FROM LONDON TO AUSTRALIA BY AEROPLANE 



315 



Don Muang aerodrome, twelve miles 

 north of Bangkok, after a flight that will 

 live long in my memory. Don Muang is 

 the headquarters of the Siamese Flying 

 Corps. They have several hangars, a 

 number of machines, and up-to-date 

 workshops. During my visit to Siam the 

 previous year I had been to Don Muang, 

 so that on landing I found myself among 

 friends. We were met by the British 

 Consul General, Mr. T. H. Lyle, with 

 whom I had stayed on my previous visit 

 and who now rendered us valuable and 

 appreciated assistance. 



The Siamese also displayed the warm- 

 est hospitality, and the commandant very 

 kindly placed his own bungalow at our 

 disposal. It was found necessary to re- 

 grind the valves on two of the cylinders 

 of the starboard engine ; and, as this was 

 a lengthy job, Bennett and Shiers worked 

 all night to complete it, so that we might 

 keep to our usual scheduled starting time. 

 An electric lamp was rigged up over the 

 engine, and all the flying ants and insects 

 in Siam collected around it, which greatly 

 added to the discomfort and hindrance 

 of the work. 



My original plan was to fly from Bang- 

 kok to Singapore, roughly 1,000 miles, in 

 one flight ; but as I learned there was a 

 good aerodrome at Singora, about half- 

 way, with 500 gallons of petrol depoted 

 there, and as I was anxious to reserve the 

 machine as much as possible, I decided 

 to land at the latter place. 



We left Bangkok in good weather, and 

 were escorted for the first fifty miles by 

 four Siamese machines. For the first 

 hour the flying conditions were ideal, 

 with a good following wind helping us ; 

 then ahead again lay our old enemies, the 

 clouds. At this time we were flying along 

 the coast, so did not deem it necessary to 

 climb above them. The clouds became 

 lower and heavier and soon we found 

 ourselves only 1,000 feet above the sea. 



CAUGHT IN A MONSOOXAL STORM 



Ahead we saw the rain, and I dreaded 

 what was to come. While we were over 

 the sea, with the land on our right, there 

 was comparatively little chance of our 

 crashing into anything. This was fortu- 

 nate, for in a few moments we were 

 soaked through, our goggles became sat- 



urated, and all vision for more than a 

 few hundred yards or so was obliterated. 

 The rain came down literally like a sheet 

 of water, and, as we had to remove our 

 goggles and maintain a constant lookout 

 ahead, we were almost blinded by the 

 rain lashing our unprotected eyes. 



At this time we were doing ninety 

 miles per hour, and as the torrential rain 

 dashed against us and the machine it pat- 

 tered and smote like hail. Narrowing my 

 eyes down to slits, I peered out ahead as 

 long as I could endure it ; that was but a 

 few minutes. I then tapped Keith to 

 keep the watch while I rested my eyes ; 

 then, when he could see no more, I would 

 "carry on" again. So it went on for the 

 best part of three hours. Fortunately, 

 this heavy rain was not continuous, but 

 the squalls which we went through at 

 frequent intervals generally took ten min- 

 utes to pass. 



RACING THE STORM 



Still another difficulty presented itself. 

 As long as we were flying south, the 

 strong wind helped us ; but as we had to 

 follow the coast-line in detail, and there 

 were many bays and headlands, we fre- 

 quently found ourselves fighting right 

 into the teeth of the gale to get out of a 

 bay or weather a headland. 



I w T as afraid to go inland, as the rain 

 only allowed us limited visibility. Once 

 we almost crashed on to a hill, which 

 suddenly loomed up through the rain 

 ahead. I just had time by a hair's 

 breadth to pull the machine around in a 

 climbing turn and go farther out to sea. 

 I have never experienced worse flying 

 conditions, and had it been at all possible 

 to land, I gladly would have done so. 



All the flat stretches along the coast 

 were paddy-fields under water. We were 

 wet and miserable, and the thought often- 

 times came over me of what an ignomin- 

 ious end it would be if we had engine 

 trouble and were forced to land in a 

 paddy-field of mud and water. I won- 

 dered at our marvelous engines — through 

 the snows of France, the blaze of the 

 tropics, and through these terrible rains, 

 they still roared merrily on. 



An hour before reaching Singora we 

 passed through and outstripped the storm. 

 As the clouds were still low, we kept our 



