So Kiwi followed as the plane was wheeled out onto a cement circular platform on the ground away from the buildings. Marked on this circular platform were the north, south, east and west points. Pointing the plane due north, the bits of iron were placed in position in the compass to counteract the attraction of the motor and other metal parts. These bits of metal were about the size of the lead in a pencil, and were of various lengths. After they had been inserted in holes provided in the base of the compass, they were secured in place.
As soon as the needle pointed to the north as it should, the plane was wheeled around till it pointed east and the process was repeated until the compass had been corrected for each direction.
However, they knew that many times a pen-knife or some such similar object in the pockets of a pilot would serve to throw the compass off its proper direction.
Knowing the particularly delicate nature of compasses, the Skipper was very cautious about putting too much trust in them, and insisted that their compass be carefully checked.
They also had an earth inductor compass, which was more reliable, but which had to be adjusted by an expert from the factory.
The ride home from the field in the cool of the evening was usually taken up with long discussions about balanced rudders and whether they did not need more surface on the elevators.
Later on, even the evenings, which Kiwi always looked forward to, were taken up with test flights. They tried out their navigation lights and landing by flares.
Many evenings Kiwi would go sound asleep in the back of the car until the voice of Jack awoke him suggesting that they rush home for their swim and supper.
During all this time, coax as he would, Kiwi had not been taken on his promised ride. Dad had always answered in that same hateful formula, “We’ll see.” Why were grownups so fond of those two words? He promised himself never to use that expression when he was grown up.