Into Unknown Skies by David K. Randall

Author:David K. Randall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2024-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Tiger Country

NO MATTER WHERE in the world the pilots landed, the sight of the American airplanes caused a sensation. In large cities, thousands of people crammed onto the shore to watch the squadron take off or land; in smaller places, like here in Haiphong, the presence of the world fliers clogged the river with boats of all kinds and sizes, each person aboard wanting to get a peek at what the future would bring.

Smith was by now used to the attention, though he never warmed to it. He started his engine and signaled for the men behind him to follow. In a few minutes, he hoped he would be in the sky, where he felt most at home. Until then, he tried to keep a lane in the river clear of obstacles, allowing the planes in the squadron to gather enough speed to take off.

The calm water did them no favors. There were not even ripples on the current that could help the pontoons break free. An hour passed without a successful takeoff, then two, then three. Losing his patience, Smith led the men ten miles down to the mouth of the Gulf of Tonkin, where there appeared to be enough wrinkles on the water to enable the planes to lift. After a few more attempts, he took to the air first, followed by Nelson. Wade, however, could not get free, no matter how hard he pushed his engine. He went back up the river, giving himself ample space for what he planned. Once he was ready, he zoomed along the water at a speed of fifty-five miles per hour, dodging and swerving between sampans with just feet to spare. After twelve miles of this, he succeeded in breaking the vacuum under his pontoon and felt himself lifting into the air. He climbed until he was even with Smith and Nelson, who had been circling above, and the squadron turned in the direction of Saigon.

The planes flew over the dark green earth, its contours swallowed by the jungle. Occasionally, the wilderness would recede and reveal flooded rice fields, tended to by farmers trailing water buffalo bound by wooden yokes. Soon, even those gaps in the dense landscape became rare, part of what appeared to be a never-ending canopy hiding the ground below.

After Smith had flown for more than one hundred and fifty miles, the plane’s engine began to overheat. He landed the Chicago in a small lagoon called Kuavictorpalms. Arnold filled the radiator with salt water, and they were soon airborne again. The problem, however, was not solved. Within minutes, a stream of warm water spurted into both men’s faces from somewhere in the machine. The jungle below was too dense for them to land and the sea was too heavy. They flew on for another twenty minutes, looking for a place to set down. The motor began knocking, and the thin layer of cotton covering the fuselage turned burning hot to the touch. Smith, in the cockpit, feared that the plane would catch fire at any moment.

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