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Sometime during the fall of 1928, I heard through the grapevine that the Navy was preparing to organize an Alaskan aerial survey expedition the following spring. I wrote my good friend, Commander George Murray, in the Bureau of Aeronautics and volunteered. That did the trick; I received orders to command the detachment.
Our mission was to complete the aerial mapping of southeastern Alaska, the panhandle that extends along the coast south of Juneau. This panhandle includes a narrow strip of the mainland as well as many beautiful offshore islands. Much of the area was virgin territory, never traversed by man. The Navy and the Coast and Geodetic Survey were, of course, interested in the aerial mapping program, because the charts of that area were still based mainly on early and very sketchy surveys. In June 1929, when we flew our four planes north from Seattle through British Columbia and then into southeastern Alaska, we could see from the air rather large errors in the charted size, shape, and even location of various islands. New charts were certainly needed.
The detachment consisted of the USS Gannet (AM-41), a minesweeper fitted as a seaplane tender, and a covered 500-ton steel lighter with photographic laboratories and living quarters. We were given four new Loening amphibians (OL-8As). Our four aerial cameras were the last word in mapping cameras. A total of 112 officers and men made up the detachment, and we also had one civilian from the U. S. Geological Survey, Dr. R. H. Sargent, a topographical engineer who had spent many summers in Alaska surveying various parts of the country. Dr. Sargent, a very dignified whitehaired gentleman, was slightly ill at ease and surprised on joining our seagoing mess. But he soon became “Foxy Grandpa” or “Foxy” to all of us and was a most wonderful shipmate.
The Gannet's crew consisted of 4 officers and 61 men. In addition, there were two dogs, a mongrel fox terrier type which belonged to the crew, and the captain’s brindle bull terrier. Then, one of our pilots, Lieutenant Richard F. Whitehead, asked me if he could send his two “young” dogs north on board the Gannet since he had to fly. I mistakenly took “young” to mean “small” and said “yes.” The two canine guests were full-sized (a great dane and a collie). Strangely enough, this motley crew became fast friends.
On 21 May, we were ready to take off for Alaska and the start of our real work. The Gannet had sailed one day before with the barge in tow. The morning of our departure was clear and lovely, with no fog or smoke. Cruising generally at about 10,000 feet, we were all simply entranced by the beauty that unfolded before us. The green, forest-clad islands, sprinkled like emeralds in Puget Sound and the Strait of Georgia, were so lovely that we often detoured to take a better look. The temperature at our altitude was well below zero, and we wore our heavy, fur-lined flying suits.
We arrived at Alert Bay early in the afternoon- The Gannet, with the barge alongside, was anchored off the town. Her small boat was near a sandy beach which we knew that Lieutenant Thomas Macklin. the ship’s captain, was suggesting we use to park our
P1 ar>es. It worked very well, and we soon had all four Secured on nice, firm sand. Our amphibian air- t were hanciy After landing on floats in the atet, we lowered our wheels and taxied onto the
beach.
The flight from Alert Bay to Ketchikan was investing, kut nQt as t,eautiful as our flight of the day ore. We arrived about 2100, but, because the were long, it was bright daylight at that time. lrcling the town to announce our arrival, Lieuten- Whitehead led the way to a beach he had n°wn on a previous trip. It proved to be a good C and we were soon parked on it. But we found it one great disadvantage. The dairy’s herd of Hol- e*n cows was also parked nearby, and all the flies in ^otheastern Alaska appeared to have taken up resi- oce there for the summer. In those days, we did 0t have DDT or other pesticides, so we fought the
n[« by hand. ' '
We did not expect to stay long in Ketchikan. We £ nted to move farther north before we started work. °rrespondence, and study of the charts before leav-
Standing, left to right: Boatswain F. E. Dowd; Chief Boatswain J. D, Gleck; Lt. (j.g.) L. P. Pawlikouski; Lt.
C. F. Greher; Lt. R. F. Whitehead; Lt. E. F. Burkett; Machinist J. O. Hoey. Seated, left to right: Lt. E. F. Carr; Lt. Commander A. C. Smith; Lt. Commander Radford; R. H. (“Foxy Grandpa") Sargent; Lt. T. Macklin.
ing San Diego, had convinced me that we had three possible bases north of Ketchikan—Sitka, the old capital of Russian America, Petersburg, an important fishing town on Wrangell narrows and, of course, Juneau, the capital. Petersburg seemed best for several reasons, but the mayor of Sitka promised assistance and offered hospitality during correspondence, so I made a date to fly over to see him.
On the day set, weather in Ketchikan was fine, and we were off quite early, for we hoped to return that same day. Lieutenant Whitehead accompanied me in a second plane. Chart studies had convinced us that not far from Sitka there was a suitable beach for two of our amphibians, but since it was not large enough for four aircraft we had to find a larger one if
we were to operate from that location. After we landed, the Army took four of us to town, leaving two men to guard the planes. We finally tracked down the mayor, who was also the proprietor of the local garage. He was carrying a heavy automobile storage battery on his shoulder en route to his shop. He was as cordial as his correspondence indicated and said he would drop everything to show us what Sitka had to offer the expedition.
Immediately after lunch, our four and the mayor piled in his car to drive to the beach which he had recommended so highly. It was some 10 miles south of the town, quite a distance if the Gannet were to tie up to the government dock in town but not insurmountable because we carried a truck of our own and could establish a camp at the beach site if necessary. At first glance, the beach did look wonderful. Someone said, “It certainly looks like an excellent beach, Mr. Mayor, but are you sure it is firm enough to handle our heavy planes.”
“Certainly”, said the mayor, “I’ll show you,” and he drove out to the water’s edge with no difficulty. Turning to follow the water line, he did not proceed much farther before his car bogged down. Rushing out to help him, we fought a losing battle. He could not free the car. Even with our help, it dug its way down rather than out.
In southeastern Alaska the tidal range is great— usually more than 20 feet and with the highest tides nearer 30 feet. On this day, the tide was coming in fast. It was not long before we had to retreat up the beach and leave the car to its fate. As we watched, it was half submerged and disappearing quickly. There was nothing to do but start walking back to town, with very little chance of being picked up on the road. To make matters worse, it started to rain. lf came down in buckets as we slogged our way to town and was still raining hard when we arrived at the “hotel” about 1700.
It was too late to think of returning to Ketchikan- Since we had no dry clothes, we had to wrap ourselves in blankets while everything was dried out in the hotel kitchen. This took time, but some medicinal whiskey of doubtful origin, doubtfully acquired, prevented pneumonia. We had a fine dinner with the mayor and his friends and turned in quite cheerfully late in the evening. The alternative of our basing if Sitka was settled, however, and the mayor still had the problem of rescuing his automobile.
In Ketchikan the next day, we made arrangements to shift base to Petersburg. In a day or so, we made the move. It was a considerable relief when I learned that the Gannet was safely tied up in Petersburg. I£ was no small feat of seamanship to navigate her through Wrangell Narrows with a barge in tow of alongside. Wrangell Narrows was one of the feared stretches of water in Alaska; it had claimed many ships and lives.
Our mapping commenced on schedule the next day. At first we had considerable difficulties with our cameras. One or more lenses would stick and fail to take pictures for the latter half of a run. Our experts
Cre baffled, for on the ground everything seemed r ect. Suspecting the cold at our mapping altitude ^ Was generally well below zero at 12,000 feet), we . ed the cameras inside the treezing room of the fish packing plant where fish were frozen in- 0antly in brine at a temperature of — 50°F or so.
Ptrating the camera lens steadily in this low tem- q ratUre for an hour or more disclosed the trouble. I^nce it was fixed, we no longer had to retake the ng runs on which we all suffered from the cold in °f our flying gear.
be mapping could be done only on perfectly clear
days, and then only between hours which did not cast excessive shadows. In June and much of July, the days were so long that we could begin to map by 0800 and continue until about 1600. Much of that time the sun rose about 0200 and set near midnight. It was never really dark on the longest days, only a sort of twilight. The mapping runs were, from a scenic point of view, breathtaking. At our mapping altitude of 10,900 feet, and particularly on the first day after a rainy spell had cleared the air of all dust, we could see for hundreds of miles.
It was a busy summer. After our month’s stay in Petersburg, we moved north to Juneau and worked from there until about the middle of August. The Gannet and barge tied up to the government pier and there was room on it for our planes, which the Gannet hoisted on and off with her boom.
A number of official visitors came to see us during the summer. Our very unofficial visitor was a 13- year-old boy named “Boo” Paschal, stepson of W. E. Boeing, chairman of the board of Boeing Aircraft. Boo was interested in fishing, airplanes, and explor-
ing, perhaps in that order. We had seen a good deal of him when we stopped in Seattle on our way to Alaska. He was with us at Sand Point Naval Air Station in Seattle as often as he could be and had begged his mother to let him go north with us. Boo struck up a great friendship with Kelly, a ship’s cook, who was also an ardent fisherman, and told his mother that Kelly had invited him to come north on the barge. I suggested that Boo wait until about the first of August when we would be well shaken down, then come north for a two-week visit. The day came, Boo arrived and was turned over to Kelly who, I might add, had been warned that Boo was quite likely to go easy on bathing or washing in general. Sometimes he smelled strongly of fish, which he might have put in a pocket and forgotten. Kelly felt he could cope with any situation, so Boo became his charge. Not long afterward, I returned to the barge and was passing by a semi-open-air shower we had in the stern when I noticed a very pink little figure drying himself. Obviously, Boo had had a rather thorough rubdown. Kelly was in his galley nearby, and 1 asked him why Boo was so pink. “Captain, Sir, I had to sand and canvas the young man; he would not take a bath.’’
“Sand and canvasing” was tough Navy medicine in the old days, reserved for sailors who would not keep clean. The culprit was rubbed down with a piece of canvas, with sand used in place of soap. I have never heard of a second treatment being needed. This was certainly true in Boo’s case. He was a model of cleanliness for the rest of his stay with us and a great surprise and joy to his mother when he returned home! To prove how good our Navy training was. Boo went on to become a test pilot for the Boeing Aircraft Company, one of the first to fly the 707.
The summer passed quickly. Before we knew it, August was half gone. Days were getting shorter, and shadows reduced good mapping time to about four hours a day. During our stay in Juneau, the darkroom had caught up with film processing and we had checked it all. We were filling in gaps we had found in our earlier work and getting ready to head south. We had stayed longest in Juneau and had made many friends there. Before we left, the officers planned to give a farewell party in an attempt to balance our social obligations. I gave the idea my blessing. That was all 1 had to contribute to get the wheels in motion. A friend let us use his home for the great event. Despite the fact that Prohibition was still in force, it was decided to have an alcoholic punch. Influential friends assisted, and the great day arrived with a great punch.
Unknown to me, “Foxy” Sargent, our topographi' cal engineer, had argued strongly against the punch being spiked. He felt that in such a small town word would leak out, and the party might be raided-" with subsequent disastrous publicity. He was voted down. On the afternoon of the party, with every' thing in high gear, there was a loud knock on the front door. Foxy Sargent, still worried, answered lC to find, of all things, a uniformed man with a very official looking cap pulled down over his eyes. The man asked to see me. Foxy felt sure that this was a revenue agent and that we would all be taken int° custody. He resolved to sell his life dearly. He was not going to let the man in without a StruggleLooking the visitor straight in the eye, he said I was not there, that as a matter of fact no one was there besides himself. This was a little hard for the man t0 take, because the noise of the party was plainly audi' ble, and he said so. If Lieutenant Commander Rad' ford was not there, who was in charge? “I am,” said Foxy, “and you cannot come in.” Just at that mOjj ment, with Foxy ready to die for us, the culprits who had staged the show came up behind Foxy and grabbed him. He almost fainted when he found that the whole affair had been rigged for his benefit.
Another humorous incident had taken place n0[ long after we arrived in Alaska. The leading chit'! petty officer of the detachment came to me to request that 1 arrange to get a bear cub to take back to San • Diego. He said the men had decided they would like • one for a mascot and had heard that they could be obtained. I had misgivings about adding a bear cub to our menagerie of four dogs but said I would look into the matter, with one provision. I would get a bear only if the men would find one of their numbfil who would voluntarily become the bear’s keeper and care for him. I was soon told that a machinist’s mate volunteered for the job, so I had to produce. Alaska had very strict game laws. Wild animals could not be taken out of the territory unless they were con' signed to a zoo. Friends in the Department of Fist’ and Wildlife said they might find me a bear cub to take out, but I would have to find a zoo to take him- They did, and I did. A ship from Seattle was return' ing a black bear cub three months old which had been taken out of the territory illegally. The San Diego Zoo responded that it would gladly take him ? if delivered, so on the day the ship arrived in JuneaU the keeper went to the dock in our truck to pick up the bear.
I was on our pier when the truck returned. Beaf J and keeper seemed quite friendly. I discovered that . the keeper had outfitted himself with a pair of heavy [
Cat 1er gauntlets and had then smeared honey on the
anjITlS' The bear was enthusiastic about the honey
j fiddly followed him out of the truck on a leash.
a|3'vas low tide, and the Gamlet's superstructure was
ut ^evel with the dock. Keeper and bear came :>oar'
|’ead of
ar s scent must have preceded him, for all four \
tlleir m>ght. The cub hesitated, but his keeper cut
lI1gry, was fed and went sound asleep. The dogs
Were all
so
com.
ab ^ wi
l 0:*rd without difficulty on a level gangway to the ■ a °f a stepladder leading to the main deck. The
doar’S $Cen
gs wcre at the foot of the ladder, barking with all
the rm‘8h _________________ -____ ’ -
i C sd°rdian Knot with a shove which sent him roll-
feh ^°Wn rhc ladder and into the pack. The little
k came up swinging and in a moment had
^n°cked all four dogs well out of the w'ay. The great
cjafle Came back for more but went flying again. The
cj°gs realized quickly who was boss and stood well
^ ar while the cub was put into a wooden cage on
barge. The poor little fellow, exhausted and
°n board the Gannet and could not bother him, was well when the lights went out at 2200. Was about 0300 wfoen 1 was awakened by a sm ni0t:‘on ‘n rhe crew’s quarters. It sounded like a goi r'0t’ S0 * dressed and went out to see w'hat was g on. The crew' lived on the barge in one large So ^ ^'tted with triple-tiered bunks. The cub w'as Wer h asleep in his wooden-barred cage when lights abl e tUrned out. His keeper thought he would prob- y sleep through the night, so he turned in also.
When the little fellow awoke, feeling pretty lonesome and strange, it took him only a short time to pry loose the bars of his cage and to get out. In the dark he could not see well, but his nose told him that his friend the keeper was not far away and in a certain direction. The cub believed a straight line w'as the shortest distance, so he headed directly for a bunk in the lower tier. The trouble started because on the way he w'as clambering over other men asleep in low'er tiered bunks. One can imagine the pandemonium as these sleepy sailors were awakened in pitch dark by a bear stepping on them. Someone had turned on the lights about the time I arrived. The poor cub had found his keeper all right and was very happy. The keeper, though, was not too happy because his shipmates were threatening to lynch him—and his bear cub.
The weather took a quick change for the worse after Labor Day, and it w'as useless to w'aste time for what little we had left to do. The planes were readied and flew off to Seattle with an overnight stop in Alert Bay. The Gannet and her barge arrived in good shape, but I was informed that the bear cub had died on the way down. He had been buried at sea. All that remained to do was to inform both the Alaskan Fish and Game Commission and the San Diego Zoo. Films, records, and photographs were shipped to San Diego, and the planes flew' there, arriving 21 September. It w'as the end of a most successful and interesting summer, but writing reports and otherwise closing out the mission took another month. We finally decommissioned the detachment on 31 October.
Foxy Grandpa Sargent left us in Seattle and took all of our mapping film back to Washington. The Geological Survey and the Coast and Geodetic Survey combined their resources to get on with Alaskan map making, using our aerial photographs. The maps of southeastern Alaska, based on our flights, were ready in time to be used in World War II.
The author went on to complete a long and distinguished naval career, culminating in service as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff from 1953 to 1957. He died in 1973 at the age of 77. This work is excerpted from a portion not included in From Pearl Harbor to Vietnam: The Memoirs of Admiral Arthur W. Radford, published earlier this year by the Hoover Institution.