Bill Bruce on Forest Patrol

by Henry Harley Arnold

The railroad passes between two peaks. On one side is Pilot Knob, a trifle over six thousand feet high and exactly on the border between the two states. This peak received its name from the old pioneers who used it as a landmark to guide them over the Oregon-California trail. It stands well above the surrounding mountains and has a peculiar shape which makes it unmistakable after once having been seen. On the other side of the tracks is Ashland Peak, seven thousand feet high.

Bill Bruce saw from his map that these two peaks were somewhere nearby, but their exact location he did not know on account of the clouds. In order for him to get down into the Medford Valley safely, he must pass between these two almost prohibitive obstacles. The sides of all the mountains in that area are covered with large rocks, which are interspersed with scattered trees. Such was the country over which Bill Bruce was leading his Flight through the clouds.

As long as he continued in the direction which he was traveling when he entered the clouds, he would be all right. However, if he deviated from that course the slightest, he would surely crash into the sides of the mountains. Such was the most hazardous situation into which Bill had led his Flight. Bill had gone into the clouds blindly, but once in them he realized the many obstacles into which he had unintentionally led his Flight. He himself might make it through with little trouble, but could the other members of his Flight also do it?

Bill came out into the Medford Valley and breathed a sigh of relief. As far as he was concerned, he had passed through the dangerous zone safely, but the others were still in the clouds. He wondered if he should start flying in a circle and wait for the other planes; but such a maneuver was unnecessary, as he had no more made his entrance into the valley than the first two of the following planes came into view. They were flying with the same distance and interval between as when they had entered the clouds. They were followed almost immediately by the other two and the Flight was soon in formation again, headed toward their destination.

The clouds broke ahead of them and they had glimpses of clear sky. They passed over Ashland and Medford, the two largest towns in the valley, and saw the extensive orchards covering the valley. Ahead Bill saw another range of mountains barring his way to the north, but he did not anticipate any difficulties in crossing them. His planes were now light on account of the gasoline that they had used in coming from San Francisco, and they had a clear sky ahead.

Bill led the Flight on a direct compass course for Eugene. If everything went along smoothly he would make it, but if he encountered head winds, some of the planes might run out of gas before they arrived. The pilots climbed steadily to cross the mountains ahead, while the railroad disappeared to the west and entered the Rogue River Valley at Gold Hill. When he reached an altitude of seven thousand feet, Bill made an inspection of the country ahead.

There was nothing but mountain peaks as far as the eye could reach. The sides of the mountains were covered with timber, and that timber made a never-to-be-forgotten impression on Bill. It spread over the undulating ground like a rich, velvety, green rug. Clearings were few and far between. The streams and rivers wound their way through the valleys, making the rolling green covering even more beautiful. It was hard to believe that the trees over which he was flying were two or three hundred feet high.

Here and there the smooth surface of the timber was broken by small clearings. Each of these marked the place where some hardy homesteader had settled in the woods and was making a home for himself and perhaps his family. For the most part they were along stream beds where they could get water. Some of the clearings had evidently been worked for longer periods than others, for they were much larger. The houses and barns which had been erected appeared quite diminutive on account of the large trees standing near by.

Then other open spaces in the velvety green stood out to greet his eye. These were also in many cases the work of man, but from such far different causes. Large white snags stood like gaunt tombstones marking the glory of once mighty trees. These snags could have resulted from only one thing—forest fires. Where the fires were of recent occurrence, the ground was still burned black, but in the older fire areas the second growth timber had made its appearance and the ground was covered by the small trees with which nature hoped to restore the forests to their former grandeur.

Then, again, there were areas where man had left entirely different marks resulting from his activities. The second growth timber had covered the bare places, but there were no snags present. These were places where the land had been cut over for lumber. In some cases the sawmills were still operating and Bill could see the smoke coming from the stacks of the boilers. He could make out the tracks of the narrow gauge which hauled the large logs to the mill and the donkey engines working some distance from the mill, furnishing the power by which the logs were snaked to the narrow gauge tracks or to the slides.