Christopher Cartwright
The Phoenix Sanction
Acknowledgements:
I wouldn’t be able to write any of these books without the help of a multitude of people who have assisted along the way. Specifically, I would like to thank my editors, David Gilmore and Randy Olsen, and my team of proof readers — without whom, you would be receiving a by far inferior version of the book you read today — JC Barb, Rohen Kapur, Mike Riley, Kris Densley, Mykel Densley, Liia Miller, Peter Gifford, Ross Jarratt, Forest Olivier, and my mother, Susan Cartwright.
For technical help with regards to modern aviation, I would like to thank Chris Chmiel from the Australian RAAF who spent hours trying to explain the intricate ins and outs of a modern jetliner from the point of view of the pilot.
As always, all mistakes reside squarely on my shoulders.
Christopher Cartwright
Prologue
Please note that I know the hazards. I want to do it. Because I want to try. As men have tried. Women must too. And when they fail, their failure must be of a challenge to others.
It was 10 a.m. local time when the heavily loaded Lockheed Model 10 Electra stopped at the end of the grass field. The American twin-engine, all-metal monoplane, with its unique double tail and twin rudder system looked decidedly futuristic, a jarring contrast against the harsh backdrop of the hot Papua New Guinea jungle.
Amelia Earhart met her navigator Fred Noonan’s eye with a broad grin. “You ready to make history?”
He made a curt nod. “Good to go.”
Amelia pushed the twin throttles to full. All nine cylinders of each of the Pratt and Whitney R-1340-S3H1 Wasp engines sputtered into life, their pitch rising to a gravelly roar, sending all 600 horsepower to the twin propellers. The 9 foot, 7/8-inch, two-bladed, Hamilton Standard variable-pitch, constant-speed propellers spun faster until they disappeared into an invisible whir.
She glanced at the gauges. The engine RPM registered 2,250 for each engine. Amelia made a broad and relaxed smile. Despite what people might think she was doing with what some called the stunt of circumnavigation, the simple fact was, she loved the adventure of flight.
She took a deep breath in. The edge of her lips opened in a grin, revealing large and evenly spaced, white teeth, except for a noticeable gap between her two front teeth. “Here we go!”
Loaded with 1151 US gallons of 100 percent high octane gasoline, the Electra crept forward. She gained speed slowly, like a long-distance runner, not a sprinter; she lazily picked up her pace. Two thirds of the way down the runway, Amelia felt the gentle buffeting of the wheel, teasing and begging her to be released.
She applied firm downward pressure.
Back in March, the overburdened Electra had suffered an uncontrolled ground loop during takeoff from Hawaii, causing the forward landing gear to collapse and both propellers to hit the ground as the plane skidded on its belly. Surprisingly, no one was badly injured, but it meant her first round-the-world flight had been a failure, and the Electra needed to be sent back stateside for significant repairs.
No. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Her eyes darted toward the Air Speed Indicator.
It crept up to the minimum take-off speed. She held the wheel firmly for another few precious seconds and then gently pulled the wheel toward her chest.
Released from its earthly restraints, the Electra climbed at a conservative rate of 550 feet per minute, just shy of half its potential maximum climb rate of 1,000 feet per minute.
Her focus turned briefly over her right shoulder, and her eyes swept the remains of the Lae Jungle below. “Good bye, Papua New Guinea. Next stop, Howland Island.”
The name Electra came from a star in the cluster of the Pleiades.
It was among the nearest star clusters to Earth and the cluster most obvious to the naked eye in the night sky, and as such, the nine brightest stars of the Pleiades are named for the Seven Sisters of Greek mythology: Sterope, Merope, Electra, Maia, Taygeta, Celaeno, and Alcyone, along with their parents Atlas and Pleione. As daughters of Atlas, the Hyades were sisters of the Pleiades.
The Electra was 38 feet, 7 inches long with a wingspan of 55 feet and an overall height of 10 feet, 1 inch — all in total a speck on the vastness of the Pacific Ocean as it made its way across the 2,556 statute miles between Lae Airfield and Howland Island.
The shortest route was known as the Great Circle, which basically formed a straight line from Lae to Howland Island over the curvature of the Earth. But, as they approached New Britain Island, less than four hours into their journey, large rain squalls to the east forced them to divert to the south of the island, around Gasmata. The cloud cover came in thick and Amelia took the aircraft from 7,000 feet up to 10,000 feet to climb above it.
Fred Noonan unclipped his harness and stood up. “I’d better get you a new course.”
“Please do,” Amelia replied, her voice curt, but not unhappy. “I’ll try to keep us above the cloud long enough for you to take a reading.”
Noonan was tall, very thin, with dark auburn-hair. His cobalt blue eyes were large and liquid. At forty-three years of age, he walked with a determined stride as he passed the four auxiliary fuel tanks in the passenger compartment, heading aft along the fuselage to reach his navigation station.
Passenger windows had been eliminated throughout the entire passenger section of the fuselage, with the exception of two rectangular, distortion free windows on either side of the navigator’s table. He took out his sextant, marked the time, and took a reading while Amelia attempted to keep the Electra as steady as possible.
He made his notes on the navigation chart fixed to the table and then plotted a new course. His gaze traced its way along the new course, past Nauru, through the Gilbert Islands — a chain of sixteen tiny atolls — before finally coming to rest on Howland Island.
Noonan calculated the distance between the Gilbert Islands and Howland Island as 1,152 miles. If they got into trouble locating Howland, there was always the possibility of flying a reciprocal course. The islands were mostly uninhabited, but he was certain they could land on a beach. Worst case scenario, they could always ditch in the coastal waters and swim to shore — not that it would ever come to that. They had provisions for enough fuel to reach the Gilberts if they had to.
Navigation to the untrained seemed like witchcraft in medieval times, but it was very much based on science and exact calculations. Mistakes could be made certainly, but those risks could be mitigated with knowledge and understanding. Solid mathematics, an accurate time piece, good maps, and due diligence made it safe.
He had vast experience in both marine and flight navigation. His original training was in the merchant navy, in which he continued working on merchant ships throughout World War I. Serving as an officer on ammunition ships, his harrowing wartime service included being on three vessels that were sunk from under him by German U-boats. He went on to become a naval captain and a flight navigator, who had recently left Pan Am, after establishing most of the company’s China Clipper seaplane routes across the Pacific. In addition to more modern navigational tools, Noonan, as a licensed sea captain, was known for carrying a ship's sextant on these flights.
He gave Amelia the new compass bearing, and he felt the Electra gently bank to its left on that course. Afterward, he set about performing a series of routine maintenance checks on the engines and instruments.