Lost In Time

by W M Wiltshire

  “My dad used to work for Lockheed in the design department. He had access to all the new stuff,” Daric quickly supplied, hoping Bo wouldn’t ask for any further details.

  “Well, then, Daric, you do seem to know your engines,” Bo reluctantly acknowledged. “So let’s get started. We have a lot to cover today.”

  Daric didn’t miss the fact that this was the first time Bo had used his actual name.

  Kelly Johnson had entered the hangar and approached the two men beside the Electra. “Hi, Bo, Daric.”

  “You guys have met?” Bo asked, bemused.

  “Yes, yesterday. Is Daric lending you a hand?” Kelly inquired, grinning at Bo, knowing the stubborn mechanic could be overly possessive when it came to his engines.

  “We’re just starting. What brings you here today? Not a good one for a flight, even if the airplane were ready,” Bo stated. “Paul wanted us to check everything over again and to gas her up for an early morning flight tomorrow.”

  “I just needed to check on a couple of things before I finish with my calculations. Mind if I climb aboard for a few minutes?” Kelly motioned to the cockpit.

  “Go right ahead, we’re working down here for now, checking the landing gear,” Bo supplied as he and Daric made their way under the fuselage.

  “Now, there is a true genius, when it comes to airplanes.” Bo’s admiration for Kelly was evident in his voice.

  “Why do you say that?” Daric probed.

  “Kelly had been conducting wind tunnel tests on the prototype of the twin-engine Lockheed Electra 10 model, when he was still in university. He discovered that the aircraft didn’t have acceptable directional stability. Unfortunately, no one would listen to him,” Bo said regretfully. “He didn’t stop there, though,” he added.

  “What did he do?”

  “When Kelly graduated, he joined Lockheed’s staff as a tool designer. Eventually, he was able to convince their chief engineer that the Lockheed Electra 10 model was unstable. So the chief engineer sent Kelly back to the university to conduct more tests. Kelly made several changes to the wind tunnel model, including adding an ‘H’ tail, to address the stability problem. Lockheed finally agreed with Kelly’s suggestions and made the changes to the Electra,” Bo finished with pride.

  “Really?” was all Daric could say.

  “Yup, they later promoted him to aeronautical engineer,” Bo added. “And what you see before you now is Kelly’s design.”

  23

  “Dani, we have a thousand details that need to be worked out. I think this is where you can help us,” Amelia suggested, after seeing Pidge off on her flight back to Boston.

  “Sure, what do you need?” Dani asked eagerly.

  “Each country we fly into has its own set of rules and regulations governing aircraft licencing, landing rights, overfly rights, passports, visas, vaccinations, insurance, airports, charts and maps, weather, fuel, maintenance, communications, hotels, and last but not least, money,” Amelia recited, counting off on her fingers the list by memory.

  Dani stood there looking at Amelia, speechless.

  Amelia could only smile at Dani’s reaction to the task at hand. “Relax, we have most of this already documented. We only need to finish the last few legs of the flight, from South America back to Miami. From there we know how to get back to Oakland. A list of the countries where we’ll be landing is on the desk in the office. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Sure, no problem, just point me to the terminal,” Dani replied confidently. She’d have this done in no time.

  “Uh, Dani, it’s right over there. You remember, where we had breakfast the other day,” Amelia said, uncertain of her new team member’s mental acuity.

  Dani couldn’t believe her blunder. Computers didn’t exist in this era; what was she thinking? She would have to do this job the hard way.

  “Come on, I’ll get you set up,” Amelia offered as she and Dani made their way over to the Union Air Terminal, where all the charts, maps and directories were located.

  To break the silence on the walk, Dani asked, “What got you interested in flying?”

  Amelia smiled as she recalled that one particular day, so many years ago. She had told no one this story before. “When I was seven years old, my Uncle Albert helped me build a ramp fashioned after a roller coaster I had seen in St. Louis, but of course not as high. Anyway, we secured it to the roof of the tool shed out back. When the grownups were in the house, Pidge helped me carry a wooden crate onto the shed roof.”

  “You didn’t?” Dani interjected.

  “Yup, I did. I climbed into that box and down the ramp I went. The landing wasn’t all that great. I banged up my lip and tore my dress, but it was exhilarating. I told Pidge at the time it was like flying.”

  “So I guess that was essentially your first real flight,” Dani joked.

  “I think that’s what started it all, yes,” Amelia said reflectively. “Then in 1918, I was just twenty-one-years-old, and I was in Toronto at the Canadian National Exhibition airshow with a friend. A flying demonstration was being performed by a World War I flying ace. He must have spotted me and my friend in the clearing. I’m sure he said to himself, ‘Watch me make them scamper’. Anyway, he came diving at us, but we stood our ground as the aircraft came close.”

  Amelia paused to reflect. “I didn’t understand it at the time, but I believe that little red airplane said something to me as it swished by. Then a couple years later in Long Beach, I got my first ride. By the time I had got two or three hundred feet off the ground, I knew I had to fly. And I’ve never looked back.”

  Amelia opened the terminal’s door and ushered Dani in, following close behind.

  “You can use the spare desk in the office. There you’ll find a list of phone numbers for the airports we’ll be using and a list of the details we need. Make the calls and record the information we need, okay?” Amelia said.

  “Got it,” Dani said, making her way to the office to complete her assigned task. How could she be so stupid? Adjusting to the differences in time periods could be a real challenge. What would normally have taken her an hour to complete might take days.

  24

  “Okay, Daric, let’s call it a day and go grab a cup of coffee,” Bo said, as he eagerly extracted himself from his confining coveralls. They had accomplished more than Bo had thought he’d be able to get done when the day had started. He had to admit, Daric knew his stuff and was a tremendous help. His enthusiasm and genuine interest were commendable. They had actually covered the entire airplane, from top to bottom and from stem to stern or, in this case, from nose to tail.

  “Sounds great,” Daric agreed.

  “You can hang the coveralls in the storage room and I’ll meet you outside,” Bo volunteered. “The others will be calling it a day soon, too. Save Harry the trip over here to get you.”

  “Okay.” Daric made his way to the back of the hangar. He opened the storage room door only to find someone lurking in the darkness.

  “You startled me,” Daric said nervously, reaching to turn on the light. He hadn’t been expecting to find anyone here. He also thought he had met all the mechanics over the course of the day, but he didn’t recall this man.

  “What were you doing in the dark?” Daric asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He was picking up an unusual odor in the air. It reminded him of some kind of tobacco, but with a more pungent smell.

  The stranger thought quickly; he had to come up with a reasonable explanation—now. This kid didn’t look like he would be easily fooled.

  “I was looking for a fluorescent marker for the runway,” the stranger said. “It’s always easier to find it in the dark, because it glows.”

  “Makes sense,” Daric agreed. “My name is Daric, by the way. I’m working with Bo. I don’t think I met you today with the other staff.�
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  “Name’s Rick Barak Case,” the stranger offered, as he extended his hand to Daric, who took it hesitantly, staring closely at the man standing in front of him.

  Rick Barak Case stood six feet tall, had a good build, was clean shaven, and displayed a receding hairline. He was thin-lipped with a pointed jaw, broad nose and wide-set cold brown eyes.

  “What are you staring at?” Case asked uneasily, looking for a quick exit. He would now have to change his plans.

  “Uh . . . you . . . uh look exactly like someone I know and the name’s almost the same, too,” Daric stammered hesitantly.

  “Well, I’m not him, kid; so get over it,” Case snapped as he pushed past Daric and briskly walked away.

  Daric hung up the coveralls, snatched his hat from a hook, and followed after Case. There was something about this guy that just didn’t seem right to him.

  Case paused just outside the hangar’s back door, casually striking a wooden match with his thumbnail and lighting a cigarette. He carefully scanned the area to make sure no one was watching. He had to yank hard on the door handle of the dented driver’s door to get it open.

  Daric hung back just enough so as not to be seen. He watched Case climb into the old blue Chevy pickup truck, slam the door and speed away. He couldn’t get over the uncanny resemblance to his dad’s best friend or the fact that Case had left without the fluorescent marker.

  25: Wednesday, March 10, 1937

  The wake-up call came much too early: it was 2:00 A.M. As requested by G.P., Paul had made arrangements for an early morning flight, so they could test Harry’s navigational skills. And as long as they were at it, Joe was going along, so they could run another test of the radio equipment.

  At 3:35 A.M., Harry, G.P. and Joe, with Paul at the controls, taxied the Electra from the front of the United Air Services hangar onto the apron, then onto the adjoining runway. Once airborne, they headed north-westward toward San Francisco Bay. Then the plan was to head west out over the sea, well out of sight of land, and to have Harry navigate them back to the airport in Burbank using celestial navigation only.

  During the flight, Joe checked all the radios, using the nighttime frequency of 3105 kilocycles. “Signal’s weak and we’re only four-hundred miles out of Burbank,” Joe informed the others. “I’m switching over to 6210 kilocycles, even though it’s not quite daylight.”

  Harry checked his watch; it was about 5:50 A.M. “Paul, I have us over San Francisco. I need you to turn to the west on a heading of 257 degrees.” Paul responded by banking the plane left, heading out to sea.

  Behind them, a solid bank of clouds covered the coast. A faint glow was the first indication of the approaching sunrise. At 6:10 A.M., Harry instructed Paul to turn on a southeasterly heading, taking them back to Burbank.

  The sun slowly rose above the horizon, making the stars invisible in the daylight. Harry looked across the horizon, but could see nothing but the tops of stratocumulus clouds. He couldn’t see the ocean below and therefore couldn’t take a drift sight. He ruled out using a smoke bomb, which would provide wind speed information, because the cloud layer would obscure it.

  Harry also knew the sun would soon be high enough for him to take an accurate observation. Using the twenty-six-day-old moon in the southern sky, about forty-five degrees to the west of the sun, he could get a celestial fix that would be accurate within fifteen miles. About one-hundred-fifty miles from Burbank, Harry took the sun and moon shots.

  During the flight back to Burbank, Harry had missed the airport by over twenty miles. They were all thinking the same thing: if Burbank had been a small island in the middle of the Pacific, they would have missed it completely. Harry knew they were right; but, unlike his colleagues, he also understood that such imprecision was the reality of aerial celestial navigation. He had done nothing wrong!

  Paul taxied the Electra up to the hangar for refueling. It was now 8:25 A.M. Once the engines were off and conversation could be comfortably heard, G.P. started. “Harry, I’m concerned about your navigation skills. This test proved to me that you could completely miss Howland Island.”

  “G.P., I understand your concern, but I won’t apologize for my performance. Under the circumstances, I did exactly what was required. It’s just the way celestial navigation works. There will always be a possible ten percent dead-reckoning error,” Harry explained. “I’ve had nearly twenty years of experience as a navigator and I’ve been flying for over seven as a pilot. I know what I’m doing.”

  G.P. and Paul had exchanged glances, knowing that this wasn’t good enough. The tension was so thick in the airplane it felt like the cramped space was shrinking, cutting off the air inside the plane.

  “I think this test simply confirms that we need to install a radio direction-finder,” Joe suggested, hoping to break some tension.

  “I agree,” G.P. said coldly as he exited the airplane. “Make it happen.”

  26

  G.P. entered the office where Dani was working on collecting the final details for Amelia’s world flight. She looked up upon hearing him enter and retrieved a piece of paper from the corner of the desk.

  “G.P., you have a message here from Bill Miller. He said that he’s at the Oakland office and that you’d know what that means.”

  William “Bill” Miller was with the Bureau of Air Commerce and was responsible for laying out future air routes between Australia and some colonized islands in the middle of the Pacific.

  “Thank you, Dani.” G.P. couldn’t contain the smile that played across his lips. What an attractive young woman, he thought. He took the message and picked up the telephone to return Bill’s call. It rang three times before a voice on the other end said, “Hello.”

  “Good morning, Bill.”

  “G.P., how was the flight this morning? Did everything go all right?”

  G.P. had expressed his concern to Bill earlier about Harry’s navigational skills and that they were going to run a navigation test flight this morning.

  “Wasn’t done as well as I would have liked,” G.P. replied coldly. “We were off the mark by more than twenty miles.”

  “That could be a real problem when flying over the Pacific, or the Atlantic for that matter, when you only have dead-reckoning and the stars to rely on as your guide.”

  “Tell me about it. At least the exercise confirmed something for us this morning.”

  “What’s that?” Bill asked, intrigued.

  “I ordered a radio direction-finder to be installed. That should help, but I’m still not convinced Harry’s our man for this job.”

  Bill, knowing how concerned G.P. was with Amelia’s safety, thought for a moment and then provided some news he thought G.P. might find useful.

  “Look, G.P. I just heard from a friend at Pan American Airways that the chief navigator for their Clippers has resigned. His name is Fred Noonan; he’s forty-three-years-old and has been with them for seven years. He’s considered one of the best aerial navigators in the world. I could set up an interview for you. He lives out here in Oakland.”

  “Okay, go ahead, Bill. Amelia and I should be there sometime this afternoon. The rest will be along later. They’re coming by car,” G.P. said, feeling somewhat hopeful as a result of this news. “What about the Guard ships?”

  “The Coast Guard cutter Shoshone has already left Honolulu and is on its way to Howland Island with thirty-one drums of aviation gasoline and two barrels of lubricating oil. And the Navy tug Ontario will be leaving American Samoa as soon as it takes on supplies and gets refueled,” Bill said confidently.

  “I contacted Pan American Airways. They’re prepared to cooperate fully with Amelia’s flight from Oakland to Honolulu. I’ve also been able to acquire temporary office space from them here in the Oakland Airport administration building, where the weather bureau, telegraph companies, and Department of Commerce offices
are located,” Bill finished.

  “Great. See you in a couple of hours.” G.P. hung up the phone and was about to leave the office when he remembered he had to make arrangements for Daric and Dani to get to Oakland.

  “Dani, we’ll be flying the Electra to Oakland this afternoon. Since there is room for only four in the airplane, Harry, Paul and his fiancée, Terry Minor, will be taking my car. You and Daric can follow them in Amelia’s car. We’ll meet you at the Oakland Airport Inn tomorrow,” G.P. said matter-of-factly.

  “Okay, see you later,” Dani replied, turning back to her task at hand as G.P. left the office.

  27

  After lunch at the hotel, Amelia and G.P. returned to the airport to finish loading the equipment and to make the final preparations to fly the Electra to Oakland. Bo and Joe met them at the hangar. After stowing the luggage, supplies, and all the spare parts, they took off for Oakland.

  Since it had been such an early morning for G.P., he napped during the flight, despite the noise from the engines. Joe made a point of checking the radios. He continued to be troubled by the fact that they had lost the signal during their morning test.

  The flight from Burbank to Oakland was smooth and uneventful. At the Oakland airport, a long siren blast resonated through the still air, warning all at the field that a plane was about to land. The Electra majestically appeared through a very thin layer of cirrus clouds just east of the airport and made one circuit of the field prior to landing.

  After making a perfect two-point landing, Amelia made a sharp turn to exit the runway and taxied on the apron over to the Navy Hangar. Bill Miller was waiting to greet them. Beside him was the commanding officer of the U.S. Naval Reserve aviation base.

  William “Bill” T. Miller was a rather heavy-set man, exaggerated by his short height of five-foot-six. He was in his early fifties, had thinning brown hair and was wearing a doubled-breasted three-piece black suit. He looked more like a banker than a businessman.