Extracts from a Diary
by Amelia Bourne-Phipps
-edited by Simon Barber-
11 April, 1937 to 14 April,
1937
Sunday 11th April, 1937 Farewell to the Antarctic! We were roused early and asked if we could pack in half an hour, as there was an aircraft just arrived which could take us home a lot faster than waiting for the next tourist Dornier X at the coast. Not being full-season tour-boat types such as are already selecting their cruises to Spontoon, we did not have trunks to pack and Songmark encourages us to travel light – in five minutes we had our knapsacks full and were ready to trot. The only bulky kit is the Arctic clothing and that is loaned to us anyway. When we got outside in the dawn light, four sets of ears and tails went right up at the sight. We had only seen ski-equipped Junkers 52 transports on the Wotansberg airfield, and what was awaiting us looked twenty years ahead of it. It was an aircraft we had seen before last year on Cranium Island when Molly faced down Kansas Smith the first time around. A single boomerang-shaped wing without a fuselage, and everything smoothly blended into the wing. The main colour was black and there were tail and top gun turrets (“For defence against Air Pirates and New South Zion criminal elements” as Herr G put it, but he is a mouse whose words are about as safe to take literally as that other murine Beryl. She has claimed to follow one of the Nordic deities as well – the trickster Loki.) Maria spotted the aircraft as one of the unmistakable designs of the Horton brothers, but not one whose specifications appear in Jane’s All the World’s Aircraft. It was sitting on wheels rather than skis and I noted the runway had been rolled flat and hard by a pair of those light tractors of the same model that we had to abandon by the high pass. Considering who we last saw with that aircraft I was not hugely amazed to see a familiar wolf waving cheerfully to us – Professor Schiller, who organised our whole trip! Well, we can hardly blame him for what we ran into on the far side of those impossible mountains; we could have stayed with our tour group and been good little tourists for the week. On the other paw, he knew exactly who he was inviting, and Songmark girls do indeed have a reputation to keep up. We only had half an hour to talk with him in the aircraft while it was unloaded and refuelled; Professor Schiller is here to pick up the pieces, so to speak, and see if there is anything that can be salvaged from the investigation. Quite possibly there might be no physical damage to the site as what was disturbed was not a physical item. Neither is a lightning bolt, in terms of something that can be weighed on a set of scales. We told him so, and he seemed fairly resigned to the possibility. It may be this is not the first time such things have happened. At least he says he has left his team back in Spontoon, as they are sensitives to such things and as prone to damage as a radio hit by such a lightning bolt. Then – we got rather a treat. Although we were warned “no cameras”, we were given free run of the aircraft till we had to strap in as it took off, swooping like a bat over the plateau and straight towards the coast at about two hundred knots. An amazing aircraft, with four “pusher” engines and built as a pure flying wing, looking highly efficient. Definitely one we would love to put in our logbooks as having flown – but if I was the owner I would not put us at the stick either, especially in this part of the world where one’s first mistake is liable to be the last. Maria mused that if we are allowed to look around this model, there must be something more advanced already flying. It makes our Handley-Page Heyfords look definitely Great War vintage, I have to say, and the American Martin B-1s in service are little better. Monday April 12th, 1937 Hurrah! After a day and a half waving farewell to Antarctica and looking at the packs of ice gradually getting smaller and more scattered, we have caught up with our DO-X and the tour group! The Horton is a much faster “ship” and unlike the tour group we did not have to change aircraft at the coastal site: the ski equipped Junkers 52s lack the range to reach the South Island of New Zealand while of course the DO-X cannot land on ice. Maria was recounting that the Italians solved that problem years ago, with their Caproni CA 60 triple triplanes which still do the main Pacific-Europe route over the North Pole via Anchorage, Barrow, Byrd Station by the magnetic pole and Disko Island on the Greenland coast. Having radioed ahead, someone had arranged for the tour group to be “delayed” 8 hours and get a chance to see the local New Zealand city lights – which indeed they seem to be happy about, as furs appreciate a break from days in even such a luxurious aircraft. So nobody asked too many questions as we turned up “having been delayed”. The Horton barely stopped moving on the runway as it landed at dusk to let us jump out with our packs and flew off before the airport staff could really believe what they were seeing or get the cameras out. We heard the crew giving the call-sign as a Lufthansa flight, and indeed it carries civilian registration despite the defensive turrets furs might object to: actually I doubt the Hawker Harts and Hawker Demons of the Royal Air Force around here could catch this Horton anyway! So, back on schedule with a very strange experience behind us. Helen is worrying about our having lent the Reich a paw and even been photographed doing so – on the other paw, we would have little enough to tell Saimmi or Mr. Sapohatan had we stayed on the tourist trail. It was difficult working out what to tell the rest of the tourists, who might indeed be reporting to various people when they get back: Mr. Snorri Snorrisen is from Vanierge and they are amazingly enough of similar interests to New Haven if less interested in bloody revolutions. But nobody quizzed us or cross-examined us much; our explanation that we had been invited to view some scientific research stations further out on the ice cap were accepted without much question and indeed are true enough as far as it goes. Just because Songmark often feels like a web of international intrigue, it is easy to forget that most furs in the world hardly care and indeed the tourists probably really were there for the best skiing in the Southern hemisphere. Some ski resorts are left high and dry with unseasonable weather, but Antarctica at least has guaranteed snow. Mr. Van der Gulik was regretting his trip was not longer, as he is changing planes at Vanierge to return to his rubber plantation in the Dutch East Indies where the temperature hovers around the hundred mark most of the year and likewise the humidity. Spontoon in April is very fine – though sometimes wet, at least it is green. As we landed at dusk in New Zealand, I realised we have not actually seen any greenery since our trip outward; at least in our Aleutians trip there were plants however stunted and meagre. Antarctica hardly has moss, even on the coast. In the meantime, all we have to do is relax and let the Lufthansa crew fly us back North. Ever hopeful, Molly asked if we could take the stick for an hour or so and get an entry in our logbook that might actually impress our Tutors. But the reply was as I expected – though they said it might be otherwise if we were not carrying paying passengers. Just because our “B” flying licenses say we can fly for hire does not mean folk will let us try it with their aircraft. Tuesday April 13th, 1937 Back in the Northern Hemisphere at last, and farewell to most of our fellow travellers. Brisingaland came and went without incident, and right now we are flying over totally empty ocean. It is decidedly warm, more so as we had become accustomed to Polar conditions. This morning we had a treat; the flight engineers (there are 2 of them on a ship this size) let us buckle into safety harnesses and go out onto the wing to inspect the engines. Definitely bracing, and an excellent view from about eight thousand feet. Even the modern DO-X models are rather poor at altitude, but as long as Tibet never becomes a major international tourist destination they should do well enough. We hear from the crew that even bigger commercial flying boats are planned – of course there is an economy of scale. The DO-X routinely carries as many passengers as half a dozen DC3’s, and saves that many pilots. Plus, it can provide far more palatial surroundings with proper beds and a good kitchen, essential for long distance travel. Aircraft will never become popular with the general public if they have to sit in cramped fuselages with poor views and their knees pulled up to clear the seat in front and their tails getting cramped into knots. More landing lakes are being built, which are far cheaper than concrete runways: Maria has read her Uncle has started digging a new Roman airport just off the River Tiber in former swamp land that will have a high-speed rail link right into Rome. Various high-brow architects complain about Il Puce demolishing a couple of Classical Roman buildings to do so, but the Classical Romans were never slow to plough a new road or aqueduct bang through the middle of anything standing in their way. London already has a big complex of converted gravel workings near the little village of Heathrow, to replace the original land airstrip at Croydon. (Later) We have spent most of the day working on our reports for our Tutors. Molly moaned at the idea but I put the choice to her – do it here or wait till we get back to Spontoon. There is so much more to do on Spontoon, and after Helen teased her about locking her in a hotel room with a pen, an ink bottle and a ream of paper while we head out to Casino Island for fun – Molly picked up the hint, and her pen. Wednesday April 14th, 1937 Almost home! We worked hard on our reports all morning, and just had an hour in Hawaii to look around. There was not a lot to see around the airport: traditionally ships dock on waterfronts that are at the heart of old towns, but modern flying boats need plenty of uncluttered water and may be berthed miles away from the bright lights and action. Still, we did enjoy some fine coconut and pineapple drinks, toasting the success of our trip. That is, we all managed to get back alive and sane, carrying some rather interesting information – and as a bonus, added skiing to our qualifications. Helen muttered that I should be careful of some these “benefits” – she has visions of the photo of me shaking paws with Herr G with their national flag and the big eagle statue very visible on the wall behind us, being in a newsreel or newspaper just when I am trying to prove to everyone I am not a secret agent after all. I countered that real Agents would absolutely not be seen like that – far too blatant. So it might be some benefit to me, in a roundabout way. If anyone would get upset it is not our embassy but our pal Ada Cronstein, with Hannah Meyer as well. Ada knows me well enough by now, to know I am a King and Empire girl, and not into politics. (Later) It is nearly dusk, and the DO-X is starting to descend towards the Spontoon central waters – we can see the lights of Casino Island to starboard and the aerial warning light on the Radio LONO mast on Eastern Island. We have two clear days to relax before it all starts again – our very last term at Songmark! (And they did … as recounted in “Final Approach”, coming soon.) next |