Braxton Taylor
If it wasn’t the broken engine parts, it was a crocodile-infested lagoon. If it wasn’t the bone-chillingly cold rain, treacherous winds or dense fog, it was the oppressive heat that burned their exposed knees in an open cockpit. And if it wasn’t a forced landing in the ocean, it was running smack-dab into the side of a mountain.
To say the least, the eight Army Air Force aviators who departed Seattle on April 6, 1924, did not face an easy assignment. They were attempting to become the first aviators to fly successfully around the world — an audacious, ambitious endeavor that ultimately covered 26,345 miles, lasted six months and was fraught with challenges and peril.
While all of the service members aboard survived, two of the four Douglas World Cruiser biplanes named for U.S. cities — the Seattle and the Boston — were lost during the unique mission. The two that endured, the Chicago and New Orleans, were greeted by an enthusiastic crowd of about 50,000 after they touched down in Seattle on Sept. 28, 1924.
The trip lasted a grueling 175 days.
“I think many, many thoughts as I look over these wings,” the New Orleans’ pilot, Lt. Erik Nelson, said after the history-making flight.
Beyond the War Department having to commission the construction of aircraft specifically for this flight, other logistics had to be worked out before a departure date could even be considered. Because the aviators could touch down on land or water, the World Cruisers — actually modified DT-2 bombers that the Navy used during the early 1920s — were fitted to handle both wheels and pontoons. Navy and Coast Guard ships were assigned to specific spots along the route in case their assistance was needed, and replacement engines, gas reserves and other supplies were dispersed at locations where the flyers, two in each plane, were expected to land.
Shortly after they took off from Sand Point Naval Air Station in Washington state, the aviators encountered problems. The Seattle, with flight commander Maj. Frederick Martin and Staff Sgt. Alva Harvey aboard, was damaged while landing during the flight’s first leg and was forced to touch down another time after its engine oil tank was punctured. The biplane did not even make it a month into the journey when it struck a snow-covered mountain on April 30 in Alaska, leaving Martin and Harvey to survive for 10 days in the elements before being rescued.
With the Seattle down and out, the other World Cruisers trudged on through the Aleutian Islands and across the Pacific Ocean. When the aviators arrived in Japan in late May, they were greeted with a welcome normally reserved for conquering war heroes.
“As we approached the pier at the Japanese Naval Air Base, the people waved thousands of American and Japanese flags and shouted, ‘Banzai!'” Lt. Leslie Arnold, part of the Chicago’s crew, said in Carroll Glines’ book, “Around the World in 175 Days: the First Round-the-World Flight.” “There were photographers to the front of us, photographers to the left of us, photographers to the right of us, on platforms, on poles and even on the roofs. There were newspaper correspondents from all parts of the world — French scribes with beards, Englishmen with monocles and Americans with straw hats and horn-rimmed glasses.”
The Japanese’s exuberance at seeing the American service members and their planes was not uncommon; people in some countries in which the Douglas World Cruisers stopped had never seen aircraft of any kind. As they made their way to China, India and then on to Europe, the response was similarly enthusiastic, sometimes to the point where the aviators were concerned that overly curious onlookers would damage the planes.
The flyers were in Paris for Bastille Day on July 14, then met Gen. John Pershing, commander of the American Expeditionary Force during World War I, the following day. While in France, Lt. Lowell Smith, the Chicago’s pilot who set an endurance flight record in 1923, was recovering from a broken rib sustained in a fall, and he also was battling dysentery.
“Smith is a sick man,” the Seattle Post-Intelligencer said of the aviator who took over from Martin as flight commander. “Any doctor examining him now would forbid him to fly for weeks, but he refuses to see a doctor.”
With such a tight and unrelenting flight schedule, though, dropping out was not an option. Between flying, having to fix repairs themselves and myriad meet-and-greet obligations along the route, the aviators constantly battled fatigue. Staff Sgt. Hank Ogden, the flight mechanic on the Boston, recalled “trudging through marshes, torrential rains, pushing to get to the next place where they could refuel, and replenishing broken parts on the planes in sweltering heat,” according to his daughter.
Despite his efforts, Ogden, along with the Boston’s pilot, Lt. Leigh Wade, never received the ultimate payoff. Leaking oil, their biplane was forced to touch down in the North Atlantic while en route to Iceland and sank in early August. A replacement Douglas World Cruiser, the Boston II, joined the Chicago and New Orleans in early September for what basically amounted to a victory lap across North America.
President Calvin Coolidge greeted the world flyers in Washington, D.C., on Sept. 9, and they met again with Gen. Pershing two days later. From the nation’s capital, they took a circuitous route back to Seattle, landing in, among other places, Dayton, Ohio; Chicago; Omaha, Nebraska; Dallas; and Tucson, Arizona. They made several stops in California, including in Santa Monica, where the Douglas World Cruisers were built.
Less than a week later, they were back at Sand Point. The Chicago’s wheels touched down first, followed by the Boston II and finally the New Orleans. With the large crowd held at bay, Martin, the Seattle’s pilot, climbed onto a lower wing of the Chicago and warmly shook Smith’s hands.
“No words were spoken,” the Seattle Times reported. “There was nothing to be said.”
Beginning with Great Britain in 1922, other nations, including France, Italy and Argentina, had sent pilots into the skies in a bid to become the first to circumnavigate the globe by air. They all were unsuccessful until the Army Air Service aviators came along, fulfilling what their military leaders thought from the start: “America is the birthplace of powered flight, and America is the place to do this. It’s our destiny.”
Destiny or not, the American military had done it, and aviation would never be the same again.
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