Post by Dave Homewood on Jul 18, 2022 23:49:13 GMT 12
From the ASHBURTON GUARDIAN, 8 April 1950:
EXPEDITION TO ANTARCTIC
INTERESTING STORY
WORK ACCOMPLISHED BY AIRCRAFT
(By Squadron Leader G. B. Walford. Commanding the R.A.F. Unit in the Joint Antarctic Expedition).
The problem of supplying air reconnaissance 4000 miles from the world’s nearest base and 2000 miles beyond a stretch of one of the world’s most tempestuous oceans is fundamentally one of preparation and preservation of the aircraft. The amount that one can fly in the far south with light aircraft from a small ship is largely a combination of ingenuity, effort and luck—-the greater part being luck. Half an hour in the air at the critical times and places may save a day’s fruitless sailing.
The R.A.F. Antarctic unit, consisting of two Auster aircraft equipped to use floats, skis, or wheels, two pilots, and three n.c.o. ground crew were to provide reconnaissance to assist in finding a way for the Norsel through the pack ice, in the search for a landing place and base, and in reconnaissance of the area surrounding the base. We were fortunate in being able to help in all three of these tasks, and in so doing to gain some useful technical experience for the R.A.F.
From London to Cape Town the aircraft were carried on the Norsel’s after-deck in crates. In Cape Town we assembled one on the quayside, and rigged it to perch athwartships on the roof of the crate containing the second aircraft which we had also brought to an advanced state of assembly. With undercarriage removed the exposed aircraft could be secured to withstand a moderate dose of bad weather.
First Gale
We sailed from Cape Town on December 28 and two days later ran into our first gale. The after-deck was permanently awash and heavy seas pounded against the end of the crate. It was not long before we discovered that the compression of the water rushing to and fro across the deck was forcing the floor of the crate up and tearing away at the ends. Fortunately the sea was fairly warm and we were able to carry out temporary repairs, half submerged, without great discomfort. But the endurance of a wooden crate weighing six tons with an aircraft on top weighing another 11⁄2 tons was not limitless under the conditions, it was only a matter of time before the whole edifice collapsed.
At this juncture we heard that the Norsel would have to alter course to 40 degrees west, to meet the whale factory ship containing important expedition material and personnel. Our chances of being able to preserve the aircraft intact to the end of this unforeseen prolongation of the voyage were' seriously-threatened. We needed luck and we were given it. After 14 days in the “furious fifties” we emerged with little further damage to meet the whale factory ship on January 14.
In the subsequent voyage the Norsel reached the position around 69 degrees south, 4 degrees east, before ice brought her to a standstill for a week. The leader of the expedition, Captain John Giaever, decided on January 30 to try to break out to the north and to attempt penetration to the south from a position farther west. He asked for air reconnaissance as soon as open water was reached. Previously ice floes had not been large or flat enough to serve as runways.
Report on Pack
During pauses in this breaking-out operation, we managed to juggle the aircraft round into the fore and aft position and to attach the float assembly. Once in open water I was lowered away in the floatplane and took off with quite unexpected facility, to report on the condition of the pack to the west. The Norsel then continued along the pack edge until the next day, when Flight Lieutenant Tudor took off with the captain of the ship for further reconnaissance. He discovered a lead in the pack to the south. This enabled the ship to reach a position 70 deg. south, 13 deg. west, within sight of the barrier, when she was again held up. I took off and flew to Kap Norvegia, reporting Seal Bay and the west icebound but open water off the barrier to the east. The icecliffs were precipitous and high throughout. I returned to the ship tracing a route for her to follow to the open water.
The marvel of the scene that lay below me, on this my first flight over the continent, persuaded me that it would be folly for an untutored pen to attempt to reflect the truth. This immaculate wilderness was unique and unforgettable.
Next forenoon found the Norsel in the open water close to the shelf cliffs and in brilliant sunshine. Flight-Lieutenant Tudor flew off to seek a landing place. He made a thorough scrutiny to the east and reported one or two possibilities. The Norsel forced on towards them and that evening Tudor again took off, this time with the leader as observer. But the latter’s expert eye compelled him to reject any idea of landing in that area.
We withdrew once more to try farther west and south in the direction of Coats’ Land. On Monday, February 6, when the ship had reached a position approximately 72 south, 16 west, the ice conditions towards the barrier, then out of sight, did not look favourable, but air reconnaissance was required to confirm. There was just sufficient water among the varied bits of ice to allow me to take off, and from beneath the 1000 ft cloud base I was soon able to trace the course and nature of the barrier around 72.50 south and to describe the ice conditions that intervened. It was at once clear that neither penetration nor landing would be possible here. More luck than judgment was needed for alighting on the ice strewn water, but all was accomplished without damage. By this time our hopes had risen and fallen as acutely and frequently as the barometer; but as the “R.A.F. summer tourists” only we tried hard to reflect some of the phlegm which encrusted the veterans.
Withdrawing again to the north the Norsel worked her way back east and at 70.57 south, 11.05 west, stood within sight of the barrier once more. There were frequent snow showers, but Flight Lieutenant Tudor was able to make a quick sortie to the barrier, reporting a possible landing place almost at once. Working towards it. the ship reached open water late that afternoon and again the leader was taken up. This time he pronounced it fit as far as he could judge and asked for a second opinion, I thereupon flew off with Mr . Robin, who confirmed the leader’s opinion.
The following two days’ bad weather enabled us to get both aircraft on the shelf ice, complete the assembly of one, and change the other from floats to skis. Thus, when the weather cleared, we had two serviceable ski-planes. During the course of the next few days we flew some 40 hours, sketching and photographing the coast and crevasses and sighting 130 miles away an outcrop of mountain peaks, which after close examination, we judged to be in a position 73 degrees south, 13 degrees west, and the nearest bare rock to the base. In addition every member of the wintering party was taken up to familiarise him with the area.
Most of the time the weather was overcast, restricting visibility and making depth perception difficult; but nowhere in the world had we encountered flying conditions more ideal than in the Antarctic on a cloudless day, when the enchantment made one feel like a trespasser from another world.
Fitted for Task
Our Auster aircraft, designed only for short range spotting work, proved themselves perfectly fitted to the task, and the modifications to the engine and radio to adapt them to the cold gave us complete satisfaction. A somewhat novel feature of our early reconnaissances was the use of a private tape recording machine linked to the radio. Thus on our return from a flight all reports could be “played back” and amplied if necessary by the pilot. The employment of two expedition members as plotters ensured that not only was the exact whereabouts of the aircraft known at all times but a map showing track and observations was produced and handed to the pilot on return., In this manner we were able to secure the fullest and most precise data from all flights.
For floatplane operations we took an average time of 15 minutes to get the aircraft on to the water and away and a similar time to hoist her inboard. We were never troubled with starting difficulties and the aircraft was invariably airborne within 10 minutes of switching on. Ski-plane handling was unexpectedly straightforward and after the congestion and hubbub of a modern airfield it was delightful to enjoy limitless square miles of airfield to oneself.
The Norsel retired finally on February 20; but the Antarctic does not let one off lightly. Fifty kilos of dynamite had to be used to release us from the pack, and new ice and gales awaited us in the open sea. Nevertheless we would not hesitate to vote an Antarctic voyage to be a thoroughly enjoyable and profitable venture.
EXPEDITION TO ANTARCTIC
INTERESTING STORY
WORK ACCOMPLISHED BY AIRCRAFT
(By Squadron Leader G. B. Walford. Commanding the R.A.F. Unit in the Joint Antarctic Expedition).
The problem of supplying air reconnaissance 4000 miles from the world’s nearest base and 2000 miles beyond a stretch of one of the world’s most tempestuous oceans is fundamentally one of preparation and preservation of the aircraft. The amount that one can fly in the far south with light aircraft from a small ship is largely a combination of ingenuity, effort and luck—-the greater part being luck. Half an hour in the air at the critical times and places may save a day’s fruitless sailing.
The R.A.F. Antarctic unit, consisting of two Auster aircraft equipped to use floats, skis, or wheels, two pilots, and three n.c.o. ground crew were to provide reconnaissance to assist in finding a way for the Norsel through the pack ice, in the search for a landing place and base, and in reconnaissance of the area surrounding the base. We were fortunate in being able to help in all three of these tasks, and in so doing to gain some useful technical experience for the R.A.F.
From London to Cape Town the aircraft were carried on the Norsel’s after-deck in crates. In Cape Town we assembled one on the quayside, and rigged it to perch athwartships on the roof of the crate containing the second aircraft which we had also brought to an advanced state of assembly. With undercarriage removed the exposed aircraft could be secured to withstand a moderate dose of bad weather.
First Gale
We sailed from Cape Town on December 28 and two days later ran into our first gale. The after-deck was permanently awash and heavy seas pounded against the end of the crate. It was not long before we discovered that the compression of the water rushing to and fro across the deck was forcing the floor of the crate up and tearing away at the ends. Fortunately the sea was fairly warm and we were able to carry out temporary repairs, half submerged, without great discomfort. But the endurance of a wooden crate weighing six tons with an aircraft on top weighing another 11⁄2 tons was not limitless under the conditions, it was only a matter of time before the whole edifice collapsed.
At this juncture we heard that the Norsel would have to alter course to 40 degrees west, to meet the whale factory ship containing important expedition material and personnel. Our chances of being able to preserve the aircraft intact to the end of this unforeseen prolongation of the voyage were' seriously-threatened. We needed luck and we were given it. After 14 days in the “furious fifties” we emerged with little further damage to meet the whale factory ship on January 14.
In the subsequent voyage the Norsel reached the position around 69 degrees south, 4 degrees east, before ice brought her to a standstill for a week. The leader of the expedition, Captain John Giaever, decided on January 30 to try to break out to the north and to attempt penetration to the south from a position farther west. He asked for air reconnaissance as soon as open water was reached. Previously ice floes had not been large or flat enough to serve as runways.
Report on Pack
During pauses in this breaking-out operation, we managed to juggle the aircraft round into the fore and aft position and to attach the float assembly. Once in open water I was lowered away in the floatplane and took off with quite unexpected facility, to report on the condition of the pack to the west. The Norsel then continued along the pack edge until the next day, when Flight Lieutenant Tudor took off with the captain of the ship for further reconnaissance. He discovered a lead in the pack to the south. This enabled the ship to reach a position 70 deg. south, 13 deg. west, within sight of the barrier, when she was again held up. I took off and flew to Kap Norvegia, reporting Seal Bay and the west icebound but open water off the barrier to the east. The icecliffs were precipitous and high throughout. I returned to the ship tracing a route for her to follow to the open water.
The marvel of the scene that lay below me, on this my first flight over the continent, persuaded me that it would be folly for an untutored pen to attempt to reflect the truth. This immaculate wilderness was unique and unforgettable.
Next forenoon found the Norsel in the open water close to the shelf cliffs and in brilliant sunshine. Flight-Lieutenant Tudor flew off to seek a landing place. He made a thorough scrutiny to the east and reported one or two possibilities. The Norsel forced on towards them and that evening Tudor again took off, this time with the leader as observer. But the latter’s expert eye compelled him to reject any idea of landing in that area.
We withdrew once more to try farther west and south in the direction of Coats’ Land. On Monday, February 6, when the ship had reached a position approximately 72 south, 16 west, the ice conditions towards the barrier, then out of sight, did not look favourable, but air reconnaissance was required to confirm. There was just sufficient water among the varied bits of ice to allow me to take off, and from beneath the 1000 ft cloud base I was soon able to trace the course and nature of the barrier around 72.50 south and to describe the ice conditions that intervened. It was at once clear that neither penetration nor landing would be possible here. More luck than judgment was needed for alighting on the ice strewn water, but all was accomplished without damage. By this time our hopes had risen and fallen as acutely and frequently as the barometer; but as the “R.A.F. summer tourists” only we tried hard to reflect some of the phlegm which encrusted the veterans.
Withdrawing again to the north the Norsel worked her way back east and at 70.57 south, 11.05 west, stood within sight of the barrier once more. There were frequent snow showers, but Flight Lieutenant Tudor was able to make a quick sortie to the barrier, reporting a possible landing place almost at once. Working towards it. the ship reached open water late that afternoon and again the leader was taken up. This time he pronounced it fit as far as he could judge and asked for a second opinion, I thereupon flew off with Mr . Robin, who confirmed the leader’s opinion.
The following two days’ bad weather enabled us to get both aircraft on the shelf ice, complete the assembly of one, and change the other from floats to skis. Thus, when the weather cleared, we had two serviceable ski-planes. During the course of the next few days we flew some 40 hours, sketching and photographing the coast and crevasses and sighting 130 miles away an outcrop of mountain peaks, which after close examination, we judged to be in a position 73 degrees south, 13 degrees west, and the nearest bare rock to the base. In addition every member of the wintering party was taken up to familiarise him with the area.
Most of the time the weather was overcast, restricting visibility and making depth perception difficult; but nowhere in the world had we encountered flying conditions more ideal than in the Antarctic on a cloudless day, when the enchantment made one feel like a trespasser from another world.
Fitted for Task
Our Auster aircraft, designed only for short range spotting work, proved themselves perfectly fitted to the task, and the modifications to the engine and radio to adapt them to the cold gave us complete satisfaction. A somewhat novel feature of our early reconnaissances was the use of a private tape recording machine linked to the radio. Thus on our return from a flight all reports could be “played back” and amplied if necessary by the pilot. The employment of two expedition members as plotters ensured that not only was the exact whereabouts of the aircraft known at all times but a map showing track and observations was produced and handed to the pilot on return., In this manner we were able to secure the fullest and most precise data from all flights.
For floatplane operations we took an average time of 15 minutes to get the aircraft on to the water and away and a similar time to hoist her inboard. We were never troubled with starting difficulties and the aircraft was invariably airborne within 10 minutes of switching on. Ski-plane handling was unexpectedly straightforward and after the congestion and hubbub of a modern airfield it was delightful to enjoy limitless square miles of airfield to oneself.
The Norsel retired finally on February 20; but the Antarctic does not let one off lightly. Fifty kilos of dynamite had to be used to release us from the pack, and new ice and gales awaited us in the open sea. Nevertheless we would not hesitate to vote an Antarctic voyage to be a thoroughly enjoyable and profitable venture.
