As the plane started to turn over on its back, Bill debated as to
whether or not he should unfasten his safety belt. The somersault of
the plane had come so suddenly that he did not have time to do much
debating and had left it fastened. When the plane came to rest, he was
glad that he had.
Both Bill and Breene were suspended head downwards from their
cockpits. While they hung there the loose articles in the plane
showered all around them, falling to the ground. Bill then looked
carefully around and saw that they were some six or seven feet above
the ground. It was too great a distance to fall on one’s head, and
therefore great care had to be exercised in loosening the belts.
“Be careful when you loosen your belt,” said Bill. “You will hurt
yourself if you fall that distance on your head.”
“But, Lieutenant,” replied Breene, “I can’t hang here forever. The
blood is rushing to my head. I am not a blooming monkey.”
“Let your conscience be your guide,” said Bill. “I am going to try to
get down feet first.”
“Just how does one get his feet past his body from a position like
this?” asked Breene.
“That’s what I am trying to figure out,” replied Bill.
With the plane upside down, there was nothing for the hands to grasp
to support the weight of the body. The cockpit was so small that Bill
could not force his head and shoulders alongside his waist. Then
again, gravity working against his every move, made it more difficult.
Finally Bill hooked his feet under the rudder bar and opened his belt.
The force of his weight falling that short distance pulled his feet
from the bar and he found himself doing just what he had tried to
prevent—falling head first.
“Be sure and go down feet first, Lieutenant,” he heard Breene say as
he dropped.
Bill stretched out his hands and landed on them. The force of the fall
was taken up on his arms and shoulders. He was out of the plane O. K.
Breene watched Bill fall and then opened his belt. As he dropped he
doubled up like a ball. He hit on his shoulders and rolled over on his
back. Both were out without any physical injuries.
“Lieutenant, I have been flying with you for some time,” said Breene,
“and I must say that you have picked out better landing fields than
this one.”
“Depends upon the way that you look at it,” replied Bill. “Compared
with the rest of the country hereabouts, I think that this is probably
the best landing field in the vicinity. In fact I am glad to have had
the opportunity of trying it out.”
“Which way do we hike?” asked Breene.
“All I know is that it is a long way to civilization,” replied Bill.
“We will take our canteens, emergency rations, pistols and the
airplane compass. With the compass and the map, we ought to be able to
hit the Umpqua River. We can follow it down until we reach some sort
of habitation.”
“How are we going to get the compass?” asked Breene. “Everything but
the compass seems to be here on the ground waiting to be picked up.”
The compass was just beyond their reach, even though they stretched to
their utmost. Finally Bill stood on Breen’s back while the sergeant
was on his hands and knees and was able to get his hands around the
compass. He yanked, twisted and pulled, but the instrument board was
stoutly built and the compass could not be budged. All this time Bill
was moving around on Breene’s back with the heels of his shoes digging
into Breene. Breene stood it as long as he could and then squirmed.
Bill lost his balance but clung to the compass. When the confusion was
over Bill was sitting on the ground with half the instrument board in
his hands. They had secured the compass.
“No matter which way we go, we are going to have some rough
traveling,” said Bill, as they stood by the plane. “We can follow the
creek off to the east and hit the river, or we can head to the west
and hit another creek and follow it to the river. The latter route is
shorter, but I doubt if we find any trails either way.”
“You are the boss,” said Breene. “You select the route and it will be
all right with me.”
“We are on our way,” said Bill, and headed out through the underbrush
to the west.
Each had his canteen, emergency rations and pistol. Breene carried the
compass and Bill had a map mounted on a board.
“By the way,” said Bill before they had gone far enough to lose sight
of the plane, “did you send in any radios?”
“Sure I did,” replied Breene. “I sent in one when the engine first
started to cut out. I sent one every few minutes afterward. The last
one I sent said that we were about to land in the timber.”
“Did you give them any location at all?”
“I told them that we were over a lake when the engine started missing.
Then I told them that we had turned around. They were the only
locations that I knew anything about. I never saw this country before,
Lieutenant.”
“Perhaps they will be able to figure about where we went down, and
perhaps they won’t,” said Bill as he started ahead again.
The traveling was rough, for the woods were practically devoid of
trails. Once in a while they would come across a game trail, but these
animal paths seldom led in the direction which the two marooned
aviators wished to go. The high hills and mountain sides prevented
them from selecting a compass course and sticking to it. They were
continually turning and veering around to miss obstacles.
Bill figured that they should reach a stream running to the north
about five miles from their plane. It was about eleven o’clock when
they started walking and they had not reached the stream by one. The
five miles shown on the map as the distance to the creek was in a
direct line, but just how many miles Bill and his mechanic had walked,
neither one had any idea. However, the stream had not been reached.
Finally they arrived on the top of a ridge and sat down to rest. They
could see that the ridge pointed east and west. Accordingly the
streams in the vicinity must run the same direction. Where was that
stream toward which Bill had been heading?
He studied his map as they sat there and was convinced that the plane
had landed several miles farther north than he thought. Actually it
made no difference, for all of the streams in the district flowed into
the Umpqua. After a short rest they started down the end of the ridge
and came to a stream. No matter what happened now, they were assured
of water.
The going was harder along the stream bank than through the timber.
Streams have a habit of picking out the most impossible places to cut
through hillsides, wash away soft ground and form ravines or deposit
large stones and boulders. If the airmen were not floundering around
in mud, they were slipping over rocks or climbing up steep banks. All
of these obstacles were in addition to those normally found in a
forest, such as tangled vines under foot, thick underbrush, numerous
tree trunks and a myriad of ferns. It was a case of forging ahead as
best they could.
Both of the airmen still wore their helmets and summer flying suits.
The helmets protected their heads from the sharp points on the
branches, and the flying suits protected their uniforms. Bill tried to
follow their route down the stream on his map, but had to give up.
There were too many small streams in that country which were not
indicated on the map. About sundown they stopped for a longer rest
period.
“When do we eat?” asked Breene.
“Right now if you want to,” replied Bill.
“What will I eat?” asked Breene.
“You have an emergency ration, eat some of that.”
“I am not that hungry,” said Breene. “I tried one of those some time
ago and it tasted like sawdust mixed with sausage finely ground and
then baked. I’ll save mine until tomorrow.”
“It probably won’t do either one of us any harm to go without eating
tonight,” replied Bill. “We still have a long distance ahead of us
before we get to civilization. I think that we may as well stay right
here and shove on tomorrow.”
“How far do you figure that we are from the railroad?” asked Breene.
“About fifty miles air line,” replied Bill.
“I think that you are right, Lieutenant. We can’t get there tonight.”
“I have never tried sleeping on pine needles,” said Bill. “As I did
not bring any mattress or blankets along, I think that this will be a
good time to see how soft a bed pine needles make. My feet are sore
after that walk. I am going to soak them in the river.”
They took off their shoes and soaked their swollen feet in the water.
The rough ground had left its mark of blisters and rubbed spots on
their feet. Neither one was wearing shoes fitted for hiking through
the mountains and neither one could have walked much farther that day.
Bill picked out a place in the woods where the rocks stood out above
the ground and built a fire. He had just gotten it well started when
he heard a shot back in the woods.
“Did you shoot, Breene?” he called.
“Just getting my supper,” replied Breene, who appeared a few seconds
later with a mountain grouse.
“That looks much better to me than the emergency ration,” said Breene,
as he held the grouse up for Bill’s inspection.
They cleaned and plucked the bird, and then Bill was about to put it
on a pointed stick to toast when Breene interrupted him.
“Wait a moment, Lieutenant,” said Breene. “We must have salt on our
meat.”
“Where are we going to get it?” asked Bill.
“Right here,” replied Breene as he fished in his pocket.
“How come the salt in your pocket?” asked Bill.
“I have never forgotten the time that you and I were lost in Mexico
without any salt,” explained Breene. “No offense to you, but I always
carry it now when we go out together.”
“I am glad that you did this time,” said Bill.
“Slide this stick through the bird,” said Breene. “Now we can hold it
over the fire and rotate it so that the bird will cook on all sides
and not burn.”
They sat in silence while the bird sizzled and cooked over the fire.
Occasionally Breene would take a sharp stick and test the meat to see
if it was sufficiently cooked. Finally it met his requirements and he
removed it from over the fire.
“I hope that we do not run out of the grouse country until we reach
the railroad,” said Bill as he ate the meat off half the breast.
“I don’t find this hard to take at all,” remarked Breene. “It gets
dark quickly down in the valley, doesn’t it? A few minutes ago I could
see the sun shining on that peak across the way, and now it is almost
dark. I am going to dig a hole in these pine needles, get a drink from
the river and turn in.”
“That walk tired me out, too,” said Bill. “I am going to do the same.
I think that we had better keep the fire burning, for I don’t want any
more bears using my camp as a thoroughfare like they did the last time
I was up here in these woods.”
“Are there bears here?” asked Breene.
“Lieutenant Finch and I only saw about three,” replied Bill.
“I don’t think that I will go to bed,” said Breene.
“They won’t hurt you if you do not hurt them,” said Bill.
“You may know that, I may know it, but do the bears know it?” asked
Breene. “No, sir, I am going to sit right here by the fire all night.”
“Suit yourself,” said Bill, and curled up in the pine needles.