FLYING INSTRUCTIONS
With the first ray of sunrise, Wallace was up. He dressed himself
hurriedly, donned a sweater to keep warm, and then sat down on a rock
to watch the sky. He had a suspicion that something would happen and
that the incident would occur in the air. He didn’t dare walk up and
down to keep himself warm because he feared that the noise of his
footsteps would awaken some of the boys. So he quietly built a fire to
keep himself warm. After he had watched the sky for an hour a plane
appeared on the horizon. It flew nearer and nearer, circled about where
he thought the mysterious airport was, then nosed down as if to land,
which it evidently did. Wallace became terribly excited. His suspicions
bore truth. And now he didn’t know what to do. He paced up and down
several times, musing, thinking hard. His first impulse was to go down
there himself, but he immediately discounted it.
He awakened Paul, who listened eagerly to his story. Wallace reminded
him of his suspicion that a plane would land there in the early
morning, and that was what had happened. Paul dressed hurriedly.
Leaving behind a note, the two set off at a rapid pace. Just as they
were about to reach the wooded plateau, the drone of an airplane motor
was heard. They looked up, but the sky was hidden by the branches
of the trees. When they at last reached the clearing, it was empty
and still. They spent about half an hour searching the woods, but it
was in vain. They returned to camp and told their comrades. A lot of
discussion ensued and it was finally decided that every day a detail of
two boys should go down there, to see what they could discover. But it
was all in vain. When the time came for them to return to Stanhope, a
week later, they had discovered nothing new.
As the boys reached the outskirts of the town, about six in the
evening, they lined up and marched down Main Street. On the very same
spot from which they departed, Paul sang out, “Patrol, halt!” For
several seconds they remained at attention, with the eyes of many
people upon them. Then Paul snapped the command, “Dismissed!” The boys
broke formation and went home.
The boys did not propose to lose any time in beginning their flying
instructions. They set a definite time, therefore, for all of them to
meet, to go out to the airfield in a group. Paul was a few minutes
late, having been detained by his mother who took a long time
impressing upon him the importance of being careful. When he joined
the group, they were all very much excited and discussed their future
adventures in the air. Ken and Nuthin’ tried hard to appear just as
excited as the others, but it was an empty gesture. Paul, addressing
Ken, asked, “Anything wrong? You look kind of green around the gills.”
Ken made a gesture of dismissal. He answered, “Nothing. It really
doesn’t matter.”
“But what is it?”
The boy confessed sadly, “My parents absolutely refused to allow me to
fly.”
Nuthin’ heard the statement and he felt glad. Not that he was glad that
Ken was unable to learn to fly, but misery loves company. He said,
“You’re not alone, Ken. The same tragedy here.” And he made a comical
gesture of weeping.
Paul was disappointed. “Gee, that’s a shame. I wonder if there is
anything we can do about it?”
Both boys shook their heads listlessly. Ken remarked, “You know my dad.
When he puts his foot down it’s like the Rock of Gibraltar.”
“With me,” informed Nuthin’, “it’s my mother. She actually wept, so my
father wouldn’t give me permission.”
“It’s a shame,” repeated Paul. “At any rate, you two can come along and
watch us. You can at least get all the ground work.”
The boys mounted their bicycles and were off. At the airport, they were
greeted by Major McCarthy. “Hello, fellows,” he called.
“Hello, Major,” answered several.
“Did you have a good time while I was away?”
“Very good,” said Paul.
“And interesting,” informed William.
Jack spoke. “We went camping.”
“That should have been enjoyable and interesting,” commented the major.
Then he asked the most pertinent question. “Are you ready for flying
instructions?”
The boys shouted lustily and eagerly, “Yes, yes.”
“All of you have the permission of your parents?”
Paul answered for the group. “All except two—Ken Armstrong and Albert
Cypher.”
“Hmm,” mused the major. “That’s too bad.” He looked at the two
unfortunate boys and they appeared very ill at ease. To cheer them the
major said, “Well, not everyone can be a pilot. Some of us have to do
other work, quite naturally. So we’ll make mechanics out of you. How
about it?”
The boys smiled gratefully. “Thank you, sir,” answered Ken. “I’d love
nothing better.”
“That’s settled, then,” said McCarthy. “Now, fellows, I have some good
news for you. I’ve made inquiries about obtaining a plane for you boys
and I have one definitely in mind. It’s a good machine, in perfect
order and perhaps in a week or so it may be yours.”
“Yea!” shouted William and all the boys joined in. The major held
up his hand and motioned for silence. “Cheering is all to the good,
fellows, but if you want flying instructions, we have no time to lose.”
“Those are just our sentiments,” commented Jack joyously.
“Now,” began the major, “I’m to spend about an hour or so explaining in
detail the major parts of an airplane. I want to teach you to be not
only pilots but your own mechanics. If something should happen to a
plane you’re flying, I want you to know how to go about repairing the
motor or anything else that may be wrong. For that reason I want you to
spend a lot of your spare time fussing with an old plane, which is used
just for that purpose. It is situated in the corner hangar.” He paused
for several seconds, then continued. “Now about flying instructions.
I can’t instruct more than one of you at a time and no more than two
each day. So you’ll have to pair off and you’ll all get a lesson every
other three days—that is, two lessons a week. Is that understood?”
“Yes!” shouted the boys in unison.
“Very well, then, I’m going into the office for a couple of minutes.
In the meanwhile you can pair off and also decide which pair will get
their instructions today, which tomorrow and the day after.”
To pair off, the boys drew lots. Three sets of small pieces of paper
were prepared, the two pieces of each set numbered one, two and three.
The two boys who drew number one were partners, numbers two and three
likewise. The number one pair was to receive its flying instructions
that day, number two on the following day, and number three the day
after. As it turned out, Paul and William were the number one pair,
Jack and Bobolink number two and Wallace and Bluff number three.
The drawing of lots was fair enough and there were no murmurs of
disapproval or dissatisfaction.
When the major came out again, he showed that he approved of what was
done. In a group he marched them over to the hangar which housed the
old plane and for about an hour he lectured to them on the mechanics
of an engine. When he was through, he sent them home for lunch. Then
he told the first pair, Paul and William, to be back at the airport at
three o’clock for flying instructions.
As the boys were mounting their bikes, Jack whispered to his chum,
“Fall behind with me, Paul, I have something to tell you.”
Paul nodded. Wheeling along about ten feet behind the others, he asked,
“What is it, Jack?”
“It’s this, Paul. This morning I happened to glance through the
_Dispatch_ and I came across a small article stating that last
Wednesday it was discovered that several hundred army rifles were
stolen from an armory in New York and that the crime had most likely
been committed within the past twenty-four hours.”
“What about it?”
Jack pursed his lips, mused for a moment, then said, “Remember, Paul,
last Wednesday morning was when Wallace saw that airplane land at that
mysterious airport.”
Paul cried, “By golly, that’s correct. Do you really think that
they are arms smugglers and that this theft of army rifles has any
connection with that airplane landing at the mysterious airport?”
“I don’t know,” answered Jack. “I’m wondering. But if you stop to
consider, the parts seem to fit the puzzle mighty well.”
“You’re right Jack. What do you think we ought to do? Do you think we
ought to take Major McCarthy into our confidence?”
Shaking his head, he replied, “No, I don’t think so. He might either
tell it to the police and we don’t have enough evidence for that; or he
might fly over there, land, and possibly complicate everything.”
Again Paul agreed with his chum, adding, “Yes, we have to follow it up
slowly. Another thing, we must learn how to fly darn quick because if
we want to get anything on them we have to do it in their way—by air.”
“Correct,” said Paul. “For the present, we’ll just let matters take
their own course.”
All the boys saw fit that afternoon to be at the airport. Only Paul and
William were to go up for flying instructions but the others wanted to
be there to see what it was like. At a little past three, the major
came out of the office and approached the group of boys. The two boys
stepped forward and William informed him, “We’re ready, major, if you
are.”
Smiling, he said, “That’s fine. But now that you’re all here, I’m going
to tell you something about flying.” All the boys gathered in front of
him, forming a semi-circle. Very quietly and seriously they listened
to every word he said. “The first thing I want to impress upon you,
fellows,” he began, “is that flying is not in the least dangerous,
providing, of course, you adhere strictly to the rules and regulations
of flying. Everything has its rules which you must observe, flying is
not an exception. The most important rule in flying is that you must
never risk stalling your machine near the ground. At no time must you
lose flying speed until you are at a safe altitude—approximately five
hundred feet above ground.
“Now suppose your engine cuts out as you are taking off, then what you
must do is to push the nose down and go straight ahead, regardless of
what is in front of you. If you cannot avoid running into a shed, or a
tree, or any other obstacle, while landing, it just can’t be helped.
You will smash the machine but you yourself will not be hurt. Another
rule to remember is, never turn back in order to return to the airport
or some other good landing ground. When you do that you risk stalling
your machine. And when you stall near the ground, you usually lose
control of your machine, go into a spin and crash nose first into the
ground. And that may be the last time you will ever fly.”
“Those are a few elementary rules of flying. You’ll learn more as you
go along. What you must understand is that you must always obey these
rules, or take the consequences. I don’t want to frighten you, but
there are rules in every game and you have to observe them.”
He stopped and scanned the faces of the boys. From every indication,
they had taken his words seriously and were convinced by his
authoritative tone of voice. Nothing more to say, the major now called
upon his first two pupils and inquired, “Are you ready?”
“Ready!” the two boys answered in unison and precision.
“Which one is going up first?”
“We’ll have to choose,” answered Paul.
Major McCarthy took a coin out of his pocket and tossed it into the
air. “Heads,” cried William.
“Tails,” cried Paul.
Heads it was and William was the first to go up for instructions. “Very
well,” announced the major, “let’s go.”
The whole group followed the major and William to one of the hangars.
Two mechanics pushed the training plane into the open. Again the major
turned to the group and said, “This is an Avro, one of the finest
training machines in the world. She is light on the controls, very easy
to handle and has an 80 h.p. Le Rhone engine. What kind of an engine
is it, anybody know?”
William answered at once, with confidence, “A rotary engine.”
“Fine,” said the major. “And what kind of engine is a rotary engine?”
All the boys seemed to know that and the major was pleased by their
knowledge. However, he called upon William to answer the question.
“A rotary engine is one which has the cylinders rotate round the
crankshaft which remains stationary,” answered William correctly.
“And what is another type of engine?”
“A stationary engine.”
“The crankshaft rotates round the cylinders.”
“Correct,” announced the major with a gleam of satisfaction in his
eyes. “I can see,” he added, “that I’m going to enjoy teaching you
boys. All right William, put this hat on and get the ear pieces in the
right position; I’ll be talking to you all the time. And before we
start, remember this, if I hit you on the back take your hands and feet
off the controls immediately and put your hands above your head which
will show me that you have obeyed my signal. Okey?”
Wallace remarked, humorously, “Don’t hit him too hard, major. I’d hate
to take home a corpse.”
Major McCarthy withdrew to the shed telling William to get into the
front seat. When he had climbed into the rear seat, he said, “Now
William, don’t touch the controls until I tell you to. In the meanwhile
you can watch them working because both sets of controls are connected
and work simultaneously. Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
The boys at the shed cheered lustily and William waved his hand as
Major McCarthy took off. The machine rose lightly into the air and
was mounting fast into a clear sky, smoothly and easily as a bird.
William, was at first nervous and tense, but soon he relaxed, his whole
body seeming to vibrate to the rhythm of the machine. Suddenly he felt
a light bump on the back and he quickly threw his hands up into the
air. The major was rather surprised. Usually pupils during their first
lesson are too excited to remember the instructions they have received.
The major felt a glow of satisfaction, and hoped that William would
respond to all instructions so quickly.
They were about two thousand feet in the air. William felt a thrill
when he heard his instructor’s voice through the telephone. The
major was saying to him, “Okey, William, in a couple of minutes I’m
going to let you fly the machine and you must obey precisely all my
instructions. Put your hand on the joystick and your feet on the
rudder bar.”
He complied. The next instant he felt a bump on his back and quickly he
put his hands above his he had. McCarthy was delighted with the boy’s
quick response. “This boy,” he said to himself, “is a natural born
flyer.”
The major’s voice was coming over the telephone. “Okey, William,” it
said, “you’re going to fly the machine now. Only obey instructions
precisely.”
McCarthy spoke gently and authoritatively. William obeyed. The machine
responded to his slightest touch. William felt a certain power in
handling the machine and it thrilled him. The major said, “Now when I
give the command, ‘Right turn,’ you kick on the right rudder and push
the joystick over to the right. Ready? Now, ‘Right turn.’ Keep the same
altitude.”
The major kept talking most of the time, explaining every movement
and demonstrating his instructions. They practiced banking, climbing,
diving. This was no ordinary pupil, the major thought. He was aware
that the other boys would not respond as well as William, with whom he
progressed much more than with the average pupil. To satisfy himself
for the last time, he permitted William to fly alone for several
minutes, then tapped the boy on the back. Instantly the latter’s hands
flew above his head. The major, deeply satisfied, said, “That was
very good, William. I think you’ve had more than enough for the first
lesson, so we’ll go back now.” Thus saying, he took control of the
machine.
The boys cheered as the plane taxied to a landing. As the instructor
and his pupil climbed out of the machine, the boys came running up.
“How did he do, major?” asked Wallace.
McCarthy smiled, very much pleased with his first pupil. “He did very
well,” he announced.
“Yea!” shouted Bobolink.
“Hooray for William!” shouted Ken and Nuthin’.
When the boys quieted down again, the major put his arm affectionately
on William’s shoulder, and said, “I don’t like to praise a pupil,
because he is apt to become cock-sure of himself. But this time I can’t
help praising him. William is a natural born flyer. I don’t want any
one of you to feel badly if you’re not as good as he is because there
are very few who take to flying spontaneously. I don’t want you to
blame yourselves or feel badly about it. It’s something that none of us
can help. We’re either born that way or not.”
Jack asked, “Did he fly by himself already?”
“He certainly did,” replied the major. “For about fifteen minutes he
flew the machine all by himself.”
The boys cheered, proud of their friend. William was thrilled, but
tried not to show it.
It was Paul’s turn now. Instructor and pupil took their respective
places in the machine. Paul was excited, tense. McCarthy was curious
to know how this boy would compare with William. He repeated the
directions for a second time. The machine was climbing and they
were gaining altitude. Paul was thrilled as he examined the various
gadgets on the dashboard. Suddenly he felt a bump on his back. He
was bewildered. What had happened. He turned around to see McCarthy
chuckling and enjoying the baffled look on his face. The instructor
said, “I told you to raise your hands above your head as soon as I
tap you on the back. Keep alive.” Paul settled back in his seat,
feeling ashamed of himself. Suddenly he again felt a tap on the back.
Immediately he raised his hands above his head. “Very good,” said
McCarthy encouragingly. Paul, too, would be a flyer, but not like
William.
Soon Paul was at the controls and flying the machine in response to
the instructor’s guidance. After the necessary instructions, McCarthy
called out, “Ready? Left turn.”
Paul pushed out his left foot. The machine whipped to the left at a
terrific speed. Suddenly he felt the stick being pushed over to the
left. Then the right rudder bar moved forward, the stick came back
to the right, now they were flying level once again. McCarthy had to
intervene to help him out. He explained the mistake and Paul nodded,
intimating that he understood. He was eager to do it over again, to
show that he could do it. But this time the command was, “Right turn.”
Paul got it all right.
After about thirty-five minutes of instructions, they returned to the
airport. They climbed out of the machine and McCarthy inquired, “Well,
how did you like it?”
“It was fine,” answered Paul grinning, “except that I think I was a
trifle dumb in responding.”
“Oh, no, you weren’t,” McCarthy answered him. “You were all right. For
about ten minutes you were flying all by yourself and I’m very pleased
with you.”
Walking toward the office building, the major commented, “I see now
that I’m going to enjoy teaching you boys. From the way it looks, I
should say that all of you are someday going to be mighty fine flyers.”
“How long before we can go solo?”
“It all depends. About eight or ten lessons is the average.”