Earhart Search Narrows
Alcohol may have been a
major contributing factor in the disappearance of famed aviatrix, Amelia
Earhart and her navigator, Fred Noonan on the most perilous leg of their
globe-girdling flight from Lae, New Guinea to Howland Island on July
2. 1937.
During the long intervening years following
the U.S. Navy’s greatest search the sweeping of 150,000 square
miles of Pacific waters—a veritable Niagara of stories have been
written, investigations of former, Japanese-mandated islands made, even
remains in graves exhumed. But in the nearly four decades since, not
a shred of basic evidence has been revealed. The disappearance remains
shrouded in mystery.
From a practical flight point of view,
it is known that the Electra aircraft was loaded to capacity with fuel
1,150 gallons of gasoline (enough for 4,000 miles), for the 2556-mile
hop to the central Pacific island destination.
Here are the events of that last flight:
At 10:30 a.m., the sleek craft roared
down the 3,000-foot strip that had been hacked out of the jungle, ascended
easily with 150 feet of runway to spare. The runway terminated at a
high cliff overlooking the sea.
Expert navigation was a vital factor for
successfully traversing this dangerous leg of the journey. Both were
keenly aware of this fact. Noonan was highly conscious that disaster
could be lurking if an error of one minute existed in his chronometers.
An error of one minute would put the craft four miles off course. It
is known that he was having instrument trouble trying to calibrate his
chronometers with the Electra’s malfunctioning, 50-watt radio.
More too a lack of knowledge regarding the true functioning of the chronometers
would also defeat the accuracy of celestial navigation.
In that era of pioneering of long distance
flight coupled with the lack of today’s navigational aids—Howland,
an island approximately 2 miles long and a half mile wide would require
efficiently functioning instrumentation, nigh perfect dead reckoning
plus downright luck to hit this mere spate of land in the vastness of
the central Pacific.
It was also known that the Electra, 500
miles out of Lae, was out of reach of radio signals. As a result, the
U.S. Coast Guard cutter Itasca was stationed at Howland for the aircraft
to home in on its radio signals.
But the surface craft became a base of
radio confusion as the hands of the clock inched toward the estimated
tme of arrival. Earhart and Noonan were expected to arrive in the Howland
area around dawn. But the Electra had a serious shorcoming. Its radio
equipment worked quite well for voice communication but was not sufficiently
powerful for land stations or ships to pick up its signals.
Shortly after midnight, the Itasca began
sending out the prearranged signals, but no response was heard until
2:15 a.m. when the first fragmentary voice contact came through from
the Electra. Amelia’s voice weakened by the heavy static reported
that the weather was cloudy. At 3:30 a.m. her voice was heard in response
to the cutter’s request to give her position and estimated time
of arrival on here next scheduled transmission at 3:45 a.m. Her voice
was heard on schedule: “Itasca from Earhart . . . overcast ….
Will listen hour and half hour on 3105 (her designated frequency) At
6:15 a.m the cutter picked up Amelia’s voice asking for a bearing
on 3105 kilocycles on the hour and would whistle into the microphone
so the the Itasca’s direction finder could get a fix on her position.
She reported that the airplane was then about 200 miles out with no
landfall in sight. It was estimated at the time the craft had sufficient
fuel for about four more hours of flight. Meanwhile the Itasca kept
sending out a stream of messages requesting that she reply on the designated
frequency.
At 7:42 a.m she called in two minutes
ahead of scheduled time. The operators and observers clustered in the
radio shack of the Itasca noted that her voice carried a distinct note
of alarm.
She said: “We must be on you but
cannot see you, been unable to reach you by radio, gas is running low.
We are flying at an altitude of one thousand feet.”
This was considered low for an aircraft
flying in the vicinity of Howland where the weather was considered good
but the clouds were towering up to 18,000 feet.
From 7:58 a.m. to 8:45 a.m. nothing was
heard from the Electra despite the constant crackling of radio homing
signals from the vessel’s antenna.
Fom the 7:58 tranmission it was assumed
that the fliers were in the vicinity of Howland. The final transmission
at 8:45 a.m. was cause for concern. Amelia’s voice was strained
with anxiety. “We are on a line of position 157 degrees-337 degrees.
Will repeat this message on 6210 kiloocycles.
The Itasca replied immediately, “we
heard you ok on 3105 kilcycles. Please stay on 3105. Do not hear you
on 6210 kilocycles.”
Cross on map located Saipan in Southwest Pacific, where an airplane
generator was found that was presented July 1, 1960 as evidence
in the disappearance of aviatrix Amelia Earhart. She and navigator
Frederick J. Noonan vanished on an around the world flight after
leaving Lae, New Guinea. A & E Columbia Broadcasting team
and San Mateo Times reporter brought the generator back from Saipan
and said natives recall seeing her crash off the island. |
From this point onward until 10:00 am.,
the cutter’s radio antenna kept broadcasting urgent messages for
Amelia to come in on her assigned frequency, to give her position and
to try and maintain contact. As the hands of the clock passed the hour
of ten—the time estimated that the aircraft would be running out
of fuel, hope for the safe arrival of the global fliers began to fade
in the minds of those aboard the Itasca. Yet, a few held the opinion
that there might be enough flying time left to carry through the noon-day
hour. But gloom gathered on the majority of faces in the Itasca’s
radio room. It was a silent expression that the pair that manned the
ill-starred flight were down somewhere in the vast Pacific, doomed.
Much has been written about the mystery,
however the best practical solution from an aviation point of view places
the disappearance due to weather or navigational error. This stems from
the result of a duplication flight made by Miss Ann Pellegrini a school
teacher and part time pilot flying a plane similar to the Electra. She
adhered to the Earhart flight as closely as possible. The most remarkable
result of the flight was her experience in trying to find Howland Island.
Approaching the tiny dot of land in the
vast Pacific, she encountered impenetrable fog and only because her
aircraft had been equipped with the most modern navigational gear and
scientific instrumentation did she make it.
But the story of alcohol and its possible
effect on the flight long had been held by one of Amelia Earhart’s
closest friends and business associates, the late Paul Collins. They
had served together in the early days of the then struggling air transport
industry. Later they were cofounders of the one time BM Airways, later
Northeast Airlines of which Collins was President, the carrier is now
known as Delta Airlines.
Paul Collins had followed the Amelia flight
from the start. He recounted receiving continous progress reports from
Amelia, one of which referred to her having “personnel problems.”
Collins interpreted this to mean that navigator Noonan was hitting the
bottle.
Noonan was talented and extremely able
as a navigator but had an unfortunate record of drinking.
Noonan planned Pan American World Airways
Pacific routes and served as navigator on the China Clipper when that
carrier inaugurated commercial travel across the Pacific in November
1935. But his addiction forced Pan Am to release him.
In March of 1937 Noonan had been assistant
navigator when an earlier attempt of the global Earhart flight was aborted
at take off in Honolulu. Amelia asked Noonan if he would like to go
along as the sole navigator. Noonan replied, “I do, I need this
flight.” “All the way,” she inquired. “Do you
trust me?” was the answer. Amelia replied, “I believe in
you.”
Following the aborted flight, Amelia and
Fred stood at the rail of the liner taking them back to the West Coast.
The conversation turned to Noonan’s upcoming marriage. He admitted
to Amelia that his major problem was drink.. “Does she know about
your battle with bottle?” Amelia asked. Noonan replied, “Yes,
but I think I can win with her.”
Amelia was clearly influenced by her past
experiences with her lawyer father, an alcoholic, her contacts with
alcoholics when she worked at a Boston social settlement house. She
was a gentle person, an idealistic soul, a believer in human rehabilitation
and redemption and did not heed the warnings.
Dame Fortune may have decreed the Electra’s
fate. Having overshot tiny Howland, Noonan probably became confused
and his navigational efforts may have gone awry. With gas running low,
the craft lost, no doubt panic ensued as evidenced by the alarm detected
in Amelia’s voice in her last transmission to the Itasca. This
theory was supported by the Pellegrini duplication flight which encountered
impenetrable fog in the area and but for modern scientific and navigational
aids may have met a similar fate.
The Earhart-Noonan flight disappearance
remains one of the great mysteries of the air world. Possibly Amelia
had a foreboding. In one of her last writings, she said: “I shall
be glad when we the have last of its (Pacific) navigation behind us.”
From the log of the Itasca, it would appear
that the Electra reached the vicinity of Howland island possibly around
8:00 a.m. Due to cloudy or even storm conditions some observers hold
that the plane couldn’t fly high enough to shoot star sights for
obtaining a fix on the craft’s position thereby losing course
and missing the island. Up to the time of the late transmissions it
appeared that the navigation was fairly accurate.
Arthur A. Riley
Reproduced from Air Cargo News
June 1976 |