7 minute read
Memoirs Eugene Leone
Over the next 11 months we will be sharing the Memoirs That Made Me Who I Am. These are compiled stories written about the life of a former Gallup resident Eugene Leone.
Before his passing, he wrote, “It is with great delight that I share these stories from my heart, which have been inside for many years. My desire is that the reader would be able to go back to a time that was very real and may have been lost through the years.
Chapter Six The Guided Flight
TThis adventure occurred during the time I was anxiously waiting for my 18th birthday. Only then could we be inducted into the Army Air Force Cadet Training program. My dad had given me a job that needed to be done but was not imperative. He said simply, “You want to go for a short trip?” “Where to?” I asked. “To check out the gold mine that Oliver and his partner are working at in Blythe, California.” Oliver was a brother to my dad, and my uncle. Oliver was the only intellectual in the family being a metallurgist for the United States government, and living and working in Boulder City, Nevada. Oliver’s partner was also a metallurgist, and together are the claims of the new owners.
At our arrival at the Blythe Airfield, the young guy doing some paperwork said, “Are you driving a 4-wheel drive vehicle?” When we said “no”, he said we would have to call old Cal, the resident crop-duster to fly a message up into the Granite Mountains telling the miners that we had arrived and to come get us in the 4-wheel drive. The next day, old Cal said he would make a small parachute to let the message down easy. Cal had gone into his old toolbox to find a suitable weight to attach to the parachute. He attached the message lines to a monkey wrench weight and reached across the bench to hand it to me. I thought it might be too heavy, but this was no time to bring up trifles.
That night was sleepless for me. To begin with, the temperature was not just warm; it was hot. Despite the best efforts of an evaporative cooler, it was unable to change the ambient temperature much; from hot to warm. Also, I was sleeping in the same bed as Video, and he was snoring like a hog. But that was to be loudly interrupted by Cal, the pilot hollering, “Take off time!”
We walked to the plane and its engine was running, but what astonished me was how smoothly and quietly it was running. And, I said to myself, “Well what did you expect, he is a crop-duster you know.” Cal brought the plane around and hollered to me, “Open the plane door, brace with your feet and one hand, and hold the package out the door with the other, and don’t drop it, until I holler, ok?” I nodded. He held the plane’s door while I clumsily climbed in. I looked for something like a handhold to grab onto, but there was none. Then I quickly looked for a seatbelt, and there was none! At that point I began to worry, I am a little slow you know. “Relax you’re gonna be alright” said Cal, who noticed my apprehension. But still I felt uneasy for needing something to hold onto. There was nothing to hold onto except the knowledge that my pilot is a crop-duster.
As I was feeling extremely nervous, Cal hollered, “Drop it!” I did. It went down like a bomb and there was no chute deployed. It hit the aluminum shed so hard that it went completely through it with a noise you wouldn’t believe.
About that time we were rapidly approaching the real mountains, the Granite Mountains, and the ride was getting a little bumpy. But more alarming than that was the mountain got taller on either side as we continued on. Again, the engine shuddered and stopped. This time I shouted to Cal, “What’s wrong with our engine?” “It’s not the engine” he hollered back. “It’s the damned magneto.” This is a device on all internal combustion motors in early model cars, trucks, tractors, airplanes, etc. Simply put, a measured amount of fuel is injected into each of the engine cylinders, at a precise and appropriate time. The cylinder closes and at another precise time an electric spark is discharged which in turn drives down on the crankshafts, which in turn, spins the propeller. That electric spark which is so essential, and timing is so precise, is made and supplied to the engine by the magneto.
Just then the engine again coughed loudly and quit. I looked over to Cal for some assurance. I was nearly hysterical. I was cofounded to see Cal lying on his right side while both hands were working on the magneto and unbelievably singing, “there’s a gold mine in the sky far away.” At this point, I was stressed out and thought, “What the hell, if I am going to go, this is at least a novel way to go.” I just hope they spell my name correctly in the obituary, and do not mention my wet pants.
Cal’s landing on that rough severely elevated slope was unbelievable. There was one large protruding stone which the miners were unable to remove, and which concerned me, but not Cal. Consequently, when the plane stopped, I was nearly hysterical, but untouched. On stopping, Cal said “we are tipped too far to get out of my side, so we have to both go out yours.” At that point I was ready to jump out if need be. But I cautiously reached for the door handle, opened it, and immediately fell out of the plane on my shoulder; unhurt. The seat was about two feet from the ground on my side. Of course, I fell out of the plane onto the ground uninjured. And, it suddenly occurred to me that Cal knew a hell of a lot more about gravity than I did.
Oliver and his mining partners came flying out from under the shed, thinking that the plane had crashed into it. Only then did Oliver recognize me and said, “you mean you flew with this crazy old bastard?” I replied in a subdued voice, “ya!”
Net morning, during a quick cup of coffee and doughnuts, my uncle Oliver and his partner brought up the failed message parachute. Looking directly at Cal, they asked, “What the hell were you trying to do, kill us?” Cal calmly replied, “That’s all we had packed.” We then climbed into the big truck ready to leave, but we wanted to watch to be sure Cal took off safely.
Cal went out to the plane, picked up the tail and walked carefully around facing the direction we had arrived. He started the engine slowly, warmed it until it was roaring at full throttle, released the brake and the plane rapidly raced down the runway. At its end, he pulled back the wheel and literally leaped into the air and then he waggled his wings to tell us goodbye. Tears came to my eyes, but I didn’t care. I realized at that moment that I shared some time with a very extraordinary man. Not only was he an extra-ordinary pilot, but also did so without boasting. I told him I had just turned 18 and was wanting to go into the Air Force, and I believe he wanted to give me some helpful advice such as knowing what you are doing, do it right, don’t be afraid, or panic. He was one of the most extraordinary men I’ve met. Do I know if he is going to heaven to help the angels learn to fly? Thank you Cal, I will remember you to the end of my days.
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