In the end the airships were all doing instrument flying, riding the radio beams like the passenger airplanes, got their landing and take-off instructions from the radio control towers at the airports.
The fleet proved an ideal testing vehicle for the expeditionary mast. But progress moved carefully, a step at a time. As late as 1930 an air dock was built alongside the company’s plant at Gadsden, Ala., for use as an operating base in the middle south. It was thought necessary as a half way point for ships headed for Florida. After the high mast came in however, the Gadsden dock came to be used only for warehousing, and no airship has been inside it in four years.
In 1932 the Volunteer started in from Los Angeles for Akron, making the first successful trip of any non-rigid airship over the Continental Divide. The Volunteer was due for helium purification and a new bag. No helium facilities were available closer than Akron. Rather than deflate the ship and send it by train, Pilot Smith decided to fly in. He laid out a route via El Paso, San Antonio, and Scott Field, so that he could get shelter, if necessary, at army hangars at those points. He berthed at El Paso just after a 100-mile-an-hour storm had passed over, stayed three days at Kelly Field, found it unnecessary to stop over night at Scott. Even so, because of persistent head winds he had had to spend ten nights in the open, setting up his low mast with screw stakes on the open prairie.
Mooring out procedure had improved by the time that Sewell made the same trip five years later, so he made only courtesy stops at the three army camps, was on his own.
A mishap at Louisville gave impetus to the development of the high mast. The retractible low mast mounted on top of the bus was attached to the bag about half way between the car and nose of the ship, convenient to get at, the system being referred to as “belly-mooring.” The low mast was light, could be set up quickly and easily, would hold securely against a straight pull of considerable force. However, it was not as effective in the case of a wind shift, or gusts which rolled the ship on its side. A higher mast, with the ship anchored at the nose, was free to swing in all directions. Every one realized this, but it was only after Crum’s ship was caught and twisted by a gust at Louisville, punching a hole in the bag, that the change was made.
The high mast, built in sections, anchored by guy wires to stakes screwed in the ground, was more bulky, took longer to set up, but would hold the ship indefinitely once it was in place.
Thereafter both masts were carried in cross-country trips, the convenient low mast being used for overnight stops in good weather, the high mast for more extended operations, or when the weather looked threatening.
The ground-crew bus was in evolution during this period. Built originally to carry merely crew, spare parts and supplies it added a radio room, navigation quarters, and carried the two masts. A scout car cruises ahead to make overnight arrangements, a trailer follows, with its own electric plant and expeditionary equipment, including a spot light to play on the ship at night. Duties of airship personnel grew more specialized and complex.
Members of the ground crew acted as radio technicians, meteorologists, mechanics, riggers. They comprised a colorful group, recruited from all parts of the country. Sailors from New Bedford, fruit growers from Florida, farm boys from Ohio, ranchers from the San Joaquin valley, a mechanic from a Chicago airport, a policeman from the Cleveland fair, all dropped their work and followed the airships. The personnel list was a history of every place an airship had operated.
The work wasn’t easy, involved long hours in the cold and rain when storms threatened, picking up mail from their families on the fly in cross-country operations, moving their households from north to south and north again. But the ground-crew men stuck, most of them having ten years’ service and more. On cross-country trips a crew of 14, including pilots, is adequate.