Lost In Time

by W M Wiltshire

  “On that last transmission, Harry had to hold the transmitter key down longer than normal for Pan American to get a better radio bearing. That could have caused the problem,” Paul speculated. “I’ll mention it to Amelia. Anything else?”

  “They also cleaned and re-capped the electrodes of the spark plugs. For the last item on the list, they painted the instrument bulb in the cockpit white to reduce the glare on the pilot’s instrument panel.” Daric finished his report to Paul and his sandwich at the same time.

  “Great. I think I’d like to run-up the engines to make sure they’ve fixed the pitch problem. Care to join me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Daric exclaimed excitedly. I can’t believe it, he thought. I’m going to sit in the cockpit of Amelia Earhart’s Electra.

  Paul closed the rear cabin door and walked up the wing to enter the cockpit. He didn’t want to crawl over those tanks again. Once they were both settled in their seats, Paul primed the engines with fuel. Looking out the window, he yelled a warning to the service crew who were patiently waiting to be dismissed. “Clear right,” as he started the right engine. After the engine roared to life, he repeated the same procedure for the left engine.

  Paul ran-up both engines and tested the propellers’ pitch controls for a few minutes. Daric felt a slight rhythmic vibration in the aircraft’s frame; it appeared to be accompanied by a dull thrumming sound he wasn’t familiar with.

  “Damn,” Paul grumbled, as he shut down both engines. He and Daric extracted themselves from the cockpit and walked to the officer in charge. The commander had stepped out of the hangar just half an hour before Paul had returned.

  “Get me the commander,” Paul instructed the officer.

  Paul turned to Daric. “Can you call Amelia and tell her there’s no way she’ll be leaving before dark today? The right propeller is still frozen solid. It wouldn’t budge at all. She might want to consider a morning takeoff. Also tell her the weather forecast was reporting tail winds again.”

  “Got it,” Daric acknowledged, as he headed into the hangar to make the call.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Mantz?” the commander asked.

  “The right propeller is still frozen,” Paul informed him.

  “Damn, I thought we had found the problem,” the commander said, embarrassed. “We’ll push the plane back into the hangar and remove the right propeller to see what the problem is.”

  The commander waved to his men and instructed them on the procedures. Paul didn’t want to remove the propeller because he knew they would have to test fly the airplane before the world flight could continue. The result would be another delay.

  The right propeller had been removed and partially disassembled by the time Daric returned from placing his call to Amelia. “That can’t be good,” he said, when he saw the parts laid out on the table.

  “What did Amelia have to say?” Paul asked.

  “She was disappointed, but understood,” Daric reported.

  “Mr. Mantz?” The commander was drawing Paul’s attention to the parts.

  “Call me Paul, please.”

  “Okay, Paul. The propeller is badly galled and the blades are frozen solid in the hub,” the commander explained.

  “If you believe the Electra left Oakland without sufficient lubricant or maybe even with the wrong lubricant for the right propeller, it’s likely the left propeller could also be questionable,” Paul speculated. “Since we’ll have to perform a test flight before Amelia can leave for Howland Island, I think we should remove the left one and inspect it, too.”

  The commander quickly gave the order to his men to remove the left propeller.

  “May I suggest that we take them both to our Hawaiian Air Depot at Luke Field for a complete overhaul? We have better facilities there and I have a crew of men standing by,” the commander offered.

  “Let’s do it. I’ll call you later to see how you’re making out.” Paul shook the commander’s hand and, with that, he and Daric left the hangar and made their way toward the car.

  The commander watched them drive off the field before he turned his attention to the huge task at hand. He spotted a soldier standing in the back of the hangar.

  “You, Corporal,” he yelled at the soldier.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied smartly, as he approached the commander and snapped to attention.

  Looking at his name badge, the commander gave him his orders. “Corporal Griffin, we’re taking the propellers over to Luke Field for a complete overhaul. I want you to stand guard at this hangar and let no one near that airplane until we get back. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Griffin replied smartly.

  “Let’s go, men.” The commander instructed his maintenance crew to load the propellers onto the back of the flat-bed truck. Once everything had been secured, the maintenance crew, and the commander piled into several vehicles and left Wheeler Field.

  “Don’t worry, Commander, I won’t let anyone near that airplane, but me.” Case couldn’t believe his luck. He had been at the right place at the right time. And, speaking of time, he knew he didn’t have much of it to get his work done. He couldn’t tamper with the engines as he had done in Oakland. He would have to think of something else to stop Amelia’s world flight.

  58

  Amelia was sitting out on the lanai in the late afternoon sun, sipping on another cold glass of pure liquid gold: the pineapple juice which she just couldn’t seem to get enough of. She put her glass down and picked up her pen and her notebook.

  I felt I owed an apology to the people who rose early to greet us when we landed at Wheeler Field. Perhaps I should have been more considerate and tried to arrange the arrival at a later hour. But that was difficult because it was so desirable to time the departure from Oakland in daylight. Having visited these lovely islands before, I was accustomed to the very special hospitality of Hawaii, but I did not expect so many of its friendly people to go without breakfast that they might welcome us. And speaking of breakfast, a bright particular memory of the immediate aftermath of our arrival were the so-fresh scrambled eggs miraculously awaiting us at the home of Chris and Mona Holmes.

  “Here you are, lounging in the lap of luxury while I’ve been slaving over your airplane,” Paul said, collapsing into the chair across from Amelia.

  “That’s what I pay you the big bucks for,” Amelia quipped as she put her notes away. “Besides, you had Daric helping you; so stop complaining and tell me what’s happening with the Electra.”

  “We removed both propellers and sent them to Luke Field for a complete overhaul. The commander said they had facilities over there and men trained for such emergencies.”

  “Are we going to be able to leave in the morning?” Amelia asked eagerly.

  “I’m not sure the propellers will be ready in time. I’ll call Luke Field in a couple of hours to check on their progress. I should be able to give you a better answer then.”

  Paul had just finished filling Amelia in about the other repairs to the airplane when Fred, Harry, Terry, Daric, Dani and the Holmes all came out onto the lanai. Terry walked over to Paul and sat on the edge of his chair, throwing her arm over his shoulder. “What a beautiful afternoon,” Terry said dreamily, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Paul’s cheek.

  “Get a room, you two,” Harry grumbled.

  “We have one, thank you,” Terry replied in all seriousness, missing Harry’s implication. He just shrugged and sadly shook his head.

  “You’re right, and it’s going to be a beautiful evening, too. I have a great idea. Why don’t we have dinner out here on the lanai?” Mona proposed excitedly. Before she received a reply from any of her guests, she started planning the evening. “I’ll get the kitchen to make Lau Lau which is salt butterfish, pork and chicken wrapped in layers of taro leaves and ti leaves, and then it’s steamed for three to four hours. And I’ll
have them prepare a tropical salad with pineapple vinaigrette. Oh, this will be so much fun.”

  With that, Mona ran off into the house to get dinner started. “I guess that’s settled, then.” Chris grinned.

  “Actually, I think I’ll go lie down for a couple of hours,” Paul said around a gaping yawn. “I haven’t slept in the last twenty-six hours and I’m beat. I’ll see you at dinner.” Paul pushed himself wearily to his feet. With Terry holding his arm, he left the lanai and entered the house.

  59

  It was a perfect evening in paradise. A balmy breeze blew in from the Pacific Ocean. The distant sound of gentle waves rolling onto the shore was barely audible. The sky was clear of clouds and dotted with a million glistening lights. The moonlight seemed to create an illuminated path directly to the Holmeses’ Waikiki beach-front estate, as if extending a celestial invitation to join the party.

  “That was fantastic,” Daric muttered, as he finished the last morsel from his previously heaping plate. “All that was missing were the Hawaiian shirts.”

  “Yes, it was delicious, thank you, Mrs. Holmes,” Dani added.

  “Mona, please, and you are more than welcome. With just Chris and me here, we seldom take the time to actually sit and enjoy a meal together. We always seem to be too busy. It’s a real pleasure to be able to enjoy our repast with such good company and being outdoors makes it even better.”

  “I totally agree,” Chris added. “And I think we should make a point of doing this more often, even if it is only the two of us. We deserve it. This might just give us a temporary reprieve from our busy schedules and a delightful alternative venue to bask in.”

  “Mr. Mantz, you have a phone call,” a member of the house staff announced. “It’s from Luke Field.”

  “It will be the commander with an update on the propellers. If you’ll excuse me,” Paul said as he got up. He followed the staff member into the house and picked up the receiver. The commander began to fill Paul in with their progress so far.

  “Paul, we took the right propeller completely apart. We had to use hot kerosene to disassemble it. If we don’t come across any surprises, we should have both propellers back at Wheeler Field by two in the morning. We’ll get them back on the Electra in time for a test flight at first light.”

  “That’s great, Commander, thank you. I know Amelia is eager to continue with her flight. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  While Paul was in the house, he placed a couple calls. The first call was to Standard Oil, asking them to make sure they were at Wheeler Field by seven o’clock. He would test fly the plane and, if everything checked out, they would fill the plane with eight-hundred-twenty-five gallons of fuel and would be ready to leave for Howland Island by eight or nine. He placed his second call to Wheeler Field to inform them of the early morning test flight and the possible departure that morning.

  Paul hung up the phone and walked back out onto the lanai. Everyone was waiting for his news.

  “Because they had to disassemble both propellers, I’ll need to test fly the Electra tomorrow morning before you can leave for Howland Island. I’ve made the necessary arrangements and, if everything checks out okay, you can leave around eight o’clock, nine at the latest. It’s going to be tight, but I believe you can get to Howland Island before it gets dark.”

  “Well, since we’ll be getting an early start tomorrow, I suggest we all call it a night,” Harry said, as he thanked his hosts and left for his room.

  60: Friday, March 19, 1937

  The small Army convoy pulled into Wheeler Field around 2:00 A.M. with a truckload of tired soldiers and one grumpy commander. They pulled up to the 75th Service Squadron hangar.

  The commander got out of his jeep, immediately noticing the closed hangar doors and the dark interior. “Where’s that corporal I left to guard this hangar,” he yelled at no one in particular.

  The men were getting out of their vehicles to start the gruelling task of removing the cumbersome propellers from the trucks and, then, spending the next several hours putting them back on the airplane.

  “You and you,” the commander yelled, as he singled out two individuals. “Go find me Corporal Griffin. He better have one damn good excuse for leaving his post. Even if he does, it’s not going to be good enough for me! Now go.”

  The two soldiers scurried off to fulfill their task, thankful they weren’t in Griffin’s boots.

  “Okay, men, get these things unloaded and remounted on that airplane, pronto.” I need some sleep, he thought, but I could use a tall shot of whiskey right now, too.

  “Come on, come on, we don’t have all night.”

  * * *

  Case had caught the lights from the trucks as they pulled into Wheeler Field and knew the troops had finished their work at Luke Field. He’d done as much as he could tonight; he hoped it was enough. He had a few other tricks up his sleeve he could try tomorrow if the opportunity presented itself. But for now, it was time to make himself scarce and ditch the uniform.

  “Thanks Corporal Griffin, you’ve been a great help,” he murmured to himself, as he threw the uniform in the dumpster out back.

  61

  The alarm went off at 4:30 A.M., rudely awakening Amelia from a pleasant dream. Through the partially opened window, she heard rain falling outside. She dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen and a much-needed cup of coffee.

  “Good Morning, Amelia. Did you sleep well?” Mona asked cheerily, from the dining room, as she reached for a glass. She poured pineapple juice for Amelia.

  “Actually, yes, I did, thank you,” she said, entering the dining room and taking the glass from Mona. She took a long drink of the golden nectar.

  “It’s been raining most of the night. I’m sorry to say, it doesn’t look like a very good day for flying,” Mona remarked sadly.

  Paul had just arrived in the dining room and helped himself to a cup of coffee. “I’m going to head over to Wheeler Field. I’ll check the condition of the runway. If the grass is too soggy from all this rain, we might want to consider using Luke Field. They have a concrete runway which will handle the heavily loaded airplane.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Daric offered eagerly. He and Dani had made their way into the main house and just caught the end of Paul’s comments.

  “We have to test fly the airplane this morning,” Paul continued. “If everything checks out, I’ll land over at Luke Field. I can have the fuel tanks filled there, but it will probably be too late to take off for Howland this morning, anyway.” With that, Paul and Daric left.

  Harry and Fred came into the dining room, just missing Paul and Daric’s departure.

  “What’s up?” Harry asked around a yawn.

  “Why don’t you two grab a cup of coffee and I’ll fill you in,” Amelia said.

  Amelia told them about the runway situation and added, “Paul will call after the test flight this morning. That will tell us whether we’re heading for Howland Island tonight or not, but this morning’s departure isn’t happening.”

  “Then, I’m going back to bed,” Fred said, as he did an about-face and left the dining room.

  Amelia poured herself another glass of pineapple juice, opened her notebook and wrote: If one has to wait, in all the world there is no pleasanter place to do the waiting than in Honolulu. Again, as before on my 1935 Pacific solo, I was ensconced in the lovely Waikiki beach home of Mr. and Mrs. Chris Holmes. Six hours of sleep there, topped off by luxurious sunbathing on the lanai, whence one may regard the tropic scene through the rippling fronds of coconut palms, banished all traces of fatigue. Meals appeared wherever and whenever one awoke while the quantities of pineapple juice I consumed between times were fabulous.

  62

  The rain had finally stopped, but a damp mist still hung in the air. It was about six o’clock by the time Paul and Daric ar
rived at Wheeler Field and pulled up outside the 75th Service Squadron hangar. The commander was there to greet them.

  “Commander, you look terrible,” Paul said, knowing he was the cause of the commander’s current state of dishevelment.

  “It’s been a long night, but we got the job done,” he grumbled.

  After the commander filled them in on the work that had been done during the night, they inspected the grass runway. The grass was too soft from all the recent rain. And, on top of that, a new construction project at the field had created trenches, which bisected the runway they intended to use.

  “I think with the heavy fuel load and the shape of this runway, we should use Luke Field for the takeoff for Howland Island,” Paul concluded. “I’ll call Amelia and let her know.”

  * * *

  “Amelia, the field is too soft to use, so I’ll fly the Electra over to Luke Field after the test flight and see if it would be the better option,” Paul advised.

  “What about leaving tonight?” asked Amelia.

  “I still have to make new arrangements for fueling the Electra at Luke Field and get clearance to use their runway. But, let’s first see how the test flight goes, okay? I don’t want to rush things.” Paul wanted to be thorough. Shortening his test flight, just so they could leave later today, could prove costly later on.

  “I’ll let Fred and Harry know what’s happening,” Amelia said drearily, her mood matching the current weather outside.

  * * *

  By the time Paul returned from his telephone call, the Electra had been pushed out of the hangar and the Standard Oil truck had pulled up alongside. He instructed them to pump the fuel into the left main tank, which he would use for the test flight.

  “Everything okay?” Daric asked

  “Fine, but I could tell Amelia’s disappointed she won’t be leaving this morning.” Turning his attention to the commander, he continued. “If the test flight checks out okay, I’ll land at Luke Field, so I can inspect the condition of their runway. If I’m satisfied, I will not be flying back here.” Paul extended his hand. “So here’s hoping and, with that, I’ll say thank you for all your hard work. Now, my friend, it’s time for you to get some rest,” Paul said graciously.