Mishaps there were of course, in all these years, but few were serious. Lange snagged a lone dead tree in the fog over the Alabama mountains and Smith side-swiped another while flying over a pass in Tennessee. The ship settled easily to the ground in each instance, and farmers came in with stone boats, carried the car and bag to town for repairs.
Brannigan, returning at night from Syracuse, ran short of gasoline, directed his ground crew to land him in an open field ahead. The ship nosed down, his aide directing the men with his flashlight. But just at this juncture the top of the flashlight fell off into the propeller, was whipped into the bag like a bullet, started a leak which was not discovered till next day.
Most ships in the Goodyear fleet have been fired on by thoughtless hunters. Once a bullet went through a ship a few inches back of the pilot. One marksman was arrested and sent to jail in Florida. Pilot Trotter had a curious experience in Oklahoma in 1935, while on his way to the Dallas fair. The ship had been on the mast for three days waiting for weather. On the fourth morning, finding the ship rather sluggish, Trotter looked around. A glass window from the cabin gives a view of the interior of the bag and as Trotter looked he saw light blinking from 14 bullet holes—through which gas had been pouring for three days!
The nearest hangar where repairs could be made and helium secured was at Scott Field, near St. Louis, 400 miles away. By this time the ship had barely enough lift for the pilot and 100 gallons of gas, not enough for the co-pilot. So Trotter flew alone to St. Louis, landing so heavy that the ship had almost to be carried into the hangar, made his repairs and was back in Oklahoma the next day.
Sewell had the experience of seeing a propeller fly off while heading down the bay from San Francisco, saw it careen wildly down, flew on to the next airport on one motor, mounted his spare.
Always the pilots were calling for more speed, removing or streamlining whatever sources of resistance they could, picking the time for cross-country flights when conditions were favorable. They flew from Akron to Washington and New York frequently at 60 miles per hour. The Reliance did even better in a trip north in 1939.
Starting home after its winter in Florida, the ship was held up in Jacksonville—by tire trouble of all things. The distance an airship can make in a day is limited by the distance the bus can travel, since the ground crew must be on hand at night to land the ship. And by now the bus, with its radio equipment, masts and the like had reached the point where only the special Goodyear YKL tires would sustain the 14,000 pounds of weight comfortably. There was a shortage of YKL’s when they started and three standard tires had failed on the run up from Miami. Neither Jacksonville nor Atlanta branch had YKL’s in that size and to get them from Akron would entail a day’s delay.
Meanwhile the ship was tugging on the mast, with a strong south wind, anxious to get under way. The pilots held a conference. Maybe, utilizing the tail wind, they could make it non-stop all the way to Washington, 700 miles north and have Lange’s crew land them. If they ran short of gas they could stop at Ft. Bragg, N. C., a convenient half-way point. The Army had a motorized observation balloon there, and was always willing to lend a hand to fellow airshippers. It was Sheppard’s turn to take the controls. He sent a wire to Ft. Bragg.
“If I run short of fuel, I’ll circle the field as a signal. Could you land my ship, lend me enough gas to get on to Washington?” The answer came back promptly, in the affirmative, and the ship left at midnight.
Roaring across the Carolinas at mile a minute speed the Reliance sighted Ft. Bragg before daylight, with plenty of gas left. An entire company was lined up ready to land the ship. Sheppard flew low, cut his motors, thanked them, flew on for Hoover Airport, arriving before noon. He averaged 66 miles per hour over the 700 mile trip, and landed with enough gasoline to have gone on to New York.