About the Author:
Spencer Dunmore’s first foray into non-fiction writing, in 1991, resulted in the critically acclaimed bestseller Reap the Whirlwind: The Untold Story of 6 Group, Canada’s Bomber Force of World War II, which he co-wrote with William Carter, Ph.D. This was followed in 1994 by the equally successful Wings for Victory: The Remarkable Story of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan in Canada. Dunmore’s passionate love of flying and of a good story were evident long before, however, in his very popular fiction. His first novel, Bomb Run, was an instant hit, and a string of novels followed, including Tower of Strength, Collision, Final Approach, and No Holds Barred. Squadron, a story collection, is his most recent work of fiction. His works have been translated into many languages and published in more than fifteen countries.
Spencer Dunmore lives in Burlington, Ontario.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
In Canada, the Carling Brewery decided to get in on the long-distance action, although the idea is believed to have originated with a newspaper reporter, Arthur Carty, of the London, Ontario, Advertiser. Carling announced a twenty-five thousand dollar prize for a flight from London, Ontario, to London, England, by any Canadian or British airman. Scores of applications came in, but only one applicant could provide his own aircraft – and since he was an American, he wasn’t eligible. The company then purchased a Stinson Detroiter, named it Sir John Carling after the firm’s founder, and started interviewing airmen to fly it. Two experienced pilots, Terence Tully and James Medcalf, both of whom worked for the Ontario Provincial Air Service, were selected. At the same time, a group of Canadian businessmen sponsored another Stinson to fly from Windsor, Ontario, to Windsor, England. Duke Schiller, a well-known Canadian bush pilot, and Phil Wood, brother of the American motorboat racer, would crew the aircraft, named the Royal Windsor. Competition was keen between the two teams. In the event, however, the Sir John Carling got away first, on August 28, 1927 – only to run into thick fog near Kingston, Ontario. Sensibly, Tully and Medcalf turned around and flew back. Originally, the intention had been to fly direct to England. Now, in view of weather problems, it was decided to head first for Harbour Grace, Newfoundland, before setting out over the Atlantic. The fog persisted for several days, causing the two flyers to remain at Harbour Grace until September 7. They took on a large load of fuel and set off, using the entire strip before rising. The trim Stinson climbed steadily and headed out to sea. No doubt Tully and Medcalf congratulated themselves on getting away ahead of the competition. They might have been less sanguine had they known that as they took off, word was received that Old Glory, the Fokker that had taken off from Old Orchard beach a few hours earlier, had broadcast an SOS.
No one knows whether Tully and Medcalf ever heard about Old Glory; they vanished over the broad Atlantic, just as surely and finally as had so many flyers. Carling announced that the twenty-five thousand dollars would be divided up among the flyers’ widows.
The backers of the Royal Windsor decided to call the whole thing off, and no one argued with the decision. A few days later, a section of wing was found floating in the sea, distinctive because an American flag had been painted on it. It belonged to Old Glory. The fuel tanks in the wing section were partially filled. Pieces of the landing gear were also found. It appeared that the Fokker had flown into the sea, ripping the wing free, leaving the fuselage, weighed down by the engine, to sink into the depths. Despite the chilling evidence, Mrs. Bertaud bravely insisted that it all added up to good news: “I am terribly happy. Everything tells me that the condition of the parts found indicate that they were able to keep afloat until they were picked up by some vessel. I am absolutely certain they are safe. Lloyd has been in many tight squeezes before and he has always come through safely. An awful load has been lifted from my mind since I heard about the finding of the wreckage.”9
The brave Mrs. Bertaud wished as hard as a certain Mrs. Hawker had wished eight years earlier. But the fates weren’t as kind. Nothing more was ever heard of Bertaud and his fellow flyers. Or of Old Glory. Or of Sir John Carling.
The disasters led inevitably to harsh criticism in the press. These suicidal flights had to stop. There should be a law. Something had to be done. But nothing ever was.
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