Fretful, impatient, three Germans paced the Baldonnel Airdrome at Dublin, Ireland. Their plane was poised for flight, pointed westward, over the broad expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, toward America. Anxious, disappointed, obviously annoyed at delays, they waited for favorable weather reports, for they meant to be the first to fly successfully from the Old World to the New.
Some days previously, without a word even to their kin, the three had flown to Ireland from Berlin's great centre of aeronautics, Tempelhof. Thermos bottles filled with coffee and a loaded revolver formed their only baggage. . . . "We land on Mitchell Field...
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