I told him that I was responsible for the lives of all on board and that, regardless of my feelings, I wanted them to decide whether they wished to turn back. He He promptly answered that he knew of no landing place between Newfoundland and the States, except St. Johns, that was not covered with fog, so that it was just as safe to go ahead as to go back. I was glad he felt that way, because I did not wish to

retreat.

I had studied thoroughly the velocity and directions of winds over the Atlantic. So far as I could learn, no reliable data had been procured upon the wind strength at high altitudes, but several meteorologists of the Weather Bureau had a theory that a plane could fly high enough to get strong winds from the west, even though there might at the same time be easterly winds on the surface.

This had long been my theory also, so I determined to stake everything on it and gave instructions to fly high and keep above the fog and clouds wherever possible. If we could have the winds with us, we would easily make Europe; if not, we would fall far short of it, if Noville's estimate of the gasoline on hand was correct. I also knew, from Dr. Kimball's weather map, which I had spread before me on the chart board, that I now was flying at first on the southern side of the storm area and later would be flying on the northern side of a high-pressure area.

INTRUSTS HIS SAFETY TO THE WINDS

I find notations made hour after hour in my log, as follows: "It is impossible to navigate."

Our safety depended upon winds behind us. I did not convey my apprehension to my shipmates. They had enough upon them already. It was a terrific strain. Only an aviator knows what it means to be 18 hours without seeing the ground or water beneath. I doubt whether any other plane has ever flown blindly for half that time.

One notation in the log stated: "Ice is forming on the plane." We were at a dangerous temperature. That was to be expected, flying two miles high in fog, because the temperature decreases consider

Acosta warning him to make every effort to get out of the clouds, which he very soon did.

Acosta deserves great credit for his wonderful steering during this critical period. He showed himself to be a great pilot.

During the night, between turns at the wheel, Bernt Balchen had some sleep. As he moved restlessly in the restricted space from time to time, his foot nearly touched. the handle of the gasoline dump valve. I watched him closely without awakening him, because if his foot should kick that. we would lose all our precious fuel.

FIGHT WAY THROUGH PITCH-BLACK
CLOUD

Several times I took my turn at the wheel and realized what a strain Acosta and Balchen must have been under, steering for hours entirely by instrument.

Our night lights worked well and we also had powerful flash lights. We did not use the latter very much, because every time we flashed them we were blinded. The dials and figures on our instruments were luminous and I had a special portable light for my chart board.

I had left behind my rather heavy thermos bottle of tea, but during the night Noville gave me some of his coffee. It was only lukewarm, but it tasted good. We had plenty of drinking water. I ate a little roast chicken, but did not want to eat too much, because I knew it would be necessary to keep awake.

As

From time to time during the night we fought our way above the clouds. It was a weird sight to look down from the pinnacle of black masses we were skimming. Around us were ominous, towering peaks, some of which reached far above us. we could not afford to go around those that lay in our path, we would dash through them in a darkness so intense that we could not see the wing tips. The fire from the exhaust pipes of our faithful engines, invisible in the daytime, shone vividly in the dark night. The 40.000 flashes of fire per minute through the exhaust pipes made a cheering sight in the darkness.

On one occasion in a thick cloud the plane got temporarily out of control. We must have been going downward at a terrific rate, judging from the roaring of the en

gines, but Acosta, with great skill, finally steadied the ship again on its course. Throughout the long night each man went about his duty efficiently and calmly, taking it as if it were all in a day's work. I note in our record that I sent the following radio at 6:50 a. m. on June 30: "We have seen neither land nor sea since 3 o'clock yesterday. Everything completely covered with fog. Whatever happens I take my hat off to these great fellows."

In those minutes between twilight and dusk we reached sufficient altitude to skim the tops of the clouds, and the spectacle was extraordinary. On the side of the sun, which, of course, was far below the cloud horizon, the clouds took on weird shapes and colors, but on the other side they were ominous and gloomy. During the day we had some terrifying views; there were fog valleys, dark and sinister, hundreds of feet beneath us. At times distant cloud peaks took on shapes and colors of rugged Arctic land and mountains.

We discovered a leak in the gasoline tank, but we had provided against that by bringing along a putty substance. Although we stopped the main leak, a little gas continued to seep out. After awhile it ceased, and, believing the gasoline had fallen below the leaky place, which was near the bottom of the tank, I concluded there was little gasoline left in it. I knew there would not be enough in the wing tanks to get us to land without great help from the wind.

I find this note in my diary: "Went forward at 3:15 a. m. to pilot and got stuck in the passageway." I had to tear off a sweater to get forward.

For many hours we had seen no land or water. "I sit here wondering if the winds have been with us. If they have not been, we do not reach land. I take my hat off to the boys with me. Their courage is mar

velous.'

From a study of the weather maps I concluded we were being drifted to the south.

From time to time we sent and received radio messages and it seemed miraculous that, flying two miles above the ocean, hidden in dense clouds, we could get messages from safe, comfortable places.

At one time Noville reported he had a

message from a steamer somewhere beneath us and our signals were so clear that we must have been very near it. We were in dense fog at the time. He asked for condition of weather at the surface and the ship reported fog. We got its position and a radio bearing. This showed we were on a certain line and indicated we had been right in judging that the wind had drifted us to the south.

ABANDON IRISH LANDMARK TO GAIN AID FROM WINDS

A little later we had the position of another ship, the S. S. Paris, and this information put us somewhere on another line. Where the two lines intersected was our position. We were certain then that we had been drifted to the south and, instead of bucking winds to go to Ireland, we set our course directly for Finistère, France. Indeed, by allowing ourselves to go with the wind we had made better speed toward our objective. I could now, however, allow for the wind to a nicety and knew exactly where we would hit land, although we were still several hundred miles away.

We must give Noville credit for this accomplishment. It was a remarkable feat and was another triumph of science at which to marvel. Surely our whole flight was worth while, to demonstrate this one thing alone.

Our position indicated that we had been assisted by the wind about 30 miles an hour all the way from Newfoundland. We had made splendid speed.

I wanted to find out the worst about the gasoline, so asked Noville for an exact estimate. When he gave it to me I was astonished. It showed that he had been wrong in the last estimate he had made, which error was probably caused by the fact that the tail of the plane was somewhat down on account of the weight and the gasoline. gauge did not register accurately.

Not long after that we came out of the thick, solid cloud layers into broken cloud fields and we could see the water beneath us. Though it was fairly rough it was a most welcome sight. We could see it every now and then, but that was enough to allow me to get my drift and to verify the fact that the wind was blowing from the northwest.

What a great contrast was our situation

now compared to what it appeared to be a few hours earlier! We could get glimpses of the sun and water; we knew exactly where we were; there was enough gasoline to get to Rome, and all engines were hitting perfectly. When I squeezed up into the pilot's compartment to take a turn at the wheel, I could tell from the faces of my shipmates that they were much relieved.

Soon we were getting many radio signals. They began to increase rapidly in number and Noville reported to me that he thought the whole of Europe was calling us.

PASS BREST ON COURSE TO PARIS We hit land about the time we calculated and I am sure France never looked so beautiful to any of us before. We passed over Brest and set our course for Paris.

We had flown nearly a whole day without seeing land, and since one's processes seem to quicken when flying, the period seemed more like two days.

We had fairly good weather then, but it looked thick ahead. I asked Noville to radio to Paris to find out the condition of the weather there. It was reported thick and squally. Another battle was ahead of us.

In a way we welcomed the fight ahead. Here would be another test of aviation, and I felt we could conquer the elements with the gasoline we had left.

We probably could have flown on to Rome on the edge of the storm area and set the world on fire with the record, but that would not have been "carrying the message to Garcia."

We were able to locate accurately our position by the cities beneath us and the coast line to the left. But before long darkness began to descend, and with it came thick, rainy and ominous weather. Soon we got only occasional glimpses of the lights of the towns, and the thick, lowlying fogs or clouds drenched the plane. It was so inky dark that every time we put on the flash light to give an order it blinded us temporarily, so that we could only dimly see the luminous instrument board. However, the personnel and the many mechanisms of the plane continued to function efficiently, and I had every confidence of hitting Paris.

Should the thick weather be so low that we could not land at Le Bourget, I knew we would have to fly back to water and find some place for our landing that would not be covered with fog.

If we hit Finistère after 2,000 miles of almost blind flying, we certainly ought to be able to reach Paris, a few hundred miles off.

We were using the earth-induction compass and it had been excellent to steer by, better than the ordinary magnetic compass. The pilot had before him the pointer of the earth-induction compass, which was supposed to synchronize with a pointer in the navigator's compartment. A number of times I found my pointer considerably off and at first I blamed it on the pilot, but found that one of the pointers apparently was sluggish and sticky. We would tap the dial and by checking with the standard compass we always managed to get on the course again.

I always take two or three compasses on an important trip to check for accuracy. In spite of a few minor mechanical difficulties, the earth-induction compass undoubtedly is the aviation compass of the future.

About the time we expected to hit Paris we got temporarily out of the thick weather. I saw bright lights ahead and a flashing light which I at first mistook to be Le Bourget. be Le Bourget. My astonishment was great when I found that the flashing light was a lighthouse on the coast of France!

A DISAPPOINTING DISCOVERY

The compass had taken us in a circle. By the flares of our flash lights, I conferred on paper with the pilots and concluded that we had made a circle to the left. There had either been some local affection of the compass in the plane, or the pilot's dial had stuck badly. The only way to get on again would be to lay some course and check up the compasses.

We tapped the dials, checked them with the extra standard compass we carried, and they then checked O. K. I watched the course carefully after that and checked. compasses every few minutes. I knew we were heading toward Paris. The inky darkness was broken occasionally by the flashes of our lights as we needed them temporarily, and the fire from the engine