To the editor:
Fire at night in the wintertime miles from help surely can sound the alarm button in the heart of a parent, especially when the safety of a young family is involved.
On this particular day, the father had left home early in the morning to buy Christmas gifts. Since he had to travel many miles over rough wooded roads behind a team of horses to get to the nearest town, it would be a long day’s journey to, and especially from, town.
During that evening, I received a pleading call from the father who had just gotten a frantic call from his wife informing him their home was on fire. The phone went dead before she had a chance to tell him whether or not the children were safe.
Having recently been placed on Inactive Duty with the U.S. Marines, I remember the year — 1946. Our country had survived five long years of war where air power had been the deciding factor. Everyone was very air-minded, especially in emergencies. This father wanted somebody to reach his family quickly.
His request was for me to fly to his camp on Bowlin Pond, near Patten. Even now, nearly five decades later, I remember agonizing over the decisions that had to be made. The unknowns were many; the facts were few. The airplanes that I had been used to flying in the Marines were equipped with the latest in flight instruments to guide a pilot day or night through any kind of weather. Civilian airplanes were not equipped for night flying. Would the ice of Bowlin Pond be covered with snow? Should the flight be attempted in an airplane equipped with wheels or skis? Could we even find the right pond?
Jerry Bradbury, a former Air Force pilot and friend, offered to accompany me. I happily accepted his offer. Teamwork, another pair of eyes and sharing the unknowns with a friend are always welcome, especially at night.
As we approached the general area, the glowing fire of the burning cabin identified the pond. We circled and touched down on bare ice. Fortunately, the strong winds following a recent snowstorm had blown the pond clean. We congratulated each other for having selected wheels instead of skis, which would have made a landing on ice much more treacherous.
After a short walk through the woods, we came upon a “hovel” (a log enclosure for horses). In the dim glow of a time-worn barn lantern, we found a frightened mother nervously clinging to her two small children. She was understandably nervous as two men, whom she had never seen before, approached out of the darkness. Her uneasiness vanished when she realized we had come to help.
She first asked how we knew about the fire and was relieved to learn that her message had reached her husband before the fire cut off the telephone.
All five of us soon became fast friends. The mother expressed her concern and appreciation for the risks we had taken as she thanked us again and again for flying to their rescue. We assured her we would stay with them until her husband returned.
It was long after midnight when her husband finally arrived. His pent-up anxiety melted into sheer happiness at finding his family safe. It was a joy to be present for that reunion.
Our return flight was uneventful, but it was hard to concentrate on anything but the events we had just witnessed. Our anticipation of warm beds awaiting at home was interwoven with admiration for the strength of the loving family and how they would pull together to overcome the tragedy of losing their home at Christmas time.
When the media learned about the fire, the hazardous night flight and a family living in a stable, the Christmas spirit touched many hearts. Gifts poured in to be flown to the family. There was only room for one pilot with all the gifts. It was a flight I was eager to make!
When I returned in daylight, to my horror, I found the small pond was completely surrounded by high ridges. My first thought: How had we made that circling approach to the landing without dragging our wheels through those tall trees?
All pilots know, “Night approaches of unlighted obstructions is disaster in waiting.” Perhaps, like the first Christmas, the stars were extra bright for us and the huddled family.
Linwood Lawrence
Sun City Center, Fla.
Formerly of Houlton
