Air Wonder Stories, July 1929 — page 48: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

46 tiny red and green flying lights appeared almost over the field, but swung away to the west as men were reaching for the switches to turn on the battery of flood lights. After half an hour more the plane landed and McCrea strode toward the radio office with the ex- pressed intention, flung back over his shoulder, of filing a message to headquarters that a demented pilot had been the sole cause of throwing the pas- senger plane behind schedule. Scarcely had he reached for a pad of forms, however, when a muffled crash and the reflected glare of blazing gasoline brought him to the loading area on the.run. The hill crest below and just to the left of the beacon was a mass of soaring flames. Madly jangling bells suddenly coming to life in the am- bulance quarters were stilled again as the emer- gency squad roared away over the now brilliantly flooded airport, closely followed by a fire truck to which half clothed men were clinging. “Tt’s the west bound sealed express,” the com- munications clerk gasped. “Flying low and washed out right at the foot of the beacon!” The superintendent dashed toward his private plane, still standing on the concrete area way. Others were hurriedly turning to automobiles parked beside the enclosure, while several men caught the salvage trucks as they emerged from the garage. Tommy, nervous and pale, stood beside two wait- ing pilots, obeying, yet not giving a thought to the company rule which forbade flyers to visit the scene of a crash when other help was available. The ambulance and fire truck had crossed the wide ex- panse of the field, pursued by McCrea, ground hopping his plane like a monstrous grass-hopper, and tiny flashlights could be seen now as the rescue crews toiled up the steep incline. “Which crew was flying it, I wonder.” Then remembering the bulletin board under the electric on the wall, Tommy read, aloud: “ ‘Crew 37, Sealed Express, Jones and Hillard, vice Thomas and Abernathy, west bound, 10:20 p. m.’ Gee! it was Vance Thomas; he and I went through the training school together. I don’t know Abernathy; he must be a new man on this division.” The two waiting pilots were watching the dying flames, fascinated by the calamity which so easily might have been their own. McCrea returned shortly to dispatch a radiogram to the western office, then following a telephone conyersation with the lookout he approached the bench on which the three flyers now sat, each busy with his own thoughts. : “Well, it's too bad, boys. Jameston tells me that the ship had been flying much too low, just as yours did, Royce, when you so nearly cracked up. Thomas or Abernathy, whichever one was pilot- ing, tried to pull her up at the last moment, but was too close to the hill.” “Yes,” Tommy answered slowly, sitting forward on the bench with elbow on knee and chin in his hand. “It fooled poor old Vance Thomas just as it fooled me, but my plane can climb faster than one of these express crates. It just meant the difference between a miss and a wreck,” ATR WONDER STORIES “Well, don’t let this scare you, boys. There must be some reason for that light acting the way it has. Good gravy! There has to be a reason! I thought you pilots were going crazy at first but now I'll admit I was mistaken. I don’t see how it can be the beacon, but anyway I am having oil flares placed on the hill tonight for the planes due before morning. Some extra lights can do no harm.” An eastbound passenger and a freight plane landed safely at number Seven within the next two hours, during all of which time the worried super- intendent was engaged in writing out a two thousand word report to the Pacific coast office. He signed his name with a sigh and handed the last page to the radio operator on duty. “There. I have asked for experts out on the first passenger ship in the morning. That is, if there are experts able to figure out this blankety blanked double dashed beacon.” Another Victim F the two remaining westbound planes due to arrive before daylight, the first was a regular express at 4:10 a.m., followed thirty minutes later by a freighter. The frst missed the beacon by three miles to the north and came on to the airport from almost due west, twenty minutes late. Lhe salvage crew watched it from the top of Sentinel Hill where the express was being sorted from the wreckage. The lookout picked up the wing lghts of the treight plane to the southeast. The field was flooded with lights in an effort to attract the atten- tion of the pilot, and the emergency spot lamp on the lookout tower was Hashed skyward, throwing a bright pencil of ight up until it touched scudding clouds thousands ot feet overhead. ln response tne plane quickly veered to the north, then headed directly toward the beacon, as a moth is drawn by a candle. Ground crew men and electricians worked frantically flashing field lights and whirling the beam of the spot. The freighter, unconscious oi danger, dipped lower and lower as it drove onward. ‘The starboard wing light was hidden by the large fuselage of the craft as it drew abreast of the landing area, heading almost directly north. The tiny red port light on the tip of the left wing and the amber tail ight on the stabilizer were all that could be seen in the dark. The score of watchers on the ground grew silent and tense as the machine held lower and lower, now heading for the base of the beacon tower. The motors dimimished their song, telling those below that the pilot had partly closed the throttles, be- lieving himself well above the beacon. Light from the oil fares on the hill crest now began to be reflected from the swiftly whirling propellers and polished metal nose cap. Flashlights were waveu madly by members of the salvage crew on the hill top and then flicked off as the men sprang behind the concrete shoulder of the tower foundation, wait- ing for the inevitable crash. Just when it seemed the hurtling mass was on the point of striking the outmost flare on the southern crest of the hill, the now dimly outlined shape swerved upward. The heavy craft had gained many feet in altitude at the expense of its momentum before the startling roar of wide open motors teached those waiting impotently at the service comnicloooks.con