First World War Centennial

XVI

UP IN A BIPLANE

MY first flight in an airplane came quite by accident, as so many good things in life seem to have a way of doing. I had long been seeking such an opportunity, and once or twice it had been offered me; but the exigencies of work and other engage­ments had always prevented. Now this ap­parent accident carries with it some, to me, very interesting facts.

The Italian officer is the most courtly mili­tary man in Europe, and the most kindly. Nobody so punctilious in etiquette as he; no­body so careful of his appearance, his ways and his manners.

If he enters a railway carriage, a restaurant, or any public place, he stands by the door and salutes all the occupants. If a high officer enters a public room where a number of other officers are sitting they all arise and stand at attention. If someone enters with a woman, every man arises, no matter whether he is in the midst of soup or dessert, and stands until the woman is seated. It requires a great deal of watchfulness and agility on the part of a stranger to keep up with these forms, although it all seems easy and second nature to the courteous Italians.

Furthermore, these southern men of Europe have a genius for administration and for get­ting things smoothly done. The rest of official Europe is bound hand and foot with red tape; but if red tape gets in the way of Italian officers, so much the worse for the red tape.

I found this out on this wise: I was tired from a long journey and feeling a bit ill. I decided, therefore, to drop off at a wayside city and rest; besides, I had heard it was a beautiful and interesting city and possessed certain munition and airplane factories and airdromes. I drove to the hotel in the middle of the afternoon and went to bed, telling the porter meantime to call up the office of the air commandant and make an appointment for me next day.

Refreshed by an afternoon and night of rest, I went next morning to see the com­mandant. He was very sorry, but I must have authorization from Rome or from the com­mando supreme, the headquarters of the army, before I could enter the factories or the air sheds. I had expected it to be so, and not greatly disappointed, thought swiftly of visiting the museum of the town, like tourists in happier days. So I gathered up my creden­tials, assured the commandant that I appre­ciated his courtesy, and was about to back out of the office, doing plenty of bowing on the way.

"Stop," said the interpreter, for we talked through a medium. "The colonel says that regulations are positive and that he must have a permission from the headquarters before ad­mitting visitors; but as you are on your way to the commando supreme, if you will promise him to apply for a permission when you get there he will let you go into the factories and 'dromes right now!"

I call that a masterly way to handle red tape. I readily gave the promise and later executed it, too, to the letter.

Then was summoned a young lieutenant who spoke English, then a motor car, and then followed the round of the factories and air sheds, where I saw the newest types of Italian cars, some of which have not even been heralded yet, met the men whose names have become famous through their engines; certain great fliers, whose achievements the press has since been trumpeting; and examined planes which have established records of late. I was going on to another city that afternoon and as the young officer put me down at my hotel he said:

"You will find someone to meet you there."

I thought no more about the remark and ambled out of the station at the second city, looking for a taxi, but suddenly, just out of the door, a young, black mustached Apollo came close up to me and saluted as if I were a field marshal.

Then he welcomed me, conducted me to a military car, waiting, bowed me in and drove me to the best hotel. I was sort of dazed and felt as if I were obtaining money under false pretenses, or taking candy from chil­dren; I was overwhelmed by my own im­portance; nobody in Europe had ever con­sidered me so important before; and I was bowed down by the responsibility of living up to my own new significance.

Then followed twenty-eight or thirty hours of most delightful companionship with some of the ablest men of Italy, visits to more fac­tories, the examination of more engines, planes and plans, the meeting and the memorable dinner with Signor Caproni and his friends and, to cap all, the flight in the biplane in the golden afternoon. We shall all of us soon know that airplaning ordinarily is just as safe as taxicabing.

I suppose others have written of their sen­sations during their first flight, but I do not remember having read anything of this sort. Perhaps it may not interest others to read of mine, but it would have interested me to read of someone else's before my own experi­ence, so I take the chance.

It was quite warm that afternoon, and, as I stood by the big Caproni, with overalls above all my clothing, fur coat on top of that, a knitted hood over head, ears, neck, and a tough, thick, heavy helmet over that, the perspiration began to soak through all these thicknesses.

Then my kind friends remembered, after getting out the machine, tuning her up, and swathing me in many piles of wool and fur, that they must get a permission for me to fly, so they went off to the telephone to unwind the necessary red tape. I had no uneasiness, however, as I already knew the fine Italian hand's ability to unwind red tape; and I felt sure that Engineer Caproni, standing smiling and bareheaded near at hand, would manage somehow, in emergency.

My Turkish bath was going merrily forward when at last word was given me to climb in. It is some distance up to the nose of a big biplane; and the costume is not conducive to agility; but I managed. Then I found I could not get my legs into the small space in front of the seat in the bows of the boat which they pointed out to me; and, if I tried to sit on the low back of the seat, the strap would not go around me to buckle me in.

I began to despair; and because of the roar of the three big engines, two hundred horse­power each, I could not make known my em­barrassments, except by signs. The pilot, however, seemed to understand. He was a tough, weather-beaten birdman, with assurance in his eye and the usual beak nose. I had sized him up long ago; and he had my com­plete confidence. He motioned to me to climb over him, and to stand in the middle of the plane between two tanks. I did so, and found it an elevated, airy and altogether satisfactory-position. There I stood throughout the flight.

The birdman opened and closed his throttle and his spark with a resulting crescendo and diminuendo, but never a pianissimo; then he glanced around, grasped my hand, now en­cased in his own gloves that he had taken off and loaned me, pointed to the propellers and cautioned me against trying to stop them with my fingers. Even a cap flying off can smash a propeller and bring a plane crashing to earth.

Then he settled himself in his seat, twisted his trunk and shoulders as if trying his own freedom of movement and hooked up some­thing with his foot or his "joystick" that started us lightly bumping over the grass.

If anybody expects to be seasick in an air­plane he has another expectation coming. This first little spin over the grass is the only thing approaching the motion of a boat that he will experience. Indeed, even this is more like the motion of a rarefied and denatured motor car than that of a boat. We airily footed it clear across the field and turned around to get the light wind in our faces; then we headed for the airshed, gradually increased our speed as if bent on bumping into the sheds and half way across began to rise.

I was watching intently for the moment of leaving the ground, so as to analyze the sensation, but there was no sensation to an­alyze. The light fantastic touch upon the bumpy greensward just seemed to die away, that's all. In two seconds the airshed was passed by, then the telephone poles and wires, then the trees, then houses.

There was no sensation of giddy height. I am not cool and keen about sitting in fifth-story windows or looking down from church steeples. I would be a dismal failure as a chimney sweep or steeple jack, or even a line­man; for my head turns at any considerable height; but, on my word, there was nothing of this dread of high position in this experi­ence, though we flew to about six thousand feet. I had been assured beforehand that this was true and was not disappointed.

My "innards" did rise once, however, and that was when the pilot "banked" all of a sudden, that is leaned way to one side, brought his plane heeling over to leeward, like a sail­boat in a sudden squall, and made me feel as if I were standing, like a fly, on a vertical wall. I had supposed we would sail straight away for our objective, and had forgotten that he would probably circle and climb, like a wild duck arising from a lake. The next time he "banked" I was "laying" for him and the sensation was nothing but enjoyable. After all, courage, as someone has said, is only the ability to do over again what you have done before.

At last the pilot turned to me, pointed to one of his innumerable gauges, and held up his fingers, a certain number of them, and tried to make me understand our height. I nodded and grinned through my goggles as if I thoroughly understood. Anything to make him turn around, get his hands on those con­trols again and attend to his business.

I'd run my end of the boat all right if he'd run his, no matter what the height. Then, as if satisfied, he turned back and set her nose for the distant point to which we were to sail. The city came sweeping and streaming under our feet. I had been told to watch out for the cathedral,—one of the biggest and grandest in Europe—but I forgot it for a while; then when I sought for it all squares looked alike to me.

I wondered if some day, from a great height, we may look down and see factories indis­tinguishable from cathedrals, hovels and palaces.

I was cold enough now, and the perspiration had turned to ammonia or something equally volatile and shivery. The roar of the three engines, one on each side and one behind me, was like the roar of Niagara underneath the falls; and besides that, my ears were bubbling from the altitude. I was deaf for ten minutes when we came down, and half afraid I should never hear again.

The pilot was not; for he conversed with others, I knew, in even tones. I could see his lips move. A thousand feet or so on a railway or a funicular always gives me the bubbles. When I spoke of it afterwards, the lieutenant, who went up with us, only laughed and said it was the noise of the engines, but I knew better.

The rush through the air was the only in­dication of high speed. Standing as I was, I had to brace myself, and felt all the time as if some powerful hand was trying to push me down by tilting my head back. The helmet, I was sure, was two or three stories too high; and I was momentarily afraid it would fly off and play hob with the propellers; though I knew it was strapped under my chin with a good strong strap. Excellent exercise this for the muscles of the neck.

The fields looked like little green squares, as I expected; and the roads like bits of white channels all tangled up. Where a straight piece of roadway ran, it was only a bit of braid, a sixteenth of an inch wide. Then sud­denly one roadway looked wider, for there was a rat running along in it.

My, how that rat did get up and hump himself I He passed all other vermin and in­sects on the road, and he ran with wonderful smoothness and rapidity, parallel with our course. I knew he was going some, because we were going some, and he seemed almost to keep up with us.

Then I reasoned that he was, of course, a motor car, and I actually laughed out loud, though I didn't even hear myself. There are some places in which your nerves are strung up and you are ready to laugh at anything or nothing. It's that way in school, in church, or in an airplane.

"Here, you, pilot, keep your hands on those joy sticks, and your feet on the soft pedal!" I had confidence in the captain, yes, but not too much confidence. I didn't want him to neglect his business and lean over the side looking around too much. "Here, boy, quit monkeying with those levers. She's doing very well. If you go to changing things she may balk on us and make us come down before our journey is over. She's doing tip top, I say; let well enough alone."

One can't help thinking impertinent things the first time one is up; one's mind is too everlastingly active.

Then we pierced into clouds. They rolled all around us like mist, like fog; and soon we emerged into the blue above them. The sky seemed smaller and closer than I had ever seen it before. Above the clouds on a moun­tain gives no such feeling; for there is the mountain to go by.

Here there is no basis of comparison; and the ring of the horizon seems very constricted, the blue canopy above, very close to one's head. I could think of no adequate reason for this, and decided at last that the impression was wholly psychological, imaginative. The lieu­tenant, however, told me afterwards that he always had the same feeling above the clouds, and he was sure it was not merely psy­chological.

By and by the pilot turned around and made signs that it was a very misty day, and that the landscape was shut out. I didn't mind, if he didn't; I was very well pleased with the skyscrape.

Then he did the first impolite thing I ever saw an Italian officer do. I suppose, after all, he tried to prepare me for it. He shut off those three engines and dived. I was sure he was trying to throw me out of the concern head foremost.

We pitched nose down, like a ship from the top of a high comber, when she buries bow­sprit and forecastle in the brine. It was like Uncle Ezra's first drop in a high speed ele­vator; it was like the roller coaster, when you leave your dining apparatus at the top of the incline; it was like the times when Uncle Bill used to "run under" you in the swing when you were six years old and impressionable. I was sure that the macaroni of that day's luncheon was left hanging on the clouds; for we soon shot out of them, and the green earth came rushing up to meet us. The silence was oppressive.

"Here, captain. For heaven's sake turn on those engines. They may never work again. Do try them, captain, there's a good fellow!"

He did try them, and they ripped off three yards of cloth in no time; then he shut them off again. Then he ripped off nine yards of calico, and silence again. We circled and settled leisurely, calmly, floatingly. Other planes were in our path, beside us, above us, I counted thirteen in two minutes.

"Can you see 'em, old fellow? Don't let's bump into them. I'd hate to kill any of these nice Italian aviators."

We sailed over a field where a family was loading a hay wagon. We were so close above them that I could see "pa's" eyes and "ma's" teeth and "Sal's" bare feet, as they looked up and waved their hands. I thought we were going to take the top off that load of hay and lodge our wheels in the hedge just beyond, but we cleared both.

Then we tilted our nose slightly up, and I could not record the moment when we touched earth. Now we polkaed up to the airshed, to which we were bringing a new machine.