Aircraft Down: Landings, Crash Landings and Rescues

by Alec Brew

  CHAPTER 7

  Down in the Outback

  Australia is a large country, or a small continent, depending on your point of view. What is not in dispute is that the interior includes huge tracts of uninhabited and inhospitable countryside. The outback is a dangerous place in which to make a forced landing, but parts of it, in the Northern Territory, include even greater hazards than the unforgiving climate – some of the biggest crocodiles in the world.

  Sir Charles Kingsford-Smith is probably the most famous aviator Australia has ever produced, forever associated with the Fokker Monoplane Southern Cross and the long-distance flying exploits he undertook in it, as well as other aircraft. He actually began his flying career in the First World War, joining the Royal Flying Corps on his eighteenth birthday, and later wounded flying against the Turks.

  25. Charles Kingsford-Smith in front of the Southern Cross.

  After the War he bought four DH6s and operated them in the London area for a short while. He had ambitions to make a name for himself as an aviator, and in particular by winning the £10,000 prize for being the first Australian to fly from England to Australia. The Australian Prime Minister had expressly forbidden him from being an entry in that contest because of his youth, and the prize was duly won by Captain Ross Smith and Lieutenant Keith Smith, brothers, and pilots in the Royal Australian Air Force, with their mechanics WH Shiers and JM Bennett.

  He moved to California for a short while, taking whatever flying jobs he could find, but then moved back to his native land where he went to work for Western Australia Airways, who had obtained an airmail contract and purchased six Bristol Tourers to operate it. In one of these, on 7 February 1922, Kingsford-Smith is credited with flying the first ‘flying doctor’ service in the country when he flew a child with diptheria from way out in the outback to hospital.

  From 1924 onwards the Bristol Tourers were gradually replaced by DH50s. Kingsford-Smith and his friend Keith Anderson, purchased two Bristol Tourers, G-AUDJ and G-AUDK, and started Interstate Flying Services. In January 1927 they flew one from Perth to Sydney in an unsuccessful bid to break the Trans-Australia record. At this time Charles Ulm was appointed as Interstate’s manager.

  In June 1927, to prove himself as a long-distance aviator, Kingsford-Smith flew G-AUDK, in company with Charles Ulm, around the coastline of Australia, 7500 miles in 10 days 5 hours. This flight was repeated with Anderson and Bob Hitchcock crewing the Tourer on charter to the George A Bond & Co. Hosiery company, with Charles Vivian representing the company – a sales tour that circled the continent in a more leisurely manner.

  Armed with the prestige accrued after these flights Kingsford-Smith, Ulm, and Anderson devised a plan to become the first to fly the Pacific, and the Prime Minister of Australia promised financial support.

  They set off for America but it was to be nine months before their return. The money promised by the Government was not enough to buy a capable aircraft, even though they obtained the agreement of George Hubert Wilkins (later knighted), a famous explorer, then living in America, to sell them his Fokker Monoplane. The aircraft was something of an amalgamation of two aircraft owned by Wilkins. The first was a Fokker F.VIIB/3m, a three-engined Fokker assembled by the Atlantic Aircraft Corporation at Teterborough, New Jersey, from parts made in Holland. It had an extra large 728 square feet wing of 71 feet 2 inches span.The second was a single-engined Fokker F.VII, built in Holland and powered by a 420 hp Liberty engine, and had a 63 feet 4 inches wingspan.

  Both aircraft were shipped to Alaska in 1926 for use in Wilkins’ Arctic exploration. The single-engined aircraft was named Alaska and the larger aircraft was named Detroiter after the two areas of the United States from which most of the sponsorship for the expedition had been drawn. It was while in Alaska that the two aircraft almost became involved in the search for Roald Amundsen, when he force-landed on the Arctic ice pack.

  The larger Fokker crashed in Alaska, damaging the fuselage. In the following year Wilkins returned to Alaska, with two Stinson SB-1 biplanes, and a hybrid of the two Fokkers which he hoped to use for long distance surveys. He combined the wing of the three-engined F.VIIB/3m and the fuselage of the F.VII. The resulting aircraft was not entirely satisfactory, and was not used operationally.

  The surviving parts were taken to Boeing Aircraft at Seattle. Boeing returned the three-engined aircraft to its original form, but a new fin and rudder of larger area was added. It was this aircraft that was offered to Kingsford-Smith. The remains of Wilkins’ single-engined F.VII, just the fuselage and tail surfaces, eventually found their way to the Historical Society of Bismarck, North Dakota.

  Eventually, Kingsford-Smith obtained the necessary backing to buy the Fokker for £3000 from an ex-patriate businessman, named Myer. He also paid for new instrumentation and three new 220 hp Wright Whirlwind engines. The aircraft was also fitted out with new fuel tankage, raising the total from 320 gallons to 1080 gallons, and giving the aircraft a still air range of 3679 miles. This work was apparently done at Douglas Aircraft, who also painted the aircraft. The fuselage was painted standard US Army Air Corps light blue, and the wings gold, with the word ‘Fokker’ in black on white panels.

  They still did not have enough money to finance the flight, and failed in an attempt to win a large prize available to anyone breaking the world record endurance of 52 hours 22 minutes. Even with an extra forty-five 5-gallon tins in the cabin they had to land after 50 hours 4 minutes of trundling round San Francisco Bay. On switching off the engines, they only had 5 minutes fuel left.

  Admitting defeat, they flew the Southern Cross, as they had named the aircraft (not after the southern constellation on the Australian flag, but after the town from where Kingsford-Smith was born), to California, hoping to sell the aircraft to recoup the money.

  Fortunately, there they met an ex-master mariner named Captain Allan Hancock, who happened to be the President of the California Bank. He agreed to put up the money for the flight. On the morning of 31 May 1928 Southern Cross was ready at Oakland, California, fully fuelled, with 96 gallons in each of the four wing tanks, another 107 gallons in a tank under the pilot’s seat and 807 gallons in a massive fuselage tank. Kingsford-Smith and Charles Ulm were the pilots, but Keith Anderson had returned to Australia. There he made an attempt to fly to England in one of the old Tourers, together with Bob Hitchcock, but they crashed at Pine Creek, Northern Territory. Two Americans were recruited to make up the crew of Southern Cross for the Pacific flight; Harry Lyon was to be the navigator and James Warner the wireless operator.

  They flew the Pacific in three stages, the first being to Wheeler Field, Honolulu, and the next, the longest at 3138 miles, to Suva in Fiji. The last lap to Brisbane was the shortest at only 1700 miles, but certainly not the easiest. They flew into a massive storm, with high winds and torrential rain, so heavy it broke the windscreens and soaked the cockpit. Fighting the bucking aircraft almost totally exhausted the crew, and they were very near the end of their tether when the coast of Queensland was finally sighted, 110 miles south of their intended track.

  26. Southern Cross in flight over North America.

  They became heroes overnight and decorations and financial rewards were showered on them. The two Americans, Warner and Lyon, returned to America and HA Litchfield joined the crew as navigator, and TH McWilliams as wireless operator. They made three more epic flights in quick succession, across the continent non-stop, and then across the Tasman Sea to New Zealand and back. Southern Cross was now registered G-AUSU, having retained its US serial 1985 for the Pacific flight.

  Following these three further record-breaking triumphs, they planned a flight to England. Although they would be attempting the record, the trip had another purpose. Kingsford-Smith had founded Australian National Airways Ltd, and wished to visit European manufacturers to negotiate for the purchase of aircraft, specifically Avro 10s, which were licence-built Fokker F.VIIB/3ms.

  At midday on 31 March 1929 Southern Cross took off from Ric
hmond Airfield, just outside Sydney, for the first stage of the flight, the 2000 miles to Singleton. Alongside Kingsford-Smith in the cockpit was Charles Ulm, as second pilot. In the rear cabin were HA Litchfield, the navigator, and TH McWilliams, the wireless operator. Between this rear cabin and the cockpit was the huge fuselage fuel tank, and the only communication possible between them was to write messages on bits of paper and to pass them over this tank at the end of a stick.

  Shortly after take-off the long-range aerial was lost. Litchfield leaned out of the window to take a sight with the drift indicator, and his arm caught a button that controlled the copper wire aerial. There was enough wire wound on the drum to make three aerials, in case one or more were broken off and carried away on landing. The whole length of wire unreeled and was lost, which meant they could no longer receive, though they could still transmit.

  27. The pilot’s cockpit of Southern Cross.

  Kingsford-Smith decided to continue the flight, because the weather reports they had received before take-off had forecast good weather. Though there was no real reason to abort the flight in the circumstances, the decision was to have tragic consequences.

  Soon after they crossed the centre of the continent the weather changed dramatically and they found themselves caught in a storm that raged through the night. Sydney had been sending warnings of this storm, but they were unable to hear them. Dawn brought little relief, but visibility was still poor, and the country they were flying over was a wilderness of forested ravines. They came to a ravine, which they followed to the west, fully expecting to find Wyndham at the end of it, but all they found was a barren coastline being battered by an angry sea. Kingsford-Smith decided to fly round Cape Londonderry to fix their position and then south-west to Wyndham.

  Two hours passed by and there was still no sign of the Cape. Then they flew over a group of huts, which they later discovered was Drysdale Mission. Ulm wrote out a message in pencil and dropped it to the people they could see on the ground, asking if they could point the way to Wyndham, which they expected would now be in a south-easterly direction. They were taken by surprise when the people on the ground pointed to the south-west. It seemed incredible that they could be so much off-course, even allowing for the effect of the storm. However they reasoned that they should rely on local knowledge.

  Kingsford-Smith turned to the south-west and flew on through the bad weather. Still there was no sign of Wyndham, but then they flew over another group of huts. As Kingsford-Smith circled, Ulm quickly wrote out another message and dropped it to the curious spectators on the ground. This time he asked them to place a row of white sheets on the ground indicating the direction of Wyndham, and to give in large figures the distance in miles. To the surprise of the airmen the direction indicated was east and the distance given was 250 miles. They knew that one of the two groups of people was wrong, but which one?

  The second set of directions seemed more definite, and Kingsford-Smith therefore set course to the east, though he knew they had little hope of getting there. About an hour later they began to run out of fuel, and Kingsford-Smith began to look for a place for a forced landing. Much of the area was covered in the sub-tropical jungle of Northern Australia, but he saw a large clearing and headed for that. When the wheels touched down they realised why there were no trees in this area; it was a swamp.

  The aircraft slowed quickly in the clinging mud, and began to nose over, but luckily fell back, coming to a halt without damage,. However, when they clambered out they found the main wheels buried up to their axles. The surrounding jungle was virtually impassable, and was intersected with creeks, and the winding River Glenelg, in which there were many crocodiles. None of the crew had the slightest intention of going for help, as this would mean crossing these crocodile-infested waters. They were stranded where they were, but their one consolation was that McWilliams had been sending out a continuous stream of radio messages, reporting on their progress, though, of course, there was no way of knowing if these had been picked up. Also, during the landing the transmitter was damaged so that they could no longer send messages, which might have helped the searchers to home in on them.

  There was nothing more that they could do except wait for rescue, but when they looked for the emergency rations that should have been stowed on the Fokker they could not find them. They never did discover why they were not on board, but luckily there was a small supply of baby food that they had been transporting to Wyndham. Clouds of mosquitoes assaulted them during the night, to be replaced by black masses of flies during the day.

  McWilliams set to work and managed to get the radio receiver working, so they could at least hear the efforts that were being made to find them. It was a comfort to know that searches were being made by both land and water. The great white wing of the Fokker, over 71 feet in span, should have made an excellent landmark from the air, but in addition they prepared a fire, which they kept burning in the hope that searching aircraft would see the smoke.

  The heat was exhausting, and they were continuously plagued by the flies and mosquitoes. By the second day they were beginning to suffer from the effects of hunger, and by the fourth day the threat of starvation was becoming very real. They had no means of catching fish, even if they were prepared to risk the crocodiles, and though they tried the snails they found they were not at all palatable. They struggled to find sufficient dry wood to keep the fire going in the damp conditions which prevailed. Litchfield took sights, which established their position as 150 miles from Wyndham, and about 15 miles from the coast. It was an area first explored by an Englishman named George Grey almost 100 years before, and it was he who had named the river after Lord Glenelg. Grey had almost died of exhaustion trying to find his way out of the wilderness.

  McWilliams, by diligent efforts, had repaired the transmitter and to power it they rigged up a friction drive. They dug out one of the main wheels so that it could revolve, and one of them turned it with a spanner, while McWilliams held the generator against it. So weak were they, however, that the combined efforts of Kingsford-Smith and Ulm could only keep the heavy mainwheel turning for a few seconds – far too little for their rescuers to home in on the weak signal.

  Three times, searching aircraft passed in sight of the four men but somehow did not see the great white wing of the Fokker, or the trail of smoke in the sky. Three times their hopes were raised and then almost immediately dashed. They heard all the details of the search effort on their radio, including the further drama when one of Kingsford-Smith’s former colleagues, Keith Anderson, and his mechanic Bob Hitchcock, who had joined in the aerial search in their aircraft Kookaburra, were also missing.

  Finally, a de Havilland DH66 Hercules airliner of West Australian Airways, which had been chartered by the Search Committee, flew over the downed Fokker. Captain Holden, the pilot, circled round as the four downed men waved and cheered. He dropped a note and some food, and flew away. Every day for five days an aircraft returned and dropped food, and the condition of the four men slowly improved.

  All the time the surface of the clearing in which they had landed was drying up, and nineteen days after their forced landing two rescue aircraft were able to land alongside the Fokker, bringing fuel and spare parts. The Southern Cross took off once more and completed the journey to Wyndham, it’s crew safe and well, but the episode had claimed two victims. Anderson and Hitchcock had died when their aircraft crashed. They were found by an air search by the Qantas pilot Lester Brain.

  28. The attempt to turn the Fokker’s mainwheel into a dynamo, with one man turning it with a spanner.

  A Committee of Inquiry was set up to investigate the episode, and public opinion had turned against Kingsford-Smith, formerly a great hero, for his decision to press on after they had lost the aerial. The decision had cost the lives of two men. There were even suggestions that the whole thing had been planned as some sort of publicity stunt.

  The crew of the Southern Cross were criticised, but the worst charge that
could be levelled at them was that they were guilty of an error of judgement, which was very easy to see in the bright light of hindsight. The real reason for the forced landing turned out to be the fact that the first village to which they had dropped a message had not seen it, and merely pointed to the nearest place where a landing could be made, not to Wyndham as they thought. The diversion had caused them to run out of fuel, and made a forced landing inevitable.

  To highlight the difficulties, within weeks of their rescue a third aircraft went missing in the same area. The single-engined Vickers Vellore biplane, which was being ferried out to Australia by SJ Moir and HC Owen, went missing after leaving Koepang to cross the Timor Sea. Once more it was Lester Brain who found them. He searched the coastline and eventually found the wreckage of the aircraft near Cape Don. The two men had survived the crash, and were able to signal from the ground. Brain was able to arrange their rescue by boat.

  With his prestige at a low ebb, and sorrowful for the death of the two men who had been trying to rescue him, both of whom were his friends, Kingsford-Smith set off once more for England in Southern Cross, taking with him the same three crew members. They reached Croydon in the record time of 12 days 18 hours. He took the aircraft to the Fokker Works at Amsterdam, to be overhauled, and returned to Australia to continue with the organisation of Australian National Airways. While the aircraft was being refurbished in the Fokker Works it was painted a much darker blue, and the new registration VH-ASU was applied to it. At the same time longer engine nacelles were also fitted.