XII. ON HOME SOIL
It is a grand and joyous moment for us when the wheels first make contact with home soil and the speed at which the Uiver rolls out gradually decreases. For the last time on this journey, I pull the brake to shorten the landing run; then Moll opens the windscreen and triumphantly thrusts the Dutch tricolour outside.
The impression we receive, seeing the immense public interest and the superb organisation of the reception, is overwhelming. We certainly expected many people to be present upon our arrival, but the sight of thousands of spectators cheering enthusiastically behind the barriers and in the stands leaves us feeling both touched and slightly overwhelmed. Even after all the tributes in the Indies and abroad, we could never have imagined such a display of public sympathy.
A man in a white coat approaches us, and as he draws closer, I recognise him: it is Bruinestein, the KLM ground service manager. He is to show us the way.
The Uiver slowly rolls along behind him, passing the crowd, who give us a warm ovation as we go by. Furthermore, the path we are to follow is marked by a white chalk line on the grass.
On the apron, we taxi past the grandstands until a silhouette of the Uiver, painted onto the concrete, indicates exactly where we must stop.
The ignitions are switched off, and with a sense of great satisfaction, I turn off the fuel cocks. With this, the mission is accomplished, and I hand over responsibility for the aircraft to KLM. After all, a pilot is responsible for his machine from the moment he takes his seat behind the controls before a flight until the moment he has returned the aircraft to its stand.
When we disembark, we are first of all warmly embraced by our wives and children; then Minister Colijn and Mr Plesman come to greet us. The military band plays the Wilhelmus, after which we proceed to the podium where the official reception takes place.
An orderly officer brings a message on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen, expressing how much our Sovereign appreciates the work of KLM and how closely she has followed this flight. Speeches are then delivered in succession by His Excellency the Minister of Public Works, Ir. J. A. Kalff; the Mayor of Amsterdam, Dr W. de Vlugt; His Excellency General (Retd) C. J. Snijders, Chairman of the Royal Netherlands Aeronautical Association; Ir. J. F. de Vogel, Chairman of the Board of KLM; Ir. A. Wurfbain, whose speech concludes with the Valerius Hymn of Thanksgiving; and finally, Lieutenant-General Jhr. W. Roëll, Commander of the Field Army.
On behalf of the passengers and the crew of the Uiver, I give a short speech thanking them for the honours and tributes bestowed upon us, and for the spontaneous warmth with which we have been welcomed.
Once more, though this time in cars, we are driven past the public; then follows the glorious procession through the city, the tribute on Museumplein, and, in the evening, the banquet at the Carlton Hotel. Various ministers and aviation authorities pay tribute to Mr Plesman and the KLM organisation. It is a highly successful evening and a wonderful conclusion to this magnificent day.
I shall spare the reader the precise details of the further festivities, though I wish merely to mention that a few days later we flew the Uiver to Rotterdam. There, at Waalhaven Aerodrome, the reception at Schiphol was repeated, and after a tour of the city, we were received at the City Hall by the Mayor.
After this came the drive to the residence; the tribute at The Hague Zoo and, in the evening, the dinner hosted by the Chamber of Commerce and Industry. Aalsmeer presented us with an overwhelming floral tribute.
We then flew to Paris, where the Dutch community received us most cordially. A banquet was held in our honour by the Netherlands Chamber of Commerce, attended by many French aviation authorities and famous aviators, including Bleriot. We were also guests at a reception by the Aero-Club de France, which awarded us its medal of honour.
Upon our return from Paris, I was spontaneously honoured by the municipal authorities and the residents of Amstelveen.
To conclude the festivities, we were offered a dinner by the Dutch community in London, and a day later, we had the honour of attending the tribute to the victors, Charles W. A. Scott and Tom Campbell Black, during a banquet of the Royal Aero Club at the ‘real’ Grosvenor House in London.
This effectively concludes the report of the flight to Melbourne and back. Wherever we landed with the Uiver, we were cheered and honoured; we have been lauded in both the domestic and foreign press; thousands of letters and telegrams, numerous souvenirs, medals, and commemorative coins bore witness to the appreciation and interest. The Dutch people greeted us as national heroes, both in the Indies and in Holland. Celebrations lasted for days once our safe arrival in Melbourne was known. ‘Uiver menus’ were prepared; people drank nothing but ‘Uiver cocktails’, ate only ‘Uiver rolls’, and every true-hearted Dutchman wore a ‘Uiver pin’; in short, the Uiver was the talk of the town.
Now that this ‘epidemic’ has gradually subsided, we can calmly look back at the results of our flight and examine which ‘bacterium’ caused this ‘disease’. The journey of the Uiver can best be compared to the Christmas flight of the Pelikaan, completed in 1933 by Smirnoff, Soer, Van Beukering, and Grosfeld to the Indies and back. The only difference is that the distance the Uiver had to cover was 50% longer; however, the speed of this machine is also 50% greater than that of the Pelikaan.
We naturally ask ourselves why such unprecedented interest was shown in the Uiver’s achievement. We must conclude that this was due to the coincidence of this flight to Australia with an international air race. This excessively heightened the public’s enthusiasm and suspense, causing our achievements to be seen out of their true proportions. Had our flight been carried out under normal circumstances—that is to say, without a British racing plane ahead of us and several aircraft of various nationalities behind us—then the result we achieved would have been regarded more as a normal flying performance and less as a ‘heroic deed’.
The success of the Uiver flight is due, on the one hand, to fifteen years of study and practical experience by the entire KLM organisation in commercial aviation and, on the other, to the great advances in the technical and aerodynamic science of aircraft construction, of which the Douglas aircraft is the result.
In the intoxication of the Dutch victory in the handicap race, the fact that this glory was achieved with a 100% American aircraft has faded into the background. The second chapter of this book explained why KLM purchased an American machine. Since the Dutch aircraft industry has held a leading position among the world’s aircraft manufacturers for many years, it is to be hoped that a way will soon be found to enable Dutch aviation to source its flight equipment from within its own country.
If the crew of the Uiver has been able to help strengthen the good name of Dutch aviation abroad, and to reaffirm the unity of the Dutch people in these often difficult times, they consider this a great privilege.
Before concluding this chapter, I wish to devote a few words to the passengers who accompanied the Uiver on the London–Melbourne flight.
KLM can buy the best aircraft available on the world market, fit them with the best engines, and equip them with the most modern instruments. It can man these aircraft with the most experienced pilots, boasting 10,000 or more flying hours, with plenty of gold braid on their sleeves and decorations on their chests. But if there are no passengers, we still cannot fly. And it was these very passengers—Fraulein Thea Rasche and Messrs P. M. J. Gilissen and R. J. Domenie—who, by their presence, gave a special lustre to the flight of the Uiver. Indeed, it was through them that the commercial utility of the journey, and the great distinction from the other participants, was particularly expressed.
Leading this extraordinary flight was no easy task for me. However, the excellent cooperation and great dedication of the other crew members made it a pleasant duty.
We were very lucky, although we were not spared our share of setbacks. Yet the spirit on board remained, under all circumstances, one of comradeship, mutual understanding, and appreciation. From the passengers, too, we experienced the same cheerfulness, trust, and sympathy, even under the most difficult conditions. Throughout the entire flight, thanks to the cooperation of the passengers, there was an excellent atmosphere, so that they, too, contributed in no small measure to the success of this flight.