Part 23

13. GUEST ON A HAIRY HOP

"On the rushing of the wings of the wind. It is indeed a knowledge which must be felt to be in its very essence full of the soul of the beautiful." --Ruskin

A hurricane flight which proves to be rougher than usual is known among the hunters as a "hairy hop." It is an amazing fact that there are men who want to come down to the airfield when a big storm is imminent and "thumb a ride." Mostly, they are newspaper reporters, magazine writers, photographers, civilian weathermen, and radio and television people. Usually they are accommodated, if they have made arrangements in advance. Some of these rides have been quiet, like a sightseer's trip over a city, while others have been "hairy."

One of the first newspapermen to take a ride into a full-fledged hurricane was Milt Sosin of the Miami Daily News. In 1944, Milt read about men of the Army and Navy who were just beginning to fly into hurricanes and he became obsessed with the wish to go along. When he asked for permission, the editor said "No" in a very positive tone. He could see no point in having a good staff correspondent dropped in the ocean during a wild ride in a hurricane. Sosin insisted and he was told to see the managing editor. He did and there was another argument. Sosin told him, "If I don't, somebody else will and we'll be scooped." Reluctantly, the managing editor gave permission. But when Sosin asked the immigration authorities, they said "No. You have no passport, and you don't know what country you may fall in." They refused. Sosin hung around and argued. He pointed out that if the plane went down at sea, he wouldn't need any passport to the place he was going, and they finally agreed.

Milt Sosin got his wish in full measure on September 13, 1944, in the Great Atlantic Hurricane which had developed a fury seldom attained, even in the worst of these tropical giants. It had crossed the northern Bahamas and was headed northwestward on a broad arc that was to bring its death-dealing winds to New Jersey, Long Island and New England. Already we have told the story of Army and Navy planes probing this big storm, including the pioneering trip by Colonel Wood and others of the Washington weather staff. At the end of this trip, Sosin was glad to be back on land and vowed, "Never again!" But, somehow, he still had the urge to see these storms from the inside and afterward was a frequent guest of the Navy and Air Force.

One of Sosin's most interesting trips was on September 14, 1947, in a B-17. They took off from Miami. Al Topel, also from the Miami Daily News, went along to take pictures, and Fred Clampitt, news editor of Radio Station WIOD, was the other guest. The big hurricane was roaring toward the Bahamas with steadily increasing fury and the people of Florida were worried--and for good reason, for three days later it raked the state from east to west, killing more than fifty people and causing destruction estimated in excess of one hundred million dollars. By many observers it was eventually rated as the most violent hurricane between 1944 and 1949.

They ran into it east of the Bahamas. As the plane burrowed its way through the seething blasts, Sosin wrote in his shaking notebook:

"This airplane feels as if it's cracking up. Ominous crashes in the aft compartment accompany every sickening lurch and dive as, buffeted by 140-mile-an-hour winds and sucked into powerful downdrafts, the huge bomber bores through to the core of the storm."

Sosin said that the pilot, Captain Vince Huegele, and the co-pilot, Lieutenant Don Ketcham, were literally wrestling with the hurricane in clothes sopping wet from perspiration and, as soon as they came into the center, began to take off their wet garments. Ketcham had "pealed down to his shorts before the plane plunged back into the mad vortex."

At this point they were surprised to see another plane in the storm, a B-29, flying in the eye at thirty-six thousand feet, trying to discover the "steering level" where the main currents of the atmosphere control the forward movement of tropical disturbances such as this one. The radio man, Sergeant Jeff Thornton, was trying to contact the B-29, miles overhead, but with no luck. Sosin wrote in his notebook:

"But here at this low level we have more to worry about than trying to reach the other plane. We are getting an awful kicking around. Wow! That was a beaut. Al Topel was foolish enough to unfasten his safety belt and stand up for a better angle shot of the raging turbulent sea below. We must have dropped one hundred feet and his head hit the aluminum ribbing of the plane's ceiling. Then, trying to protect his camera, he skinned his elbows and knuckles. Now he's given up and has even strapped a safety belt around his camera."

The crew was busy plotting positions and checking on the engines. To them it was an old story, except that none could recall such violent turbulence. The craft was low enough for them to get glimpses of the sea but they wanted a better view and they began to descend cautiously. Sosin wrote:

"The turbulence is getting worse. The sea is streaked with greenish-gray lines which look like daubs made by a child who has stuck his fingers into a can of paint. Now we are closed in. We are flying blind. Capt. John C. Mays, the weather observer, starts giving the pilots readings from his radar altimeter while Huegele sends the plane lower and lower in an effort to establish visual contact with the sea.

"'Five hundred feet,' Mays calls into the plane's intercom.

"'OK,' replies the skipper.

"'Four hundred feet.'

"'Roger.'

"'Three-fifty.'

"'Roger.'

"'Two-fifty.'

"'OK.'

"'Two hundred feet,' Mays' voice is still even.

"'OK,' comes Huegele's voice.

"It may be OK with him but it isn't with me. I just found myself tugging tentatively on the pull toggles which will inflate my 'Mae West' life jacket if I yank hard enough. I checked a long time ago to make certain the CO cartridges were where they should be.

"Fred Clampitt, WIOD news editor, is turning green.

"No, it's not fear. He's sweating so much that the colored chemical shark repellent in a pocket of his life jacket is starting to run.

"Then we sight the sea again. From this low level the waves are frightening. They are traveling in all directions, not in just one, and they break against each other, dashing salt spray high into the air. It's all too close.

"Now the ceiling is lifting and we are climbing--250, 300, 500, 700 and we level off. It grows less turbulent and Observer Mays looks up from his deep concentration.