Lost In Time

by W M Wiltshire

  Amelia calmly shut down the engines, turned off the master switches, and popped open the overhead hatch. From her vantage point, she saw the fire truck right behind her and she watched it pull up on the left side of the airplane. The firemen quickly rolled out the truck’s hose and pointed it at the fuselage. Everyone’s prayers had been answered: there was no fire.

  Chris and Daric leaped from the car before it had come to a complete stop and ran to the Electra. They arrived just as Amelia was exiting the cockpit and making her way along the left wing. Chris helped her down.

  Amelia asked, “What happened?”

  “Are you all right?” Daric asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine. Where are Fred and Harry?”

  Lieutenant Arnold had opened the rear cabin door. He found Harry just inside the door and Fred at the navigator’s table, carefully folding up his charts.

  “They’re fine, Miss Earhart,” the lieutenant reported.

  “I’ll put a guard detail on the plane and get them to start draining the fuel tanks.” The lieutenant quickly gave the necessary orders.

  “I don’t understand what happened,” Amelia said, totally at a loss for how things could have gone so wrong so quickly.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Paul assured her.

  “I’ll check the plane to determine the extent of damage,” Paul said decisively. “Why don’t you guys check the runway? Check the tire marks to see if you can figure out what happened.” Paul immediately started to inspect the airplane’s damage.

  Amelia, Dani, Fred and Lieutenant Arnold walked back down the runway, stopping at intervals to examine the tire marks on the tarmac.

  “I just don’t understand,” Amelia muttered.

  “Right here, look, the right track looks wider than the left,” Fred observed. It was the only anomaly they found on the runway.

  The group headed back toward the lieutenant’s car; everyone lost in their own thoughts, trying to make sense of what had happened.

  When they reached the car, Harry was already there, nursing a bruised elbow in the back seat. No one showed any interest in getting into the car; they all seemed restless as they started to analyse what had occurred, based on their recollections of the events.

  “The plane functioned perfectly at the start,” Amelia recalled. “As it gained speed, the right wing dropped down and the plane seemed to pull to the right. I eased off the left engine, and the plane started a long persistent left turn and ended up where it is now. It was all over instantly. The first thing I thought of was the right oleo strut or the right tire letting go. The way the plane pulled, it was probably a flat tire.”

  “This is a piece of G.D. bad luck,” Fred mumbled.

  “Yes, it is a little bit disappointing,” Amelia admitted sadly.

  “Well,” Fred said, “when you’re ready to fly again, I’ll be ready to go along.”

  Harry had been sitting quietly in the back of the car, never entering the conversation.

  They returned to the airplane for a closer inspection. The press was there and began firing questions from all sides.

  “You ran through bunches of grass, didn’t you?” one reporter claimed.

  “The runway was perfect. The grass had nothing to do with it. I am sure it was a result of a structural failure,” Amelia answered firmly.

  “Of course, now you will give up the trip?” asked a reporter who sported a pointy jaw and broad nose.

  “I think not. This is merely a setback, nothing else.”

  Amelia made her way over to Paul and Daric. “What’s the damage?”

  “I won’t kid you, Amelia, it looks pretty bad,” said Paul. “The right wing is damaged, and the right engine and nacelle are being held to the wing by only two bolts. The right oil tank burst and spilled oil on the runway. The fuel filler neck was torn open and spilled gas. It was a miracle there was no fire.”

  Amelia looked crestfallen as she lowered her head.

  “Before I can assess the total damage, I’ll need to do a further check,” Paul said heavily. “Lieutenant, is there somewhere we can store our equipment from the plane?”

  “I’ll have everything removed and put into the tool room of the hangar where it will be kept under lock and key.”

  “Come on, there’s not much we can do here now. Let’s go back to the house,” Chris suggested. He could see how upset Amelia was.

  “Daric and I will stay here to make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll also send a telegram to G.P. to let him know what happened, before he hears it from the media,” Paul offered.

  76

  G.P. and Bill Miller were waiting patiently in Bill’s office at the Oakland administration building. The unbearable silence was shattered by the telephone ringing on Bill’s desk. G.P. snatched up the receiver, giving Bill an apologetic look as he did so. He needed to take this call: he had to take this call.

  “Hello,” G.P. said anxiously.

  “Have you got the news?”

  “No,” G.P. replied.

  “Sorry . . . plane crashed taking off. Burst into flames . . .”

  “Here, you take this,” G.P. said, as he calmly handed the receiver over to Bill Miller. “I’ll step outside . . . call me when you find out . . .” G.P. walked out of the office.

  In the chilly early morning fog, G.P. paced back and forth outside the administration building for only a few moments. He knew Amelia was an excellent aviator, but, in his heart, he feared the worst. He crumpled to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

  After what seemed like an eternity to G.P., but was actually only a few minutes, Bill ran out of the building. He met a messenger and intercepted a telegram addressed to G.P. He debated whether to read it and had decided to do so; he didn’t think G.P. would mind. After he read it, he went in search of G.P.

  Bill found G.P. slumped in a heap on the ground. He opened the message and reread it, this time out loud.

  “AMELIA IN CRACK-UP WHILE ATTEMPTING TAKEOFF, TIRE BLEW OUT, ONE WHEEL OFF, OIL DRIPPING ON RUNWAY. NO ONE HURT. AMELIA CALM, COLLECTED.”

  “G.P., the message is from Paul . . . it’s all right . . . there wasn’t any fire . . . they’re all safe,” Bill said softly. He wanted to make sure that what he was saying was getting through to a distraught G.P.

  77

  It was 7:00 A.M. when Amelia and her group returned to the Holmeses’ estate, after dropping Mila off at her mother’s shop. When Amelia entered the main house, Mona told her Paul was on the telephone and directed her to the study to take the call.

  “The airplane isn’t damaged as badly as I first thought,” Paul started optimistically. “But I think we should have it shipped back to Burbank for the repair work to be completed.”

  “How are the engines?”

  “All four propeller blades were curled, which is a good thing. It means there wasn’t any sudden stoppage, which would have resulted in major damage to the internal parts of the engines,” Paul replied confidently.

  “How long do you think it will take to get the Electra ready for shipping? And how long do you think it will take for the repairs?” Amelia asked enthusiastically.

  “I should think the plane could be ready for shipping in a couple of days. As far as the repairs go, my best estimate would be two to three months.”

  “Okay. Let me call G.P. to run this by him and, then, I’ll get right back to you.” Amelia was about to hang up the telephone when Paul stopped her.

  “Before you hang up, I just want to say one thing first,” Paul started.

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly.

  “I heard a saying once. It said a pilot’s life is hours of boredom, punctuated by moments of sheer terror. How you handle those moments defines how good a pilot you really are. And you, my friend, handled yourself admirably,” Paul said proudly.

 
“Thank you, Paul,” Amelia said shyly, as she ended the call.

  78

  “How are you?” G.P.’s tone conveyed true concern. He had been anxiously awaiting a telephone call from Amelia. He had to hear her voice; hear from her personally that she was okay. The telegram just didn’t do it for him.

  “I’m fine. We’re all fine. Only our spirits are bruised,” Amelia assured him. “But my bird is wounded.”

  “Look, if you want to call this off, I’m fine with that,” G.P. said, secretly hoping she would call the world flight off and come home to him.

  “No, I want to keep going, but I’m afraid we don’t have the money to make the repairs to be able to continue.” Amelia’s tone told G.P. everything he needed to know.

  “Don’t you worry about the money. I’ll start right away raising the funds,” G.P. assured her. He knew she was determined to see this through, no matter the cost.

  “That would be wonderful,” Amelia gushed. She was more than pleased that G.P. believed she could do this. “About the crash, should I issue a statement to the press?”

  “No, I’ll do it. I have more outlets here. Why don’t you work on your article for the Tribune and get it filed?”

  “Okay.” Amelia paused for a moment, not hanging up. There was something else she had to say, but she was finding it extremely hard to express.

  “What is it?” G.P. sensed there was more.

  “I’m sorry, for the crash. I don’t know what went wrong,” she finally got out, around the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to disappoint him and she didn’t want to disappoint herself either.

  “As long as you’re not hurt, the crash doesn’t matter. Come home as soon as you can and we’ll get ready to start again,” G.P. said and, then, ended the call.

  79

  Amelia returned to the lanai after her call with G.P. The others had already gathered and were enjoying a light morning snack, compliments of Mona.

  “I just got off the phone with G.P. He wants us home as soon as possible,” Amelia said. “Chris, how soon do you think we can get passage back to the States for Fred, Harry and myself?”

  “Let me go see what I can do,” Chris said and then left.

  A few minutes later, Chris returned to the lanai. “I have you all booked on the S.S. Malolo, which sails at noon today. You’ll be back in Los Angeles, early on the 25th. Tickets will be waiting at the pier for you.”

  “Great. Let me call Paul and tell him what’s happening.” Amelia left to place her call.

  * * *

  “Paul, we’re leaving today on the S.S. Malolo for Los Angeles. When will the Electra be ready for shipping?” Amelia asked anxiously.

  “You’ll have to sign some paperwork and releases first, but it can be ready for shipping in two days,” Paul assured her.

  “The Army Air Corps will finish crating the airplane and equipment for shipping. I’ve made arrangements with Young Brothers, a local shipping company, to move the airplane from Luke Field by barge, for shipment on the next transport to Los Angeles. It will be loaded on the S.S. Lurline leaving here on Monday, the 22nd,” Paul conveyed.

  “One other thing,” Paul added. “Daric wants to sail back with the Electra. I think he’s still a little spooked about this Case character.”

  “I can’t say I blame him, after all that’s happened,” Amelia muttered.

  “Daric also told me he had talked to one of the mechanics who had worked on the engines. This guy told Daric he had distinctly heard the left engine running faster than the right. That would explain the plane drifting to the right as it accelerated down the runway,” Paul added. “I want Lockheed to check the airplane specifically for any tampering before they start the repairs. I want to get some answers before you start the world flight again. We don’t want a repeat of what just happened.”

  “So you, too, think there was a problem with the airplane?” Amelia asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then, I wouldn’t mind Daric staying with the airplane, just to keep an eye on it. When you finish with the shipping arrangements for the Electra, can you arrange for two passenger tickets, too? Dani will most likely want to go with him,” Amelia stated.

  “Consider it done. Have a safe trip back to the mainland. I’ll be in touch when Terry and I get back to Burbank in a couple of weeks,” said Paul, as he finished the call.

  While Amelia was still in the house, she phoned G.P. “Hi, it’s me. We’re sailing today at noon on the S.S. Malolo and should be back in Los Angeles early Thursday morning.”

  “That was quick,” G.P. responded excitedly.

  “Paul has made all the arrangements to ship the Electra to Los Angeles. He wants the repairs done at the Lockheed factory in Burbank, which I agreed to. It will be leaving here on Monday.”

  “Great,” G.P. said.

  “How’s the press on the mainland handling the crash?” Amelia asked, even though she was somewhat reluctant to hear the answer.

  “Everyone understands what could happen if a tire blows going seventy miles an hour in a car. They’re all treating it sympathetically. They don’t blame you.”

  “But I don’t think it was a blown tire. I’m not really sure what went wrong,” Amelia confessed.

  “Whatever the cause, I’ve already started contacting sponsors to get financial help to repair the Electra. I’m going to head back to Los Angeles and should be home tomorrow, if you need to reach me. And I’ll be there to meet your ship. I’m happy you’re coming home,” G.P. said and, then, hung up.

  As Amelia replaced the telephone in its cradle, Chris came into the study. “It’s time to go.”

  Amelia, Fred and Harry carried very little luggage, as they had packed lightly for the world flight. They were always packed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

  They made their way back out to the lanai, to say their goodbyes. Amelia walked up to Dani and gently grasped both of her hands, cradling them in hers.

  “Dani, Daric wants to sail back to the mainland with the airplane. I asked Paul to make all the arrangements for both of you. I assumed you would want to travel with him,” Amelia stated. “The Electra will be ready for shipping on Monday. Chris and Mona said you can stay here until then.”

  “Thank you, Amelia, for everything. The car will be crowded, so I’ll wait here with Terry for Daric and Paul to return. I’ll see you in a few days,” Dani said. However, she wasn’t so sure she would ever see Amelia again, because she could be going home, herself, at any time.

  Amelia bid goodbye to Terry and, then, left with Fred and Harry.

  “We’ll be back soon and, then, I’ll get us some lunch,” Mona said to Terry and Dani as she followed Chris to the car.

  80

  The telephone rang only once before it was picked up. “Hello.”

  “Admiral . . . sorry, I forgot; no names. I called to let you know the mission was a success. The world flight has been stopped,” Case reported proudly. “They’re leaving for the mainland today.”

  “From what I am hearing, it has not been stopped, only delayed. She plans to continue,” the admiral spat.

  “I did what you told me to do. I fulfilled my contract and expect to be paid now, as agreed,” Case demanded.

  “Your contract will be fulfilled when I say it is,” the admiral snapped back. “What is happening with the airplane?”

  “It’s being shipped back to Los Angeles on Monday,” Case said dejectedly.

  “Stay with the airplane. Call me when you know what the repair timeline will be and how they are progressing,” the admiral ordered.

  “You told me to stop the flight from Hawaii to Howland Island. I did that. Now I want my money,” Case tried again.

  “You fool! This is not about your money.”

  “It is to me,” Case muttered.

&nbs
p; “This is just the start of something big: something bigger than you could possibly imagine. And we cannot afford to have anyone watching our activities in the Pacific over the next few months. That is what your contract is all about. Now, just get on with it,” the admiral snapped and slammed down the receiver.

  The admiral stood, turned, and looked out his office window at the beautiful cherry blossoms. He had worked hard to become an expert on naval aviation. He was determined to prove to the emperor that they needed aircraft carriers to be the dominant force in Japan’s navy and that included all modern weaponry and fighter planes to operate from them. He continually came up against opposition; those who clung firmly to the belief in the supremacy of battleships—a weapon he considered similar to a samurai sword—a powerful weapon from the past, one that belonged in the annals of history books.

  This undertaking was not sanctioned by the Imperial Supreme War Council; he was doing this on his own. What was about to transpire over the next few months was going to eventually affect the entire world. He wasn’t about to have one insignificant stooge ruin it.

  He spun around, grabbed the telephone, dialed a number from memory, and waited for the other end to answer. When the receiver was picked up the admiral uttered only two words, “Finish it,” and disconnected the call.

  81

  When Amelia’s party arrived at the wharf, band music was playing and lending to the festive mood at Pier 11. Passengers were starting to board and friends were bidding them farewell.

  Chris had parked the car and gone to the passenger ticketing office to pick up the tickets. While he was gone, Mona had gone to buy some leis for her departing guests, in accordance with tradition.

  When Chris returned, the group gently pushed their way through the crowds on the pier, working their way toward the ship with what little luggage they carried.