A Desert Tale

For a man in a light aircraft, there is no more pleasant flight than the 299-mile run from San Diego to Phoenix. Soaring high above the saffron badlands and khaki peaks that bake beneath a searing sun, skirting the Mexican border, a man can make it easily in four hours.

With five hours' fuel aboard, Navy Ordnanceman Bill Falls, 22, took off one fine day last month from San Diego's La Mesa Airport in a Taylorcraft borrowed from his best friend, Parachute Rigger Charles Schrieber. A good amateur pilot, Bill had a 24-hour liberty and planned to spend it in Phoenix with his recently widowed mother.

Bill's plane did not land at Phoenix on schedule. A Coast Guard aerial search along his path began the next day. The searchers veered a few miles into Mexico. They found nothing. When Charles Schrieber made anxious inquiries the following day, more planes went up to sweep the desolate route. Again they found nothing, and in a few days the search was abandoned.

Three weeks later, Sportsmen Clifford Shinn, John Baker and Emil Johnson were flying home to Los Angeles in Shinn's Piper Cub after a Mexican fishing trip. At a point 38 air miles south of the fishing village of San Felipe on Mexico's Gulf of California (190 miles south of the border), Shinn spotted a small plane on the desert. He landed near by.

Shirtless and sun-blackened, Bill Falls's body lay face upward under one wing of the crumpled Taylorcraft. Near by was a scrawl-filled notebook addressed to Charles Schrieber. Excerpts:

"9/18/55--Time of landing 17:50. Ran out of gas. Was lost for 2.5 hours. Was looking for any place to land about 1.5 hours before I had to. Couldn't even find a farmhouse. I was on my way back to La Mesa. Needless to say, I didn't make it. The reason the plane hit the tree I don't know. The sun was in my eyes. It sat down alright then she turned and here I am--time now 1900.

"9/19/55. I've been resting here all day. With no water or food I thought it would be best to do less. Went to the seashore and swam. And salty the water. Maybe it's better than nothing. At 16:50 today I saw an aircraft. Couldn't get him to see me. He was flying right above me. Then I went to the seashore and had some more water. When I got back I was too weak to get firewood.

"9/20/55. Beleave me, this is a helluva way to spend my birthday.

"9/21/55. Yesterday I saw to aircraft both right over head. The first was yellow and black. And it came over at 14:20. And the other was the same as the day before only 10 min. early--16:40. I also went down to the seashore after the last aircraft went by and as I swimming, I saw a boat. I couldn't get him to see me. Chuck, I was looking at the tree that I hit. You know, the old girl did a good job. She went right through. Tore hell out of the tree. But I do want to say that I'm sorry about everything.

"Another thing, Chuck, if the plane is burned that means it was my last chance--not that it makes any difference. I don't know how you would get it out anyway. Also, Chuck, will you see to it that they pour a glass of water on me good and cold.

"Just after I put my pencil down an aircraft went flying by. That did it. I went to the beach planning to kill myself--swim till I couldn't swim no more. I once said that I would never have the guts to kill myself. Buddy, it takes guts not to.

"You would never guess what made me come back and try--Johnnie the bartender. The big glass of 7-Up he gives me all the time, I keep seeing them all the time. In case I don't make it back tell him.

"9/22/55. Here I am again. Don't want food. Sure would like a big cold drink, you know, like water first, then Koolade all kinds. Course, some 7-Up.

"9/22/55. Take me back dade or alive. If I can't be alive with my mother please take me and lay me by the side of my father. If I'm found in time. I would like a funrol just like he had--same place, same songs. And mother after you lay me by father, you get yourself a lot--beside him also.

"9/23/55--Good morning Mr. S. Well, I've got one more day we know for sure. You know, Chuck, you and Dick sure would like this place. Quite. Of course, don't go through hell like me. Bring your drinking and eating. It don't get even cool, not even the water. Must sound like an old woman. Sure hope today is the last . . .

"9/24/55--Another day, another drink of water. There is nothing to say except that I'm here and wish I was theirs. I'm going NUTS, that's for sure. Hear airplanes all the time. Talk to myself, course who else is there to talk to.

"9/25/55--Nothing new, just Sunday. Didn't see or hear a thing at all yesterday. Just think it's 0700 and that only makes it 150 hr. from the time I put the T-cart down. It's just a matter of time till they find my body. It's been one week.

"9/26/55--Another plane just went over and still going. This is sure a hell of a way to go, Chuck, with nobody, having nothing, wanting everything. What a man wouldn't give for a drink of water or a big dish of ice cream.

"1600/26/55--Another plane went by.

"9/27/55--Still here.

"Weak. Damn

"Weak

"Another plane.

"Went by;

"Still going,

"The son

"Of a B.

"9/28/55--Still here.

"9/29/55--------

Clifford Shinn and his friends tried to take off to notify Mexican authorities. Loose sand bogged them down. Baker and Johnson got out. Shinn took off alone, then landed to try taking his friends again. A tire blew out. Shinn's plane was now useless. Without food or water, the men decided to walk the 60-mile ground route over rocky sands beneath the terrible sun to San Felipe, the hamlet Bill Falls apparently never knew existed.

They walked all night. They walked all the next day. When Shinn reached San Felipe ahead of his lagging companions 24 hours later, he was hysterical and nearly blind. In his hand was Bill Falls's notebook. He had carried it all the way.

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