Dive into a tale that’s a bit longer than our usual posts (grab a cup of tea!), but trust me, it’s a gripping, real-life adventure straight out of the pages of Boys’ Own Magazine. A huge thanks to Bob Sommerville for sharing the original article.
Western Mail 5 January 1933
AN OUTBACK EPIC – AIR PROSPECTORS’ ORDEAL
WHELAN STRANDED
THRILLING RESCUE EFFORTS.
Flying an aeroplane that was held together by strips of green timber hewn from saplings with an axe and laced together with raw hide thongs cut from the straps of their water bottles, Pilot Harry Frederick Baker, of Walcott Street, Mt. Lawley, and Mr. Norman Samuel Stuckey, mining engineer, of Richardson Street, South Perth, arrived at Forrest (the only remaining township along the trans-line Railway)this morning after a series of thrilling adventures following a forced landing on a salt lake about 220 miles north of Forrest six days ago.
In landing on the soft surface of the salt lake, the plane completely overturned, injuring Mr. Stuckey and Mr. Patrick Whelan, a prospector, the third member of the party. The damaged plane was unable to bring the three members of the party back, and Mr. Whelan is still stranded at the lake. He was without food and very short of water until a relief plane from Forrest found him this afternoon and dropped supplies. Owing to the difficulty of making a landing near the spot, it will probably be some time before Mr. Whelan is rescued. Mr. Stuckey, whose injury consists of a deep wound in the scalp, which bled copiously, is in the hands of Dr. Craig at Forrest and is almost quite recovered. Pilot Baker was uninjured, and after shaving a week’s growth from his face and having a meal and a bath, he guided the relief plane back to the scene of the mishap.
A Clamorous Welcome.
When Pilot Baker’s machine came into view at Forrest about 8.30 o’clock this morning, flying swiftly from the direction of the South Australian border, the small crowd at the Forrest aerodrome went wild with delight. Rifles and pistols were loaded to fire a welcome salvo, women danced jubilantly together on the sun-baked earth in front of the hangar, and men shouted cheery comments to one another.
As the plane glided gently to earth and Pilot Baker’s face, bearded and blackened with dust and oil, was seen looking over the edge of the cockpit, a wild cheer went up and a rattle of firearms gave greeting. Mr. Stuckey was the first to leave the plane, and he staggered a little when he reached the ground. His head was swathed in a filthy bandage caked with blood, and he informed those who grasped his hand that he had lost a lot of blood from the gash in the head, received when the plane somersaulted, making its forced landing.
A photograph taken by Paddy Whelan just after the plane somersaulted on landing.
A glance at the plane showed that it had suffered severe damage when it turned over. The nose was dented and mud-stained, the roof of the cockpit had been torn off, the tail was twisted, one of the main spars in the right wing had been broken, and one of the wing struts also had been smashed. Both the broken spar and the strut had been rudely but effectively repaired by splicing them with stout strips of a green sapling firmly held in place by thongs of green hide tightly tied. The green hide had been cut from the straps of the men’s water bottles, and there had been only just sufficient to complete the task.
Generally, the first question asked of the pilot after he had alighted from the plane and had made known Mr. Whelan’s plight was, what was the cause of the accident and how they had succeeded in extricating themselves from their predicament.
The Pilot’s Story.
Grinning cheerfully while he answered the questions put to him, Pilot Baker told a remarkable story in a few modest sentences. The secrecy which all members of the gold-seeking syndicate and those employed by them had to observe regarding the actual gold search was maintained by him, but he spoke of the ill-fated flight to the terrible wastes of the Victoria Desert north of the Great Western railway, in the vicinity of the South Australian border. He said that two hours after the party started for their destination on Thursday, a serious leak developed in the oil pipe of the machine and commenced to gush out over the plane.
They were then well into the desert, and for as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but great salt lakes, mostly dry. Mile upon mile of mighty sand dunes rising to a height of from 100 to 120 feet above the floor of the desert. Between the dunes, trees of considerable dimensions were growing, and it was obvious that a landing on dry earth was impossible. A landing, however, had to be made, as the oil was by that time streaming from the plane.
A Hero of the Air – Pilot Harry Baker
Passengers Flung Out.
Casting his eye over the inhospitable country. Pilot Baker selected one of the largest of the great salt lakes and one that, from the air, appeared to have the most solid surface. He manoeuvred the plane to the lake selected, and 220 miles from his starting place in the morning, glided down. The lake surface proved too soft, and the wheels of the plane carved deep grooves in the yielding salt as it shot forward. The wheels sank, and suddenly the plane tipped forward on its nose, smashing the propeller to smithereens and then rolled completely over onto its back. As it somersaulted, Messrs. Whelan and Stuckey were flung out. A wire stay caught the top of Mr. Stuckey’s head, and blood spurted in a stream from the wound, a small artery apparently having been severed. Mr. Whelan suffered an injury to the head and bruises, but Pilot Baker was unhurt.
When the three picked themselves up, they took stock of their situation, and the perilous nature of their plight was apparent. With their machine upside down and practically a wreck, and possessing no tools to carry out extensive repairs, they were marooned in one of the worst deserts in the world. Their food supply, not as large as was originally reported at Forrest, would only see them through for a week with rationing, and their water supply was not over plentiful, particularly for such arid country in one of the hottest months of the year. The first thing to be done was to attend to the wound received by Mr. Stuckey. Mr. Whelan improvised a bandage and bound up the victim’s head. As the blood still flowed freely, he tied the bandage down by strings to Mr. Stuckey’s belt to exert greater pressure on the wound. The ruse was successful, and the heat of the sun soon caked the blood, so that the wound was sealed.
Beset by Difficulties.
The next thing to be considered was the chance of rescue. As the landing had been necessarily somewhat off the course arranged by the syndicate before the departure from Forrest, the chances of being seen from a passing plane in that wild country appeared to be remote. The castaways’ fears on that score proved to be justified on the following day, when a relief plane from Forrest passed over and the occupants failed to see them, though they sent up flares. Pilot Baker then decided that the only way to get out was to fly out. There was a spare propeller in the cabin of the plane, with a sufficient supply of petrol and oil, but the plane was upside down and badly smashed about.
To make matters worse, the water had drained out of the radiator and the spare supply was short.
Fortunately, in searching around for firewood about four miles from the scene of the crash, Mr. Whelan found a small pool of muddy water containing about five gallons. This was added to their meagre supply, food was carefully rationed and then the indomitable little party set about the task of righting the plane. Experienced airman, when Pilot Baker mentioned this task, expressed amazement at the fact that it had been successfully accomplished, as the D.H. 50 is a heavy machine for three men to try and turn over. Pilot Baker smilingly explained that the job had to be done, as the only alternative appeared to be a slow death.
“The wind helped us,” he added, “for one day shortly after we came down, I was working away preparing a fire to send up a smoke signal when I chanced to look around and saw that the wind had tilted the plane up onto its nose. It was a lot further than we had been able to get it after hours of hard work. I immediately called the others to forget about the fires and lend a hand. We all got on to the job, and finally we got her over.”
Remarkable Ingenuity.
Continuing his narrative, the young pilot said that the repairing of the plane’s fuselage and torn wing coverings presented difficulties, but they, too, had to be overcome. The men worked mostly with an axe and knife; the rudder spars and struts were “bandaged,” saplings and other things being used for the repairs to the spars and struts. As they had no “dope”- a substance used to coat the wing coverings of an aeroplane to tighten the fabric – the ingenious pilot manufactured a substitute from slime and used it with successful results. The torn canvas was sewn up with mending cotton; strength was given to the damaged wing by adding an extra strut fashioned from wire; a piece of wood was jammed into the petrol tank opening to replace a damaged cap; and by last night, after days of strenuous labour in the blazing sun, the men, tortured by the glare from the white surface of the salt lakes and going pitifully short of food and water, everything that could be done had been done.
As the plane could not possibly take off from the lake with the whole party on board, it was decided to leave one behind, and the post of honour fell to Mr. Whelan. Overnight, it was agreed, and the hard old prospector offered no comment on the situation. He moved off to his bed at the foot of a tree, and when Pilot Baker, who had decided to try and start with Mr Stuckey at dawn, asked him if he was not going to say goodbye as he would be sleeping when they left.
The casual bushman replied apologetically.’ “I’m sorry, I forgot.”
The Take-off.
At daylight this morning, the young airman prepared to put his skill to the test. While Mr. Whelan was sleeping, he and Mr. Stuckey ate their breakfast of a raisin apiece and climbed into the machine. The engine started up, and the machine moved to a firmer part of the lake, took its run and climbed into the blue. Ingenuity had won. Across the desert, the plane moved southwards and about three hours later reached Cook, where a landing was made. Pilot Baker’s skill had stood in good stead for a flight that would, owing to the nature of the country, be regarded as hazardous by most airmen in a good machine.
Heroic Feat in Mid-Air.
Disaster threatened the machine at one stage as the fabric that had been sewn up again tore loose, and there was a danger that it would rip off altogether. When the tear was indicated to Mr. Stuckey, who is not by any means a young man, he climbed out of the cockpit and, holding to the struts, stuffed his singlet into the tear to keep the wind from getting under the fabric. The device served. Another task that had to be performed during the flight was refuelling in mid-air. As the top section of the machine’s petrol tank had been punctured, it could not be filled up, and the supply of petrol for the journey was pumped into the uncaged section of the tank as it was required.
That task was performed by Pilot Baker in addition to his job of navigating the machine. The absence of a wind screen, which had been broken accidentally while the plane was being repaired, caused further discomfort to the pilot, but he carried on and after landing for a cup of tea at Cook, reached Forrest in such excellent condition and spirits that he insisted on directing the relief plane that set out this afternoon to take food and drink to Mr. Whelan.
The Rescued – Patrick ‘Paddy’ Whelan
Relief Machine Sets Out.
When Mr. Whelan’s precarious situation over 200 miles from the nearest settlement and in an arid desert was made known at Forrest, the Hercules machine that had been chartered as a relief plane by the syndicate of gold-seekers, and which was loaded and about to set off in search of Pilot Baker’s machine, was placed in commission, for the task of taking food and water to the stranded prospector. Pilot Baker at once volunteered to guide Pilot Woods to the spot, and after lunch the machine set off carrying in addition to the two pilots Dr. Craig, Mr. Fred Sexton mechanic, and “The West Australian” and “The Western Mail” reporter.
Water was placed in a three-gallon drum and in a spare tube from one of the landing wheels of the plane. A small calico parachute made by one of the women at the Forrest Hostel was attached to the drum, and in addition, several bags of food were made up. The provisions included biscuits, four loaves of bread, condensed milk, cheese, dried fruit, tinned butter, malted milk, flour, matches, and tobacco. As the journey was a non-stop one of about 440 miles, the cabin of the plane was fitted with a spare petrol tank containing 120 gallons, and a drum of oil to be pumped into the machine during the flight.
An Urgent Mission.
Guided by Pilot Baker, Pilot Woods took off at 1 p.m. and headed slightly east of north across the Nullarbor Plains, climbing to a height of 10,000 feet. The machine, with the aid of a following wind, roared across country at 100 miles an hour on its urgent mission. Mr Whelan was known to be quite out of food, and it was realised that failure to locate him would place him in grave danger. There was no uncertainty in Pilot Baker’s mind, however, for the machine kept on a dead straight course after he had given his flying directions to Pilot Woods.
Within half an hour, the Nullarbor Plains were left behind, and shrub country was passed over. After 113 miles had been traversed, the salt lakes were reached, and then the sand dunes showed in endless parallel ridges of red sand stretching away into the haze to left and right. From the height of 10,000 feet, they looked like mere ripples on a red and grey expanse of tree-dotted plains, but when the plane went down near the earth, it was seen that they rose to an average height of about 100 feet – fearful barriers to the progress of any land parties.
Third Man Located.
The salt lakes are all in deep depressions, their rims being towering cliffs of sun-baked earth. Most of them are several square miles in extent, and they are dotted over the Victoria Desert for about 100 miles of the route followed. Close to the South Australian border Pilot Baker pointed out the lake on which he had landed, and on coming lower the occupants of the relief plane could see Mr Whelan hobbling along the edge of it. As the plane roared down to drop its first parcel, the marks where the D.H.50 had overturned were clearly visible. Nearby, Pilot Baker had written in large letters in salt.
“Forced down by leak in oil pipe. Don’t land. Drop food, water, oil, ‘dope.’ a shovel, a long rope, solder, etc.”
Supplies Dropped.
When the first object dropped from the plane, the tube of water hit the lake and split, and its sadly needed contents were lost. Mr. Whelan was seen to pick it up and shake it in the air in a manner that was intended to convey the unhappy nature of the accident. The parachute attached to the three-gallon drum of water was next thrown out, and it landed safely. Mr.Whelan picked it up and carried it to his camp at the foot of a desert oak. Three times more, the Hercules circled the mile-long salt lake, and the food was dropped and retrieved.
A cheering note addressed to , “P. Whelan, Salt Lake City,” was dropped with one of the bundles, and then the occupants of the relief plane waved a farewell and sped back to Forrest, which was reached after dusk. The loss of the tube of water will not prove very serious, as before he left the lake, Mr. Stuckey improvised a small condenser out of some oil drums and left it with Mr. Whelan. Plenty of salt water can be obtained from the lake by digging. The condensed water is impregnated with a volatile acid, but Mr. Stuckey showed Mr. Whelan how it could be precipitated by adding ashes to the water.
The above map shows the situation of the Livesey Ranges towards which Messrs. Whelan and Stuckey were being flown by Mr. Baker to search for Lassitter’s Reef, of the salt lake, 210 miles from Forrest, on which the forced landing was made and where Mr. Whelan was left. In contrast, the others returned in the repaired plane to Forrest, and of the landing ground which was to permit relief planes to refuel on their way to and from the lake.
ACTIVITY AT FORREST – Organising a Rescue
FORREST – Dec. 29 1932
Mr. Lance Hogarth, manager of Mundrabilla Station, south of Forrest and Mr Stuckey have been busily engaged in working out plans for Mr Whelan’s rescue. Telegrams have been sent out almost hourly to various centres soliciting co-operation. Major Brearley, holding that Airways machines are unsuitable either for rescue operations or for dropping supplies to Mr. Whelan while he is awaiting rescue, several times asked the Defence Department to co-operate in the rescue operations. The Department at first appeared loath to help, holding that as Airways machines were on the spot, they should be better able to do the job. Major Breirley pointed out that his twin and triple-engined machines used a gallon of petrol a minute and that stocks were running short. In addition, he requested the department to send parachutes of the type used during the war to drop ammunition to front-line troops from aeroplanes, to enable food and water to be dropped to Mr. Whelan with the least chance of damaging the articles dropped.
He reiterated his statement that only a light machine could possibly land on the lake with any chance of safety.
Tonight, Major Brearley received a reply to his telegram to the Defence Department to the effect that two Wapiti machines had left Laverton (Victoria.) at 2.10 p.m. to join in the relief party’s operations, and were due to leave Adelaide at daylight tomorrow for Forrest. When they arrive, plans will be fully discussed and a definite start on the rescue operations will be made.
1. Mr Whelan (third from left) on arrival. Mr N. Stuckey is examining Whelan’s damaged hand. 2. The nose of the DH 50, which pilot Baker made the flight. 3. Two R.A.A.F Wapiti machines and the DH 50 at the aerodrome at Forrest.
Whelan – a Pathetic Figure.
Fears for Patrick Whelan, who has been marooned on a salt lake in the Great Victoria Desert north of Forrest for eleven days, might be weak and helpless were only partly allayed as a result of the relief flight of two Air Force Wapitis to his isolated camp on Saturday. One of the machines, dropping water and food to the half-crippled castaway, skimmed the lake at a low altitude, and the occupants saw Whelan hobble weakly towards the water and stagger and fall before he leached it. He lay prone on the lake for some moments, but at the next circuit of the lake, the airmen saw him bearing back to his camp near the lake shore with the container of water they had dropped.
In the rapid glimpse they had of him, Whelan looked a pathetic figure, his flannel shirt and khaki trousers, the only garments he had with him when the De Havilland in which he was flying to the Livesey Ranges was forced down, being tattered and weather-stained. His face was bearded, and his hip injury was obviously affecting him. The eagerness with which he made for the water indicated that he was sorely in need of good drinking water. The possibilities are that the rude condenser he possesses is not functioning satisfactorily. Together with the two gallons of fresh water dropped by the relief plane on Wednesday last, was exhausted. He should have had a sufficiency of food, but he is ill-equipped in his injured condition to withstand the blistering heat of the lake by day and the chilly nights experienced in that region. His only shelter from the sun is the desert oak he has selected as a camping site, and two blankets are his only covering at night.
PILOT BAKER’S PLAN – Heat Wave in Desert.
Unless wind conditions are definitely unfavourable, Mr. Harry Baker, piloting his much-patched De Havilland machine, will on Wednesday put his skill and courage to the supreme test of attempting a pancake landing beneath the cliffs bordering the salt lake on which Mr. Patrick Whelan, the Lassiter Reef Company’s prospector, has been stranded for nearly a fortnight. Should the landing prove successful, he will then attempt the hazardous task of taking off again with Whelan and bringing him back to the aerodrome at Forrest. Both operations will be fraught with exceptional difficulties and dangers, particularly as it will be necessary to land with a bandaged propeller and take off with an inefficient spare should the other be smashed in landing.
Australian Air Force airmen at Forrest, some of whom have themselves participated in dangerous and difficult forced landings and take-offs, agree that Pilot Baker will be called on to exercise the greatest degree of skill and nerve to carry the plan through to a successful conclusion. They pay a great tribute to his courage in agreeing to make the attempt. Only the fact that an injured man is exposed to the blazing heat of the desert and the chill of the cold nights warrants the attempt being made. Though he should now have ample food and water, Mr. Whelan cannot be kept alive indefinitely on the lake, and Pilot Baker is anxious to get him in with the least possible delay.
Discussing rescue efforts: Left is Major N Brearley, who met pilot Baker and Mr N Stuckey (with bandaged head) on their perilous return from the lake.
Blistering Heat.
Weather conditions at Forrest were vile, a blazing sun sending the shade temperature by leaps from 98 degrees in the morning to 106 at noon and to 114 at 2 p.m. A searing north wind drove clouds of fine dust in from the desert, so that breathing became a matter of difficulty. Out on Whelan’s lake with the heat radiating up from the white sand and the wind shifting the sand from the dunes, existence must have been almost unbearable for the injured castaway, sheltered from the sun by a small tree only. During the morning birds, apparently warned by instinct of the approaching conditions, could be seen winging their way in from the desert, leaving the drying gnamma holes for the water tanks along the Great Western line.
The plight of a sick man unable to move from a sun-roasted desert of salt and sand, which the very birds have deserted, must have been dreadful, and the realisation of the ordeal through which he was passing spurred the men working on the machines that are to take part in Wednesday’s flight to even greater efforts. In the oppressive heat in the huge galvanised iron aerodrome, the personnel of the two Air Force planes which are to escort Pilot Baker to the lake were engaged in servicing their planes and in preparing the oil drums that are to be filled with water and padded ready to drop on the lake should the De Haviland meet with disaster. Extra food and medical supplies are also being put up into packages, and should the need arise, anyone left on the lake will be well supplied.
Patching the Relief Plane.
The De Havilland was still in need of numerous repairs this morning, and while the rude-looking but effective sapling bandages laced on the fractured wing spars and struts by Pilot Baker shortly after the crash were not touched, it was found necessary to replace the broken oil pipe that, on closer examination, was found to be cracked all around. The radiator was also soldered, a new windshield for the pilot was made, the engine was thoroughly overhauled, and certain strained sections of the wings were reinforced. The chief difficulty in making good the damage caused by the crash on the lake will be in replacing the propeller, which was smashed beyond repair. The spare propeller which Pilot Baker used when he took off from the lake had a split in one end, and in taxiing into position for a take-off, the blade struck some salt bushes growing at the edge of the lake, and the split widened. It was repaired on the spot by binding it with wire, and today it was strengthened by gluing up the crack. It will be used on the flight to the lake. It has been impossible to arrange for a suitable spare.
Baker’s Rescue Flight
Just before Pilot Harry Baker was to have entered his plane this morning to fly to Whelan’s rescue, it was noticed that the oil pipe was again leaking. The flight has therefore been postponed until tomorrow. Mr. Baker then took his seat in one of the Wapitis, which flew out to Whelan and dropped more provisions. The marooned man seemed to have improved in health. He has been out at the salt lake for a fortnight. The Wapitis returned to Forrest after a trip of less than five hours. When the rescue planes depart from Forrest at dawn tomorrow, one of the Wapitis will carry wireless and will transmit reports every half-hour on a wavelength of 38 metres.
Gliding down from 3,000 feet above the desert and side-slipping his De Havilland machine only feet above the slopes of the sand dunes fringing the salt lake on which Mr. Whelan, had been stranded for a fortnight, Mr. Harry Baker made flawless three-point landing on a section of the lake surface at 7.30 a.m and succeeded in taking off again three-quarters of an hour later with the man he had risked his life to rescue. After landing and taking off, the machine ran to within a foot or so of a quagmire, which would have caused disaster. The thrilling rescue after fourteen anxious days, during the latter half of which Mr. Whelan was kept alive by water and food dropped from two Wapiti planes from No. 1 squadron of the Royal Australian Air Force that had to make nonstop journeys over 460 miles of forbidding country, closes one of the
most dramatic series of episodes in the history of Australian gold seeking.
Machines Return.
A few minutes before 10 o’clock, two dim specks were seen at a great distance flying swiftly through the clouds, direct to the hangar. The watchers anxiously scanned the misty skyline to the north for a few seconds, and then a shout of: “There are three of them; he’s done it!” went up. All the machines dropped low as they approached the aerodrome, the De Havilland flying between the Wapitis and a little to the rear. Nearing the hangar, the Wapitis soared aloft again while the De Havilland sank almost to earth.
Hardships Borne Well.
While some congratulated the smiling hero of the exploit, others assisted Mr. Whelan from the plane. The man whose plight has concerned a continent ever since his position was made known over a week ago first showed a bearded head over the side of the cabin and returned a wide grin to the cry of: “How are you, Paddy?” He then shakily descended and tottered a few steps from the plane while a dozen cameras clicked and a score of queries were fired at him. All that he could say in the first few minutes was that he was glad to be back and that he was in a reasonable state of health. ‘I’m all right,” he explained. “I’ve lost a bit of weight through the poisonous water I had to drink last week, and I can’t eat anything, but it’s good-oh to be back.” He was dressed in the khaki trousers and grimy singlet observed from the relief planes, and wore sandshoes. A heavily built man, he had lost some weight, but must still weigh over 12 stone. Apart from his extreme lameness, he appeared to have weathered his hardships well. His first move was to the bathroom, where Sergeant Cameron removed his tough beard.
Paddy Whelan’s Arrival at Maylands.
Bronzed, limping heavily, but obviously delighted to return to Perth, Mr. Paddy Whelan, the old prospector whose exile on a dry salt lake in Central Australia and subsequent rescue by aeroplane has commanded Australia-wide attention during the past week, arrived at the Maylands aerodrome on Sunday afternoon in a Viastra monoplane. The final chapters of this extraordinary desert drama, however, cover further incidents, for the battered D.H.50 in which Mr. H. E. Baker rescued the prospector proved unequal to the long flight back to Perth, and after several forced landings only reached Kalgoorlie. Mr. Whelan was met by several members of the syndicate, which promoted the ill-fated air expedition, and was whisked away to the city by car.
The Expedition
Mr. Whelan’s expedition had been financed by the Lassiter Reef Co. It was guiding an advance aerial party to a spot in the Livesey Ranges, near the border of Western Australia and South Australia, where he states he knew of a fabulously rich gold reef. Land parties led by him had tried on two previous occasions to reach the area, but had been driven back by drought. The reef, which is believed to be identical with Lassiter’s Reef, the quest for which cost a prospector named Lassiter his life. Mr. Harry Baker was engaged to pilot the machine, and all connected with the expedition preserved the strictest secrecy.
Each member of the expedition signed documents binding him to reveal nothing of the syndicate’s plans. It was stated that within a few days of setting forth on the journey, the members of the expedition would be walking on gold. Wealth beyond the dreams of avarice was expected to be gathered from what was believed to be
a veritable treasure house of golden riches in the desert ranges.
Moya Sharp
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