Later that day, a pilot flying overhead spotted the downed biplane and flew in to see whether anyone needed help. Betty took the opportunity to fly out to Tuxtla with him and then caught a commercial flight to Mexico City, where it took her two weeks to order new parts for the Waco and write an accident report. What she dreaded the most, however, was writing to Jim Truxton and the other members of the CAMF board to let them know what had happened. She knew how disappointed they would be.
In her mind, Betty went over and over the accident. She didn’t know how George could have hit the shed. True, the radial engine of the Waco made it difficult to get a clear view from the front of the plane, but George had landed at the airstrip before and always avoided the shed. In the end she wrote, “Somehow it didn’t seem to be a question of his handling of the ship, but an unexplainable failure to see the hut or remember it was there.” The explanation did not satisfy Betty, but there was no other way to put it.
By mid-April, Betty had done all she could do in Mexico City and flew back to Tuxtla, where she stayed with a missionary family. While she waited there for news on parts for the Waco and for someone to come and repair it, she passed the time studying Spanish. The weeks dragged by with no definitive word from CAMF headquarters. They were having difficulty locating parts, and worse, no one had the necessary skills to repair the plane. Betty prayed hard and waited.
In June, the first parts for the airplane arrived along with news from the CAMF office in Los Angeles that a new staff member had been added to the team. His name was Charlie Mellis, a B-17 bomber pilot during World War II. Betty was glad for more staff, though it made her feel bad again about not having any aircraft. Another piece of information came from the office in Los Angeles: CAMF had changed its name to Missionary Aviation Fellowship (MAF) to align itself with another missionary aviation program sprouting in England.
Finally, in July 1946, Nate Saint, the pilot and airplane mechanic, arrived from Pennsylvania to repair the damaged Waco biplane. Although Nate had been planning to go to college, Jim Truxton had managed to recruit his services for the repairs. Betty flew to Mexico City to meet him. It was the start of the rainy season, and she was eager to fill him in on all the details and be on her way to her new assignment in Peru.
Knowing the Waco was in good hands with Nate Saint, Betty finally left Tuxtla for good three and a half months after the crash. Wycliffe Bible Translators had purchased a Grumman Duck, a 950-horsepower amphibious airplane, and was waiting for Betty to come and fly it in the Amazon jungle in the east of Peru where they were setting up linguistic and Bible translation bases.
As she studied the map of the Peruvian Oriente, as the vast jungle area east of the Andes Mountains was called, Betty wondered what adventures lay ahead for her. Once again, she was the only MAF pilot in the air, and she hoped for better luck with the Grumman Duck than she’d had with the Waco biplane.
Chapter 10
“Don’t Fly Unless You Have To”
It was Thursday, July 11, 1946, and stepping off the Pan American Airlines flight in Lima, Peru, was one of the most memorable experiences in Betty’s life. Waiting on the tarmac to greet her were Cameron Townsend, members of the British and American Bible Society, and Lieutenant Larry Montgomery of the U.S. Air Force. Cameron Townsend said a few words of welcome, and the lieutenant pinned a corsage on Betty’s dress and presented her with the key to the Grumman Duck.
On the drive to the home of the Wycliffe missionaries Betty was to stay with, Cameron Townsend brought her up to date on things. The Grumman Duck, which had been christened Amauta, an Inca Indian word meaning “a wise man in service of his people,” had been officially handed over to Wycliffe Bible Translators three days before. Betty wished she could have been at the handing-over ceremony. It sounded like a wonderful affair. Representatives from both the American and the Peruvian governments had been present. This was because the United States Foreign Liquidation Commission had sold the Grumman Duck to Wycliffe very cheaply and the Peruvian government had agreed to pay half the purchase price and supply fuel to Wycliffe for only seventeen cents per gallon. The Peruvians had also agreed to pay half the cost for any repairs on the plane. For its part, Wycliffe had agreed to fly the airplane on missions for the Ministries of Education and Health. Cameron Townsend was pleased with the arrangement, not only because it would save Wycliffe Bible Translators money but also because of the goodwill and cooperation it would create with the government of Peru.
Later that same afternoon, after Betty had freshened up, the gates of the American Embassy in Lima swung open and Betty was escorted onto the grounds. She had been invited to have coffee with Ambassador Cooper, who promised he would do whatever he could to help Betty fulfill her mission in Peru.
The next morning, still excited by the welcome she had received, Betty took a cab to the airfield where the Grumman Duck was housed. She was eager to see the big plane and take it up for some test flights to learn its peculiarities. As she stepped from the cab, Betty was met by the steely gaze of Marine Corps General Ross Powell, head of the United States Navy Air Mission in Peru and under whose command the Grumman Duck had been used. She thrust out her hand to shake his, at the same time introducing herself. “Betty Greene, sir. I’m the one who’s going to fly the Grumman Duck.”
General Powell drew himself up to his full height and glared at Betty. He did not speak for a long moment. Then he said, “Huh! I wonder what Wycliffe thinks it’s doing bringing a girl in to do a man’s work!”
Betty felt herself turning red. She wondered how to respond to the general’s remark. The last thing she wanted was to antagonize the chief American military officer in Peru. “I’ve been flying amphibians for six years,” she said, thinking of the many times she had landed on Lake Washington. It seemed a long way away right at that moment.
“Have you ever flown over the Andes?” he asked, boring into her with his eyes.
“No, sir,” Betty replied.
“Of course not!” the general bellowed. “No woman has ever flown over the Andes! Do you think you have what it takes to be the first? And have you navigated your way over the Amazon jungle?”
“No, sir,” Betty replied again, biting her tongue to stop herself from saying more.
“She’s a big ship, far too big for a woman to handle,” General Powell continued, as if Betty hadn’t yet been able to get his point.
“I have all the ratings required, and Wycliffe has designated me to fly the aircraft. They have complete confidence in me,” she countered, and then added more forcefully, “I would appreciate your telling whoever it is who needs to know I am here so I can take the plane up for a test flight. I’m anxious to get started.”
Although Betty was shaken by General Powell’s attitude, she knew the worst thing would be to let him think he had upset her. Reluctantly, the general directed her to the hangar where the Grumman Duck was housed. He told her to ask for a Lieutenant White.
Lieutenant White was as kind and helpful as he could be under the circumstances. He gave Betty the manuals and sat in the cockpit with her explaining the airplane’s special features. He was forbidden, however, by General Powell to take her up for a demonstration flight. As far as the Marines were concerned, Betty was on her own.
Surprised by the turn of events, Betty decided to make the best of the situation. She knew she could fly the amphibious biplane, and she told herself that no general was going to unnerve her. She sat in the front cockpit studying the manuals. After going through the checklist for engine ignition and takeoff, she cranked the plane to life. Soon the ungainly craft was lumbering down the runway and into the air. Betty circled above Lima, gaining altitude with each circuit.
Contrary to what General Powell had said, the Grumman Duck turned out to be one of the easiest airplanes she had flown. It performed well at twenty thousand feet, and with the throttle setting Betty had chosen, it used less than thirty-five gallons of fuel an hour. This was a lot less than the fifty gallons an hour the manual said it used. The engine, however, had a few knocks, and upon investigation, it was decided that the plane needed an engine overhaul. As a result, Amauta was not ready to fly until December.
It was December 20, 1946, five days before Christmas, when weather conditions finally looked promising enough for Betty to attempt to fly over the Andes mountain range and into the Oriente. She had begun the same flight three days before but had been forced back by foul weather. In the cockpit behind Betty was Cameron Townsend, not only because he wanted to be on the first flight over the Andes for Wycliffe Bible Translators’ new airplane but also because he was going to operate the radio on the flight, since he spoke perfect Spanish.
By 9:15 A.M., Amauta was airborne and circling Lima to gain altitude before heading east over the Andes. As the plane circled, it was time for Betty to raise the landing gear. In most airplanes this procedure was a simple matter of turning a switch, but not so in a Grumman Duck. Betty had to manually turn a wheel in the cockpit to lift the eighteen-inch-diameter wheels up into their cavities. It was hard work, involving fifty-four turns of the wheel, with a final heave that took both of Betty’s hands and all of her strength to achieve. Finally, Betty heard the clunk, and an indicator light blinked on in the cockpit, letting her know the wheels were safely retracted.
Thirty minutes after takeoff, the plane climbed ten thousand feet. It was now above Lima’s almost constant blanket of cloud. Betty continued to guide the airplane up. When it reached sixteen thousand feet, she brought the nose of the plane around until it was pointed in an easterly direction. Although huge billowing clouds hung over the peaks of the Andes, Betty was confident she could find a way through the weather conditions this time. Below she spotted the trans-Andean highway, the highest highway in the world. From her maps she knew the best course across the Andes was to follow this highway at a safe altitude. As the plane flew along, every so often Betty would catch a glimpse of a mangled car or truck that had veered off the highway and plummeted to its destruction, sometimes thousands of feet below. The sight of these vehicles helped her focus on the job at hand!
The Grumman Duck pitched and rolled from updrafts as it crossed the western edge of the Andes Mountains. After that, the flying was smooth again as it flew across the seventy-mile-wide Andean plateau. Then, as suddenly as the mountains had begun, they fell away, and Betty could see the jungle far below in the distance. She looked back at Cameron Townsend. “Could you check if we are cleared to land at San Ramon?” she asked. “I don’t want to begin descent until I know for sure.”
Cameron nodded, clicked the switch on the side of the radio microphones, and began speaking in rapid Spanish.
“Cleared for landing,” he called to Betty a minute or so later. “Bring her down.”
Betty pushed the joystick forward, and the nose of the plane dropped. As the plane approached the military airfield at San Ramon, Betty turned the wheel fifty-four turns in the opposite direction to lower the landing gear. San Ramon lay at the junction of the Palca and Tumayo Rivers, and as the plane descended, Betty could make out sugar and coffee plantations nestled on the sides of the towering mountains.
It wasn’t until the Grumman Duck was safely on the ground that Betty allowed herself a moment to celebrate. She had done it! She was the first woman to pilot an airplane across the Andes Mountains. But more exciting to her than that, she had flown an airplane into a remote spot where missionaries desperately needed its services.
