“One minute this plane, seemingly under control, would suddenly wrench itself free, throw itself into a vertical bank and head straight for the steaming white sea below. An instant later it was on the other wing, this time climbing with its nose down at an ungodly speed. To ditch would be disastrous. I stood on my hands as much as I did on my feet. Rain was so heavy it was as if we were flying through the sea like a submarine. Navigation was practically impossible. For not a minute could we say we were moving in any single direction—at one time I recorded twenty-eight degrees drift, two minutes later it was from the opposite direction almost as strong. But then taking a drift reading during the worst of it was out of the question. I was able to record a wind of 125 miles an hour, and I still don’t know how it was possible, the air was so terribly rough. At one time, though, our pressure altimeter was indicating twenty-six hundred feet due to the drop in pressure, when we actually were at seven hundred feet. At this time the bottom fell out. I don’t know how close we came to the sea but it was far too close to suit my fancy. Right then and there I prayed. I vouched if I could come out alive I would never fly again. “By the time we reached the center of the storm I was sick, real sick, and terribly frightened, but our job was only half over. We still had to fly from the center out, which proved to be as bad, if not worse, than going in. “Mind you, for the first time, and after flying over fifteen hundred hours, I was airsick; and I wasn’t alone. Our radio Operator spilt his cookies just before we reached the center. “After a total of five hours we landed at Eglin, the entire crew much happier to be safely back on the ground. At the time of our take-off we really didn’t think it possible to fly safely through a hurricane. Personally I still don’t. And I say again, I hope never to be as frightened as the time I flew through Kappler’s Hurricane. It isn’t safe.” Lieutenant Gunn, the pilot who had been in it the day before, was a man who took things calmly. He reported his experience: “This morning the storm was only an hour and a half from the field. The usual line of squalls around the edge of the storm was hitting Morrison Field about every hour and a half. Of course this trip was to take us through the very center.