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212 in their Antarctic program. In the meanwhile, as opportunity offered, I would drive over from my home at Rye and get in odd hours in the air. Most of these were devoted to blind flying until I felt really confident of my ability to handle the ship without looking outside of the cockpit—that is, flying it solely with instruments.

As May moved on we studied the weather maps with increasing interest. As usual with all flight projects. Dr. James H. Kimball in the New York office of the United States Weather Bureau was of the greatest assistance. We never talked definitely of my plans and I don’t know that he was aware exactly what was up until the last moment. He was, as always, tireless in his co-operation.

On the afternoon of the eighteenth of May, the weather map was anything but promising. A per­sistent “low” with its inevitable bad weather hung over the eastern Atlantic. It seemed probable that many days might elapse before a promising break would come. Much as I wanted to move up to Harbor Grace to be ready, I was almost resigned to further days of waiting.

On Friday, the twentieth, my husband went to town and later in the morning I drove to Teter­boro to talk things over with Bernt and do a little flying. The ship by then was ready to go. I arrived about 11:30. Eddie Gorski, our mechanic at the hangar, told me there was a telephone call. It was my husband, at Dr. Kimball’s office. They had just gone over the morning weather reports,