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Less than an hour later, Akron was above Washington, D.C.’s naval yard.
Lunchtime came with Akron high above the Pe
Temper stared at his plate of food. “Think the crew usually eats like this?”
Perkins cut a piece of steak and left it on his fork while he wolfed down a shrimp. “Nope,” he said, “this spread is just for the special guests and reporters.”
“They must want a nice story to come out,” Temper said.
“They must want Congress to give them more money,” Perkins said, “so they can build some more of these.”
“Why not?” Temper said. “Why not?”
Later that afternoon, Akron passed over Philadelphia and steered down toward Trenton. Near sunset, she landed back at her base at Lakehurst.
All in all, it was a successful debut.
For the ordinary sailor, choosing an airship instead of a water ship was usually rewarded with better working conditions. The fact was, airship duty was dangerous. Crashes at the start of the program were frequent, but they were becoming less so. Still, if an airship went down, the chance of dying was great.
However, if one put that aside, the actual work aboard was a great deal better than that at sea. For one thing, there was almost no rust to contend with — the great bane of sailors at sea. The duraluminum did not rust, and because of weight limitations, iron was almost nonexistent. As far as food and shelter went, airship travel had a lot going for it — for one thing, the crews were smaller.
Instead of the cook needing to feed thousands of sailors at a single sitting, the pace of work aboard a dirigible lent itself to small groups of men in the mess at one time. Everyone got a hot meal. As far as bunk arrangements went, because of the crew rotation the berths were never crowded. In addition, the motion of Akron gently rocked the canvas hammocks while under way.
Even so, the work was not simple and required a recruit with a higher-than-average intelligence and physical stamina. The numerous systems that made up Akron were complex and constantly in need of monitoring and adjustment, and it was important that accurate records were kept. As for stamina, movement inside the hull was along a series of ladders and walkways. The distances were great, and there was sometimes a need for speed.
And then there was the view — an endless carpet of America beneath you.
The view made up for any trying times.
Commander Alger Dresel thought he was ru
Steering his 1926 Pierce-Arrow Roadster past the guard gate at the entrance to Lakehurst, Dresel quickly accelerated down the access roads leading to the blimp hangar. The Pierce was a beautiful two-tone blue, with a tan top, and featured a golf bag compartment that was accessible from outside. He patted the thick buckskin leather on the seat in the forward compartment, then stared at the dash, where an ornate windup clock was set in the stainless steel engine-turned dashboard. Like everything aboard the aged automobile, the clock worked perfectly. Dresel was a lover of all things mechanical, and he personally maintained the Pierce-Arrow to perfection. Nine-fifteen A.M. He would arrive right on time.
Quickly parking, Dresel turned off the engine and removed his luggage.
“Ascending,” the rudder man said loudly.
It was Sunday May 8, 1932, just before 6 A.M. Akron rose above Lakehurst on the first leg of a cross-country cruise. So far, only one of the new Curtiss planes, XF9C, had been delivered. The new plane and the older-model N2Y would fly up and attach to the amidships hook hanging under Akron’s belly once the airship was over Barnegat Bay, some sixty miles south.
This was Captain Rosendahl’s last cruise as commander of Akron. His future replacement, Dresel, stood alongside him in the control car. At 7:20 A.M., just past Toms River, the telephone rang. Rosendahl lifted the receiver.
“Captain,” a crewman in the aircraft dock said, “both planes are safely aboard.”
“Very good,” Rosendahl said. He turned to Dresel. “Both planes are secured. How would you like to take over command for a time?”
“That would be fine, Captain,” Dresel said.
“Command to Commander Dresel,” Rosendahl said.
Rosendahl turned to leave the control car. For the last couple of weeks, he had observed Dresel while on the ground. Rosendahl’s observations had led him to believe that Commander Dresel was a calm and sober officer who cared about his men and his command. Rosendahl was not worried about turning Akron over to him, he just wanted to give the junior officer the benefit of as much flight experience as possible.
Rosendahl had learned that ground training went only so far.
Lieutenant Howard Young started back down the ladder into his Curtiss. It always felt odd to enter the plane when she was hanging below Akron. Climbing up out of the plane was not so strange — the huge fuselage of the airship was overhead, and the mass signaled safety — but descending was another matter. First, the plane was attached by a hook that did not appear to be all that stable. Second, when climbing down, a person had a bird’s-eye view of the ground passing thousands of feet below.
Young made it inside. He retrieved his logbook and a pack of Beeman’s gum he had left inside. Slipping the book inside his leather flight suit, he pulled up the zipper so the book rode close to his stomach, then started back up the ladder. Young was no stranger to blimp operations — he had nearly five dozen takeoffs and landings under his belt — so climbing the ladder was nothing new. He quickly bounded up the rungs. Halfway between the plane and the opening into Akron, Young missed a rung. Luckily, his hands were firmly attached to the steps above. As Young’s feet broke loose, he hung in the air by his hands as the wind outside buffeted him. A crewman above started down the ladder, but Young quickly recovered and continued up the ladder.
“You okay, sir?” the crewman asked, when Young entered the cockpit.
“Fine, fine,” Young said, smiling.
“I’m glad,” the crewman said, “because that’s one long step down.”
Young stared out the opening at the ground passing below.
“One real long step,” he said.
The eastern seaboard passed underneath Akron as she cruised south.
With the officers, men, and pair of pilots, the total perso
While the airship was under way, there was a litany of jobs to be performed. Along with the cooking and serving the food, the cooks and mess men were responsible for cleaning the galleys and pla
Monday the ninth, Akron passed over Houston just before 4 P.M.
An hour later, the first problem arose.
“Sir,” the crewman shouted over the telephone, “we have a leak in a port fuel tank. Gasoline is entering the hull.”
Rosendahl was in command of the blimp.
“Shut down all the engines save number seven,” he said over the telephone to all hands. “We have liquid fuel inside the hull.”