Missionaries, however, were not the only Westerners in the Oriente. There was another group of people busy making roads and airstrips to support their exploration of the area. This group of people worked for Shell Oil Company and since 1938 had been exploring the jungle looking for oil. Shell Oil had spent about forty million dollars developing the roads and airstrips necessary to carry men and supplies in and out of the Oriente. It had cost this much because the ground was covered with enormous trees such as balsa, ironwood, and mahogany. Once bulldozers cleared away the trees for a road or airstrip, the problem of the wet soil had to be overcome. Because the Oriente received more than three hundred inches of rain a year, the ground hardly ever dried out. And because it was so wet, the soil was unable to support the weight of a truck or a large aircraft landing. Tons of rock were blasted from the sides of nearby mountains and used to make foundations on the wet soil. On top of these foundations, the road or airstrip could be safely built. It was a long, expensive process, but Shell Oil was certain there were billions of gallons of oil beneath the jungle. All the work would be worth it if they could be the ones to pump the oil out of the ground.
Jim Truxton visited Shell Oil’s largest airfield and the company’s Ecuador headquarters. It was located several miles from the old village of Mera, and so was called Shell Mera. There Jim talked to the chief of operations and explained MAF’s goals. He asked if Shell Oil would let a MAF plane use the airstrip. The chief of operations listened carefully and then explained that another plane to help out in an emergency would always be welcome at Shell Mera, but he was worried about safety. If a MAF pilot crashed in the jungle, they would all have to take time out to look for him, and in many cases, planes that crashed in the jungle were never found.
Jim Truxton thought for a few moments, and then he made a deal with the chief of operations. MAF would rent an acre of land at the east end of the airfield for one dollar a year on the condition that the plane would have a radio on board and the pilot would stay in constant contact with an operator on the ground. That way, if the plane crashed, they would know where to look.
So the Missionary Aviation Fellowship followed Shell Oil Company into the Oriente, grateful for the hard work and money already spent to prepare the land for oil exploration that would now also be used to bring the gospel message to people who had never heard it.
Nate stripped off his shirt and went back to work, thankful that he was not building the new MAF house at Shell Mera alone. Charles Mellis Sr., a seventy-year-old builder from St. Louis, had come down to Ecuador to head up the building project. Jim Truxton was also there, as well as several missionaries whom Nate was going to be serving with his plane. Among them was Frank Drown, who would become one of Nate’s lifelong friends.
Nate glanced across at the Stinson aircraft sitting just off the end of the runway. He may not have a house yet, but he did have an airplane. It had been the private plane of the owner of the Weyerhaeuser Company. When the owner heard about the work of Missionary Aviation Fellowship, he donated the plane for use in South America. Jim Truxton and Nate had flown it down from the United States. Now it sat on a runway in the jungle of South America, painted yellow, the color of MAF aircraft, and ready for whatever need came along.
In fact, Nate had already used the plane for the purpose it had been donated. Frank Drown, who had walked for seven days across jungle trails to help Nate build the house, mentioned that his family hadn’t had any fresh food or medicine for five months. When he heard this, Nate took immediate action. As Frank dug foundation holes for the house, Nate flew out to Macuma Base, where Frank and his family were stationed, and dropped a supply of fresh food and a letter from Frank. As he banked around, Nate saw Frank’s wife, Marie, waving her thanks for the food. He wished there was some way to ask her if everything was all right and to take a message back to Frank, but there wasn’t. There was no radio at Macuma Base and no place nearby to land. As he flew back to Shell Mera, Nate marveled how in just thirty-seven minutes he had covered the same distance that had taken Frank seven days to walk.
The day after the flight to Macuma Station, another family needed Nate’s help. The Coopers were missionaries with the Christian and Missionary Alliance and needed transportation back to their jungle home at Dos Rios. Mrs. Cooper much preferred the idea of riding home in an airplane to the way she had ridden out of the jungle. She had come down with a bad case of malaria and needed hospital treatment. The nearest hospital was at Shell Mera, and having no other way to get there, she had been carried all the way by a faithful Indian guide! Now, three weeks later, she had recovered enough to be out of the hospital, but it would be months before she could face the walk back to Dos Rios. Nate offered to fly her and her family home, and in just over half an hour, they were back among the Jivaro Indians. News spread quickly among the missionaries of the Oriente that Nate Saint and his yellow Stinson airplane were an answer to prayer.
After Nate had been building the house at Shell Mera for three weeks, he received some wonderful news. Marj was coming to visit! She was six months pregnant, and because things had not gone well so far with the pregnancy, she had stayed behind in Quito. She was staying at a guest house run by HCJB, a radio ministry that broadcasted Christian programs around the world. The guest house was minutes away from the most modern hospital in Ecuador. Despite the trouble Marj was having with the pregnancy, her doctor had given her permission to make the bumpy thirteen-hour journey to visit Nate, as long as she lay down while she traveled.
Marj made the trip lying on a canvas cot in the back of a pickup truck. As she jostled along the winding road from Quito to Shell Mera, Nate prayed that she and the baby would be okay. They were. Marj climbed down from the truck a little wobbly on her legs but very grateful to have made it in one piece. Finally, she got to be with Nate in Ecuador. They had so much to talk about. During the evenings, they sat around the open fire, their backs to the army tents they slept in, and talked about their future. It was so exciting to be on the mission field, and Marj couldn’t wait for the day when their baby would be born and she could move down to Shell Mera for good. But for now, they had to make the most of their week together.
Marj told Nate everything the doctor had said about how the pregnancy was progressing and all about her Spanish language lessons. Nate eagerly told her about his first local “ministry” opportunity. He had started a Sunday school for the children of Shell Mera. He told Marj how a week after they had begun building the house, two little girls from the Shell Oil base came and asked when Sunday school would be starting. It was too good an opportunity to miss, so Nate had immediately said to the girls, “It will be right here in this tent on Sunday morning.” When Marj moved to Shell Mera for good after the baby was born, she and Nate would have an English-speaking Sunday school to run.
Nate also told Marj about the two flights he’d already made, and how he wished he could communicate with the missionaries on the ground. He then went on to tell her about their new “neighbors” in the jungle. Nate had first heard about them from David Cooper when he’d flown him and his wife and family back to Dos Rios. David had told Nate they were a tribe the local Quichua Indians called the “Aucas.” In the Quichua language, Auca meant “savage,” and the way David Cooper described them, the Aucas fit their name well.
White people had been in the jungles of Ecuador for three centuries, and in that time quite a few had met their death at the end of Auca spears. The first group into the jungle of the Oriente were Spanish explorers, then Catholic priests, and later on rubber hunters and gold prospectors. Finally had come oil companies searching for underground deposits of oil. Each group had stories to tell of ambush and terror that made the name Auca the most feared in all the Oriente. Members of other Indian tribes in the area knew the boundaries of Auca territory well: the Napo River to the north, the Villano River to the south, the Arajuno River to the west, and the Peruvian border to the east. It was nearly impossible to tempt anyone to cross over into Auca territory.
Nate told Marj all he’d heard from other missionaries about how the Aucas lived. They never wore clothes except for a woven string around their waist like a necklace. No one could be sure where they were at any time because they moved around a lot. They did not seem to have permanent houses or cultivate their land.
On the long evenings during Marj’s stay at Shell Mera, Marj and Nate often prayed for the Aucas, who had never heard the gospel message and wouldn’t unless something happened to change the way they “welcomed” outsiders. Somehow, Nate had a feeling his airplane would play a part in reaching them with the gospel; he just didn’t yet know how it would all fit together.
The day before Marj was due to make the grueling trip back to Quito, she got to see firsthand the value of a pilot and airplane in the jungle. She was hoisting up a GI sheet to Nate, who was standing on the roof joists, when an Indian man came running out of the jungle. Out of breath, he handed a note to Marj. A little surprised, she opened it and read the scrawled writing: “Nancy Cooper sustained a bad gash.”
Nate and Marj immediately went to work. Marj headed for the Shell clinic, while Nate climbed down from the roof and set about preparing the plane for flight. Half an hour later, he was in the air headed for the Dos Rios mission station with anti-tetanus serum and bandages aboard the plane.
Nate and the yellow MAF Stinson airplane were a blessing to so many people. But as Nate was about to find out, being a blessing could also be very dangerous. A pilot flying a plane over the jungle is never more than a minute away from disaster and death.
Chapter 8
A Perfect Take-Off…
The air was crisp and clear. It was the day before New Year’s Eve, 1948, and Nate was whistling to himself as he loaded up the Stinson aircraft. As he positioned suitcases and boxes, he couldn’t help thinking about Marj. He had just come from the guest house where she was staying in Quito, and the good news was that everything with the pregnancy was fine and the baby was due any day now, maybe even on New Year’s Day. That would be an easy birthday to remember, Nate thought. Once the Stinson was loaded, Mrs. Tidmarsh and her twelve-year-old son, Bob, were ready to board the plane. Nate helped Mrs. Tidmarsh into the backseat of the plane. Bob, holding a bag of candies, climbed into the front seat. Nate smiled to himself as he saw the look of excitement in Bob’s eyes. It reminded him of how he’d been when he took his first flight with Sam.
Nate buckled his seat belt across his lap and made sure his two passengers did the same. He cranked the Stinson’s engine to life, looked over his gauges, and then checked to make sure his flaps and ailerons were working properly. He set the flaps for take-off. There was no one at the airfield to wave good-bye to them, so Nate revved the engine and taxied to the end of the runway. As he positioned the plane for take-off, he checked the wind sock. It was almost still except for a slight crosswind from the east. Nate gunned the engine, and the Stinson headed down the runway for a perfect take-off.
Although located 9,300 feet above sea level, Quito is in a big valley surrounded by high snow-covered peaks. Nate looked at the mountains he would have to gain altitude to cross. As the Stinson vibrated with the engine at full throttle, he looked at the altimeter to check his rate of ascent out of Quito. He was two hundred feet off the ground and beyond the boundary of the Quito airfield. Below were cultivated fields. Nate glanced across at Bob, whose eyes were as big as saucers as he took everything in.
