdown there, and the Mexican National aviationfield was crowded long before Lindywas due to get there. Everybody knew thatthis was one flyer who always got placeswhen he said he’d get there. He was neveroff schedule. So imagine how everybody feltwhen the time set by him to reach MexicoCity passed, and no Lindy showed up. Well, they were all set to call out the reserves, whenSlim Lindbergh winged into sight, and madea sweet landing on the Mexican field.

“There was some cheering – more, maybethan if he’d got there on schedule, althoughyou don’t see how that could bepossible. They gave Lindy a chance to explainthat he’d been lost in the fog, and then theywent on with their entertaining and celebrating.

“Mexico City was pretty important toLindbergh, although nobody knew it then.Dwight Morrow was Ambassador to Mexicothen, and he had a daughter named Anne.Well, I don’t like to get sentimental – I guessI can’t tell romantic stories – well, anyway, that part comes later.”

Captain Bill saw fit to interrupt the storyhere. He saw that Bob was embarrassed, and saw an opportunity to rub it in. “Whatpart?” he asked, innocently, knocking theheel of ash from his pipe as he did so.

“Oh, you know, Lindy’s marrying AnneMorrow, and that.”

“Well, we certainly demand the wholething. You can’t leave anything out,” insistedBill.

“Aw, all right, but it doesn’t come innow.”

“We can wait,” said Bill, and settled backsatisfied.

“From Mexico City,” went on Bob, gratefulthat his ordeal bad been put off, “Lindyflew off down to Central America. Firsthe zig-zagged a bit to get in all of the littlecountries, and went from Guatemala Cityto Belize in British Honduras, and thenback again to San Salvador, and from thenon straight down the narrow isthmus toTeguci – Teguci – well, that place in Honduras.”

“Tegucigalpa,” said Pat.

“That’s it,” said Bob. “And from Teguci – andfrom there, he went on to Managua, and then to Costa Rica – San Jose.Now he was just about three hundred andtwenty-five miles from the Panama Canal,as the crow flies – or rather, as Lindy flies, which is much better than any crow I’veever seen. He didn’t have any trouble makingthe flight, and say that they weren’t gladto see him down there, especially in theCanal Zone, where the Americans lived.They entertained him royally, and he wentinto the jungles of Panama for a huntingtrip, which must have been great. Theyhave all sorts of wild hogs, deer and pheasants, and it must have made grand hunting.

“But after all, Lindy couldn’t stayanyplace very long. South America was waitingfor him. So he packed himself off, andflew to Cartagena, in Colombia, adding anothercontinent to his list. From Cartagenahe flew to Bogota, and then straight acrossthe top of South America to the east coast.He stayed at Maracay, Venezuela. I neverheard of it before, did any of you?” Bobpaused dramatically for a reply.

There was only a dead silence for a second, and then, since none else spoke, Halfelt called upon to confess his ignorance, “Inever did,” he said. “And gee, Bob, howdo you remember all these places that Lindberghstopped at? I never would in a hundredyears.”

“Oh, it’s easy,” said Bob airily. He didnot tell them of the long hours that he hadspent memorizing the towns and cities thatLindbergh had stopped at in his good willtour, nor the hundreds of times that he hadwished that Lindy had flown to some easyplace like Canada, where the names were allpronounceable. But then, Lindy might haveflown to Wales, and Bob, having seen Welshnames, thanked his lucky stars for suchplaces as Tegucigalpa and Bogota. Andnow, having at least impressed Hal, he wenton with renewed enthusiasm.

“Maracay,” he said, “was the jumpingoff place for the thousand-mile jump to theVirgin Islands. You see, Lindy was on hisway back to the United States. He hoppedfrom island to island in the Caribbean Sea, stopping at San Juan, Porto Rico; SantoDomingo; Port-au-Prince in Hayti; andthen to Havana. From Havana he made thebiggest hop of all, and landed smack in St.Louis without sitting down once along theway. He made some twelve hundred milesin about fifteen and a half hours.

“Somebody figured up how long he hadflown, and how long he took for the whole‘good will’ trip, and found out that he’dmade sixteen flights to fifteen countries, andhad gone 8,235 miles in one hundred and ahalf hours. Of course, that was actual flyingtime. The trip had taken him just twomonths, because he got back to St. Louis onFebruary 13th, and he’d left Boiling Field atWashington on December 13th. But inthose two months Lindy accomplished agreat deal. He’d made friends with all thelittle countries down to our south, and withMexico, too. They understood us better, and we got to understand them better. Gee, wouldn’t it be great if airplanes wouldmake people friendlier? I mean, we’re soclose to each other now, it seems as thoughwe ought to know more about each other, and like each other better. I may not besaying that so well, but you fellows knowwhat I mean, don’t you?”

“That’s a very good philosophy,” saidCaptain Bill, and Bob beamed as broadlyas the moon that had risen over the treesand was shining over the little group in thegarden. “Let’s hope that you’re right.”

“Well, Lindy palled around with his oldbuddies at St. Louis, and carried mail overhis old route to Chicago. He broke up hisflights with going to New York to get amedal from the Woodrow Wilson Foundationfor international peace and understanding, and then he went to Washington to getthe Congressional Medal of Honor. Andhe had to get a new plane, too, from theMahoney people who made the Spirit of St.Louis. I guess Lindy hated to part from theold bus. It was still in great condition, even though he’d flown 40,000 miles in it.But they wanted to put it in the SmithsonianInstitution, and he had to get another.

“It was just about this time, in Aprilof 1928, that Lindbergh had to put hisflying to a stiff test. He was in St. Louiswhen he learned that Floyd Bennett wasvery sick with pneumonia up in Quebec.Bennett was a great fellow, one of the mostpopular aviators of his time. He’d flownwith Byrd to the North Pole, you remember.And in April, although he was sick, and knew he shouldn’t have gone, he flewup to help Captain Koebl and Major Fitzmauriceand Baron von Huenefeld, who’dflown across the Atlantic, and were forceddown off the coast of Labrador. Well, helanded with pneumonia in a Quebec hospital, and they needed some serum in a hurryto save his life. Lindy offered to fly withit, and took off right away for New York.It was 500 miles from New York to Quebec, mostly through fog and snow, and blizzards, but Lindy made it in three hours andthirty-five minutes. The serum didn’t saveFloyd Bennett, though. That plucky scoutdied the day after Lindbergh got there. He’dput up a great fight, but it was no use. Thewhole country felt gloomy over his death, and Lindy especially so, although he’d donehis best to save his pal’s life.

“In June of that year, that is, in 1928,Lindy, – maybe I should call him CharlesAugustus Lindbergh, was appointed thechairman of the technical committee of theTranscontinental Air Transport, the companysending planes cross-country. Thisgave him the chance to be right in on theground – or rather right in the air – of aviationprogress. It wasn’t just an office job, either, because Lindy flew almost as muchafter his appointment as before.

“In 1929 he kept right on flying. That’snot really news. If Lindy stopped flying, that would be news. But in February of’29 he flew the first mail from Miami toColon, in the Panama Canal Zone. Thiswas the inauguration of the Pan-AmericanAirways.

“In February the Morrows announcedthe engagement of Anne Morrow to CharlesAugustus Lindbergh. From then on thereporters and photographers hung aroundin order to be in at the wedding. But Lindyand Anne fooled them. They were marriedin April, and nobody knew anything aboutit. They just got quietly married, and lefton their honeymoon in a yacht.