At five o’clock on the morning of the 22nd we came to the first waterway. It was not a small brook but a big dam with arms stretching in different directions. It offered our first possibility of finding a landing place. According to our bearings we should now be 88° N. lat., but with regard to longitude we were quite confused. That we were westerly was certain, but where? Feucht announced here that half the benzine was used so it became necessary to look for a landing place. Our intention was, therefore, to descend, take the necessary observations, and act in the best way according to the conditions. The question now was where should we land? Naturally a landing on the water would have been safest, so far as the landing was concerned, but there was always the fear that the ice could close in and crush us before we were able to rise again. We decided unanimously that if it were possible we should land on the ice. In order to observe the territory as conveniently as possible we descended in big spirals. During these maneuvers the aft motor began to misfire and changed the whole situation. Instead of choosing a place now we would have to take what offered. The machine was much too heavy to remain in the air with one motor. A forced landing became necessary. At this low altitude we could not reach the main dam, but had to be satisfied with the nearest arm. It was not particularly inviting--full of slush and small ice. But we had no choice. Under such conditions it was worth much to have a cool unruffled pilot who never lost his self-possession, but even in flight was able to make a clear decision and act accordingly. The slightest wobbling and the game would have been lost. The arm was just wide enough for the machine so it was not so dangerous. Every clump of ice could have torn it through; the danger lay in the high icebergs which lay at each side. It took a master to guide the machine in between these and save the wings. We landed squat in the slush and here arose the most difficult problem any airman could have to solve. It was a piece of luck for us that we landed in the slush, for that slowed down our speed somewhat. But on the other hand it reduced the boat’s maneuvering powers. We were passing a small iceberg on the right. The machine turned to the left with the result that the wings stroked the top of the iceberg and loose snow was whirled in the air. Here we zig-zagged along in a manner which was most impressive and alarming. Can we clear it? The anxiety was great for those who were only spectators; it seemed not to have the slightest effect on the pilot; he was quite cool and calm. When I say we cleared the iceberg by two millimeters it is no exaggeration. I expected every moment to see the left wing destroyed. The speed now slackened in the thick slush and we stopped at the end of the arm--nose up against the iceberg. It was again a question of millimeters. A little more speed and the nose would have been stove in.