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Sar Image Analysis — A Computational Statistics Approach
 IEEE Press
445 Hoes Lane
Piscataway, NJ 08854

IEEE Press Editorial Board

Sarah Spurgeon, Editor in Chief

Jón Atli Benediktsson Andreas Molisch Diomidis Spinellis

Anjan Bose Saeid Nahavandi Ahmet Murat Tekalp
Adam Drobot Jeffrey Reed
Peter (Yong) Lian Thomas Robertazzi
Sar Image Analysis — A Computational Statistics
Approach

With R Code, Data, and Applications

Alejandro C. Frery
Victoria University of Wellington

Jie Wu
Shaanxi Normal University

Luis Gomez
Universidad de Las Palmas de
Gran Canaria
Copyright © 2022 by The Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc. All rights reserved.

Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey.

Published simultaneously in Canada.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:

Names: Frery, Alejandro C., author. | Wu, Jie, 1985- author. | Gomez, Luis
(Gomez Deniz), author.
Title: SAR image analysis — a computational statistics approach : with R
code, data, and applications / Alejandro C. Frery, Jie Wu, Luis Gomez.
Description: Hoboken, NJ : Wiley-IEEE Press, 2022. | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022000525 (print) | LCCN 2022000526 (ebook) | ISBN
9781119795292 (cloth) | ISBN 9781119795322 (adobe pdf) | ISBN
9781119795469 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Synthetic aperture radar. | R (Computer program language)
Classification: LCC TK6592.S95 F74 2022 (print) | LCC TK6592.S95 (ebook)
| DDC 621.36/78–dc23/eng/20220215
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022000525
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022000526

Cover Design: Wiley

Cover Image: © Yarr65/Alamy Stock Photo

Set in 9.5/12.5pt STIXTwoText by Straive, Chennai, India

To my husband and my friends, they are the salt of my life
Alejandro C. Frery

To my family, my friends, and my cute girl, they are treasures of me

Jie Wu

To Stella, my wife and support, and to my treasures and all, Prince Gaby and Princess
Martina
Luis Gomez
 vii

Contents

Foreword by Luis Alvarez xi

Foreword by Nelson D. A. Mascarenhas xiii
Foreword by Paolo Gamba xiv
Foreword by Xiangrong Zhang xv
Preface xvii
Acknowledgments xix
Acronyms xx
Introduction xxi
About the Companion Website xxv

1 Data Acquisition 1
1.1 Introduction 1
1.2 SAR 2
1.2.1 The Radar 2
1.2.2 What is SAR? 4
1.2.3 SAR Systems 5
1.2.4 The Synthetic Antenna 9
1.3 Spatial Resolution 14
1.4 SAR Imaging Techniques 15
1.5 The Return Signal: Backscatter and Speckle 17
1.5.1 Backscatter 17
1.5.2 Speckle 20
1.5.3 SAR Geometric Distortions 24
1.6 SAR Satellites 27
1.6.1 European Mission: Sentinel-1 29
1.6.2 European Mission: COSMO-SkyMed Systems 30
1.6.3 European Mission: TerraSAR-X 30
1.6.4 Canadian and NASA Missions 31
1.6.5 Japanesse Mission 33
1.6.6 Chinese Mission 34
1.7 Copernicus Open Access Hub 35
1.8 NASA Earth Data Open Data 36
1.9 Actual SAR Data Examples 37
1.9.1 Hawaii’s Big Island 37
1.9.2 Other Examples 40
Exercises 41
viii Contents

2 Elements of Data Analysis and Image Processing with R 43

2.1 Useful R Packages 43
2.1.1 Data Loading 43
2.1.2 Data Manipulation 44
2.2 Descriptive Statistics 45
2.2.1 Center Tendency of Data 46
2.2.2 Dispersion of Data 47
2.2.3 Shape of Data 49
2.3 Visualization 50
2.3.1 Rug and Box Plots 50
2.3.2 Histogram 51
2.3.3 Scattering Diagram 53
2.4 Statistics and Image Processing 54
2.4.1 Histogram-Based Image Transformation 55
2.4.2 Scattering based Analysis 57
2.5 The imagematrix Package 59

3 Intensity SAR Data and the Multiplicative Model 61

3.1 The  Distribution 66
3.2 The 0 Distribution 68
3.3 The H Distribution 70
3.4 Connection Between Models 71
Exercises 72

4 Parameter Estimation 75
4.1 Models 75
4.1.1 The Bernoulli Distribution 75
4.1.2 The Binomial Distribution 76
4.1.3 The Negative Binomial Distribution 76
4.1.4 The Uniform Distribution 76
4.1.5 Beta Distribution 76
4.1.6 The Gaussian Distribution 77
4.1.7 Mixture of Gaussian Distributions 77
4.1.8 The (SAR) Gamma Distribution 78
4.1.9 The Reciprocal Gamma Distribution 78
4.1.10 The 0I Distribution 78
4.2 Inference by Analogy 78
4.2.1 The Uniform Distribution 79
4.2.2 The Gaussian Distribution 79
4.2.3 Mixture of Gaussian Distributions 79
4.2.4 The (SAR) Gamma Distribution 79
4.3 Inference by Maximum Likelihood 80
4.3.1 The Uniform Distribution 80
4.3.2 The Gaussian Distribution 80
4.3.3 Mixture of Gaussian Distributions 81
4.3.4 The (SAR) Gamma Distribution 81
4.3.5 The 0 Distribution 82
 Contents ix

4.4 Analogy vs. Maximum Likelihood 82

4.5 Improvement by Bootstrap 83
4.6 Comparison of Estimators 83
4.7 An Example 84
4.8 The Same Example, Revisited 87
4.9 Another Example 89
Exercises 92

5 Applications 93
5.1 Statistical Filters: Mean, Median, Lee 93
5.1.1 Mean Filter 93
5.1.2 Median Filter 95
5.1.3 Lee Filter 99
5.2 Advanced Filters: MAP and Nonlocal Means 103
5.2.1 MAP Filters 103
5.2.2 Nonlocal Means Filter 104
5.2.3 Statistical NLM Filters 109
5.2.3.1 Transforming p-Values into Weights 110
5.2.4 The Statistical Test 111
5.3 Implementation Details 113
5.4 Results 114
5.5 Classification 119
5.5.1 The Image Space of the SAR Data 123
5.5.2 The Feature Space 125
5.5.3 Similarity Criterion 127
5.6 Supervised Image Classification of SAR Data 128
5.6.1 The Nearest Neighbor Classifier 129
5.6.2 The K-nn Method 134
5.7 Maximum Likelihood Classifier 136
5.8 Unsupervised Image Classification of SAR Data: The K-means Classifier 140
5.9 Assessment of Classification Results 143
Exercises 148

6 Advanced Topics 151

6.1 Assessment of Despeckling Filters 151
6.2 Standard Metrics 151
6.2.1 Advanced Metrics for SAR Despeckling Assessment 153
6.2.2 Completing the Assessment 156
6.3 Robustness 157
6.3.1 Robust Inference 157
6.3.2 The Mean and the Median 158
6.3.3 Empirical Stylized Influence Function 161
6.4 Rejoinder and Recommendations 163

7 Reproducibility and Replicability 165

7.1 What Is Reproducibility? 165
7.2 What Is Replicability? 166
x Contents

7.3 Reproducibility and Replicability: Benefits for the Remote Sensing

Community 167
7.4 Recommendations for Making “Good Science” 167
7.5 Conclusions 170

Bibliography 171
Index 179
 xi

Foreword by Luis Alvarez

Remote sensing is a well consolidated research area which demands efficient image
processing methods. The many particularities of the Synthetic Aperture Radar (SAR)
devices require highly specialized techniques for processing the SAR images. I have been
invited by the authors of SAR Image Analysis — A Computational Statistics Approach to
write this Foreword. This is a great honor that, with enormous pleasure, I accept. I know
the authors well because I have collaborated with them on several occasions, precisely, in
image processing techniques applied to Remote Sensing. SAR acquisition devices are remote
sensing systems of great technical complexity that provide high-resolution images regardless
of atmospheric conditions (rain, clouds, dust, etc.), and independently of day or night.
This book focuses on providing deep knowledge and interpretation of the SAR data from
a plain and rigorous statistical point of view. The comprehensive approach to the topic
proposed in this book will help readers to understand better all the relevant matters related
to SAR images.
Of course, there are other excellent books for SAR imagery, however I found that this is not
just another SAR book. From the first pages, one is aware that this volume has been written
by true experts in the area who made an enormous effort to condense in these pages, years of
study and research. As a result, the main SAR concepts needed for image processing are well
discussed and nicely introduced. Every single line, figure, table, and programming line have
been done with extreme care. From that, the whole book is easy to read and follow because
it has been written in an academic spirit so that it can be understood not only by experts but
by young students who are starting to study this subject.
As mentioned above, SAR is not a strange area for me. However, as a user of SAR imagery,
I have not been particularly involved in the issues related to the acquisition systems or even
in knowing the deployed SAR systems. Nor also on how to access SAR data from the dif-
ferent websites that offer free SAR data. I have also noticed that this occurs in other fields.
For instance, deep knowledge of medical instruments is not required to be able to implement
powerful segmentation algorithms for processing medical images. However, it is probable
that better methods could be designed with more knowledge of the acquisition systems.
In that sense, I found Chapter 1, “Data Acquisition” extremely useful because it provides
such demanding knowledge but avoids the very complex mathematical tools that surround
the radar signal. Readers can easily understand the concept of synthetic aperture and gain
a physical knowledge of the backscatter and the main distortions associated with the SAR
acquisition.
xii Foreword by Luis Alvarez

One fundamental aspect that centers most of the research in SAR images is the speckle
noise or speckle. That granular pattern is quite difficult to manage and reduce. Speckle cor-
rupts the SAR image (all SAR images!). It makes image interpretation or any post-processing
operation more difficult. Correctly modeling speckle is a crucial issue for anyone intended to
fully understand SAR data and to use or design competitive image processing methods.
A sound statistical approach is needed to deal with speckle, and this approach is the one
found in this book. The reader will find in Chapter 3, “Intensity SAR data and the Multi-
plicative Model,” updated and more reliable statistical distributions to deal with SAR data.
All the distributions are nicely described, justified in the context of SAR (for instance the G0
distribution to model textured and extremely textured areas), and with a clear perspective of
applying them to actual SAR data.
Chapter 4, “Parameter Estimation,” is the perfect complement for Chapter 3 and for
Chapter 5, “Applications”. Reading Chapter 5 was a pleasure (as I am sure it will be for
anyone with experience in image denoising). The classical filters (the mean, the median)
commonly used to denoise natural images are explained, coded, and applied to SAR images.
The Lee filter must be in any book dealing with SAR and speckle, and also it must be well
addressed, as is the case in this book. Nonlocal means filters, also widely used for filtering nat-
ural images, are also discussed in Chapter 5. What it has been a pleasant surprise to find was
the enhanced versions. Such improvement comes by introducing the Gamma law (so much
discussed in the book) into the standard nonlocal mean schema. A quick look at stochastic
distances enriches the analysis. Some classical classification methods (nearest neighbor,
knn, K-means) are briefly explained and applied to simulated and synthetic SAR data.
At last, some advanced topics are gathered in Chapter 6, “Advanced Topics.”
I did not address, intentionally, Chapter 2, “Elements of Data Analysis and Image
Processing with R” in the above summary just to comment on it jointly with Chapter 7,
“Reproducibility and Replicability.” I said before that this is not just another SAR book,
which I am sure it is not, even when not including Chapters 2 and 7, but certainly they will
dissolve any doubt. The use of R (free and very powerful software) seems to be the correct
decision: it makes it possible for any researcher to run the provided codes (all codes for all
examples within the book are available for readers). This, of course, reinforces the authors’
purpose when writing the book: make every result reproducible. The benefits of reproducible
research are limitless, as they are detailed in Chapter 7. For even wider reproducibility, some
parts of the codes are available in R and Matlab. The reader is referred to the website www
.wiley.com/go/frery/sarimageanalysis for such contents.
To whom do I recommend this book? First, to any student or researcher interested in
acquiring a sound knowledge of all mathematics involved in the SAR data. I also recom-
mend this book as a textbook for an advanced introductory course to Image Processing for
SAR. Finally, this book will also be of great interest to anyone out of the SAR scope who aims
to understand better how mathematics makes complex image processing tasks easier. I tried
to be as objective as possible when writing this Foreword: you, the true objective reader, will
decide if this book helps you to grow in your understanding of this exciting topic.

Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Spain Luis Alvarez

September, 2021
 xiii

Foreword by Nelson D. A. Mascarenhas

Synthetic Aperture Radar (SAR) is one of the most important sources of images for remote
sensing. Yet, it presents fundamental challenges for its interpretation. It is a great pleasure to
accept the honorable and kind invitation by the authors of the book SAR Image Analysis —
A Computational Statistics Approach.
I was one of the advisors of the doctoral dissertation by one of the authors, Alejandro C.
Frery, thirty years ago and I have been following his brilliant career. He proposed extremely
important tools for SAR image analysis, such as the G family of statistical distributions and
the use of stochastic distances for the Information Theory based SAR image segmentation,
among others.
The book covers all aspects of SAR in a very readable way, from data acquisition, data
analysis, and image processing using the R language, going through the statistical models for
intensity data, parameter estimation, applications, advanced topics, and concluding with the
very important aspect of reproducibility and replicability.
The work relies on very formal statistical basis but, at the same time, it covers practical
questions, including R code for the readers.
Concluding, I believe that this is a very welcome addition to the literature on SAR and one
of the most complete sources both for the researchers, as well as the student who begins to
explore the exciting area of SAR image processing and analysis.

São Paulo, SP, Brazil Nelson D. A. Mascarenhas

September, 2021
Other documents randomly have
different content
 As for me, I was working as usual around Denison House. The
neighborhood was just piling in for games and classes and I was as
busy as could be. I remember when called to the phone I replied I
couldn’t answer unless the message was more important than
entertaining many little Chinese and Syrian children. The word came
assuring me it was.
I excused myself and went to listen to a man’s voice ask me
whether I was interested in doing something aeronautic which might
be hazardous. At first I thought the conversation was a joke, and
told the gentleman so. At least twice before I had been approached
by bootleggers who promised rich reward and no danger
—“absolutely no danger to you, Leddy.”
The frank admission of risk piqued my curiosity and I enquired
how and why I had been called.
I demanded references and got them. They were good
references, too. After checking up, I made an appointment for late
the same day.
“Should you like to fly the Atlantic?”
Such was the greeting when I met Hilton H. Railey who had done
the telephoning.
He told me, without mentioning specific names, that Commander
Byrd’s tri-motored Fokker had been purchased and was destined for
trans-Atlantic flight. He asked me if I would make the flight if
opportunity offered. Then he told me that a woman owned the
plane, and had intended flying it herself. Circumstances had just
arisen which made it impossible for her to go but there was a
chance that another woman might be selected in her place; and Mr.
Railey had been asked by George Palmer Putnam, New York
publisher, to help find such a person.
Then followed the first period of waiting. I did not know whether
or not I was going. I didn’t know whether the flight really would
come off. I didn’t know whether I should be selected if it did. And in
the meanwhile I was asked to clear the decks so I could get off if
the opportunity actually arose.
At Denison House we were just working out our summer plans,
with me in charge of the summer school. If I actually was to leave,
Marion Perkins, our head worker, must get someone for my place. So
the chaos of uncertainties spread in ripples out from me as a center.
I think what troubled me most just then was the difficulty of my
relations, under the circumstances, with all these people whose
plans were so much dependent upon my own. Yet I was pledged to
secrecy and could not say a word to them. And of course, it is rather
disconcerting to carry on a job at a desk, or with settlement
children, with the probability of a trans-Atlantic flight pending.
In ten days or so I was asked to go to New York. There I met
David T. Layman, Jr., who, with Mr. John S. Phipps, talked things
over with me. I realized, of course, that I was being weighed. It
should have been slightly embarrassing, for if I were found wanting
on too many counts I should be deprived of a trip. On the other
hand, if I were just too fascinating the gallant gentlemen might be
loath to drown me. Anyone can see the meeting was a crisis.
I learned that the Fokker had been bought from Commander Byrd
by the Honorable Mrs. Frederick Guest, of London, whose husband
had been in the Air Ministry of Lloyd George and is prominently
associated with aviation in Great Britain. Mrs. Guest, formerly Miss
Amy Phipps of Pittsburgh, financed the expedition from first to last,
and it was due entirely to her generosity and sportsmanship that
opportunity to go was given me.
The transfer of ownership of the plane from Commander Byrd to
Mrs. Guest had been kept secret. It had been her desire to hop off
for the Atlantic crossing without attracting any advance attention.
When subsequently, for personal reasons, Mrs. Guest herself
abandoned the flight she was still eager to have the plans
consummated, if possible, with an American woman on board.
 A few days later I was told the flight actually would be made and
that I could go—if I wished. Under the circumstances there was only
one answer. I couldn’t say no. For here was fate holding out the best
in the way of flying ability in the person of Wilmer Stultz, pilot, aided
by Lou Gordon as flight mechanic; and a beautiful ship admirably
equipped for the test before it.
When I first saw Friendship she was jacked-up in the shadows of
a hangar at East Boston. Mechanics and welders worked nearby on
the struts for the pontoons that were shortly to replace the wheels.
The ship’s golden wings, with their spread of seventy two feet, were
strong and exquisitely fashioned. The red orange of the fuselage,
though blending with the gold, was chosen not for artistry but for
practical use. If we had come down orange could have been seen
further than any other color.
The plane just then was being equipped, presumably for its use
on Byrd’s forthcoming Antarctic trip. Stultz and Gordon were
supposed to be in Byrd’s employ, and Commander Robert Elmer,
U.S.N. retired, was directing technical activities.
 © Wide World Photos
WELCOMED BY THE SOUTHAMPTON CROWD
 AT MEDFORD, MASSACHUSETTS

Our purpose was to keep the plans secret. Once the world knew,
we should be submerged in a deluge of curiosity making it
impossible to continue the preparations in orderly fashion. Then, too,
it would do no good to aviation to invite discussion of a project
which some accident might delay. Actually the pontoon equipment
on this type of plane was experimental, and no one definitely could
tell in advance whether or not it would prove practicable. Another
objection was the possibility of instigating a “race,” which no one
wanted. Mrs. Guest proposed that the Friendship, as she afterwards
named the plane, should cross the Atlantic irrespective of the action
of others. By our example we did not want to risk hurrying ill-
prepared aspirants into the field with possible tragic results.
 Only twice did I actually see the Friendship during all this time. I
was pretty well known at the landing fields and obviously it might
provoke comment if I seemed too interested in the plane. For this
reason I had no chance to take part in any of the test flying. Actually
the first time I was off the water in the Friendship was the Sunday
morning when we finally got under way.
The preparation of a large plane for a long flight is a complex
task. It is one that cannot—or at least should not—be rushed.
Especially is that fact true where, as in the case of the Friendship,
the equipment was of a somewhat experimental nature.
Throughout the operations Commander Byrd kept in close touch
with what was being done, with Stultz and Gordon, and with
Commander Elmer, who was overseeing the technical detail.
Necessary instruments were installed and gradually tried out; while
varying load tests, countless take-offs from the bay, and brief flights
around Boston were made. The radio was tested and the inevitable
last minute changes and adjustments arranged.
With the radio, we were particularly fortunate because Stultz is a
skilful operator. It is unusual to find a man who is a great pilot, an
instrument flyer, navigator, and a really good radio operator all in
one.
Finally the ship itself was ready to go, and our problems focussed
on the weather. At this stage weather is an important factor in all
plans of trans-oceanic flying.
Supplementing the meagre reports available from ships to the
Weather Bureau, the Friendship’s backers arranged a service of their
own. Special digests of the British reports were cabled to New York
each morning, and meteorological data were radioed in from the
ships at sea. All this information, supplementing that already at
hand, was then coordinated and plotted out in the New York office
of the United States Weather Bureau. There we came to feel that no
flight could have a better friend than Dr. James H. Kimball, whose
interest and unfailing helpfulness were indispensable.
 The weather service for a flight such as ours must be largely
planned and entirely underwritten by the backers of the flight itself.
And, like so much else, it is an expensive undertaking.
Nearly three weeks dragged by in Boston. Sometimes Mr. and
Mrs. Layman were there, hoping for an immediate take-off,
sometimes Mrs. Putnam. Commander Elmer and Mr. Putnam were on
hand constantly. Mrs. Guest’s sons, Winston and Raymond, followed
the preparations as closely as they dared without risking disclosure
of the ownership.
It was during this period that I had the pleasure of seeing
something of Commander and Mrs. Byrd, at their Brimmer Street
home, just then bursting with the preparations for his Antarctic
expedition—a place of tents and furs, specially devised instruments,
concentrated foodstuffs, and all the rest of the paraphernalia which
makes the practical, and sometimes the picturesque, background of
a great expedition. There I met “Scotty” Allan, famous Alaskan dog
driver, who was advising Byrd as to canine preparations.
The weather remained persistently unfavorable. When it was right
in Boston, the mid-Atlantic was forbidding. I have a memory of long
grey days which had a way of dampening our spirits against our best
efforts to be cheerful. We tried to be casual by keeping occupied. On
fair days my battered Kissel roadster, dubbed “Yellow Peril,” was a
means for sightseeing. On rainy days the top leaked too much for
comfort, so we walked. We tried restaurants of all nationalities for
variety and went, I think, to all the theatres.
One of the last plays we saw, I remember, was “The Good Hope,”
with the charming Eva LeGallienne. The story is a tragedy; all the
hopeful characters drown while the most tragic one survives to carry
out a cold lamb chop in the last act. A recurring line is “The fish are
dearly paid for,” and our crew adopted that as a heraldic motto,
emblazoned under a goldfish rampant. I had the opportunity of
thanking Miss LeGallienne for her cheering sendoff when I met her
on returning to New York. She helped Charles Winninger auction off
one of the flags we carried on the flight, at a theatrical performance
for the benefit of the Olympic team which was about to sail for
Europe on the ship which had brought us back, the President
Roosevelt. Anyway, that evening she got us on the stage before
17,280,891 people, so we have two grievances against her.
As I look back on the flight I think two questions have been asked
me most frequently. First: Was I afraid? Secondly: What did I wear?
I’m sorry to be a disappointment in answering the first query. It
would sound more exciting if I only could admit having been
shockingly frightened. But I honestly wasn’t. Of course I realized
there was a measure of danger. Obviously I faced the possibility of
not returning when first I considered going. Once faced and settled
there really wasn’t any good reason to refer to it again. After all,
even when driving one admits tacitly there is danger, but one
doesn’t dwell on the result of losing the front wheels or having the
rear end fall out on a mountain.
Perhaps the second question may be thought feminine, but I have
had as many men as women appear interested.
Remember the early stages of automobiling? In those days an
“auto” ride was a rare experience, made rarer by the clothes one
wore. A linen duster, gauntlets and a veil were the requisites of
touring in 1907.
Fashions in air clothing are emerging from the same sort of
chrysalis stage. For routine short flights I wear every-day clothes—
what one would use for street wear or sports. But obviously the
Friendship flight was different. Compare it, perhaps, to a strenuous
camping trip. One couldn’t tell what might happen. Serviceability
was the prime requirement. I had to wear breeks because of the
jump from the pontoon to the door and also because of the
necessity of slipping on and off the flying suit which is worn outside
one’s other clothing.
In Boston I remember a solicitous friend wished to give me a bag
for extra clothing.
“There isn’t going to be any,” I explained.
 That appeared to concern him somewhat—certainly much more
than it did me. There seems to be a feeling that a woman preparing
to drop in on England, so to speak, ought to have something of a
wardrobe.
However, I chose to take with me only what I had on. The men
on the Friendship took no “extras.” Pounds—even ounces—can count
desperately. Obviously I should not load up with unessentials if they
didn’t.
I’m told it’s interesting to know exactly what the outfit included.
Just my old flying clothes, comfortably, if not elegantly, battered and
worn. High laced boots, brown broadcloth breeks, white silk blouse
with a red necktie (rather antiquated!) and a companionably ancient
leather coat, rather long, with plenty of pockets and a snug
buttoning collar. A homely brown sweater accompanied it. A light
leather flying helmet and goggles completed the picture, such as it
was. A single elegance was a brown and white silk scarf.
READY TO GO
 A PICTURE OF THE “FRIENDSHIP” OVER BOSTON, AUTOGRAPHED
BEFORE THE FLIGHT STARTED

When it was cold I wore—as did the men—a heavy fur-lined flying
suit which covers one completely from head to toe, shoes and all.
Mine was lent to me by my friend Major Charles H. Woolley of
Boston, who, by the way, had no idea when he lent it what it was to
be used for. He suspected, I think, that I intended to do some high
flying.
Toilet articles began with a toothbrush and ended with a comb.
The only extras were some fresh handkerchiefs and a tube of cold
cream. My “vanity case” was a small army knapsack.
Equipment was simple, too. Mr. Layman let me take his camera
and Mrs. Layman her wrist watch. Field glasses, with plenty of use in
the Arctic behind them, were lent me by G. P. P., and I was given a
compact log book.
 Besides toothbrushes—generic term—and food, our “baggage”
was a book and a packet of messages which some of those
associated with the enterprise asked to have carried across to
friends on the other side.
The book—perhaps the only one to have crossed the Atlantic by
air route—is Skyward, written by Commander Richard Evelyn Byrd.
He sent it to Mrs. Guest. Commander Byrd, of course, had owned
the Friendship and has outstandingly sponsored the wisdom of
utilizing tri-motored ships equipped with pontoons, for long-distance
over-water flying. So it was appropriate that his book should be
taken to the woman who bought his plane and made the trans-
Atlantic flight possible.
This copy of his book which I delivered bears the following
inscription: “I am sending you this copy of my first book by the first
girl to cross the Atlantic Ocean by air—the very brave Miss Earhart.
But for circumstances I well know that it would have been you who
would have crossed first. I send you my heartiest congratulations
and good wishes. I admire your determination and courage.”
 CHAPTER VI
OFF FOR NEWFOUNDLAND

TWICE, when the weather eastward seemed right, we tried to take

off. And twice we failed because of too much fog or too little wind.
Three thirty!
Another day. Another start. Would it flatten out into failure like its
predecessors?
Out of the hotel we trooped in the greyness of before-dawn.
Another breakfast at an all-night eating place—Stultz and his wife,
Gordon, his fiancee, Mrs. Layman, Lou and Mrs. Gower, Commander
and Mrs. Elmer, George Palmer Putnam, “Jake” Coolidge, and a few
others. An hour earlier the sandwiches had been made, the patient
big thermos bottle again filled with coffee for the boys, the little one
with cocoa for me.
We drove through deserted streets to T Wharf and at once
boarded the tugboat Sadie Ross. The plane, as before, lay moored
off the Jeffrey Yacht Club in East Boston. Stultz, Gordon, Gower, and
I climbed in. We said no “good-byes”—too many of them already,
and too little going!
Slim uncovered the motors. Bill tinkered a bit with his radio and in
the cockpit. Slim dropped down from the fuselage to the starboard
pontoon, hopped over to the other, and cranked the port motor.
Soon all three were turning over and Friendship taxied down the
harbor, with the tug, carrying our friends, trailing us.
And then, suddenly, the adventure began—the dream became
actuality.
We were off!
 But let me tell the story here as I wrote it that very morning, in
the little notebook that went with me across the Atlantic. Here is
that record, exactly as it was set down (often none too legibly!) in
my log book, penciled as we in the Friendship flew northeastward,
with Boston behind and Newfoundland ahead:

* * * *
Log Book:
7 o’clock, June 3. Slim has the controls and Bill is
tuning in. He has been getting our position. I squat on the
floor next the m.p. [motion picture] camera with my feet
on a dunnage bag. There is one man’s shoe in the
passageway between the gas tanks. It looks odd, but no
one cares about its out-of-placeness.
We are flying at about 2,000 feet. There is a light haze
and the ocean is smooth, with little color. From a height it
looks quiet, almost like ice with flecks in it.
Boston is lost to view and has been for minutes. I tried
to get a picture of the tugboats and harbor as we left, but
just before starting the spring lock of the cabin door broke
off, and I had to hold the door shut until Slim could get
back to repair it. It was at first anchored to a gasoline
can, but I saw the can being slowly pulled out, so
anchored myself to it instead.

* * * *
So, a few minutes after the take-off we nearly lost two of our
crew. That would have been a jolly beginning! Actually Slim came
within inches of falling out when the door suddenly slid open. And
when I dived for that gasoline can, edging towards the opening door,
I, too, had a narrow escape. However, a string tied through the
leather thong in the door itself and fastened to a brace inside the
cabin held it shut fairly securely.
 * * * *
Log Book:
The take-off was an eventful period. The wind was fair
and the water slightly ruffled. When we started from the
tug the sun was just coming over the rim of the harbor. A
few dawn clouds hung about in the pink glow. The camera
men and small group who came to see the departure were
in a happy mood. For the third time they had assembled.
Twice before the weather had prevented a getaway. The
rehearsals had made all familiar with the process of
arising at 3:30 and boarding a tug at 4:30 for a “fishing
trip.” Twice the thermos bottles had been filled and
dumped and twice sandwiches had been replaced. This
morning the whole thing was an old act. There were not
so many present, as I had told the four friends of mine
who knew of the flight, not to come. I didn’t fancy
another farewell and return a short while later. However,
when we got out into the harbor, a small launch came
chugging up and in it were my banished friends.
We were taxiing along toward open water and wind. A
few craft were stirring, but Sunday morning does not
bring out the usual activity. Before, in trying to get off we
passed many small fishing dories and even had to avoid
the New York boat which was just coming in.
This time all I could see was the silhouette of the
various landmarks in the harbor. In the early morning light
it was impossible to distinguish colors.
Bill headed the plane into the wind and gave her
everything she had. We flew over the water, but the drag
of the pontoons held us down. We tried again from a
greater distance and still the water wouldn’t let us go. Out
went six five-gallon cans of gasoline— we had only eight—
for another try.
 * * * *
Ordinarily a ship of this type is equipped with two wing tanks,
which carry 95 gallons of gasoline. We had four. Many people don’t
realize, when they see a monoplane in the air, the thickness of the
wings. From bottom to top the wing of Friendship measured about
twenty-eight inches in some places; but after all this, in comparison
with the great wing spread of seventy-two feet, gives an appearance
of slightness. For a long cruise extra gasoline carrying capacity is
needed, so Friendship was equipped with two special tanks, elliptical
affairs, which bulged into the space just aft of the cockpit usually
occupied by passengers.
 PERCY CROSBY’S SKIPPY HAS HIS OWN IDEAS ABOUT FLYING THE
ATLANTIC

‡[Comic panel #1 Boy: IT TOOK SOME NOIVE FOR AMELIA EARHART

TO FLY OVER THE OCEAN.
Comic panel #2 Skippy: OH, I DON’T KNOW.
Comic panel #3 Skippy: SHE MIGHT O’ BEEN AFRAID TO GO ON A
BOAT ’CAUSE SHE WAS SCARED O’ GETTING SEASICK.
Copyright 1928, Percy I. Crosby, Coastal Press Assn, Inc.]

THE AMERICA AS PHOTOGRAPHED THROUGH THE OPEN HATCH IN THE

BOTTOM OF THE FRIENDSHIP’S FUSELAGE
 There was room between these tanks to squeeze through.
Fortunately the physical architecture of all three members of the
Friendship’s crew was distinctly Gothic. But even at that the two
boys had to turn sidewise to get through, while I, most Gothic of all,
could contrive a straight-away entrance. It was between these two
tanks that I spent many hours of the voyage, because into this
space there wafted back some of the warmth from the heater in the
cockpit. The after part of the cabin was unheated and often reached
uncomfortably low temperatures.
In addition to the gas carried in the wing and these
supplementary tanks, we had on board a limited amount in five-
gallon tins. This was not only a supplementary supply, but was
carried in this form for quick dumping in case of emergency. It was
advantageous, too, to have the weight distributed well astern. In
taking off, all of us, except Bill, crowded as far aft as we could.

* * * *
Log Book:
Mr. Gower came back into the hold in order to force the
nose up as far as possible. To no avail.

* * * *
Lou Gower is an expert pilot, with much big-ship experience, who
had been retained as a sort of understudy for Stultz in case of
sickness or accident. It was hoped he could go as far as Trepassey,
there to share the work of the two men who actually would carry
through on the Atlantic flight.

* * * *
Log Book:
As Bill turned the ship’s nose around, Gower began
pulling his flying suit from the bag. His shoes and a small
personal package were all he had in addition. Slim called
 for a boat from the tug and G. bade us adieu very quietly.
I didn’t want him to go, but of course realized he was the
only one to leave and a sacrifice of something was
necessary to be able to get off. He is a dependable
person, a true sport who appreciates a situation very
quickly, and an excellent pilot. As soon as the little boat
came from the tug with R. E. and G. P. P. aboard, Gower
left us.
For the first time then I felt the Friendship really lighten
on the water and knew the difference of a few pounds
had made her a bird.
67 seconds to get off. We bank, swoop down and with
gathering speed zoom over the tug. I hope the cameras
[those on the tug] registered, for the ship looks beautiful
in flight.

* * * *
All that was written in the first part of the journey after leaving
Boston. It was less than an hour out when the next entry in the
diary is recorded.

* * * *
Log Book:
I can see fifteen little fishing vessels. Probably they
can’t see each other.
96 miles out (1 hour). 7:30. 2500 ft. Bill shows me on
the map that we are near Cash’s Ledge. We cannot see
anything (if there is anything to see), as the haze makes
visibility poor. The sun is blinding in the cockpit and will
be, for a couple of hours. Bill is crouching by the
hatchway, taking sights.

* * * *
 The drift indicator was on the floor by the hatchway which had to
be opened each time speed and drift calculations were made.

* * * *
Log Book:
Hooray! Nova Scotia at 8:55. Fear Island. We are flying
at 2000. I can look down and see many white gulls flying
over the green land. A few houses are clustered together,
and a dory is pulled up on the shore. There is a rocky
ledge around the islands which makes a ruffle. They look
very flat and the trees are foreshortened.
We are making good time with the wind’s help.
I have in my ears some little rubber ear stops which
Mrs. Byrd sent. She said Commander B. had used them in
his trans-Atlantic flight, and was the only one who could
hear when the plane reached the other side. I am eager
to see whether they work, as both the men are without
them.
Pubnico Harbor is below. Bill figures 114 m.p.h. since
we left Boston.
What a jagged coast. There are few roads. Many little
houses nestle in the woods seemingly out of
communication with anything for miles.
One can see deeply into the water and mark shoals and
currents. What an easy way to see what are bugaboos for
surface craft.
The haze is not so marked now and the wind is
rougher. This ship flies smoothly, but I know a smaller one
would be tossed about.
The color of the sand about the edges of the water
differs; some is white, some rusty. I cannot see any
 breakers, except far out—the sea is calm with sparking
ripples.
Our shadow skims over the treetops. The people whom
I cannot see are probably used to the sight and sound of
strange planes.

* * * *
During the last two years this remote country has had many
visitors from the air. These people, I think, have come to feel a real
intimacy with the flyers. There have been Lindbergh and Byrd, de
Pinedo, Mrs. Grayson, possibly Old Glory, and in the old days, the N.
C. 4’s, disregarding the incidental flights which doubtless have
winged over this territory.

* * * *
Log Book:
What makes people live on little jets of land like this
one?
White, white sand and curving wrinkled water,
windswept and barren.
I have changed my seat to a gas can, one of the two
saved this morning.
A green mottled shore line comes into view. We are
running into clouds and haze again. The former are
scudding fast, but we outdistance them.
The motors are humming sweetly.

* * *
Continued. I have dozed off and awake to find us flying
at 2000 above a sea of fog. The wind is rough and Bill is
shutting off the motors. I suppose we shall go down
through it to see where we are. As far as one can see
there are swirls of white cloud.
Oh, the weather! The sun is shining above here, but
the haze is becoming greater. We are now about 500 feet
over the water. Land is to our left.
Since I wrote the last we have circled the harbor of
Halifax twice and slipped to a landing. Bill went 30 miles
beyond and found fog to the treetops, so came back to
the clearing here.
The natives are swarming to the shore and several
dories are coming out.
Bill and Slim are going over to the land to get reports
with the hope we can go on later. I am to stay aboard
now, as we all are, later, if there is chance of continuing.
The mournful sound of the fog horn disturbs my peace
and hope. I hardly think we could take off here even
without fog, as there is no wind at all. Well, anyway, I’d
rather visit Halifax this way than any other I can think of.
An orange, carefully provided by G. P. P., tastes good.
’Tis my first food.
Bill and Slim have returned with news of rain and
clouds ahead.
A light wind is springing up which may help the
situation.
We are half-way to Trepassey. The coastline will help us
in navigating for a while unless the fog cuts off the view.
Bill says he’ll try to make T., so Slim is cranking up. A
broken primer is found, but we start without soldering it,
as time is precious. We have already lost an hour by
change of time.
 The fog and clouds look pretty bad. The Flight Sergeant
at Halifax says we may return, and we agree. Bill says the
Newfoundland coast is bad enough, but in a fog won’t be
tried.
We are flying blind on the right side, but can see a little
on the left. Probably rain ahead.
I tried to take a m. p. of our leaving Halifax. I had to
take it through the glass, and don’t imagine it will be
worth much.
Time of leaving H. about 2:30.
Slim comes back to pump gas into the right tank from
the small cans.

ON THE STEP
 © International Newsreel
FLYING TO BOSTON—GORDON, A. E., STULTZ, MRS. GORDON, MRS.
STULTZ, MRS. PUTNAM

We are turning back. The fog spreads out ahead of us

like a great fuzz.
Into the clear again. What luck to have the fog block
us!
Bill slips her into Halifax for a perfect landing just
behind a Canadian Fairchild pontoon job. The Flight
Sergeant comes over and helps to anchor her. After
consultation we invite him in and put the situation of my
retiring disposition before him.

* * * *
When we were forced down in Halifax our difficulties of
maintaining secrecy increased. Publicity, we feared, was probably
unescapable. But at all events, escape seemed worth an effort. And
especially, so far as possible, we thought it wise to conceal the
presence of a woman on the Friendship. The Sergeant had the
surprise of his life when he came aboard the plane to look over the
equipment and found me part of it.

* * * *
Log Book:
He thinks a government official will take me in while
the boys go to a hotel. Consequently I stay on the plane
while the others go back to find out. They’ll pick me up
later.
In the meantime a ham sandwich is food. I don’t dare
take pictures lest the people see I am present.
The plane rides at her moorings and the waves of
passing launches knock the pontoons with hammer blows.
Water is very hard.
At last the gang comes for me. It is decided to go to a
small hotel in Dartmouth. It is Sunday, and Orchard Day,
besides being the King’s birthday. Consequently, no one
much is at home. We have difficulty finding the proprietor
of the hotel even. He has no rooms in the main building
and we are shown to the Annex. It is very informal. The
key hangs behind the door for all who know where to find
it. A strange billiard table rests in the main hall. Our rooms
are on the third floor.
This country would be grand for camping. Real solitude
with lovely little lakes and bays. The pine trees don’t look
attractive as landing fields, but do for outings. Slim says in
this connection that he was glad of pontoons for the first
time, as he looked over the landscape.
12 P.M. Two reporters and camera men are in the next
room trying to persuade Stultz and G. to dress and have a
flashlight picture taken. I am displeased with their
thoughtlessness in keeping the men (Bill and Slim) awake.
I don’t know whether the newspaper men know I am here
so I am not shouting my sentiments.
It is now 9:45. We are out of Halifax about 15 minutes.
The take-off took one minute in a perfectly calm sea. We
loaded 100 gals. of gas after we had waited since about 7
A.M. until 9 for its arrival. Any other day in the year, I
suppose, would have been better to get it. I wandered
around and looked over the station, stopping a few
minutes in what I was told was Commander Byrd’s home
when he was in charge of the station during the war.
Major Harrup is there now and while the station is not
active just now, is going to be soon, with several
seaplanes assigned to it.
We had many encounters with newspaper men this
morning. We were called at 5:30, and the hotel served us
a little after six—unusual service for a holiday. Slim is
feeling ill still, but managed to eat something. We had two
pictures taken before breakfast; interviews at, and
pictures and interviews afterward. When we arrived at the
station we met more camera men and reporters.
We went over to the plane in the tug which carried the
gas. I chatted with the men who handled it and was
assured that rubbing gas and oil on one’s hair made it
grow and was good for it every day. We spilled some fuel
on the water and I thought of the accident to De Pinedo’s
ship caused by throwing a cigarette on the water
afterward.
The air is exceedingly rough today. We are flying at
2000. The land which was covered with fog yesterday is
sparklingly clear today. The sea is beautifully blue and
there are a few light clouds.
 We have a sheaf of Halifax newspapers with strange
assertions about us all. They will make strange reading
matter if we ever have opportunity to re-read them.
Bill is trying to get some one to answer his signals. He
can hear others and apparently can send. The radio man
at Halifax said he’d listen and answer.
We are flying along the coast. The water appears
shallow, as I can see the bottom in many places. A flock
of birds rise from the water at our shadow. They resemble
in movement and shape the spreading out of the little
stars in a skyrocket.
The inhabitants who come to look at us wear red shirts
or skirts. Red seems to be a favorite rural color. Cows and
horses don’t like us.
What cruel rocks these ledges are. Sharp and narrow,
they look like sharks.
I move to sit on a gas can by the window. What a
comfortable passenger plane this would be with the gas
tanks removed and windows made in the sides. There is a
small steamer to the right. I wonder if she knows who we
are. I wonder if we know.

* *
There is more sea than land now and we fly at 1800.
In a way, I am glad of the stop at Halifax, for I always
think it better for a motor to run gradually to long grinds.
We can see a haze. Reports last night said 200 miles of
fog. I hope all 200 miles of it have gone away.
(Temperature outside: 52°. Inside 58°.)
Bill shows me where we are. 11:55 and the plane is off
Cape Canso. He is trying radio again and has hooked up
the other set.
 The wind is steadier over the sea.
Slim comes back for a sandwich. We seem to have
endless ham sandwiches. Coffee and cocoa will be taken
on at Trepassey and a few fresh things.

* * * *
This plethora of ham sandwiches, it developed, was our own
fault. We simply didn’t explore far enough. Three generous lunches
had been prepared for us by the Copley Plaza Hotel, arranged for a
“fishing trip.” The tactical error was putting all the ham sandwiches
on the top layer. We never got beyond them. Later, to our chagrin,
we discovered that below there were similar layers of delicious
chicken and tongue sandwiches, hard boiled eggs and much beside.
We never had the courage to determine exactly what else there
might have been.
The gastronomic adventures of trans-oceanic flying really deserve
a record of their own. Our own highlights were varied. Ham
sandwiches seemed to predominate en route. At Trepassey it was
canned rabbit, in London the desserts were strawberries, and home
again in America chicken appeared invariably on all state occasions.

* * * *
Log Book:
Bill has been flying. G. now has controls. The sea looks
like the back of an elephant, the same kind of wrinkles.
Nothing but blue sea. A low rim of fog far to the right.
Hooray! Bill has picked up a station. 12:15. He is taking
something.
We are flying at 3200 ft. Temperature down to 53°
inside.
The fog bank is nearer and looks pretty thick. It
shadows the water. We are nosing down and the air is
rougher. The motors are racing, and the a.s.i. [air speed
indicator] registers 100 m.p.h. It has been about 86.
12:50. Newfoundland sighted to the left. More fog to
the rt. than in direction we wish. I notice the motors
synchronize every five seconds at the speed they are
running.
Change of time 2:00 p.m. Bill says we are making in
actual speed 115 m.p.h.
2:20. A steamer sighted to the left. We are too far from
it for me to take a picture. Anyway we are running with
considerable haze.
2:35. We have left the sun behind and are just under a
bank of clouds. Alt. 3000.
St. Mary’s Bay in sight. 2:50. Visibility better. Clear
toward sea. The fog hangs in white curly masses over the
land.
We are near Trepassey. What is in store for us?

* * * *