from ships at sea, from England and from the keystations of the United States.
“And how is it from here to Harbor Grace?” I asked.
“Perfect. Fine visibility all the way.”
That settled it.
“We’ll go this afternoon,” I told my husband. “I’ll see Bernt and will get off as soon as possible.”
Ten minutes later, after Bernt and I had talked, I called back and told Mr. Putnam that we planned to start at three. For me there wasn’t time for luncheon. Instead I drove back to Rye as fast as I could. There I changed into jodphurs and windbreaker, gathered up my leather flying suit, maps and a few odds and ends and raced back to the field.
I reached the field at 2:55. At 3:15 we took off. Three hours and thirty minutes later we were at St. John, New Brunswick. Early the next morning we flew to Harbor Grace in Newfoundland arriving at 2:15 P.M. There detailed weather reports from Mr. Putnam awaited us. The outlook wasn’t perfect but it was promising. I had planned to leave Harbor Grace in the evening. Thus by the time night came the load would be lightened somewhat while I would still be fresh for night flying.
Bernt had flown the plane to Harbor Grace while I rested in the fuselage behind the extra tank, with Eddie Gorski beside me. So, the start decided, I left Bernt and Eddie checking ship and
