by Ed Dover
“Yes, that is so,” Sir Harry replied, “and I can tell you I find it utterly fascinating! Really, you chaps have certainly got a wonderful machine here.”
“We like to think of it as the latest advance in aircraft design. I understand that your British Overseas Airways has contracted to purchase three of these models for their trans-Atlantic run.”
“Oh!” Sir Harry’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “By Jove, I hadn’t heard that. But then, news from home always seems to take a long time to reach us here in the colonies.” And he laughed.
“Let me show you around a bit. Shall we start with the cockpit area and work back?”
“You’re the Captain. Lead on, Sir.”
Bob Ford invited his guest to sit in the co-pilot’s seat while he described the functions of the various instruments and controls. When that area had been thoroughly explained, they stepped back to examine the other flight stations. When Ford showed him the hatchways leading into the wings, Sir Harry was duly impressed.
“I say, that is extremely clever. To be able to get to the engines like that in flight. Do you find it necessary to venture into that area often?”
“No, not very much,” Ford explained. “It’s used mainly to check the security of the hydraulic lines, fuel lines, and control cables. Any work on an engine would require that it be shut down and we don’t do that very often en route. I suppose, in an emergency, you could do repair work in the accessory section just behind the firewall, but that would be about the extent of it. Actually, the people who get the most use out of it are the mechanics back at Treasure Island. It makes the hard-to-get-to places at the rear of the engine more accessible during routine maintenance inspections.”
Sir Harry nodded, “Hmm, yes, I see... Still, a very clever idea, what?”
Figure
Catwalks inside wing leading edge provided access to engines in flight (Pan American Airways photo).
Finally, with the tour of the flight deck completed, the two men had little else to do except engage in polite small talk. This always made Ford uncomfortable. Years of habit and professional indoctrination inclined him to keep the progress of his flight commands uppermost in his mind. Social interaction with the passengers was always secondary. His sense of propriety, however, helped him to understand that this was no ordinary passenger, so he made a special effort to be cordial. He remembered what Barney Sawicki had said when he informed him of the Governor-General’s presence on board.
“I understand that you’ve been conferring with our Naval Command at Pearl Harbor,” Ford probed. “How do you see the present situation regarding Japan? It seems that all we hear nowadays are charges and counter-charges.”
Sir Harry frowned slightly at this unexpected query. As a diplomat he was in that delicate position where, if he spoke too openly, he could be guilty of a breach of security, and yet, if he simply refused to comment at all, he could be thought to be hiding something. He paused several seconds before answering.
“Well, sir,” he couched his words with care, “it is, of course, a very delicate situation. We have just finished a conference with CINCPAC
[4] Headquarters which had been arranged between our Naval Commander at Fiji and your Pearl Harbor counterparts some months ago. It’s just one of those uncanny coincidences that it comes at a time like this. Truthfully, I’d have to say that we are not really sure where all this running to and fro is going to end up. I would hope that your diplomats and the Japanese envoys would have the good sense to arrive at a mutually acceptable solution. We are, of course, concerned with the protection of our mutual interests in the Pacific. And, to a certain extent, I can tell you that our conference was for the purpose of examining those interests and arriving at some reasonable plan for protecting them in the event of any untoward hostilities. Beyond that, Captain Ford, I must beg your indulgence, as I am really not at liberty to discuss the issue any further.”
“Of course, Your Excellency, I understand,” Ford acquiesced. “I wouldn’t expect you to breach any security issues.”
Well, Ford thought, that pretty much closes that area of conversation. Now what the devil do we talk about?
The answer to that was literally Heaven-sent. Without any warning, the big craft dropped suddenly as it ran into a strong downdraft. And just as suddenly it felt as though they were in a high-speed elevator, heading upwards at rocket-like speed.
“Clear air turbulence, Skipper!” Johnny Mack called from the cockpit. “Better batten down the hatches. It looks like we’re coming up on the first series of fronts. Got a lot of buildups out ahead of us.”
Ford almost made an audible sigh of relief. This was his chance to cut loose from his guest.
“Sir Harry, I expect we may be in for a bit of rough weather for a while. I think it would be best if you returned below and belted yourself in. It’s really been a pleasure to show you around. Perhaps, later, when we get clear of these fronts, we can chat again.”
“Of course, Captain Ford, I understand. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your duties. Thank you again for the tour. It was most delightful and informative.” With that the two shook hands and Sir Harry descended the stairwell, carefully holding onto the handrail to brace himself against the suddenly turbulent ride.
For the next few hours they were in and out of a series of weather fronts that, at times, forced Ford to fly as low as 500 feet above the water through torrential rain showers. The flight deck and passenger cabin areas became hot and muggy as the Clipper threaded its way between the heavier build-ups. Finally, just as the sun had set and the short-lived tropical twilight was waning, the low-lying outline of Canton Island appeared on the horizon. In semi-darkness they landed in the lagoon, tied up at the buoy, went ashore, and checked in at the Pan American Hotel.
Sir Harry opted to spend the night as a guest of his British counterpart on the island – Canton being ruled over at the time by both the British and American governments in a sort of ‘condominium’ arrangement; the result of compromise negotiations between the United States and Great Britain. British and American sailors had both discovered Canton and the other small atolls of the Phoenix Group during the first half of the 19th century. Britain had annexed them in 1889. In 1938, when Canton became a strategic refueling point for the trans-Pacific Clipper flights, the United States had claimed Canton and Enderbury Islands as U.S. possessions. Subsequent negotiations with Great Britain by Pan Am’s astute president, Juan Trippe, had resulted in this marriage of convenience, entered into in 1939 and scheduled to last for fifty years.
The following day, December 5th, dawned bright and hot. Cumulus buildups were already visible in every direction around the horizon. The combination of dazzling white clouds and glaring coral surface made the use of sunglasses almost mandatory. At only two degrees south of the Equator, the tropical sun was a blinding, palpable presence, even immediately after sunrise.
Once again, passengers and crew boarded NC18602. This next leg would be one of the shorter hops. From Canton to Suva, Fiji was little more than 1,100 miles. If they departed early enough to avoid the most active period of the Intertropical frontal zone they would be able to maintain an altitude that afforded more favorable winds aloft. As the big craft taxied slowly away from the buoy toward the far end of the seaplane channel, Second Officer Rod Brown, taking his turn at the navigator’s station, carefully plotted the course on the Mercator chart. Before they had reached the takeoff position he noted the initial flight heading on a small square of paper and attached it to the brow of the instrument panel with a piece of cellophane tape.
“Initial heading after takeoff should be 210 degrees, Skipper,” Brown informed Ford.
“Okay, Rod. And what does our flight time look like?”
“Provided we can hold our flight-planned altitude, 8 hours and 35 minutes ought to be just about on the money.”
“Okay, let’s go!” Ford replied as he motioned to Swede Rothe at the engineer’s station. As always, the flight engine
er and the captain began their coordinated moves, each following through on his own set of engine throttles to begin the takeoff run.
The tiny atoll was quickly lost to view in the tropical haze and glare of the early morning sun. NC18602 climbed away and headed south-southwest. When they reached 8,000 feet, Ford leveled off. As soon as the aircraft was trimmed and the autopilot engaged, he turned the watch over to Johnny Mack and went below to cadge his habitual cup of coffee from the galley.
“Morning, Skipper,” Verne Edwards greeted him as he came into the galley area. “The usual?”
“Yeah, Verne, Make it a hot one, black, no sugar.”
Edwards filled the cup and handed it to Ford.
“How is our VIP passenger doing this morning?” Ford asked.
“Sir Harry? Oh, he’s doing fine. By the way, he asked me if it would be okay with you if he visited the flight deck again when we get within sight of Fiji. Says he’s never really seen his domain from the air before.”
“I guess we can arrange that. I’ll send word down when we have the island in sight.”
Ford finished his coffee and returned to the flight deck. For the next few hours the flight was smooth and routine. The early morning departure from Canton had helped to avoid the daily buildup of frontal activity characteristic of the Equatorial area. Shortly after passing their ETP position they crossed the International Dateline and promptly lost one full day on the calendar. The had left Canton on December 5th. They would arrive at Suva on December 6th, even though the flight time would be only eight and a half hours.
After several rotations of watch duty, Bob Ford was once again in the left seat with Johnny Mack on his right. Approach and landing charts were retrieved from flight cases. The two pilots reviewed the arrival and landing procedures that would bring them into Suva.
“We’ll need clearance down to about 2,500 feet from about twenty miles out,” Ford commented. “Most likely there will be that cloud cap over the mountains and we’ll have to get below it for a visual approach.”
“Right,” Johnny Mack acknowledged. “I’ll get on 2870 to Dispatch as soon as we have voice range.”
When the first grey outline of Viti Levu, one of Fiji’s two larger islands, appeared on the horizon, Ford sent word down to the galley to have Sir Harry come to the flight deck. In a few minutes, the Governor-General presented himself to Ford.
“Captain, thank you so much for this opportunity.”
“That’s quite all right, Your Excellency,” Ford assured him. “You’re most welcome.”
Soon they were descending below the cloud bases and coming up on the northeast shore of the island.
“Sir Harry, if you look there,” Ford said as he pointed diagonally out of the starboard section of the cockpit windscreen, “you should be able to make out Mount Tomaniivi. The top is in the clouds right now, but the lower slopes are quite visible.”
Sir Harry peered in the indicated direction. “Ah, yes! By Jove that is a grand sight!”
Very shortly they were paralleling the coastline. Sir Harry could see the mangrove trees along the coast and, further inland, the sugar cane fields. Then the city of Suva came in view as Ford guided the Boeing around the entrance to the harbor for the final approach and landing. There were a number of other, smaller flying boats at anchor in the bay. Johnny Mack contacted Pan American flight watch and obtained landing clearance. They touched down on the water of Suva harbor within two minutes of Rod Brown’s original estimated flight time.
They had arrived early enough so that, by the time they were taken ashore in the Pan Am launch, driven to the hotel, and checked in, there was still time to watch a cricket match going on in the park across from the hotel. Fourth Officer John Steers and Third Officer Jim Henricksen changed quickly to street clothes and headed out to watch the action.
“Let’s pick up a couple of beers at the bar,” Henricksen suggested, “and then watch the game.”
The two passed through the hotel bar, picked up a bottle of beer each and strolled across to the park. Very soon, Henricksen was attempting, without much success, to explain the play of the game. Steers finally caught on to the idea that the bowlers were trying to put the batsmen “out” by hitting the wickets and knocking the bails off, while the batsmen were trying to score runs by batting the ball away. But the scoring rules seemed like so much gibberish. After about an hour of watching they both got up to return to the hotel. But as they rose from the bench, John Steers made a startling discovery: apparently, the section of the bench that he had sat down on had only recently been painted, and some of the paint had come off on his fresh, white suit. After some appropriate cussing and swearing, Steers finally resigned himself to turning the suit in to the hotel valet service for cleaning. But as circumstances would have it, they were scheduled to leave the next morning before the suit could be returned from the cleaners. Well, Steers thought, I’ll just tell them to hold it until we get back on the return trip, and pick it up then. Little did he know that there would not be a return trip, and the fate of his new white suit would be forever unknown.
After supper, some of the crew members played a couple of rounds of poker before turning in for the night. Sleeping proved to be a little difficult. The hotel floor plan was very peculiar. All the rooms were ‘inside’ rooms with no windows. Ventilation was very poor and the heat and humidity made sleep fitful and elusive.
Two hundred miles north of the Hawaiian Islands, the Imperial Japanese attack force resumed a more direct course to a position due north of the island of Oahu. Still maintaining radio silence, Vice Admiral Nogumo’s flagship sent flag and blinker signals to all vessels to make final preparations for launching the attack. They would reach their launch point within 36 hours.
CHAPTER V
NOUMEA, AUCKLAND, AND INFAMY
December 6, 1941 (December 7th in Suva)
The departure from Suva was a leisurely affair. This leg to Noumea, New Caledonia would take just a little over six hours. Following their usual routine, the crew met in the hotel dining room for breakfast. About an hour later they boarded the Pan American bus for the short ride to the harbor. NC18602 swung to and fro quietly, tethered to a buoy just off the main pier. The morning air was warm and humid. A few clouds were beginning to form over the mountain peaks, but away to the south and west the sky was clear.
“Good thing this will be a short leg,” John Steers remarked as he stifled a yawn. “I sure didn’t get much sleep last night. That’s the dumbest room arrangement I’ve ever seen! Don’t those Limeys believe in fresh air?”
“Maybe they’re more concerned about keeping the mosquitoes out.” Jim Henricksen conjectured. “Did you notice any in your room?”
“Well, no...”
“Besides, our next digs will have plenty of fresh air. Then you can sleep the whole stopover away.”
“Oh, yeah? What would that be?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Henricksen teased him. “Just wait ‘til we get to Noumea.”
As this was Steer’s first flight assignment to the South Pacific run he could not imagine what Henricksen was alluding to. But he did not have much time to ponder the matter. Shortly after completing the pre-flight briefing at the Pan American dispatch office, the crew boarded the launch and rode out to the flying boat. The ingrained routine of pre-flight checks, startup, cast-off procedures, and preparation for takeoff: all these required their complete attention. Any sense of fatigue induced by a poor night’s sleep was overridden by the immediate demands of the flight operation. Once airborne and at altitude, the rotation of crew duties would give each crew member a brief time to relax in the forward crew compartment on the main deck. But this flight leg was so short that only two rotations of crew duties were required before they were landing in the harbor at Noumea.
John Steers once again wielded his boat hook from the bow hatch, captured the line from the mooring buoy and secured it over the snubbing post. As soon as the ground personnel had secured the Boeing to t
he dock the crew deplaned and Steers could see what Henricksen had meant. Pan American was still in the process of building complete passenger and crew accommodations at Noumea. As a temporary arrangement, they were leasing a large yacht – the Southern Seas – formerly owned by the Curtis Publishing Company. Tied up to the dock at Noumea, it was being used for overnight accommodations for the flight crews. This rather luxurious facility contributed to a certain ‘party time’ atmosphere as NC18602’s crew checked in. They promptly doffed their uniforms in favor of swim wear for an afternoon and evening of sun-bathing on the deck, drinking beer, and swapping stories with the British and Australian members of the yacht crew.
By now, Japan was declaring that the United States note reaffirming the U.S. stand in the Pacific, to be ‘utterly impossible’. The Japanese envoys to Washington were preparing to present President Roosevelt with an answer to that note. Roosevelt was conferring with Congressional leaders regarding the Far East situation. In Australia, the Army Ministry canceled special leaves indefinitely, and the government reached an accord with Pacific allies on defense plans, particularly of the Netherlands Indies, in the event of war. In Manila, the Philippine Cabinet requested immediate evacuation from Manila of all non-
essential civilians (New York Times, Sunday, December 7, 1941).
Morning dawned bright and clear. Noumea harbor was calm. The crew prepared for this final leg of the South Pacific schedule. As they filed into the dispatch office for the pre-flight briefing, Folger Athearn, the Pan Am station manager, approached Bob Ford. “Bob, I’ve got an extra company passenger for you this morning.”
“I guess we have plenty of room. Who is it?”
“Eugene Leach, our radio maintenance technician. He needs to get to Auckland to work on some radio equipment down there.”
