Magellans of the sky: lessons learned from the epic 1924 around the world flight are visible in today's Air Force, but the memory of those who made it possible have faded with the years - A Centennial of Flight Special Feature

Airman, July, 2003 by Chuck Roberts

They achieved greatness. They were cheered by thousands and wined and dined by dignitaries a round the world. They earned the nation's highest aviation honor.

Their award, the Robert J. Collier Trophy, presented annually for the "greatest achievement in aeronautics or astronautics in America," disappeared in a storage area in the Pentagon until two years ago. Their record flight, which captured the imagination of the world, is now a historical accomplishment unknown to most of today's airmen.

They were eight officer and enlisted aviators from the Army Air Service who set out in 1924 in the open cockpits of four Douglas World Cruiser biplanes to become the first to fly around the world. Two of the original four aircraft endured the 26,345-mile flight encompassing 175 days -- 363 hours and seven minutes of flying time divided into 73 separate flights. The Army aviators visited 29 nations, made five forced landings, used 68,950 gallons of gas and 8,738 gallons of oil, and required 17 engine changes. They averaged four hours of sleep each night, according to Frank Donovan in his book "The Early Eagles."

"It was a very underappreciated event," said Maj. Braxton Eisel, an Air Force reservist on active duty and air defense liaison with the Federal Aviation Administration. Eisel researched and co-authored with Daniel Watkins, a retired Reserve colonel, a 2003 magazine article in "Air Power History" about the historic flight.

"They were real heroes," Watkins said. "They captured the spirit of the time. They had a vision of what it could be."

He likened their status at the time to the first astronauts to orbit Earth and walk on the moon.

Payoff then and now

It wasn't just glory they were seeking. Success was intended to spur public support and increase congressional spending for military aviation, according to Eisel. The plan worked. The immediate impact was a doubling of the Army Air Service budget and hundreds of aircraft added to its fleet. But their success also resulted in a new way of doing business that continues to pay dividends.

Flying around the world was a huge accomplishment, Watkins said, but probably more important was learning how to go about encircling the globe.

"They did it right, with an excellent supply and logistics chain," said Watkins, a former logistics officer and C-130 Hercules pilot. "That's what really made it successful. That was the piece of the pie that no one else had put together. We saw how well it can work," he said about why they succeeded when other attempts at the time ended in failure.

"We built on the lessons they taught us," Watkins said. Those lessons used in today's Air Force include prepositioning en route maintenance teams and deploying with enough supplies to maintain aircraft until the supply chain catches up.

Logistics for the trip fell into the hands of six officers, each in charge of a separate division spread across the world. A seventh division would be established for North America -- if they made it back. They were tasked with arranging refueling, quarters, meals, press relations and maintenance, according to Eisel and Watkins.

As a modern day logistician, Staff Sgt. Robert Griffith marveled at the planning involved to fly across 29 countries.

"I was aware of the flight, but not how much went into it," said Griffith, assigned to the 100th Air Refueling Wing at Royal Air Force Mildenhall, England. The 26year-old Reidsville, N.C., native said he would love to have gone back in time to "see how they actually did it."

Repeating the feat would be much easier today with modern communications and the aid of massive cargo planes to help preposition items such as fuel bladders. The fact that the logistics were set up using primarily boat travel made it even more impressive, Griffith said.

Setting off in Seattle

After six weeks of training for the epic journey at Langley Field, Va., the men traveled to Santa Monica, Calif., to oversee final assembly of the aircraft. They then flew to Seattle from where they began their adventure on April 6, 1924.

The aircraft were named after four cities: the Seattle piloted by Maj. Frederick L. Martin with Staff Sgt. Alva L. Harvey as mechanic, the Chicago with pilot 1st Lt. Lowell Smith and mechanic 1st Lt. Leslie P. Arnold, the New Orleans with pilot 1st Lt. Erik H. Nelson and mechanic 2nd Lt. John Harding Jr., and the Boston with pilot 1st Lt. Leigh Wade and mechanic Staff Sgt. Henry H. Ogden.

From Seattle, they flew along the coast of Alaska to Prince Rupert, British Columbia, where they encountered a problem that would plague them the remainder of the journey -- hospitality. After enduring cold, rain and engine noise from their positions in open cockpits, the aviators had to perform much of their own maintenance. Then they had to contend with late-night banquets, receptions and dances held in their honor. But they complied with good graces because they also were functioning as goodwill ambassadors for the United States, according to Donovan.

Because Ogden was enlisted, however, he was excluded from the festivities and not allowed to be quartered with fellow crewmembers in countries where only officers were considered gentlemen. Smith sent a cable to Washington during the Japan portion of the trip and asked the Army to make Ogden a lieutenant. Staff Sgt. Ogden became 2nd Lt. Ogden, and thus an officer and a gentleman.