“You don't mind flying in any weather?” inquired Captain Findlay, officer in charge of the Defence Aerodrome, Sockburn. “It's all the same to us!”

And it was the ready assent given which led to my standing alongside a Moth plane, looking up at the most dismal prospect in the way of weather. Solid masses of clouds floated slowly over the plains at a height of a couple of thousand feet, and Christchurch people were carrying their umbrellas, hoping that the weather would clear up.

In five minutes we were above these dismal clouds, in a perfect summer sky, clear blue to the horizon, with a widespread and glorious rolling panorama beneath us. A trip by aeroplane to-day is quite commonplace, and the preparations were no more elaborate than getting a motor car out of its garage, and “warming up” the engine. With this simple preliminary we were off, aiming at a steep angle so that Sockburn quickly disappeared and we bumped our first cloud.

And it was a definite bump too. The machine went straight into an immense white mass, and as the vapour curled around us, so that only the edges of the wings could be glimpsed, there were three or four little reminders that we had struck something more solid than clear atmosphere. The sensation was that of motoring over a few minor potholes, in a well-sprung car. After this experience, we sped around looking for holes in the dense carpet of cloud beneath.

“Perfect bombing weather” declared the Captain, as he sighted a rift through which could be seen a train speeding towards Christchurch. The carriages at this height appeared to be the size of petrol cases, and the speed about the same as that estimated by some suburban growler who writes to the papers about his local train which stops every mile. But this happened to be an express, though we easily beat it into Christchurch, having no crossing-places to consider and no

New Zealand Defence Department's (Air Force) Moth plane, at Sockburn Aerodrome, Christchurch.

page 35 opposing traffic. We had the air to ourselves—and the clouds.

From this viewpoint, a few thousand feet aloft, one could easily follow the logic of the aviator, who explained that if he was on a bombing excursion he could find a small hole in the clouds, through which he could pass in a few seconds, yet with sufficient time to glimpse a large area of the land surface, drop his explosive “message” and disappear into another cloud before the alarmed inhabitants below could even find out where to look for him. Our cities would be very helpless on such a day in time of war unless we, too, had our friendly aeroplanes capable of taking the same point of vantage.

New Safety Factor in Modern Flying.
View shewing the closed position of the slotted wing lying snugly on top of the plane.

Travelling in a Moth is devoid of thrills unless there are clouds to “bump” or lively air currents which give the impression of falling into a hole. A New Zealander who has done a fair amount of air travelling over his own country found that on crossing a river, even at a good height, there was an inevitable downward dip into which the plane swoops, giving its occupants the sensation of travelling down in a fast lift.