The tests were to be made starting with a light load and increasing the weight carried by about fifty gallons of fuel for each test up to three hundred gallons, which was to be the maximum load tested. The plane passed its tests easily and took off with three hundred gallons in twenty seconds or 1,026 feet, and made a maximum speed of 124 miles per hour. The tests were made in a quartering wind varying from two to nine miles per hour and at an elevation of about six hundred feet above sea level.
The final flight ended at dusk and the plane was left under guard on the field over night. The next morning, after most of the gasoline had been drained, I flew it back to Dutch Flats where final preparations were made for the flight to St. Louis.
I was delayed four days at San Diego by a general storm area over the United States that would greatly jeopardize the success of an overnight nonstop flight to St. Louis. From this flight I expected to obtain some very important data for use on the final hop from New York.
On the afternoon of May 9th, Dean Blake, Chief of the San Diego Weather Bureau, predicted favorable flying conditions for the succeeding day. The next morning I took the plane to Rockwell Field and at 3:55 p.m. Pacific time, I took off from North Island with 250 gallons of gasoline for the flight to St. Louis, escorted by two Army observation planes and one of the Ryan monoplanes. We circled North Island and San Diego, then headed on a compass course for St. Louis.
The ship passed over the first ridge of mountains, about 4,000 feet, very easily with reduced throttle. The escorting planes turned back at the mountains and I passed on over the desert and the Salton Sea alone. And at sunset I was over the deserts and mountains of Western Arizona.
The moon was well above the horizon and with the exception of a short period before dawn I was able to distinguish the contour of the country the entire night. I flew a compass course, passing alternately over snow-capped ridges, deserts, and fertile valleys. One of the mountain ranges was over 12,000 feet high and completely snow covered. I cleared this range by about 500 feet and went on over the plains beyond.
The mountains passed quickly and long before daybreak I was flying over the prairies of Western Kansas. At dawn I located my position about twenty miles south of the course, just east of Wichita, Kansas. At 8:00 a.m. Central Standard time, I passed over Lambert Field and landed at 8:20 a.m., May 11th, fourteen hours and twenty-five minutes after leaving the Pacific Coast.
The weather during the entire distance had been exactly as Dean Blake had predicted.
At 8:13 the next morning (May 12th) I took off from Lambert Field for New York. The wind was west and the weather clear for the greater part of the distance. Over the Alleghenies, however, the sky was overcast and some of the mountain tops were in low hanging clouds and I followed the passes.
At 5:33 p.m. New York Daylight Saving time, I landed at Curtiss Field, Long Island.
X
New York to Paris
At New York we checked over the plane, engine and instruments, which required several short flights over the field.
When the plane was completely inspected and ready for the transatlantic flight, there were dense fogs reported along the coast and over Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, in addition to a storm area over the North Atlantic.
On the morning of May 19th, a light rain was falling and the sky was overcast. Weather reports from land stations and ships along the great circle course were unfavorable and there was apparently no prospect of taking off for Paris for several days at least. In the morning I visited the Wright plant at Paterson, New Jersey, and had planned to attend a theatre performance in New York that evening. But at about six o’clock I received a special report from the New York Weather Bureau. A high pressure area was over the entire North Atlantic and the low pressure over Nova Scotia and Newfoundland was receding. It was apparent that the prospects of the fog clearing up were as good as I might expect for some time to come. The North Atlantic should be clear with only local storms on the coast of Europe. The moon had just passed full and the percentage of days with fog over Newfoundland and the Grand Banks was increasing so that there seemed to be no advantage in waiting longer.
We went to Curtiss Field as quickly as possible and made arrangements for the barograph to be sealed and installed, and for the plane to be serviced and checked.
We decided partially to fill the fuel tanks in the hangar before towing the ship on a truck to Roosevelt Field, which adjoins Curtiss on the east, where the servicing would be completed.
I left the responsibility for conditioning the plane in the hands of the men on the field while I went into the hotel for about two and one-half hours of rest; but at the hotel there were several more details which had to be completed and I was unable to get any sleep that night.
I returned to the field before daybreak on the morning of the twentieth. A light rain was falling which continued until almost dawn; consequently we did not move the ship to Roosevelt Field until much later than we had planned, and the takeoff was delayed from daybreak until nearly eight o’clock.
At dawn the shower had passed,
