Our first bomber flight across the Atlantic had few of the trappings of an historic event, As it had snowed earlier that day, we spen art of the morning clearing ice and snow a swept the great o planes while plows macadam surface of the main runway clean-Ground crews scurried round the planes, checked the two 1,200h.p. engines and filled the two extra fuel tanks that each plane car jed, writes an American pilot in "Life."
hen R. A. F. Capt. Donald C. T. Bennett, in command of our flight in plane No. 1, called us ther. He handed each pilot the latest weather reports. A flight plan and route were cussed a agreed upon. For purposes of identifying ourselves British to each other, planes or to ships, each crew was handed a Very pistol with a combination of variously coloured flares to be changed at hourly in-Each plane likewise received its secret which also changed hourly. As a lo for a German h by code or Bennett cautioned us against flying over ships or towns lest we be fired on by mistake. Then, with a crisp "Thumbs Up! Good Luck," he ordered us to our planes.
Comic relief was afforded by the sight of the pilots coming out to enplane. Our wool-lined leather flying suits had not yet arrived, and so each man dress cording to his own sartorial ed taste:
Some of the men wore business suits, others tweed sport jackets. One Australian wore a beaver hat and many men wore ski
ing for a costume ball instead of a transatlantic pai We looked as through we were head-hop.
Bennett flashed his signal light and took off. At minute intervals the rest of us followed. At pre-arranged height we levelled off, flying in wide echelon formation. It was a relief to be off at last across the Big Pond I had been wanting to fly for years. "George"—the automatic Sperry gyropilot—fiies us, but we were kept busy watching Bennett's tail lights, checking and logging 26 instruments every half hour, keeping radio and navigation logs in minute detail. A constant worry is checking to make certain that the reraaining gasoline in our six tanks is equally distributed to help balance the plane.
About midway across we caught a "midnight snack" of tomato soup, coffee and chocolate bars. Occasionally we rested on a cot. Contrary to some fanciful accounts that have appeared. we do not fly in the stratosphere. At high altitude we inhaled oxygen through rubber tubes in our mouths. The taste of the rubber was sickening and on the first trip I vomited three times. Now we use Mayo oxygen masks. Five hours out, we ran into heavy clouds and everyone lost track of Bennett. It was every plane for itself the rest of the way, and our plane crossed the ocean first. Although we made bad time after land was sighted, we set an overwater transatlantic record of 8 hr. and 57 min
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.