Chapter III

Well, I must get back up in the air again and quit monkeying my time away trying to advise. We are flying along, and all at once I feel the old Overland stage a-kinder doing like she was circling. I couldent imagine what that was for. I dident know we had to fly around any corners or sharp turns in going from one place to another, unless they was fixing the road and he had to detour. Then I felt her nose heading down like a bronc when he starts to swallow his head.

I looked out to see if there was going to be a traffic accident or what we was dodging, and below was a little town along a river. He kept circling and getting lower, and there I could see right under us then an aviation field. You could see other planes down there. Well, the main thing you got to watch in an Aviator is how he gets down. All of them have got up, but few can get down right. This bird could have lit on an egg and never broke it. We skimmed along like a flat rock on the water and he brought her up short and nice like a real hand reins a good horse.

We piled out and I noticed these old Hombres getting out their passports and I started reaching for mine. That’s the one thing you want to carry in your hand anywhere in Europe. It might be a forged one and no good, but they just seem to get a pleasure out of having you dig for it. Well, the officer that took it started in yapping about something, and I told him he was fooling away his time and wasting some kind of mighty good language on me; that I dident even know what the language was, much less the words; that I spoke only English, and that up to only two syllables. He went off and dug up another one that knew a little of it. There was a lot of Soldiers and a lot of activity there.

This new one said to me, “You have no Veesay.” In other words, I dident have an O.K. on my passport.

Well, that sho threw a scare into me. Here I have come all the way here and gone to all that trouble, and now there is something the matter with it. I grabbed at it and showed him what damage the Russians had done to it in London for quite a few dollars.

“Yes, Russia; but no Lithuania.”

“Lithuania? Lithuania? Why, I never even heard of it, much less getting a passport to it! Where is it? Where are we anyway? I thought I was going to Russia.”

Well, they soon made it known to me that I had better have done some studying on Geography since the Versailles Peace Conference--that really wasent a Peace Conference; it was just a map remodeling. Say, but I want to tell you they had them a Country, all right, from the looks of all the officers running around there. I saw one of them kinder looking out toward his little army and getting them ready to call into action. At first when I saw them around there I thought they were making a Picture; it looked just like Hollywood. I soon found it was on the level.

“You should have Veesay.” I had to tell them that I dident even know I was flying over their country much less landing in it. It seems that this was not a regular stop; this Aviator has had to come down for something. They called a general war conference to see what to do with this American who had dropped in on them without a calling card. They then decided to phone down to the town, which was Kovno, and is the Capital.

Well, down in town they called the House of Parliament or Congress together to devise ways and means to deal with such an unusual case. So instead of phoning back, why, they sent a soldier back on a Bicycle. It was quite a ways out of town. He had the news that I was to buy $3.50. I gave them a Russian ten-ruble piece--that’s about five dollars in our money. A ruble is worth fifty cents in Russia and about two cents outside of there. They wasent any too anxious to take it, but they did, and went off for change, when I told them that that was all right; just keep the change and let the Army have a drink on me.

If I had just thought and told them I was a friend of President Wilson’s, I would have got by, because he is the one that laid all these countries out. It was one of those Self-Determination of small Nations. No man ever lived that had more noble ideas than Mr. Wilson, and any time a committee would come to him with ten names signed on an application, and tell him that they wanted a Country, why, he would give them one. If they dident know exactly where they wanted it, and couldent decide, why, the League would give it to them off of Russia. Different little Nations gnawed so much off the edge of Russia that on the map it looks like a piece of pie that somebody with every other tooth out has bit into. Right up above them is another troop called the Lats, of Latvia, then several others. They are all pretty fine little Nations. But it’s a pretty tough struggle to get a new Country started, though they are all making a pretty good fight. This one had a mighty nifty-looking little army. All had on nice neat uniforms, and the Officers looked great. Made the Red Army in Russia look like a burlesque for appearance. So I am going to send the League of Nations a bill for $3.50 for finding one of their Countries for them.

Say, here is a little inside Diplomatic stuff too. There was a French plane up there among them, and this Frenchman was showing them how to do it.

Well, I gathered up my two Russians and we hooked up the traces, clucked to the old Fokker and we was off somewhere else--I dident know where. But I warned them in my best pantomime not to be hunting around for any other new Countries, but to find Russia. If it wasent big enough to find, why, we better go down and borrow a map.

Well, all this delay had kinder set us back in time, and this old Bolsheviki Boy just looked like he took a string and tied his gas throttle right down to the floor. She was wide open, and we started in hunting Russia. The clip we was going at I knew we couldent land in any little Country. We was going so fast we would have gone plumb through it before we could have come down to earth. So I knew then it must be Russia, for it was the only country in the world that could furnish that much ground to whiz over. All I was scared about was that we would wind up at Vladivostok or in Japan.

Now in going into Russia I think I am just like the majority of people--we don’t know or have any idea what it is like. My one impression of Russia is a sleigh going through a forest, with deep snow on the ground, pulled by a horse with a big high Yoke up over his neck and the wolves jumping up biting at the horse’s throat, and some others trying to devour the inmates of the sleigh. Now that is the picture that I have had uppermost in my mind of Russia all my life, and I bet a lot of you have the same. We always associate that picture with Russia, just like we always associate the Delaware River with the picture of Washington standing up in the middle of the boat, with the ice all around, not rowing himself but telling the other boys which way to row. He was a natural Commander. I have often wondered what he would have been doing if they had had to swim the river.

So, after thinking of that picture and the wolves, I believe that is why I took the airplane in there. I felt pretty safe up there from the wolves. The way we was going, any old wolf would sure have had trouble jumping up and snapping at us. If he had ever jumped up at us, he would have hit the fellow in the plane on the same route next day.

We was flying nice and low and you could see all the people out in the fields working--well, not exactly all the people, but the ones that were women. Then every time we would pass over a little town or village you would see a kind of a market place, and all the men would be gathered; or you would see them driving in or out of town in little wagons with one horse.

I think the men are pretty good that way in Russia. They make mighty good husbands. If the wives raise anything, why, the Husbands are perfectly willing to take it to town and sell it.

It’s not a bad arrangement, at that. You know a lot of these countries have got things that I would like to see put in over in Cuckooland. If women can go out and swim all the Channels they can find, why, they certainly ought to be able to pitch some hay. So I can’t think of a better arrangement than these Russians have for all parties concerned--that is, as long as the wife raises something. The women in Russia cultivate the land and the men cultivate their whiskers. The men are the best farmers--they have never been known to have a bad whisker crop. No such thing as a failure. When in doubt, raise whiskers.

All the western part of Russia is level, with slight rolling hills. Very few farmhouses are off to themselves; they are in sorter a little bunch. The houses are low, built of logs, and have straw-covered roofs. The houses and the stables are all built into one, generally in a square shape. It’s a beautiful country to look at. And grass? Oh, Boy, I just thought if some of my old Western ranchmen could see all that big fine grass going to waste--millions of acres and very little stock on it, with plenty of water. There was quite a few herds of goats, a good many horses, and cattle, mostly milk stock. Everything fat and fine.

And here is one thing I want to tell you too before I forget it: Even in Moscow, where the old fellow that is driving his Droshky--or whatever it is they call those old kind of one-horse-buggy things--may look like he hadent had anything to eat in a week, but I tell you his horse is sure fat. They got the fattest, best-looking horses there I ever saw--never saw a poor one.

One of the only mysterious occurrences of the trip happened just before we got into this Smolensk. This Mechanic in there with me pulled the curtains tight over the windows on both sides and I couldent see out. Then I felt the plane turning and knew we were landing. He left me sitting there looking at myself till we were entirely stopped. There was nothing to see after I got on the ground. There was some kind of military operations going on around there, as they are always arguing with Poland and this is near the line. They think France is backing Poland. Every nation in Europe goes to bed with a gun under its head.

Well, whatever they were trying to keep from me, they kept it. I went into a neat little eating place there and got my first crack at some Russian Tea. They serve it in big high glasses like Lemonade; no cream, but they use Sugar. It’s mighty good, and after I tried their coffee I went right back on this ration of Tea. I had these old Russian boys come in and eat with me, and we made a lot of signs and had a lot of fun, loaded up with gas. It’s along in the afternoon now, and this old Russian Casey Jones grabbed his throttle and this other old Nester kept his blinds pulled till we were away out of town. We are breezing along and I feel him kinder tack off to one side and I peep out and I see a big black cloud ahead. Well, sir, he went over to the right to try to take roundance on the thing. Then he decided to go under it; then he changed his mind and went over it. Of all the dodging and twisting and ducking that he did, and I want to relate to you that he sho did keep out of it. I wouldent be afraid to meet a cyclone with that old boy if he could just see her coming. She would have to do some tall twisting to catch him.

We went into Moscow right on the dot--not a minute late. That field was full of Airplanes; there must have been eight or ten single-seaters up doing their stuff. Now just the last few days you have read about the advance in aviation and the amount of planes that Russia has. Now that is what I am trying to get you to understand. These Guys over here in Europe, no matter how little or how big the country, they have left the ground and are in the air. Nobody is walking but us; everybody else is flying. So in a few years, when somebody starts dropping something on us, don’t you say I didn’t tell you.

Now everybody had said to me in going in, “Don’t take anything in with you; they examine everything. They look at every card. Don’t take a thing or don’t write a thing while you are in there; everybody is a Spy and everybody is listening to what you have to say.”

Well, they throwed such a scare into me that I stripped myself down till I dident have a single piece of paper about me but my passport. I tore up two handfuls of cards that people had given me of people in Russia to look up for them. I had the parents’ address of everybody in New York City. Now I dident know exactly how they might stand, and if they caught me with these names, I might be suspected of being a Spy or something. Outside of my passport, if I had been run over in Russia, nobody in the world could have told where I was from or who I was.

I had an address I had to tear up that Morris Gest had given me of a good restaurant that served Kafilka Fish and Luction Soup, both of which I have learned--after strenuous apprenticeship--to like. I dident want it to get out in Russia that I knew Gest, so I tore that up. Dawes’ letters to all the Financiers in Europe I tore up, for I thought the worst thing in the world you could be caught with was any connection with Capital. I thought if they found them on me they will have me in the Kremlin, waiting for daylight to come so the squad will be sure not to miss a shot. Al Jolson had given me a letter to a Jewish musician there who writes all the words and music to all his Southern Mammy Songs. I took in only one suit and four extra shirts, as I was told if I took in too much I would be suspected of capitalistic tendencies. I debated with myself a long time in the hotel in Berlin the night I left whether two extra pair of socks instead of one would constitute capitalistic affluence. I wouldent risk it. I even dident get a shave for a few days, figuring I might pass as a native.

Now, as a consequence, I dident have a soul in the world to go to, or a single address. For when you tear up the name and address of a Russian, that name is gone forever. No English-speaking person living today can remember a single Russian name. They were told they could have only so many letters in their Alphabet. Well, they took fifteen of these they dident want and traded them for fifteen extra K’s and Z’s. So the alphabet consists of twenty-six letters, seventeen K’s and Z’s and nine other letters. That is the thing that has made Lenin and Trotzky famous outside Russia. They were the only ones that the outside world could pronounce their names.

Well, due to such expert advice, no one ever knocked on the portals of Sing Sing any lighter equipped than I entered the city of Moscow. I dident even have my Shriner pin or my Elk Tooth Fob. I tell you I was practically Neglige.

Now you talk about having sea legs when you get off a boat. Say, crawl out of an Airship after about sixteen hours in the air!

Your legs don’t wabble like they do when just off a boat; it’s your arms. They want to start flapping and you want to ascend again. I never felt anything as low in my life as that ground was. I went into a little customs office. They took my passport, but instead of like lots of countries where they take it away and hold a Clinic over it, why, this old boy give it a peek and shoved it back to me. I opened up the grip. He got one peek--dident even feel in there. Talk about not bringing in anything, why, I could have had a Grand Plane in there and he would never have seen it!

And as for looking to see what you had in your pocket or had on your person, why, I could have had a bass drum in each hip pocket, a Saxophone down each leg and two years’ collection of the Congressional Records in my coat pockets. Now you know yourself that would have been the most bunglesome thing I could have had. I also had a little Typewriter. This Customs fellow thought it was a Cash Register. So, you see, there was one set of advice blew up.

I bid this old Russian Aviator Boy good-by, and when I shook his hand I meant it, and if I ever decide to take up the usual tourist trip of flying over the North Pole, why, this old funny-looking square-headed boy would be the one I would take out a stack with. But I guess the traffic will be so congested next summer flying over the pole that you would just have to wait for your turn to pass it.