The problem with that was there was no electrical power at the terminal building. In fact, the terminal building itself was nowhere near finished, and when it was electrical power would be about the last thing installed. And no power in the terminal meant no power in the tower.
Frade thought—indeed had been told—that he had solved the no-power problem by calling the electrical contractor and applying a West Texas business tactic: Clete had offered him a bonus if there was power to the unfinished control tower by quitting time—six p.m.—yesterday.
It was the same technique he had earlier used to get all the contractors working almost feverishly. And he’d done it over the objections of the SAA board of directors—“Cletus, things are just not done that way in Argentina” was the way Humberto Valdez Duarte, financial director of South American Airways, had put it.
As they were about to let the contracts, Frade had insisted that the contracts include bonus and penalty clauses. And so, there were generous bonuses provided for completion of the various aspects of the construction ahead of schedule, and increasingly heavy penalties if the work was not completed when it was promised.
Frade landed the Cub without incident—neither from the aircraft nor from his squeamish passenger—and taxied to the terminal building behind one of the three hangars under construction. This one was almost done. Workmen were hanging the sliding doors. More important, there was a gasoline-powered generator at the base of the still-unfinished control tower, with a cable snaking up the tower and through an opening that would eventually hold a window.
“Greed triumphs, Len,” Frade said after he had shut down the engine.
“What?”
“Never mind.” He pointed to the tower. “Let’s climb up there and see if the Collins will work.”
Thirty minutes later, with a pleased smile, Second Lieutenant Leonard Fischer, Signal Corps, USA, handed Major Cletus Frade, USMCR, a headset.
“Your cans, sir,” Fischer said.
Frade put them on and heard a distinct metallic sound:
He smiled.
There was a pause, then his smile broadened as
And, after another pause, the Morse code for JGF sounded again. And again. And again.
“If you weren’t so ugly, Lieutenant, I think I’d kiss you.”
Fischer smiled, handed Frade a microphone, and threw a switch.
“That’s ready, too?” Frade asked, surprised.
Fischer nodded.
Frade pressed the TALK button on the microphone.
“South American Airways Zero Zero One,” he said in Spanish, “this is Jorge Frade.”
There was no reply. Over the next few minutes, Frade made the call again, and again, and again. Still, no reply. He shook his head and shrugged, and started to take the earphones from his head.
“Jorge Frade, this is South American Zero Zero One. Go ahead.”
Frade recognized Delgano’s voice.
“Zero One. What is your position?”
“Jorge Frade, Zero One is fifteen kilometers north of El Palomar at two thousand meters, indicating three hundred kph.”
“Zero One, Jorge Frade, report reception of our RDF signal.”
“Frade, Stand by.”
There was a minute’s silence as Delgano tuned his radio direction finder.
“Frade, Zero One. Receiving RDF signal loud and clear.”
“Zero One, using RDF signal as navigation device, proceed to Frade, descending to one thousand meters, report when field is in sight.”
“Zero One understands proceed Frade using RDF, descend to one thousand meters, report when in sight of field.”
“Zero One, Frade. That is correct.”
“Frade, Zero One has field in sight.”
“South American Airways Zero Zero One, you are cleared to make a low-level east-west pass over Jorge Frade at an altitude of your choice.”
Frade expected Delgano to make the pass at a minimum of fifteen hundred feet above ground level. Thirty seconds later, South American Zero Zero One flashed along the east-west runway of Aeropuerto Coronel Jorge G. Frade at no more than five hundred feet AGL—her engines roaring, the throttles apparently against their stops.
Fischer watched in amazement as startled ground workers on and near the runway raced for cover.
Frade watched the aircraft roar past, then dramatically pull up and bank.
As her tail disappeared into the distance, he thought,
It was a moment before Frade trusted his voice. Then he said, “South American Zero Zero One, proceed to El Palomar and terminate your flight.”
[TWO]
Aeropuerto de El Palomar Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 1030 22 July 1943
South American Airways Chief Pilot Gonzalo Delgano was standing beside SAA’s Lodestar, tail number Zero Zero One, when Frade taxied up to it in the Piper Cub. Five other pilots of South American Airways also stood there. They were all in uniform, a powder blue tunic with four gold stripes on the sleeves, and darker blue trousers.
