  The bay with its lights along the water’s edge had now lost its beauty for Bill. The night had become an agent which seemed to add further dangers to the perils which already seemed to conspire against him. Bill’s one idea now was to get his plane back to the landing field as soon as he could. He then would try and jockey his plane into a position which would eliminate the use of any right rudder in making his landing. The circle which he was flying was an exceedingly wide one. It took him down the bay as far as San Mateo and he was loathe to make it smaller. There was always the chance that his rudder bar should lose all of its remaining mobility. He cut across the end of the bay and approached Alameda. He could see the lights on the field and wondered if he would make them safely. The circle took him over the ferries plying between San Francisco and the East Bay cities. Goat Island revealed itself by the lights of the various buildings and the Naval Training Station. He was directly in line with the landing field. He felt more secure now, for, with everything going all right, he would not have to use any rudder to make the landing. Bill throttled the engine and started to glide to the ground. He hoped that he would miss the three hundred foot flagpole standing somewhere between his plane and the field. That caused him some anxiety for a while, and then he realized that he must have passed it. His plane was now a short distance from the lighting truck. Bill leveled off and let his plane sink to the ground As the wheels hit, he felt the plane veer to the right Bill gave it all the left rudder that he could. The turn to the right ceased, but he had over-controlled and a left turn started. He tried his right rudder and found it to be ineffective as formerly. The plane turned rather sharply and ended in a ground loop. Fortunately they were not traveling very fast when the ground loop took place, so that no damage was done. Bill did not even attempt to taxi up to the line. He stopped his engine and turned to Breene. “What in the name of all that’s good and holy did you do to this plane?” he shouted. “What was the matter, Lieutenant?” asked Breene in reply. “Try the right rudder and see what you think,” responded Bill. “Fry me for a porterhouse steak! What do you know about that?” said Breene after trying the rudder. “The left rudder works all right, but the right rudder just isn’t.” “That’s no news to me,” replied Bill. “I found that out soon after we left the ground. What I want to know is what’s the matter with it.” By this time the other pilots and mechanics had arrived at the plane. When Bill ground-looped in the beam of the searchlight everyone on the field saw the plane make the abrupt turn. They naturally thought that he had blown a tire or crushed a wheel as a result of turning too sharply. “Is that the way that you were taught to land an airplane?” asked Bob Finch as he stepped up to the plane. “Can’t you even make one good landing on your home field?” asked Kiel. “We thought that we might have to order the meat wagon out,” said Goldie. “How about this night flying, do you like it?” asked Batten. “I will give you instructions in landing at night if you want.” “Don’t let him do it,” interjected Goldy. “He might lose his way and land you up at Sacramento. I’ll teach you.” “Go ahead and rag me, you bums,” replied Bill. “One thing is sure, if I find the rat that has been tampering with my rudder control, I’ll kill him on the spot.” “What’s the matter with your rudder?” asked Captain Smith, who had come up during the conversation. “I have no right rudder at all. I haven’t had any since just after I left the field.” “Get out and let me see what the trouble is,” said Smith. Bill climbed out and Smith took his place in the cockpit. The others stood silently by while Smith tried out the controls. Finally Smith tried to see into the cockpit with the instrument lights, but found they were not powerful enough. “Has anyone a flashlight?” he asked. “Here’s one,” replied Sergeant Barney, the Chief Mechanic. “That’s the most peculiar thing that I ever saw,” said Smith after throwing the beam into the cockpit and trying the rudder. “I wonder how that come to be put there?” “What is it, Captain?” asked Bill. Smith did not answer, but instead went head first into the cockpit. He squirmed around for a while with his feet in the air and then started working his way back again. “Here it is,” he said when he had resumed his normal position. He held a small board in his hands. “What has that to do with it?” asked Bill. “That board evidently fell or was placed in front of the rudder bar,” said Smith. “When it dropped in place, it exactly fit the space between the right side of the bar and the front cross members of the fusilage. The result was that you could not have pushed your right foot forward without breaking the cross members of the fusilage.” “I wonder where it came from?” asked Bill. “Breene, who was working on this plane with you?” “Corporal Grabo and a recruit. I don’t know the recruit’s name. Who was he, Barney? You sent him over.” “Dixon,” replied Barney. “I wasn’t in the cockpit at all,” said Grabo. “Let’s get Dixon and find out what he knows.” “I sent Dixon in to do some K. P. work,” said Barney. “He was in the way out here and balled up everything that I gave him to do. Roll the plane back to the hangar, you men.” “One of you men go to the barracks and bring Dixon to the office,” said Smith as he walked away. Captain Smith was in his office when Bill arrived. He sat down and waited as he was interested to learn why that piece of board was in the plane. “Come in, Dixon,” said Captain Smith after a while, and Dixon entered. “Dixon, did you ever see this board before?” asked Captain Smith as he handed the board across the desk. “I can’t say that I have, Captain,” replied Dixon. “Were you working in the cockpit of Airplane Number 1 this evening?” “Yes, I was,” replied Dixon. “Come to think of it, I did have a piece of board with me, but I don’t know if that’s the one, for I left it in the cockpit.” “Why did you leave it there?” asked Smith. “Barney told me to clean out the cockpit and I couldn’t find a dustpan,” said Dixon. “I took a piece of board with me to gather up the dirt. I had just started to look for the dirt when Sergeant Barney called me. I left the board there so that it would be handy when I returned. I didn’t know that anyone wanted the board or I would have put it back where I found it. It looked like a piece that someone had thrown away.” “Now listen to what I say,” said Smith. “Hereafter, don’t you ever leave anything in any airplane which doesn’t belong there. This little piece of board came near wrecking an airplane tonight. It might have caused the pilot and a mechanic to lose their lives had it not been for good headwork on the part of the pilot. Just remember that. That’s all.” Dixon was obviously too astounded to speak. He was a recruit and knew nothing about airplanes or their workings. To him a piece of board was just a piece of wood, and there was no more harm in leaving it in the plane than there was in leaving it in the old farm wagon back home. He saluted and withdrew. “Well, there’s the whole story,” said Smith. “There’s nothing more to be done about it as far as I can see. It is unfortunate that there are such things as recruits, but we can’t have old soldiers without their first being recruits.” “I hope that the next recruit practices on someone else’s plane,” said Bill. As Bill left the office he stopped to read the notices on the bulletin board. Aerial gunnery the next day, all pilots to be on the field at eight o’clock. Bill liked aerial gunnery and looked forward with pleasure to the next day’s missions. Seven-thirty the next morning found all the pilots at their planes. Each was testing out his engine or standing by while the mechanics checked up on the synchronizing gear and guns. The targets which were to be used were pieces of floating wood in Drakes Bay. Other pilots were designated to do shadow shooting—that is, shoot at the shadow of their own or another plane on the water. Three planes of Bill’s flight were scheduled to take off first. The planes, engines and guns were ready, ammunition had been placed in the boxes and the pilots were sitting in their cockpits waiting for the starting time. One of the planes had already commenced moving across the field for the take-off when a messenger ran out onto the field and stopped it. The plane returned to the “dead line.” The pilot stopped his engine and climbed out. Bill Bruce was in his plane and noticed the proceedings. What it was all about, Bill could not imagine. The operations order had been explicit in time and what was to be done. The time for starting was passed. Smith was exceedingly particular about missions starting on time and yet the flight was held up. Bill decided to find out why. “What did that messenger say to you, Bob?” asked Bill when he reached Bob Finch’s plane. “Told me it was the Captain’s orders that we stay on the ground until further orders,” replied Bob. “Did he say why or when we would go up?” asked Bill. “He just said what I told you and nothing more,” said Bob. “I will go over to headquarters and see what I can find out,” said Bill as he walked away. “Where’s Captain Smith?” asked Bill as he entered the Adjutant’s office. “He left for Corps Area Headquarters a few minutes ago,” replied the Adjutant. “He gave instructions just before he left to hold your planes on the ground until he returned.” “What’s it all about?” asked Bill. “I don’t know anything more than you do,” replied Maxwell. Bill returned to the planes and gave instructions for the pilots to shut off their engines. There was nothing more to do but wait until Captain Smith returned. The officers sat around and each gave his version as to why they were held on the ground. Finally, after a wait of about three-quarters of an hour, Smith returned in a motorcycle side car and went into his office. Bill hurried over to the office to get such information as he could. “Take a look at this,” said Smith as Bill came in. He handed Bill a telegram to read.
|
|
