KINGSFORD SMITH

Lionised on Reaching London

His Great Performances

(From a Tasmanian in London).

LONDON, December 17. Australian doggedness and endurance, notable in many diverse directions - and especially in wars and sport - for achieving what well might have been deemed the impossible, fulfilled the first half of the ideal for the first "there and back" Anglo-Australian Christmas airmail being a wholly Australian venture. And behind that fine achievement stands principally the personality and courage of Air-Commodore Kingsford Smith, hero of four flights between England and Australia - somebody said that he knew the way now as well as any suburban-dweller knows the way to the railway station - besides equally outstanding journeys across the Atlantic and pacific oceans. And it is by virtue of the two historic flights that have ended in London during the last few days that "Bert" Hinkler and "Smithy," as they are affectionately known by a multitude of admirers the world over, and Australian airmen generally, are the most talked-of in aviation to-day.

Everyone here realises that there have been few things more magnificent in flying than Air-Commodore Kingsford Smith's spectacular flight to the rescue of the Christmas mails stranded in the jungles of Malaya, where the Southern Sun crashed at Alor. To us, indeed, it seemed but yesterday that "Smithy" left, not only sadly disappointed at his failure to break Mr. Mollison's record - and that through no fault of his own, but only because woodenheaded Turkish officials refused to recognise his credentials - but really ill, his iron nerve strained almost to breaking, so that he had been ordered by a specialist not to fly for months. Before one could realise that he had reached home, the trumpets were sounding for a new champion to enter the lists to retrieve the honour of Australian aviation.

Through a treacherous take-off in a region where monsoon rains make the ground tenacious and sticky, the Southern Sun, carrying the first All-Australian airmail to the Motherland - a gesture to support the British attempt to show that airmails are a practicable proposition - had crashed. Many offers were made to bring on the mails, so that thousands of Australians who had sent their Christmas wishes home by air should not be disappointed. It was proposed that they should be carried by sea to Colombo, thence across India by train, and placed on the Indian mailplanes from Karachi. But Australian National Airways went one better. They determined to carry out their plan of an All-Australian mail, and Air-Commodore Kingsford Smith heard the trumpets pealing. On the instant he flung aside all thoughts of his previous experiences in those very trying latitudes, of his illness, and of the hardships of such a flight. Within almost a few hours he was, all arrangements made, and himself largely restored by the sea voyage, satisfactorily "vetted" heading for the beleagured mail.

APPRECIATION IN LONDON.

Such were the thoughts that ran through the mind as one stood waiting at Croydon for the Southern Star to arrive with her mails. Such, indeed, was the trend of conversation among officials and pilots assembled on the great aerodrome, where I heard many cordial tributes to "Smithy's" pluck and ability, in no wise lessened by the delays in completing the final stages of his run. Rather, indeed, in view of the terrible weather of the last few days, the opinion was all in approval of his decision to run as few risks as possible. Men who knew what aviation under such conditions means were all eulogising his reputation for reliability and soundess in this respect.

As his blue and silver monoplane dropped from the skies and taxied slowly to the great concrete patch before the aerodrome offices, everyone in that considerable crowd forgot their two former vigils in the murk and fog of the previous afternoons, and ran forward cheering. And there, his usual cheerful smile lightening up the rugged features, was the Air-Commodore peering from the cockpit, waving his hand, obviously delighted to have performed the first part of his task, and glad, in his own words, "to see so many old faces at last." High Civil Aviation officials, many Australians, scores of press photographers, journalists, and movie-men clustered about the Southern Star, which showed with her stained sides, oil-bespattered fuselage, and dirty propellers, the battering she had received since she left Athens. And it says much for "Smithy's" popularity and the interest in his flight that for nearly half an hour he was being photographed, interviewed, and making talkies for the news-films.

CONFIDENCE IN THE AIR MAIL.

Tired, as he confessed to being, the notable thing was that never once did that charming smile leave his face, and the next important matter that struck was his confidence in the possibilities of an Anglo-Australian air mail, even if introduced at once, and not as a future development, as is so often argued. He told me that Australians certainly want the air mail, and he was convinced that it would pay for itself in about a year. This flight, which had cost about £2,000, had almost covered itself in the amount of mail carried. He believed that on an average the journey would work out at twelve days, but it might easily be run faster in the summer. If night flying - which would be expensive - could be organsied, he saw no reason why eight days should not be sufficient for the trip. He is to carry on the negotiations with the British Postmaster-General which Colonel Brinsmead was to have undertaken if he had not had his unfortunate crash in the Dutch air liner after the Southern Sun had met with her mishap.

View the original record at the Queensland State Archives: