Upon getting out of the machine, our first concern was to ascertain as nearly as possible the full extent of the damage. We surveyed the machine thoroughly and found that the propeller tips were bent and that the undercarriage had been strained. But this was all.

Our first job was to lower the tail of the machine to the ground. This proved extremely difficult, for even with the aid of three of the natives of the island who came to our assistance, our numbers were far too small to be really effective. In addition, we did not have available the necessary tackle or equipment for work of this nature.

Fortunately for us, a gale was blowing which tended to force the tail of the machine down to the ground. The pressure of the gale on the tail of the machine was gradually forcing the nose of the machine out of the ice, and we were afraid that the tail might suddenly drop to the ground and result in irreparable damage to our trusty craft.

Three men lay on the nose of the machine to balance the pressure and a rope was obtained, lassoed around the tail skid, and after much effort we were delighted to find that we had succeeded in lowering it gently to the ground. The entire proceeding had lasted for about half an hour and we had been exposed to bitter cold and a lashing wind.

It was then suggested that we should adjourn to the comfortable quarters of the lighthouse, to which Baron Von Huenefeld had already gone because of a slight mishap. In getting out of the plane he had fallen into the water twice, and it had been necessary for him to leave us that he might dry off before he froze to death. But Captain Koehl was adverse to this suggestion. He, like a good airman, wanted to stand by his damaged machine and we therefore continued working on the machine.

With the snow falling and the wind howling we carried on with the work of examining the plane more closely and endeavoring to lift the wheels out of the water with the intention of rolling it back onto solid ground. We secured some planks, and iron bars were used as levers for this work, but unfortunately after having succeeded in getting the right wheel onto the solid ice a large bang occurred. Upon examination we found that the axle had snapped in the middle.

We were almost heart-broken, because we had felt that with the available utensils in connection with a small forge at the lighthouse we would be able to straighten the propeller and go on to New York.

On the collapse of the undercarriage the machine subsided into the water again; and our work of nearly two hours proved futile. We decided that nothing further could be done, so we obtained some rope for the purpose of securing the machine so that it might be saved from the damaging wind during the night.

Now a new difficulty presented itself. The pickets could not be driven into the ground due to the fact that it is just like solid rock, owing to the intense cold experienced in this district. Finally we secured the machine by tying the ropes round large boulders which were littered about the place, as we were at the very edge of the lagoon. The water was drained out of the radiator, as it would otherwise have been badly damaged by the frost. We procured plenty of sack and carefully wrapped the engine for the night.

A man was employed to guard the machine throughout the night, not that we feared that anyone would steal it, but in order to warn us should the storm increase to greater force. As- sured now that our stout little craft was as comfortable as we could make her for the night, we adjourned to the lighthouse where our hostess, Mme. LeTamplier, greeted us with that charming hospitality so characteristic of the French people, particularly the French Canadians.

Our sheepskin flying boots and socks, which had become saturated during the work and had become frozen so that they were literally two cakes of ice, were removed and we were provided with stockings and moccasins.

Our first consideration here was to write out despatch telegrams and cables to our people, notifying them of our safe arrival on the American Continent. We had learned that there was a telegraph office at Blanc Sablon, a distance of about two miles, which was however almost inaccessible because of the snow and ice. The assistant keeper of the lighthouse very kindly offered to execute this commission for us, and we were happy in the thought that the waiting world would soon have news of our safety. We knew that we were long overdue, and that they must be anxious by this time.

Mme. LeTamplier now informed us that tea was ready and we sat down to what was our first real meal since the day before when we had breakfast at 4:30 A.M. and only sandwiches in between—and now incidentally, to our first meal in Canada. It would be impossible to describe how wonderful this meal tasted.

Extreme fatigue had now overtaken us, so we were shown to our bedroom. Here we found two beds. Baron Von Huenefeld and Koehl took one and I took the other. We undressed, tumbled into bed and were asleep in "two winks."

I awakened at about twelve noon the following day to be informed by the Baron that Captain Koehl—after having had three or four hours' sleep—had been working practically throughout the whole night compiling notes on scientific data, etc., which he had collected during the flight, whilst the matter was still fresh in his memory. Captain Koehl must certainly be commended for his tremendous will power, keenness for his work and concentration on his undertaking.

After our long rest we felt very fit, with the exception that our eyes were bloodshot and bunged up with pus. This strain had been caused by the fact that we had only one pair of goggles between us, as Koehl's had been lost out of the machine. However, after bathing our eyes in water we felt very much better. After breakfast we immediately commenced working again.

The machine stood exactly as we left her, with the exception that the water around the undercarriage had become frozen during the night and under the pressure of the ice the left tire had burst. Large petrol drums and planks were obtained, also a considerable supply of timber, and by nightfall we had succeeded in lifting the weight of the machine off the undercarriage by building up props under the wings at the roots.

We realized that this was all we could do. We went back to the lighthouse and dispatched cables, calling for assistance, and notifying the Junkers Company in New York of the extent of the damage to the machine, and the materials and spare parts required to get the machine in trim for the continuation of our flight to New York. There was nothing to do now but wait for help.

On Sunday we received news from Point Arthur radio station that "Duke" Schiller, the famous Canadian pilot; Dr. Louis Cuisinier, technical director of the Canadian Transcontinental Airways Company, and Eugene Thibault, a mechanic, were on their way in a Fairchild ship for the purpose of assisting us. The machine was scheduled to arrive before five o'clock, and we spent the intervening time in preparing messages recounting our experiences and our needs. At 5:30 o'clock we were sitting in the lighthouse when we heard the drone of an airplane.

We pulled on our things and ran out. We saw the plane circling over the island. A Very light was fired from her and she circled to land on the ice of the frozen bay about a mile away. We travelled over by dog-sled and met those who had come to our relief.

We held a conference that night and learned that a considerable number of misleading reports had come out and that as a result of the poor telegram system and the enormous traffic on the line, due to our landing, our messages had been garbled and our needs not made clearly known. It was therefore decided that the machine should leave for Murray Bay the following morning and that one of us should accompany Mr. Schiller to Murray Bay to meet Miss Junkers, who we were told would be there upon our arrival, and explain to her the exact position and our requirements in order to insure that the flight could be continued as soon as possible. I was chosen to undertake this commission. The following day at noon, leaving Cuisinier and the mechanic behind, we left Greenly Island, en route for Murray Bay.

Upon getting up we learned that Cuisinier had arisen at 5 o'clock in the morning, had secured additional assistance, which he could more readily direct because of his knowledge of the language and the people, and had procured practically every dog team and sled in the countryside for the purpose of carting material to the scene of our landing. He intended to lower the water in the pond by drainage so that a wooden platform could be built under the machine to enable the mechanics to work in the dismantling of the damaged undercarriage and the fitting of the new one when it arrived. He confidently assured me before I left that he would have this work completed within ten hours. I could not possibly see how he could do it in the time stipulated, but I have since learned that he accomplished what he set out to do. It was a splendid feat of engineering!

Shortly after leaving Greenly Island we encountered fog and heavy snow. In addition to that the east wind, which prevailed at Greenly at the time of our departure, changed round to the west after about an hour's flying. This slowed us considerably and forced us to land at Natashquan, where we received every hospitality and stayed the night.

At noon on the next day we left again in a howling gale and heavy snow, and succeeded in reaching Clark City about 5 in the afternoon.

Here again we were compelled to land and we received utmost hospitality from Mr. Collier, the manager of the pulp mills.

The following day at noon we took off for Murray Bay, where I met Miss Junkers and explained our situation to her.

My return journey to Greenly Island to rejoin my comrades there was not altogether uneventful. I had left to get the parts with which, we felt, the Bremen could be repaired. These I took out on the three-motored Ford plane that was sent to our relief. This was the plane chartered by the New York World and North American Newspaper Alliance in which—while flying to Greenly Island--Floyd Bennett contracted pneumonia, which resulted in his death.

We left Lake Ste. Agnes, expecting to stop at Seven Islands, Quebec, and after fueling to hop off at once for Greenly, arriving there that afternoon. But luck was against us, for the petrol we expected at Seven Islands was not there. Press planes had used it up, and the nearest supply was at the village. It took us two hours to secure it.

Meanwhile the sun had been melting the snow badly and we doubted if we could get off. Nevertheless, we made the attempt. Twice we ran over the snow for two miles, but we could not get into the air. So we desisted and decided to spend the night there, hoping for a frost to harden the surface for us.

That night we were entertained by the Mayor and some of the local people, who treated us with every consideration. We started the engine the next morning at 6 o'clock, and this time successfully took off. We reached Greenly without any other incident.

I was surprised upon returning to find that the Bremen had been moved. She was not in the reservoir where she broke through the ice when we landed on it after our trip across from Ireland. Dr. Louis Cuisinier, the technical director of the Canadian Transcontinental Airways, and Koehl had done a remarkable feat of engineering and had hoisted her up on the embankment. They had also drained the water from the reservoir. The machine stood propped up, the damaged propeller taken off, and her undercarriage removed. All was in readiness for the work of repair.

The Junkers mechanic, Ernest Koeppen, wasted no time in getting to work. He started in to straighten out the propeller without having a bite to eat. In a small forge in the lighthouse on Greenly Koeppen hammered out the "prop." Then, bolting it on the shaft again, he started to put on the new undercarriage we had brought along.  The original intention to try to take off from the reservoir had been abandoned. The ice in the bay was better, and without skis we knew we would need a long run. But the Bremen stood at the top of a very steep gradient, and now that she was repaired we would have to get her down.

It was manifestly impossible to ease the Bremen down on her wheels. We would do her irreparable damage, we felt certain. We decided to use dog sleds, and putting one under each wheel, we began the task of moving her gently to the ice in the bay below. It was no easy task, and took three hours.

With the machine safely on the ice in the bay, we decided to stop work for that night. We held a consultation that evening and came to the conclusion that the best place for a take-off would be from the ice off Long Point on the mainland, about a mile away. We had placed a native as guard over the ship during the night.

Next morning conditions were extremely good. We woke at 5 and began to push the Bremen across the ice. She broke through soft spots in the ice three times, however, and we had to hoist her up again and place her on dog sleds. Then we started pushing her once more, this time successfully, finally reaching the smooth ice running parallel with the shore line. We decided to build a fire and warm the oil and try to warm the engine. A large vessel was procured for boiling water. We also heated the tins of oil for the engine. We took out the spark plugs and cleaned them thoroughly, as they had become badly fouled in the flight. We also cleaned the magneto and took down the distributor and the carbureter and cleaned them as well. After that the petrol was filled in.

At eight o'clock that morning we were ready to start the engine. We tried—without success.

She popped a few times, but she would not take hold. This was due to the fact that the engine has a very high compression, a ratio of seven, and we could not get compression except on two of the cylinders.

We concluded that the grease we put on the valves after we broke through the ice on Greenly had melted on the warm days and had trickled down the valve stems, running into the ports. Later this hardened, thus preventing the valves from heating properly except on the two cylinders. For an entire day we worked on this, even using blow lamps in an effort to clear the valves, but without success.

That evening there was every indication of an approaching gale. We decided to move the Bremen off the ice into the shelter of the harbor at Long Point. There we covered her up against the storm which we knew was coming. We were not mistaken. Before we had completed this work snow began to fall. Then a gale came up, and further work that night was impossible. Much of our optimism had now left us. When the repair parts came we expected to install them quickly and take off without further delay. Now we decided to hold a conference.

We were no longer in our quarters on Greenly Island, but were installed on the mainland. The Baron and Koehl had been put up at the home of the telegram operator there, and I was taken to the house of the parish priest. However, we messed together at the operator's house, and it was there that we conferred that night.

At this time I would like to say a word about Floyd Bennett. I had never met him before he came to Lake Ste. Agnes with the relief plane. I had no idea when I left that he was so ill. His death came as a distinct shock to me. Aviation cannot help but miss him—he did so much for it. His loss is inestimably great. We were greatly depressed at the news of his death. Until this time the three of us had been overjoyed to be reunited. When I had left Greenly I had expected to return within two days; but my stay was an enforced one and my comrades showed every indication of pleasure at my return.

I brought back many necessary things. They hadn't had luxuries of any kind, and had barely the necessary clothing. I brought back cigars and delicacies to eat, and clean underwear and shirts to wear. That first night together in the lighthouse we had almost a feast. We hoped to be off in the morning. We felt certain that we could take off in the Bremen again. So we felt quite happy and had quite a party with the food and beer and wine, topping it off with cigars and cigarettes. We had a thoroughly enjoyable time.

We planned to get up at dawn the next day, and weather indications were fair. When we arose, however, conditions were bad, but we decided not to delay, however, and took off at 8:45 Atlantic Time, or 7:45 Eastern Standard Time on April 26th.

We encountered snow on part of our flight. The going was bad for 100 miles, and it was exceedingly bumpy in the air and we had a head wind which slowed us up. Balchen and I took the controls for the first three hours. Then Balchen and Koehl flew the next three hours. After the first two hours the weather cleared. Then we ran into bright sunshine and excellent visibility. We began to make better speed, too. We passed Godbout, Quebec, at 2 o'clock and Mille Vaches, Quebec, at 3 o'clock. About three-quarters of an hour later we were over Lake Ste. Agnes and saw the large crowd waiting for us on the ice. We landed at 3 :52.

Mr. Couture and Mr. Cannon of the Airways Company and Mme. Cuisinier, whose guest I had been before, and Miss Junkers came to meet us. The scene was familiar to me, but my comrades found it strange and the faces were new to them. We were soon made at home, however.

We spent the evening in Murray Bay. The accommodations at the Airways base were limited, and a house had been placed at our disposal in the village. I looked forward to a fine hot tub.

The following day we began our journey to Washington and New York.

The rest of my little tale has been written by Captain Koehl and Baron Von Huenefeld. I would, however, like to register a few opinions and impressions which I have drawn from this first East to West crossing of the Atlantic.

The transatlantic aerial service will undoubtedly be the most important aerial route of the future, as it will connect the American and European countries. Much pioneer work remains to be done, even with present-day airplanes and engines. Such flights are not foolish in any case where they are properly organized and all the risks realized and provided against.

And those who think transatlantic aviation will never be a regular public utility service should endeavor to get away from the idea of the present-day airplane, engine and route organization, glance over the progress which has taken place in the development of aviation in such a short period, and attempt to visualize the aircraft and ground organization which will exist fifteen to twenty years hence. Airplanes will be produced which will be capable of riding out the roughest gale it is possible to encounter.

Much more reliable and more economic engines will also be designed; better and reliable compasses and instruments will be available; efficient direction-finding wireless of low weight and long range will also come; meteorological organization over the Atlantic will develop. These are the factors which have to be understood.

First, let us take the route. The shortest is obviously the best; that is, New York, Newfoundland, Ireland, London. The weather conditions, here, however, are slightly worse than those which would normally be encountered over the Southern route.

As already explained, this matter, however, can be overcome in time. It is a matter for international discussion and agreement. America and mid-Atlantic, and similarly England, France, Germany and Ireland, will have to carry on corresponding work from the west coast of Europe to mid-Atlantic. For this work of course special ships would have to be available at anchor in the ocean for the sole purpose of meteorological work. These ships would cooperate with the meteorological departments of the countries concerned, and the reports would be collected and definite information be available at all times on conditions right across the ocean.

When a machine therefore is ready to leave on a voyage, the pilots and navigators will know exactly what conditions they will encounter and plan their course accordingly. Should, however, sudden violent storms arise after the departure of the machine, they can be informed of this by wireless and alter their course to avoid them. The wireless would also be useful to give the personnel of the machine helpful information throughout their journey, which would enable them to avoid adverse winds and plan their route to take advanage of every helping wind.

The position of the machine could be given at any time by means of direction-finding ground stations. This is of great importance, as the machines would know their exact position at any time and also the speed they were making over the ground.

Only an approximate idea of position and ground speed could be estimated on the flights already accomplished.

A. lot of work still remains to be done on instruments and compasses, but science and brain power are overcoming these problems and better and more reliable instruments and compasses are being produced from time to time.

Since Alcock and Whitten-Brown crossed from Newfoundland to Ireland in their Vickers Vimy machine in 1919 many improvements have taken place in instruments and compasses, making transatlantic aviation a much simpler and less risky undertaking than it was when they performed their marvellous feat. -While on their flight, while flying through fog and clouds, they had no idea of the position of the machine in relation to the ground.

Since then, however, many useful turn indicators have been introduced which show the pilot at a glance, when flying at night or through fog or clouds, whether his machine is on a level keel, turning or banking.

Next, what kind of machines will be used on the routes of the future? If I may be permitted to voice an opinion, I would say multi-engined flying boats capable of riding out the roughest sea.

This may sound ludicrous, but I believe that the transatlantic flying boat of the future will in effect be a flying submarine which, in addition to being a very deadly weapon in war, would also have considerable commercial value. It would fold its wings and not only could it fly, but it would ride over and through the waves.

At present when a large flying boat is loaded for a long-distance or ocean flight, it is an exceedingly difficult job to get it to take off, owing to the enormous drag of the water. This can easily be overcome, I believe. Special light railways, a couple of miles in length, facing in the direction of the prevailing wind, can be laid down, and the boat loaded onto a specially constructed truck in the rear of the electric locomotive.

Then when the locomotive is travelling at the rate of about fifty miles an hour the engines of the flying boat can be opened up and she will easily lift into the air, pass over the engine and wing on her way.

The question of aerial navigation also requires considerable thought. The application of marine navigation methods to aerial navigation is unsatisfactory. It will not do at all. Aerial navigation is a technique unto itself and should be considered from the standpoint of flying, and suitable instruments and equipment should be produced to meet the requirements of the air.

Another useful point which suggests itself is quite easy to put into application immediately. It is the laying down of large signs easily distinguishable from the air beside coast lighthouses with the longitude and latitude of the position clearly marked. Lighthouses are the principal landmarks in marine navigation, but their usefulness to the aviator is almost nil. Overhead the light flashes cannot be seen, but the signs I suggest could be seen by day and be illuminated to be observable at night. They would tell the pilot exactly where he was.

In summary: The Atlantic has been flown from east to west and from west to east. The pioneer work—to a great extent—has been done and commercial services are certain to come.

E Better and different airplanes will be used, improved instruments employed on them, accurate information will be available, and the Atlantic will be crossed both ways without unusual danger or delay.

The first of these services will not be for passengers but mails. The week-end letter will supplement the night letter of to-day, and these and bank clearances and important commercial matters would provide a very useful pay load to begin with.