Bill Bruce on Forest Patrol

by Henry Harley Arnold

“That is not entirely necessary,” said Bill. “The lights here on the airdrome will be sufficient to land by. However, I guess that we better have them. In case of a forced landing we might need the flares.”

“You are scheduled to go up next,” said Captain Smith to Bill. “Will your plane be ready?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Bill.

“All right then, you will have the last flight, for it will be too late for any more when you get down.”

Bill secured his flying equipment from the office and returned to his plane. Breene had finished his part of the work and the other mechanics had completed theirs. One of the men was climbing out of the pilot’s cockpit when Bill started to get in.

The engine was warmed up and the lights tested. Everything was working in A-1 condition. Breene climbed in the observer’s cockpit and the plane was ready to start. Bill taxied down to the far end of the field and turned the plane around. The beam from the field lighting set illuminated the ridge beyond the buildings so that the minutest details could be seen. Bill opened his throttle and took off.

The plane rolled a few yards and then was in the air. It climbed steadily and crossed the ridge with lots of room to spare. Bill turned back over the bay to get more altitude. The view which he saw was like a touch of fairyland. Directly beneath him lay San Francisco. The streets were outlined with their lights and could almost be recognized by name. The trolleys could be seen traveling through the city.

Here and there ferryboats threw their lights across the waters of the bay. The lighthouse on Alcatraz Island sent out its rotating beam, which illuminated the shore line all around that portion of the bay. The outline of the water was marked by the lights of the various cities and small villages located along its shore.

On the far side of the bay Bill could see several railroad trains coming into or leaving the station at Oakland. Beyond the Berkeley Hills the lights of the cities in the Sacramento Valley broke the darkness like stars in the sky. It was a beautiful sight, but Bill had other things to do. He headed his plane back toward the ocean front.

His course was farther south than he wished and he tried to change it by putting on right rudder. He soon realized that something had happened to the plane—something was wrong with the rudder controls. Bill was in a quandary as to what he should do. He kicked hard with his right foot but could not get any response from the rudder bar. It was solid in its position. He was now afraid to use his left rudder for fear that it also would get caught. If he kept flying on his present course, he would travel out over the ocean. That was not to be thought of. On the other hand, suppose that when he used his left rudder, the controls would lock in that position and he would have to keep turning to the left. The situation was critical.