From Pole to Pole

by Garth James Cameron

  At 09:25 they were flying at 750 ft., and the elevator wheel jammed and the airship dived out of control. Nobile ordered the engines stopped, and Italia, which was light, stopped descending at about 250 ft. and free-ballooned upwards. While the wheel was being repaired, Nobile allowed the airship to ascend through the clouds to take a sun-sight which gave them an accurate position line. The sun line and the latest radio bearing intersected to show them to be about 155 nm northeast of Kings Bay.

  At 10:30 on May 25, 1928, they were flying at about 900 ft. on two engines with a ground speed of around 25 kt., and estimated that they would arrive at Kings Bay between 15:00 and 16:00 that day, although this had not been reported to the base ship. Cecioni was on the elevator wheel and called out “the ship is heavy.” Nobile ordered the third engine started, 1,400 rpm on all three engines, and up elevator to check the descent by adding dynamic lift. He ordered Alessandrini onto the top of the ship to check the gas valves on the top of the stern. If they were open, it would account for the stern heaviness. Ciocca got the third engine started. The ship was 15° to 20° nose up and was producing about 200 kg lift dynamically, but the variometer showed a more rapid descent than ever. A crash was inevitable, and Nobile ordered the engines stopped to avert fire on impact and told Cecioni to go into the bow to drop the ballast chain. Nobile saw that the port engine was still running and leaned out of the window to shout an order to stop it. Cecioni had trouble freeing the chain, the uneven ice loomed up, and there was the noise of the ship smashing into the ice. It was less than three minutes since Cecioni had called out that the ship was heavy.

  The control car and rear engine car were ripped off on impact. Nobile found himself lying on the ice amid the ruins of the control car. The airship, lightened by the loss of the control car and the rear engine car, was drifting away and gaining height with the name Italia in huge black letters on the silver doped fabric of the side. Petrol or water ballast poured from damaged tanks in the keel. The tattered port side of the control car was still attached to the keel. Part of the crew was drifting away with the derelict ship. On the envelope, or climbing up the bow ladder to it, was Renato Alessandrini. In the keel or the port or starboard wing engine cars were Ettore Arduino, Attilio Caratti, Ettore Pedretti, Dr. Aldo Pontremoli, and Dr. Ugo Lago. Vincenzo Pomella was on the ice dead, having been killed instantly by the impact when the rear engine car was ripped from under the rear part of the keel. Lying in the wreckage with Nobile were Dr. Finn Malmgren, Dr. Francis Behounek, Adalberto Mariano, Filippo Zappi, Alfredo Viglieri, Felice Trojani, Giuseppe Biagi, and Natale Cecioni. Some of them were badly injured. Nobile’s dog, Titina, survived on the ice.

  Amundsen was in Oslo at a reception for Australian explorer Sir Hubert Wilkins when the news came that Italia was missing.

  As Byrd and Amundsen waited at Ny-Ålesund for their chance to be first to fly to the North Pole in 1926, Wilkins was at Point Barrow in Alaska. He had two Fokkers, a single engine F.VII that crashed at the conclusion of its first flight, and a trimotor F.VII B/3M, Detroiter, which also was damaged. A journalist helping to push one of the aircraft after it stuck in a snow drift had already been killed after he walked into the arc of one of the propellers. After repairs, Wilkins used the aircraft to build up a cache of fuel at Point Barrow. On one of these trips he had made in an impromptu flight in the VII out over the Arctic Ocean 150 nm from land. He returned to Alaska in 1927 with two Stinson Detroiter cabin biplanes fitted with 220 hp Wright whirlwind engines and mounted on skis. Wilkins and pilot Carl Ben Eielson made two flights out over the Arctic Ocean in them. On the last flight Wilkins and his pilot made an epic march across the ice back to the north coast of Alaska, after abandoning the Stinson a long way from civilisation. Wilkins showed his professionalism by landing out on the ice of the Polar Ocean and taking soundings of the depth of the ocean. He even asked for the engine of the Stinson to be stopped so the sounding (by an explosion and stop watch) could be made. The problem was that in the sub-zero temperatures the engine might not start again. It did, and they flew on, landed after a loss of power, and took off again, but eventually the engine failed finally, and the march to the coast took place. In 1928, Wilkins sold the surviving aircraft and raised enough money to purchase the second Lockheed Vega made. The Vega was a small monoplane, streamlined and efficient, with a long range. Wilkins had planned meticulously, and made an important flight from Point Barrow in Alaska to Green Harbor in Svalbard across the Polar Ocean. The flight took about 20 hours and covered a swath of ocean to the south of the flight by Norge in 1926, meaning that he was exploring territory not seen by Amundsen and Nobile. He gained the recognition he had been seeking, and was honored wherever he went in the developed world. Wilkins and his pilot, Carl Ben Eielson, were in Norway on their way home when news of the disappearance of Italia came through. When Wilkins reached London, he would be knighted by King George V, and awarded the Patrons Medal from the Royal Geographical Society for exploring much previously unknown territory in the Arctic.

  As soon as news of Italia’s disappearance was known, an emergency meeting was called by the Minister of Defense, and Amundsen and Riiser-Larsen were included as aviation experts, and for their knowledge and skill in Arctic survival. Harald Sverdrup was there, and Defense Minister Andersen-Rysst was in the chair. A comprehensive plan for a Norwegian participation in the search-and-rescue effort was worked out and put before the Italian Ambassador who passed it on for Rome to consider. Meanwhile Wilkins and Eielson gave lectures and went to receptions at various places in the Norwegian capital. When Riiser-Larsen was told by Count Senni that Mussolini had declined to permit any major Norwegian effort to rescue Nobile and the other survivors he was stunned, as he recorded in his auto-biography 30 years later. It seems that Mussolini did not want to give Amundsen the chance to rescue the man he had criticised so seriously, publicly, and recently.

  Gradually ships, aeroplanes, and men converged on Svalbard to join in the search. On the ice Nobile and his men treated the injuries as best they could. Nobile himself had a broken leg. By great good fortune, bags of emergency supplies had been in the control car at the moment of the crash. They were left over from the failed attempt to land men at the Pole. There were firearms and ammunition, food of various kinds, a tent, and most importantly a small radio with aerial and batteries. The radio would save the lives of seven of the eight men on the ice. The Italia disaster has been the subject of many books, articles, and films. One of the books and the movie based on it would be called The Red Tent. Originally the tent was white and blended in with the ice. Amongst the items picked up from the wreckage were a number of glass balls filled with red dye. Nobile directed that the tent be dyed with the red liquid from the glass balls to make it stand out from the ice. The balls containing the red dye were carried to help re-set the altimeter. Altimeters are simply accurate barometers calibrated with altitude figures matching the pressure at each altitude. They are only accurate when either the local air pressure is known or when the actual altitude is known and they can be reset. They had been dropped from the airship from time to time. The drop was timed with a stop watch and converted to distance. With the distance known, the altimeters could be reset so they were accurate.

  It had been arranged that if they failed to return the radio station aboard, Citta di Milano would listen out on an agreed frequency at certain fixed times. Italia would listen out at certain other times to prevent the two stations from blocking each other. They got the radio going, and started to transmit a Mayday with their latitude and longitude and information about numbers of crew lost with the derelict ship and survivors on the ice. For many days they got no reply, but persisted with the transmissions. They knew from listening out to news broadcasts that their messages were not being received, and no one knew where they were or what had happened. After the rescue it became known that the captain of the base ship had made the extraordinary decision to not listen out, because if they had crashed they would not have a radio to use.
Citta di Milano continued to send routine traffic and did not maintain a listening watch. From May 25 to June 3, June they transmitted without results. The batteries were gradually going flat. The ice was drifting with the current, and on May 28, land became visible. On May 29, a polar bear was shot near the tent and gave them about 190 kg of fresh meat.

  On May 31, some of the survivors had given up hope of rescue and decided to attempt to walk across the ice to dry land. On that day Italians Mariano and Zappi, and Swedish scientist Malmgren, left the red tent, although Nobile would have preferred that all nine survivors stayed at the crash site. Nobile and five others stayed at the crash site. They had navigational instruments, and checked their positions from time to time. The ice flow was moving with the currents and winds. Finally, on June 3, Nikolai Schmidt, an amateur radio operator at Vokhma in the Soviet Union, heard the signals and passed on the information to Rome. On June 8, 15 days after the crash, they were in regular communication with the base ship at Kings Bay, and could coordinate flights by the search planes. On the ice the survivors updated their position reports every day.

  Riiser-Larsen was sent to Svalbard by ship with an aeroplane, a Hansa-Brandenburg two seat seaplane, to join in the search. Amundsen had telegraphed Lincoln Ellsworth in the hope that he would fund a private effort commanded by Amundsen. Ellsworth was lukewarm to the idea, and nothing came of it. Probably Ellsworth read the news reports of the many ships and aircraft sent to Kings Bay and, quite reasonably, decided that any further effort was redundant. The rescue effort was improvised, and several of the rescuers ended up needing rescuing. Norwegian naval aviator Lutzow-Holm had an engine failure in his Hansa-Brandenburg seaplane, and was rescued from Mossel Bay, Spitsbergen by a dog-sled team.

  Amundsen did not give up trying to get an aeroplane and crew, and it is not hard to understand why. If Amundsen found Nobile, an enemy since the controversy of 1926–1927, he would again be seen as noble and selfless. As he looked for an aeroplane and crew, Mariano, Zappi, and Malmgren were making an epic march across the ice. By June 14/15, Malmgren was unable to continue and was left behind. He would not be seen again, and died alone on the pack ice of the Polar Ocean. Later Mariano and Zappi would say that he asked to be left, but the truth would never be known. There were rumors that the two Italians had killed and cannibalised him. There was no evidence of this, and the rumors were pure speculation. There was some criticism of the decision to leave Malmgren behind, and this was justified, as the unwritten law was that no comrade should be left to die alone.

  Eventually Denmark would send the schooner Gustave Holm to Kings Bay. From France came the ships Strasbourg, Durance, Quentin Roosevelt, and Pourquoi Pas?. With them were two Schreck flying boats. From Italy came two Dornier Wal flying boats, a Savoia-Marchetti S55 flying boat, two Macchi M18 flying boats, and the ship Braganza. Norway sent two Hansa-Brandenburg’s and two Sopwith Baby seaplanes. Norway also sent ships including the Hobby and the coast defense battleship HNoMS Tordenskjold. The Soviet Union sent two Junkers F13s and a trimotor Junkers G23 on skis. Soviet contributions also included icebreakers; Krassin, Malygin, and Sedov. Sweden sent a number of aeroplanes. Eventually there were more ships and planes than were needed. Any effort led by Amundsen would be redundant, as he must have known from reading the newspaper coverage and listening to the radio news. Amundsen had asked Leif Dietrichson to go with him on any search, and Dietrichson had agreed. Still he continued to look for a way to participate, and found it when he talked to Norwegian Fredrick Peterson, a wealthy merchant living in Paris. Peterson agreed to find him a French aeroplane and crew. A formal approach was made through the Norwegian Ambassador in Paris, and it was agreed that a French Aeronavale Latham 47 flying boat and a crew of four would be dispatched from Caudebec-en-Caux as soon as it could be prepared.

  Latham 47.02 on a beaching trolley at Caudebec-en-Caux. This was the second prototype of the Latham 47. It had an enclosed cockpit, and could carry enough fuel for a long range flight.

  Some time before Amundsen had been interviewed by the Italian journalist Guidici and is recorded as saying:

  “Oh if you only knew how wonderful it is up there [in the Arctic]. That is where I want to die and I wish death would come to me in a chivalrous way, that it will find me during the execution of some great deed, quickly and without suffering.”

  If he found Nobile he would have acted chivalrously and repaired his reputation one more time. If he died in the attempt he would have fulfilled the wish he had disclosed to Guidici. He had every right to take the chance for himself, but did he have the right to take his friend Dietrichson and the French crew with him?

  Throughout the period of the search for Nobile, Amundsen was exchanging telegrams with Bess Magids who was coming to Norway to marry him. He had never married, although he had had a series of important relationships with women. She was due to arrive in Norway from Alaska about the time he set off for Svalbard. The Latham was due to arrive at Bergen on June 16/17, 1928, and he took the night train from Oslo to Bergen on the evening of June 16. There to see him off were well-wishers including the Italian ambassador. With him were Captain Oscar Wisting and Leif Dietrichson. It was exactly 25 years since he had set out down Oslofjord in Gjøa at the start of his expedition to sail thought the Northwest Passage. The Latham was waiting for him at Bergen after a trouble-free, 13-hour flight from France. He wanted to take both Wisting and Dietrichson with him, but there was only room for one. Dietrichson was a pilot, so he went and Oscar Wisting was left behind. At Bergen, on June 17, he met the French crew. The captain was Rene Guilbaud. The co-pilot was decorated war veteran Albert Cavelier de Cuverville with radio operator Emile Vallete and mechanic Gilbert Brazy. Later it was written that the aircraft was not suitable for the flight, but this does not seem to be correct. The aircraft had twin engines of 500 hp each, a span of 25.2 m, a length of 16.3 m, and a total weight of 6,886 kg. It cruised at around 70 kt. and had a ceiling of 13,000 ft. It had been designed with trans-Atlantic flights in mind. In 1928, there were no aircraft specially designed for operations in the Arctic, and the Latham was probably no less suitable than most other aircraft of its class. It had made the long flights from Caudebec-en-Caux in Northern France to Bergen, and from Bergen to Tromsø without a problem. Its range was adequate for the Tromsø to Kings Bay leg of the flight.

  Amundsen, Guilbaud, and Commandant Moe at Tromsø on June 18, 1928.

  Amundsen standing on the hull of the Latham.

  There was one detail which was not the best possible for the Arctic environment. The Latham was a flying boat which stayed afloat by having a waterproof fuselage, the underside of which was shaped to lift the aircraft slightly out of the water as it gathered speed, so that water drag was reduced and it could accelerate to take-off speed. It had floats under the tips of each bottom wing to prevent it capsizing sideways when stationary. Experience had shown that these tip floats were vulnerable if the sea was rough. Flying boats had been lost when a tip float was holed or ripped away, and the flying boat, hull still intact, had capsized. They were also vulnerable on landing if it was on ice or snow. The Dornier system of sponsons built into the lower part of the fuselage amidships had proven to be less vulnerable on water and on ice or snow. Not only had Amundsen’s Wal N25 survived its weeks on the ice, other Wals were building up a reputation for surviving days of drifting on rough seas.

  The Latham 47.02 at Bergen after flying direct from Caudebec-en-Caux in Northern France on June 16, 1928. It was the second prototype of a type designed for long range flights over the sea. It had a crew of four, pilot, co-pilot navigator, radio operator and mechanic. It was powered by two engines, each of 500 hp, and mounted back to back under the center section of the upper wing and driving four-bladed propellers. As was normal at this time, the propellors were fixed pitched and could not be feathered if an engine failed.

  On June 18, 1928, at about 16:00, the Latham 47.02 flying boat with Amundsen, Dietrichsen, Guilbaud, De Cuverville, Brazy and Valette
aboard, took off from Tromsø. It climbed out along the fjord leading to the Barents Sea. It made its departure from the seaward end of the fjord.

  They flew to Tromsø and prepared for the next leg which was from there, northwest, over the Barents Sea, past Bear Island, and on to Kings Bay in Svalbard where the ships and aircraft searching for Italia survivors were based. At Tromsø were Finnish and Italian seaplanes also on their way to join the search. There was discussion about whether to wait until the next day (June 19) and make the flight in formation. Amundsen wanted to press on at once. At 16:00 on June 18, 1928, the Latham taxied out and took off bound for Kings Bay. Witnesses later recalled that it seemed to struggle into the air. The water was smooth, almost a glassy calm, and all heavily loaded seaplanes take a long run to ‘unstick’ from the water in such conditions.