But all too soon, Paul had made his way up front again. With his seat taken, he twisted his body around and wriggled into the seat Amelia had recently vacated. “It’s a lot easier getting out of the cockpit than it is getting back in,” he grunted. “I feel like a contortionist.”
About an hour later, Fred, using the bamboo fishing pole, passed another message forward to the cockpit. It read: Sunrise at 6:08 A.M. HST; estimated arrival at 5:45 A.M. HST. There will be enough light for us to land. Amelia waved her hand to acknowledge Fred’s message as she rechecked her heading and airspeed.
Harry was on the radio calling Pan American again for another bearing when the generator ammeter suddenly went into a negative reading. “Now what?” he muttered.
The generator was out. They still had the airplane’s battery and the backup battery to keep the electrical equipment operating, hopefully, for the rest of the flight, providing they didn’t put too much demand on the batteries.
Paul was still in the pilot’s seat at 5:10 A.M. HST when he lowered the nose of the airplane to start their descent. Amelia was busy handling the mixtures and the throttles and adjusting the power during the descent.
Amelia could see the dark outline of the mountainous island off to the right through the smattering of clouds. It was 5:40 A.M. HST when Diamond Head made an appearance through the morning mist, exactly where and when Fred expected, which was comforting.
Paul added some power with the throttles. Waikiki Beach was easily seen in the early morning twilight. At 5:47 A.M., they passed Honolulu and continued north-westwards over Pearl Harbor toward Wheeler Field.
Paul switched on the landing lights, immediately putting a heavy drain on the airplane’s battery. The electric motors for the landing gear and flaps would increase that load tremendously. Paul realized that, if they had to go around for another approach at the landing, they might not have enough power left in the battery to retract the landing gear or flaps. He knew he had only one shot at the landing. He was determined to make it a good one.
They were at an altitude of only five-hundred feet when Paul dipped the airplane across Wheeler Field from the southeast. He put the plane into a steep bank to make a tight circle of the field.
“Don’t! Don’t!” Amelia yelled.
“Damn,” he muttered. He quickly reduced the bank angle of the airplane to proceed with a normal flight pattern to complete the landing.
How stupid can I be? Paul thought. He had forgotten that the right propeller was stuck at 1,600 rpm. If he ever needed full power from the right engine during his approach, he could not get it. His stunt-pilot flair for an exciting approach could have cost them dearly.
Amelia checked to make sure the gas selector was turned to the proper tank for landing and that the mixtures were rich. She put the landing gear down on the downwind leg of their approach. She would have also set the propellers to a lower pitch for landing if she could have, but she couldn’t. They were going to be coming in fast.
Amelia put the wing flaps part way down when they approached the base leg turn. After flying for a few minutes on base leg, Paul turned to the final approach path. Amelia put on full flaps for the landing.
Paul knew his airspeed was too high as he crossed the edge of the field and put the plane down. The plane bounced back into the air because of the extra speed and the roughness of the landing field. Not a pretty landing, Paul thought, in front of all these spectators.
When the plane had settled on the runway and the ground speed had reduced, Paul turned the airplane around and followed the Army crew along the apron to the 75th Service Squadron hangar. Normally, he would have stopped the airplane outside the hangar, but, knowing it required servicing, he decided to taxi it into the hangar before shutting down the engines.
The flight time was officially recorded as fifteen hours, forty-seven-and-a-half minutes from the time the Electra took off in Oakland until its wheels touched down in Honolulu. They had broken the old speed record to Honolulu by more than an hour.
53
Wheeler Field was dotted with spectators, reporters, photographers, radio announcers and Army personnel. All were gathered there to witness a historic event: Amelia’s landing on the first leg of her world flight.
Paul and Amelia worked their way out of the cockpit and down the wing of the airplane. Paul stopped to offer Amelia a hand as she jumped down from the wing’s trailing edge. Fred and Harry had already disembarked through the rear cabin door.
Terry ran across the apron, through the hangar doors and leaped into Paul’s waiting arms. Behind her were Daric and Dani, followed closely by Chris and Mona Holmes, all offering their congratulations. The Holmeses, following an old Hawaiian tradition, placed leis around the necks of the new arrivals.
After the photographers finished taking their pictures, Amelia addressed the press. “The flight from Oakland was fairly uneventful, and the plane performed perfectly.”
“How does it compare to your flight in 1935 from here to Oakland?” one reporter asked.
“The night seemed longer,” she replied, resulting in laughter from the gathered crowd.
“When do you leave again, Miss Earhart?”
“We hope to make a daylight landing at Howland Island, which means we would leave either later today or tomorrow morning. Mr. Paul Mantz will remain behind in Hawaii. Mr. Fred Noonan will continue with the flight as far as Howland Island, and Captain Harry Manning will go as far as Darwin, Australia. From there, I’ll continue the world flight on my own,” Amelia concluded as she thanked them all for coming and then excused herself.
Colonel John C. McDonnell, the commander of Wheeler Field, introduced himself and offered his assistance. “Miss Earhart, is there any maintenance or servicing your aircraft requires?”
“Thank you, Commander. Actually, there is. Paul, could you handle the details with the commander?” Amelia asked.
“Sure thing,” Paul replied, as he shook hands with the commander.
“Come on, you guys. Let’s get you something to eat, and I’m sure you could all use some rest,” Chris Holmes said, as he and Mona ushered Amelia, Fred and Harry to their car. Dani decided to join them, in case she could be of some assistance to Amelia.
“Sounds wonderful, I’m famished. I’ve had only an orange and one sandwich since leaving Oakland,” Amelia said.
The Holmeses had made arrangements for John to return with the car and pick up the others within the hour. Daric wanted to stay behind to hear what needed attending to regarding the Electra. He also hoped to get an opportunity to talk to Paul alone. But, when he glanced over at Paul, as he spoke with the commander, he realized that getting him alone could be a challenge. Terry seemed to be permanently glued to his side.
“For the last six or seven hours coming into Honolulu, we weren’t able to change the pitch of the right propeller. It probably needs greasing,” Paul suggested as he addressed the commander.
“That explains the hot landing,” Daric reasoned.
“Yeah,” Paul confirmed and continued with his list of mechanical problems. “Then, the generator didn’t show a positive charge during the last part of the flight. I’m sure you’ll find that the problem is the generator control box. You can replace the box from our spare parts kit.”
The commander was making a list as Paul continued with his servicing requirements. Daric was also taking notes as he listened to the items Paul wanted addressed. He wanted to make sure they handled everything before Amelia took off on the next leg of her world flight. Getting good mechanical service for the Electra at some of the more remote locations along the flight route could prove to be quite difficult, so he wanted to ensure everything was one-hundred percent before the airplane left Honolulu.
“Can you also replace all the spark plugs in both engines with brand-new ones? And one last thing that shouldn’t be too much of a chore to fix: the instru
ment light on the pilot’s panel needs to be dimmed. It’s too bright when flying at night,” Paul finished.
“We’ll get right on it. I’ll personally supervise the work,” the commander assured him as he turned and began yelling orders to his crew, who had been waiting patiently in the hangar for his instructions.
Looking down at his list, Daric couldn’t help but wonder. He knew the Electra would have been thoroughly inspected before it left Oakland. Bo would have seen to that. Some items Paul asked for were minor in nature or just routine, but what about the problems with the propeller pitch control and the generator? He knew either one of these, individually, could have severely jeopardized the flight.
54
Case had been watching everything that had happened at Wheeler Field that morning. He had been sufficiently disguised to blend with the press to hear how the flight had gone. He had been just outside the hangar door when Paul talked to the commander about servicing the Electra.
The Holmeses’ car was just pulling up to the front of the hangar to pick up Paul, Terry and Daric. Case was within earshot, tucked behind some fuel drums.
“Paul, I’ll stay behind and work with the commander to make sure everything on this list gets addressed,” Daric said firmly.
“You sure?” Paul asked half-heartedly. If he hadn’t been so tired from the long flight, he would have preferred to stay as well. But he was comforted that someone he knew and trusted was watching over the Electra.
“I’m sure,” Daric said confidently. He knew he had missed his chance to talk to Paul alone. That would have to wait. But at least he could keep an eye on the Electra and keep a look out for Case, in the event he made another appearance. If Daric pegged him right, he would.
“All right,” Paul said. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on the progress. I’ll bring back some lunch for you.”
“Thanks,” Daric replied. Turning, he walked past the fuel drums into the hangar to watch the Electra being serviced.
“Damn,” Case muttered as he extricated himself from his hiding place. It wasn’t surprising to him that Daric had remained behind. He knew this would be his last chance, and no kid would get in his way, not this time.
Case looked around his immediate surroundings, hoping to find a solution to how he would complete his task. An Army supply truck pulled up and parked alongside another hangar about one-hundred yards away. The sole occupant left the vehicle and then opened the small hangar door and disappeared inside.
Case casually made his way to the hangar. He was still dressed like a reporter and, although most of them had already left to file their stories, he didn’t appear to be out of place. He leaned in close to the door which had been left ajar, to listen for any conversation that would indicate someone else was in the hangar. When he heard nothing, he took a chance and quietly entered.
Case saw no one at first, in the dim interior. Then he saw the soldier coming out of a supply room, carrying a box.
The soldier, having spotted what he recognized was a reporter, said, “Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here.”
Case answered somewhat meekly as he walked toward the soldier, quickly closing the distance. “Sorry, I was looking for a restroom. I thought there might be one in here.”
“There isn’t, but there is one . . .”
The soldier never finished his sentence. Case had reached up, placed both hands firmly on each side of his head and, with a sharp twist, snapped his neck. The soldier didn’t even see Case’s hands move.
Case dragged the body to the supply room. It was fortunate that the soldier was the same height and approximate build as Case. The uniform was a little baggy around the waist, but it would have to do. He closed the door, locked it, picked up the box and left the hangar. He knew they would eventually discover the body, but he now had the means and the time to complete his task, undetected.
55
Shortly after arriving at the Holmeses’ estate, Amelia walked into the study to place a call to G.P. in Oakland. She outlined the few minor problems they had had with the Electra and assured G.P. that they were being handled. She also told him how impressed she had been with Fred’s navigation.
“Fred knew exactly where we were at every moment and how we were progressing,” Amelia raved. “He even developed a special procedure that lets him calculate a celestial fix in only six minutes. It would normally take Harry thirty minutes to do the same thing.”
“I even had to reduce our airspeed over the last few hours because we would have arrived before sunrise. And we still broke the old record by over an hour.” Amelia had a hard time keeping the excitement out of her voice.
“I wish Fred was going with us.” Amelia sighed.
“Ask him,” G.P. said
“Okay, I will.” Amelia perked up.
“Look, Amelia, it’s all over the wire that Paul landed the Electra in Honolulu,” G.P. said. “Remember when you were flying a while ago with Bo, some people said it wasn’t you doing the flying, it was Bo.”
“But that wasn’t the case,” Amelia protested.
“I know that, but they don’t,” G.P. said calmly. “I think it would be better if you were the only one in the cockpit for all the takeoffs and landings.”
“I understand,” Amelia said. “I’ll make sure they see only me from now on.”
“Good. Now, I think you should get some rest, if you’re planning on leaving later tonight.”
“I’m going right now. I am a little tired. And I’ll talk to Fred about continuing on with the flight, at least as far as Australia,” she said.
56
After a few hours and feeling somewhat refreshed, Amelia went out onto the lanai. She found Mona and Chris and most of her team already there. Paul and Terry were dancing to some beautiful, gently flowing Hawaiian music.
“Good afternoon,” Amelia greeted her hosts.
“Fred and I came down about a half-hour ago,” Harry said. They had had been talking to Mona and Chris.
“There’s some fresh pineapple juice on the table, dear. Help yourself,” Mona offered.
“Thank you, sounds wonderful.” Amelia poured herself a glass and found a lounge. Lying back in the plush lounge on the lanai in the sun, sipping fresh pineapple juice, she thought, This is the life.
When the music stopped, Paul made his way to the table to top up Terry’s glass and to add some ice to his own.
“Paul, has the work on the plane been completed?” Amelia asked.
“No one’s called yet,” Paul replied as he handed Terry her glass. “I was just going to Wheeler Field to check on the plane and to get the latest weather forecast.”
“Can you call back here and let me know if we’ll be able to take off later today or if we must wait until tomorrow?”
“Sure thing. If you’ll excuse me, I have to stop by the kitchen on my way out. I promised to take lunch back for Daric. Poor guy must be half-starved by now.” With that, Paul disappeared into the house.
“Where’s Paul going?” Dani asked, coming up from the guest house to join the group on the lanai.
“He’s going to check on the airplane and to feed Daric,” Amelia replied lazily.
“That’s no small task,” Dani quipped, as she found herself a chair.
“Amelia, just before you came out, I finished making the final arrangements for the radio transmissions for the Howland Island and New Guinea legs,” Harry stated. “I also called the Fleet Air Base to check on the weather and winds at Howland Island. With that information, Fred and I were able to calculate that the flight time to Howland Island would be about eleven-and-a-half hours.”
“With the two-hour time difference, that means we could make an all-daylight flight to Howland Island, if we left early tomorrow morning. We wouldn’t have to leave later tonight,” Amelia concluded.
“
That would give us more time to catch our breath,” Fred said, stretched out in another lounge.
“Let’s wait to hear what Paul has to say when he calls, before we decide.” Amelia didn’t want to decide until she had all the facts.
57
The car turned into Wheeler Field and pulled up outside the 75th Service Squadron hangar shortly after 2 P.M. Daric saw Paul getting out of the back of the car and walked over to greet him. Paul noticed they had pushed the Electra out of the hangar. The commander must have expected that Paul would want to check the engines.
“Did you remember my lunch? I’m starving,” Daric asked, looking anxiously into the car.
Paul reached in and pulled a brown paper bag off the back seat and handed it to Daric. “Here, hope you like bologna. How’s the work going?” Paul asked, referring to the Electra.
Tearing away the paper and taking a huge bite out of his sandwich, Daric filled Paul in on the servicing of the airplane, around a mouthful of food.
“They found the right propeller hub was nearly dry. They had to pump in a lot of lubricant. They figured the propeller had left Oakland that way. I told them ‘no way’. You know, as well as I do, that Bo wouldn’t have let that happen. So they checked the propeller for leaks and found no signs of leaking lubricant anywhere on the propeller hub or blades.” Daric took another bite from his quickly disappearing lunch.
“The problem with the generator was a blown current limiter fuse. Someone set the maximum current at sixty to seventy amps. It was too much amperage for the generator, and the extra load caused the fuse to blow. They reset it to the correct maximum current of forty-five amps. They also recommended Amelia try to limit the number of electrical devices she uses at any one time.”
Lost In Time Page 13
