Adventure Magazine Cover — page 192: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

186 and several steamers. Collected what qualifications I possess as an ‘‘Ask Adventure” man by travel or residence in the parts I cover for the department, and by my experience as a sailor. A few years ago went to Bermuda to live with my family. At present am cruising where the winds may blow me in my sixteen-ton schooner Gauntlet. Write fiction for a living, and sometimes sell a story or two. Have been an ‘Ask Adventure” man almost since the department was started, and have had a lot of fun in the work. Try to give my best to all inquirers, and hope they find something helpful in my replies. Have lived a fairly eventful hfe, but probably shall never know all that has come near happening to me. Just as an instance, three weeks ago I received a letter from an Adventure reader telling me that during the war he was gun-pointer on the fore- castle of a patrol vessel which sighted the small sloop I was sailing to Bermuda, and that his gun was covering me, loaded for submarines, with an itching finger at the business end until the skipper got my signal wagged with a pair of bathing-trunks on a boat-hook, asking for water. One never knows what’s going to pop. Lucky that pointer didn’t have St. Vitus’ dance. Hope this will suit, old-timer.—A. E. DINGLE. Olympia, Wash. Educated at the United States Naval Academy. Served for some years as deck officer of sailing- vessels. Held a limited master’s license on inland waters. Writer for many years about maritime matters. Never taught school or preached from a pulpit. Have tackled ’most everything else.— BERIAH BROWN. Washington, D. C. I started flying in San Diego back in 1915 in a Curtiss flying boat. Came East, and in the Winter and Spring of 1916, along with Gordon MacCreagh and a few others, built the headquarters of the New Jersey Naval Reserve Aviation Section, Keyport, N. J., on the spot where the Aeromarine factory now stands. Went to the Curtiss Aviation School at Newport News, Va., in June, 1916, and under the supervision of Capt. Thomas Scott Baldwin—‘‘Cap” cashed in his last checks as a major in the United States Air Service in May, 1923—obtained my pilot’s license in September, 1916. Enlisted as a private, United States Army, at Fortress Monroe, November, 1916, and finished up my flying training at Newport News in March, 1917. “Was commissioned a first ‘‘looie’’ and put on active service with the Third Aero Squadron at Fort Sam Houston, April 2, 1917, four days before we declared war on the Huns. Transferred to the First Aero Squadron, Columbus, N. M., in May and went overseas with this outfit, landing in France Sep- tember 3, 1917. Went through most of the French flying schools that Fall and Winter and was sta- tioned with the First Squadron at Amanty, just a few kilometers back of Toul. Made the first flight of any American observation pilot, in a fully equipped observation plane, across the Hun lines on April 2, 1918. Didn’t intend to go across, but got lost and well shot up by archies and anti-aircraft machine guns before we got home again, Commanded the Ninetieth Aero Squadron at the front from June to October, with the exception of a Adventure few weeks in the hospital, and then was given com- mand of the Third Corps*Observation Group, First Army Air Service, consisting of the Eighty-eighth; Ninetieth American Observation Squadrons, the One Hundred Ninety-ninth American Supply Squadron and the Two Hundred Fourth; Two Hundred Fifth and Two Hundred Eighty-fourth French Observation Squadrons. Promoted tocaptaincy in October when put in command of the group and wound up the war at the time of the Armistice on a little, miserable airdrome at Bethlainville, a few kilometers west of Verdun. If any of the old Third Group crowd see this, here’s “Happy Landings” to you all and a wish for some of the good times we used to have together in the mess hall after the day’s work was finished. Along with ‘Mort’? Adams, my observer, brought down one “official”? Hun, and received a Croix de Guerre and gold star and three A.E.F. citations. After the armistice was sent to the First Army Headquarters and after being Operations Officer and Assistant Chief of Staff, wound up as Chief of Staff, First Army Air Service, with Winter quarters at Bar-sur-Aube. Promoted toa majority, April, 1919. Returned to the United States in July, 1919, and was sent to Kelly Field, where I remained for a year and a half as Operations Officer, First Wing, Mexi- can Border Patrol. Then was shifted to Langley Field as an instructor of observation in the Field Officers’ School. Since the Fall of 1920 I have been following com- mercial aeronautics. Went to Mexico in the Sum- mer of 1922 for a big New York contracting concern and made a preliminary survey of the route to be followed by the new national highway running from Mexico City to Acupulco, on the west coast. There were three of us—Hank Tuthill, highway engineer; Charlie Messina, bridge engineer, and yours truly as aeronautical engineer. We sure had some great experiences. Mexico offers all kinds of chances for commercial aviation, and surveying by means of planes and aerial cameras is the most practical way of getting accurate information in a minimum amount of time. Riding the hurricane deck of a mule across that old Spanish Trail may be all right, but give me the cockpit of a good ’plane any day; it’s a sight safer and faster. I’ve just received my promotion to Lieut.-Colonel, Air Service, Officers Reserve Corps, and assigned to the Three Hundred and Fourth Pursuit Group Headquarters. Cheerio—Happy Landings to you all. If there is anything I can do to help along let me know.— W. G. SCHAUFFLER, JR. Salem, Ore. In response to that request of yours for the “low- down’”’ on OV Man Wiggins, I will let the curtain slip aside for a space and reveal certain facts. I don’t think much would interest the readers of Adventure; but for purposes of identification: Born of American parents, the sort labeled ‘“‘Old Ameri- can,” on Boot Hill, Dodge City, Kansas, about the time the trail herds stopped coming up from Texas. First toy I can remember was my father’s revolver, which I soon lost. I’ve been fooling with firearms ever since, so I guess the inoculation was successful. Follows a space of years mixed up with schooling, as little as possible, and the rest of the time success- fully eluded. Was caught and sentenced to a grocery oO C© MICLOOKS S|