CQ is a code used by wireless operators, particularly those communicating in Morse code, (— · — · — — · —), but also by voice operators, to make a general call (called a CQ call). Transmitting the letters CQ on a particular radiofrequency is an invitation for any operators listening on that frequency to respond. It is still widely used in amateur radio.^[1]

For new Hams or people who monitor radio frequencies, it can sometimes seem like radio operators are speaking another language. To make your journey into Ham Radio a little more enjoyable, we are going to go over some of the most common abbreviations, codes and Phonetics. His shortwave receiver is a Yaesu FRG-8800. Here are the possible solutions for each shortcoming that his attic shortwave antenna installation presents, along with the recommendations I made to him. The First Problem to Solve: Poor Insulation of the Attic Shortwave Antenna Wire. This is the most important aspect to improve. Bare copper antenna. NEW 4th Edition - CQ Shortwave Propagation Handbook! CQ Amateur Radio Magazine. January 11 at 3:06 PM. 2021 Dayton Hamvention CANCELLED. CQ Amateur Radio Magazine. January 11 at 5:05 AM. Have you read this?

CQ is constantly used on the HF shortwave amateur bands but very rarely used in the FM voice mode of transmission or on FM repeaters common on the VHF and UHF local bands since tuning of a repeater or FM signal does not require the aid of human perception to perfectly tune the signal. WBCQ is an international shortwave broadcast station located in Monticello, Maine, USA. We broadcast on 7.490 MHz, 9.330 MHz, 5.130 MHz, 3.265 MHz, and 6.160 MHz. We’ve been bringing access to the airwaves for people like you since 1998. Our shortwave service is open for your programming. We have the best rates in the industry.

History and usage[edit]

The CQ call was originally used by landline telegraphy operators in the United Kingdom. French was, and still is, the official language for international postal services,^[2] and the word sécurité was used to mean 'safety' or 'pay attention'. It is still used in this sense in international telecommunications.^{[citation needed]} The letters CQ, when pronounced in French, resemble the first two syllables of sécurité, and were therefore used as shorthand for the word. It sounds also like the French 'c'est qui?' which in English means 'who's there?'. In English-speaking countries, the origin of the abbreviation was popularly changed to the phrase 'seek you' or, later, when used in the CQD distress call, 'Calling all distress'.

CQ was adopted by the Marconi Company in 1904 for use in wireless telegraphy by spark-gap transmitter, and was adopted internationally at the 1912 London International Radiotelegraph Convention, and is still used.^[3]

A variant of the CQ call, CQD, was the first code used as a distress signal. It was proposed by the Marconi Company and adopted in 1904, but was replaced between 1906 and 1908 by the SOS code. When the Titanic sank in 1912, it initially transmitted the distress call 'CQD DE MGY' (with 'MGY' being the ship's call sign). Titanic's radio operator subsequently alternated between SOS and CQD calls afterwards.^[4]

In amateur radio usage, a CQ call can be qualified by appending more letters, as in CQ DX (meaning 'calling all stations located in a different continent to the caller'), or the ITUcall sign prefix for a particular country (e.g. CQ VK for 'calling Australia'). The originator of the call can be identified by appending the letters DE (French for 'from', also means 'this is...') and the call sign of the transmitting station.^[1]

In the use of single-sideband (SSB) voice or CW mode (morse code telegraphy), an amateur radio operator often makes a general call by transmitting CQ repeatedly (such as 'CQ CQ CQ') so that other operators scanning for such calls are aided by the familiar rhythmic sound in quickly discriminating distant (weak signal) general callers from other traffic and spurious emissions. This technique allows the other operators to zero-in as close to the caller's center frequency using the human ear to fine-tune his transceiver before engaging the caller in a two-way communication.^[1][5]

The use of a CQ call is almost always used in single-sideband (SSB) voice or CW mode (morse code telegraphy). Unlike FM mode, in the SSB voice and CW mode areas of the amateur radio bands operators are free to center their transmissions where it is most optimal (such as away from adjacent traffic that can interfere) and not expected to use whole-number, divisible-by-five, or otherwise channelized center frequencies. CQ is constantly used on the HF shortwave amateur bands but very rarely used in the FM voice mode of transmission or on FM repeaters common on the VHF and UHF local bands since tuning of a repeater or FM signal does not require the aid of human perception to perfectly tune the signal.^[1]

The code was used as part of the chorus to the song 'Communications' by Slim Gaillard.

See also[edit]

• CQ Amateur Radio, English-language magazine
• CQ ham radio, Japanese-language magazine

References[edit]

1. ^ ^abcdKen W. Sessions (1974). How to be a ham, including latest FCC rules. G/L Tab Books. ISBN978-0-8306-4673-9.
2. ^UPU, Infoteam SA -. 'Universal Postal Union – Languages'. www.upu.int. Retrieved 2018-02-14.
3. ^Famous Sea Rescues Formerly Titled: SOS to the Rescue. Grosset & Dunlap. 1948.
4. ^Ballard C. Campbell (2008). Disasters, Accidents, and Crises in American History: A Reference Guide to the Nation's Most Catastrophic Events. Infobase Publishing. pp. 3–. ISBN978-1-4381-3012-5.
5. ^Alan Betts (2002). Foundation Licence Now!. Radio Society of Great Britain. pp. 23–. ISBN978-1-872309-80-4.

General references[edit]

• Straw, R Dean (ed.) (October 2005). The ARRL Handbook for Radio Communications 2006 (83rd ed.). Newington, CT: American Radio Relay League. ISBN0-87259-949-3. OCLC62026192.CS1 maint: extra text: authors list (link)
• Bergquist, Carl J (2001-05-01). Ham Radio Operator's Guide (2nd ed.). Indianapolis: Prompt Publications. ISBN0-7906-1238-0. OCLC47051066.
• Dennison, Mike and Chris Lorek (eds.) (June 2005). Radio Communication Handbook (8th ed.). Potters Bar, Hertfordshire, England: Radio Society of Great Britain. ISBN1-905086-08-3. OCLC123027893.CS1 maint: extra text: authors list (link)
• Commercial Traffic Regulations, 1915. Government Printing Office, Washington, DC: United States Naval Radio Service.

Chapter Four -
To The Ends Of The Earth
by Clinton B. DeSoto

TO DATE no radio amateur has yet adventured on Mars or explored the craters ofthe moon--at least not outside the comic strips and the pseudo-sciencemagazines. But there are very few spots on this little old earth where some hamhas not yet ventured, from high in the troposphere to the depths of theCarlsbad Caverns and from the tangled jungles of Matto Grosso to the ice andsnow of the Arctic.

It all began back in 1923 when Commander Donald B. MacMillian, the noted Arcticexplorer, was preparing for another of his journeys to the Far North.

This was to be his ninth expedition. Eight times before he had made the longjourney above the Arctic Circle, and there was nothing he feared more than theisolation, the relentless, inescapable realization of being cut off from thecivilized world for a year or more at a time.

'It has spelled disaster for many an expedition.' he said. In 1922 he hadcarried a radio receiver along, listening to the general traffic of the air.But this was tantalizing rather than useful. What was needed was two-waycommunication.

About that time Commander MacMillan met Hiram Percy Maxim, president of theAmerican Radio Relay League. They talked about his problem, and Maxim suggestedthat radio amateurs would undoubtedly be overjoyed to help. MacMillan waskeenly interested, but unfortunately there was no money to provide a radiostation aboard the vessel and an operator to run it.

But by this time Maxim, too, was interested in his idea. Perhaps the A.R.R.L.could help. More discussion followed, and then an agreement was worked out. TheLeague offered to help in securing apparatus and to pay the expenses of anamateur operator for the duration of the trip.

And so it happened that when the MacMillan Arctic Expedition sailed fromWiscasset, Me., on June 23, 1923, aboard the tight little auxilary schoonerBowdoin there was aboard an amateur operator from the A.R.R.L. and a completetwo-hundred-meter station donated by Commander E.F. MacDonald of the ZenithRadio Corporation.

The operator was Don Mix, known throughout the amateur fraternity as the'sleepless wonder of 1TS,' a tall, lanky Connecticut Yankee, redheaded andfreckle faced and a superhuman performer behind a radio key.

Besides standing his watch as a member of the seven-man crew through the monthsthat followed Mix transmitted a weekly five-hundred-word message to the NorthAmerican Newspaper Alliance, stood regular watches for incoming press, handledthe expedition's personal message traffic and sent back lists of calls of theother amateurs that he heard.

Cq Shortwave Radio

Two months after the expedition left Wiscasset it reached Cape Sabine above theArctic Circle, the most northerly point of the trip. There WNP, 'Wireless NorthPole,' established a new world's long-distance record.

The crossing to Cape Sabine was accomplished only after several unsuccessfulattempts had been foiled by the ice in Baffin Bay. Once at the Cape, theexpedition erected a National Geographic Society bronze memorial to the Greelyexpedition which there perished of starvation and exposure.

Turning south, the sturdy little Bowdoin pushed its way back at Etah,Greenland, a few miles below the Arctic Circle, before it was frozen in by thewinter ice.

Then the radio installation came into its own. Communication through thesummer static had been spotty, but autumn brought good conditions. Mix strunga huge antenna from a cable suspended between the cliffs on either side of theice-locked harbor. The radio installation on the Bowdoin annihilatedisolation. It brought entertainment and news of the world. Through the eagerlylistening amateur stations back in the U.S. and Canada business messages andnews reports to the outside world were generally handled with the speed andreliability of a wire-line connection. When President Coolidge filed a messageof Christmas greetings to the party it was delivered like an ordinary telegram.

Despite the static and aurora borealis, despite the two-hundred-meterwavelength (this was before the days of short waves), despite the handicaps ofcramped quarters and insufficient fuel supplies the expedition was in contactwith home until its return in September 1924.

'No polar expedition will attempt to go north again without radio equipment,'predicted MacMillan on his return, and he was right.

The barrier of silence, the greatest single obstacle to all explorations, wasbroken for all time. Other explorers heard of MacMillan's success and eagerlysought the help of amateurs for their ventures. In 1924 another expeditionsecured amateur communication; in 1925 there were five; in 1926 this numberincreased to six, and the following year to seven.

Since 1923 well over a hundred scientific expeditions and other partieswandering the face of the earth have depended on amateur radio forcommunication. Usually there has been an amateur along as operator, too, forexplorers quickly learned that the ham's innate resourcefulness could bedepended upon to keep them on the air.

The adventures encountered by these operators would fill hundreds of volumes.Some traveled by airplane, others by boat. Bert Sndham sweated and bounced ina Ford touring car on a motorized expedition breaking the international'highway' from Los Angeles to central Mexico and later to El Slavador. Acaterpillar tractor hauled the short-wave stationof the Haardt Trans-AsiaExpedition. Ray Meyers traveled in the submarine Nautilus under the polaricecap when he operated the radio equipment of the Wilkins-EllsworthTransarctic Submarine Expedition which attempted to reach the North Pole bythe underwater route. Other short-wave operators have toured the wilds ofdarkest Africa in a luxurious motor trailer, climbed the peak of MountCrillon, floated down the Orinoco in an oil-prospecting houseboat, braved thejungles of Matto Grosso, sailed with sealers in the Antarctic, mushed behinddogsleds in the Arctic and roamed the isolated corners of the world from topto bottom.

The experience of Harry Wells may be taken as a sample.

Harry penetrated territory never before seen by a white man, came close tolosing his life a dozen times, created a Dyak shrine, thwarted a nativeuprising--and it all started with a football game.

A native of Washington, D.C., Harry returned there in the fall of 1928 for thehome-coming game between the University of Maryland and the University ofVirginia. It was after the game that he found out that the All-American LyricExpedition was outfitting to leave soon for Borneo, its purpose to make ananthropological study of the primitive natives, obtain geographical data andtake observations on tropical and equatorial radio conditions.

To Wells, an indefatigable amateur, this sounded like opportunity knocking.After demonstrating his operating experience and technical training toProfessor Theodore Seelman, an anthropologist of the University of Chicago,who was leading the venture he was placed in charge of the radio portion ofthe project.

Preparations, including the provision of a fifty-watt gasoline-powered basestation, a low-powered emergency rig and a battery-operated portable outfit,were completed by the end of March, and the party embarked from Seattle onApril third.

The journey to Borneo constituted an odyssey in itself. It was two monthsbefore they arrived. In the meantime they stopped at Japan, China, thePhilippine Islands, the Celebes and Java.

The long-awaited first glimpse of Borneo proved something less than enticing.'The heat seemed to come rolling out to meet our small coastwise steamer,'Wells reported. 'The shore line was indefinite and appeared as a ratherdepressing maze of swamp and jungle.'

They disembarked at Bandjermasin, capital of Dutch Borneo, on the southwesterncoast. After completing final preparations the party traveled up the BaritoRiver bound for Poeroek Tjahoe, the last Dutch military post, some two hundredand fifty miles from the coast and forty miles south of the Equator. There themain base was to be established.

Wells found the journey up the Barito intensely interesting. At times theprogress of the little Dutch river boat, the Negara, was almost completelyblocked by water hycinths, vast quantities of which formed a solid mass frombank to bank.'The strange jungle odors, the bright-hued tropical birds flyingoverhead, the herds of chattering monkeys playing along the banks, theoccasional wild boar or deer seen cautiously quenching its thirst, thecrocodiles or snakes gliding through the muddy, sluggish water--all seemed tobe crying, 'This is the road to adventure and the real things of life!' heobserved.

A week later they arrived at Poeroek Tjahoe. The entire white population--thepost commander, two young lieutenants and a doctor--turned out to welcomethem. Captain J.C. DeQuant, the post commander, was controleur of aportion of central Borneo larger than all Holland.

The work of setting up the base camp was begun immediately. All hands pitchedin and helped set up PMZ, the expedition's main transmitter, and that eveningthe station was on the air. The very first call resulted in a contact with astation in California. All those months of traveling and thousands of miles ofdistance were wiped away at the touch of a key!

The sound of the gas-engine generator attracted the attention of thebrown-skinned natives, and the news quickly spread that the white men had astrange contraption that made a noise like thunder and revolved likelightning. Soon the entire population of the kampong was squattingaround the network of wires and instruments. Whole families would travel fordays through the jungle to see the white man's wonder.

Cq Shortwave

To show that the sounds were coming from the air Wells would disconnect theantenna and then put it back. Unable to comprehend the functioning of theradio system, the natives believed the white men induced friendlyanthos or spirits to carry forth their messages.

The stolid Dyaks showed little surprise on hearing the moanings of a saxophoneor the melodies of an orchestra for the first time--mostly amusement andcuriosity. Curiosity, in fact, was an outstanding trait. When the toyphonographs were played some native invariably tried to climb inside the hornto see where the noise was coming from. They crowded around the set, becomingtangled in the wiring or knocking the units out of adjustment, until one dayWells let one of the boys touch the terminal of a 108-volt battery. He jumpedback, yelling, 'Panas [Hot]!' After that all their curiosity would notinduce them to come within ten feet of the white man's magic.

As the Americans gradually grew accustomed to the equatorial heat and thedirect rays of the sun plans were started for the first real exploration trip.The Dutch Government had very courteously offered military assistance whereverpossible, and so it was agreed to make an attempt to reach the headwaters ofthe Murung River, in territory never before seen by a white man, at the sametime carrying on a search for the nomadic Punan Dyaks, the most primitivenatives then known.

By middle July all was in readiness for the start. The field party consistedof Professor Seelman and Wells, together with Captain DeQuant wh was incharge. John H. Provinse stayed behind at the base camp, operating the mainPMZ transmitter.

Besides the three white men five convicts who were serving time at PoeroekTjahoe were assigned to do the paddling. Cooking was added to the paddlingassignment when the Chinese cook, Lim, decided that he did not care to see anywilder people than those he had seen already at Poeroek Tjahoe and refused toleave the base camp.

For the first day or so the two heavily laden boats plowed through sluggish,muddy water. On the third day the banks became higher and the water faster,and by evening they were on the edge of Kiham Hatas, Borneo's longest singlerapid--six hundred yards of water fury.

The month that followed was one continual story of man's battle with theelements. There were days of hard paddling and days of roasting in the intenseheat. Sudden showers would soak them through, and then the slightest breezewould chill them to the bone. Swarms of insects troubled their rest at noondayand at night. The river was a continual succession of rapids, waterfalls,narrows and whirlpools where the slightest error in judgement might meandisaster.

At the fork of the Barito and Murung rivers they turned east along the Murunginto the land of the Punan Dyaks, the little-known branch of the Dyak racewhich Dr Seelman desired to investigate. A tribe of aborigines--of Malayanspeech, but differing in stature--with Caucasion features, they were knownonly to have a low civilization level and to be far from peaceful.

The explorers had been warned that these primitive aborigines, while notcannabalistic, were dangerous. But Seelman and DeQuant disregarded thesewarnings, and their unconcern communicated itself to Wells. 'We were too busyand tired to heed any rumors of unfriendly natives,' he said.

Actually, such disregard of the very real danger, while courageous, was alsoreckless. They were yet to learn that the Dyaks' hatred for the whites couldbe satisfied only by killing.

This hatred stemmed from the outrageous treatment of the Dyaks by the Malayswhich was tolerated by the Dutch. Throughout the journey they observed thatthe Malays exploited the Dyaks shamelessly. At the village of Tombangolong aMalay trader had even speared and killed a Dyak the day before, and thevillagers were vainly searching for the killer.

In this case Dutch authority upheld law and justice. The All-American Lyricparty arrived in time to witness the tribal burial, and then Captain DeQuantset out to track down the assasin. He succeeded in catching the Malay and toldthe Dyaks the killer would be held for trial at Poeroek Tjahoe.

That night the murderer was chained by the neck to a post in the center of theshack the explorers occupied. The men's camp beds occupied the remaining spacein the room. The Malay was instructed to sleep on the floor but he was afraidto do so because he thought the Dyaks might spear him from underneath.

'Personally,' said Wells, 'I could only think, 'Gosh, what if they misshim?' That canvas spread on my bed felt awfully thin . . . .'

But the Dyaks did not attempt to avenge their dead, and the party continued onits way unmolested.

Three days later they arrived at Toembang Topus, the last village on theMurung. This was to be the take-off point for the dash to the headwaters. Thenext day it was necessary for Captain DeQuant to make an overland journey toanother isolated kampong. That night, as usual, Harry Wells had a longradio contact with the Philippines and reported on their progress.

The next morning Dr Seelman and Wells, leaving the portable radio outfit andthe collection of primitive weapons in camp under guard, started their dashfor the headwaters. They were now in territory never previously penetrated bywhite men.

The four--two Dyaks and the explorers--paddled steadily, and their light boatmoved swiftly through the water. Before noon the waters became so shallow thatit was necessary for them to wade. Logs and overhanging creepers impeded theirprogress, but by early afternoon they reached the uncharted source of theMurung.

It was there Harry Wells erected his shrine. A small clearing was cut in thevirgin jungle and a raised platform constructed. A signed statement was sealedinside a gourd. Together with an old battery and a radio tube, the gourd wasplaced on the platform. The official expedition flag, made by Mrs Seelmanbefore their departure and bearing the diamond shaped A.R.R.L. emblem andthe letters PMZ, was raised. The shrine was dedicated to the Goddess of Fatewho had guided them safely thus far, and several salutes were fired into theair. The Dyaks seemed deeply impressed by the solemn ritual.

Then the party returned to Toembang Topus. Aided by the downstream current,they arrived at nightfall. The message they would send back to the U.S. wasalready drafted: 'Reached destination. Starting back tommorow. Batteriesgetting low, so expect next QSO from base station.'

But they were a little late. The batteries were already too low--they had eventhen given double the expected usage. Rain water had destroyed the sparebatteries. To make matters worse, Manila, the relay point, was in the throesof a typhoon, and the message never did get off. The next day they wereobliged to start back for the base. Before they left they gave the deadbatteries to the natives as souvenirs.

In Manila the expedition's silence led to newspaper reports that they werebelieved lost, perhaps killed by natives. But the downstream journey wentswiftly, and before the growing anxiety in the States reached greatproportions they were able to report that they had arrived back at the mainbase in at Poeroek Tjahoe late on the afternoon of August seventeenth, faggedby exposure and hardship but safe.

The All-American Lyric Expedition stayed in Borneo throughout the remainder ofthe winter, and PMZ remained actively on the air. On a number of occasionsother field trips were made, accompanied by the portable outfit, which madesome amazing performance records. These trips were shorter than that up theMurung and less dangerous.

Still, danger was always lurking ahead in that primitive country. On one tripinto the jungle the party arrived at a kampong to find the Dyaks armedto the teeth with knives, spears and blow guns. The woman and children coweredfearfully in their huts not daring to venture out of doors.

An enemy tribe was hiding in the jungle, they said. Two hundred warriors werepreparing to attack and massacre them all. One man had been shot at with apoison dart.

The explorers prepared to defend their lives along with the natives. There wasno attack, however, nor did they hear or see any of the head-hunters. Thelurking death had avoided them another time, but yet it was always there inthe shadows.

Shortly before the expedition ended and the party returned to America thereoccured the tragic happening that climaxed the growing unrest among thenatives. The Dyaks had been in a sullen mood for weeks. Their resentmentdirected primarily at the Malays but it included the Dutch authorities who intheir minds apparently shared responsibility for the ill-treatment theyreceived.

And then, on Christmas Day, Captain DeQuant was brutally murdered only onehour from the base.

There was high alarm at Poeroek Tjahoe. This assassination could bringanything--more murders, even an uprising that would result in the massacre ofall the whites at the post. It was vitally important that word of the tragedybe got to the Dutch colonial government authorities at Bandjermasin in theshortest possible time. To send it by boat to the coast and have a replyreturned would take two weeks. In the event of a serious uprising the wholeplace could be wiped out in that time. . . .

So Wells offered his services. On Christmas night at six o'clock PMZ sent anofficial message for the garrison at Poeroek Tjahoe to an amateur in thePhilippines. There it was rushed to a cable office, and news of the tragedyreached its destination on the very day it occurred.

Thereafter all official reports concerning the subsequent disturbance and itspolitical consequences were handled through this circuit. Replies were cabledfrom Bandjermasin to Manila and then radioed back to the isolated postedthrough PMZ. Several months' time and much expense were saved thereby, apartfrom averting what might have developed into a serious uprising, and thecolonial government was sincerely grateful.

Not long after conditions returned to normal, PMZ said good-by to its friendsof the air. The little gasoline engine was shut down for the last time, thetelescopic mast was lowered, and Harry Wells boarded a steamer for home.

As he stepped on the gangplank he was struck by a sudden thought. 'Say!' heexclaimed. 'I wonder who one the Maryland-Virginia game last fall?'

In exploration lore 1926 is remembered as the year in which three expeditionsraced to be first across the North Pole by air.

They traveled by different methods and different routes, but each used both ofthe newest marvels of science to be adapted to exploration: avaiation andradio.

Apart from the glory and adventure, these expeditions provided a conclusivetest of the value of short-wave radio.

The Detroit Arctic Expedition was first to leave. It differed from previousU.S. Arctic expeditions in that no ships were used. Captain George H. Wilkins,its leader, planned to fly over the Pole in a large three-motored Fokkermonoplane piloted by Lieutenant Carl B. Eielson, taking off from an advancebase to be set up at Point Barrow, Alaska.

Comprehensive short-wave equipment especially designed for the expedition wasprovided, with a pair of outstanding Seattle amateurs, Howard Mason and BobWaskey, as operators. In early March all of the personnel and equipment,including the big airplane and a smaller single-engined Fokker for supplywork, were assembled at Fairbanks, the railhead. From there an advance partyset out overland with a snow-sled caravan, transporting aviation gasoline anda powerful short-wave base station, its mission to establish the base at PortBarrow. Mason accompanied this party when it started out, carrying a smallbattery-operated portable for communication back to Fairbanks.

At Tolovana, sixty miles out, the snow motors were abandoned because it wasdiscovered that they were consuming fuel so rapidly that there would be noneleft for the airplanes when they would arrive at Barrow! Five dog sledges weresubstituted for the motor sleds. Mason returned to Fairbanks, and Waskeyjoined the advance party, and they started again on the long six-hundred-mileoverland trip.

After seven harrowing weeks the advance party--'Sandy' Smith, the leader, EarlRossman, photographer and correspondent, Waskey and the drivers--reached PointBarrow. They ran short of food en route and for a time were unable to proceed.The temperature was thirty-five degrees below zero, and it was necessary toshoot some of the dogs. Finally they succeeded in killing sufficient game forthe men and the remaining dogs and pushed on. The bulky gasoline-enginegenerator for the base station was temporarily abandoned one hundred sixtymiles outside of Point Barrow, to be later retrieved.

Throughout the seven weeks' mush Waskey was in contact with Mason back inFairbanks every night over the little battery portable.

In the meantime Wilkins had begun freighting gasoline and supplies betweenFairbanks and Point Barrow in the smaller Fokker. On the third trip radiosignals from the airplane went out after three hours and nothing was heard ofthe explorer. He failed to return on schedule. A puzzled world wondered abouthis fate for two weeks. Then it was learned that the wind-driven generatorhad burned out in flight. Wilkins had arrived safely in Barrow, but thatnight the tent hangar burned, damaging the propeller on the ship so badlythat two weeks were required to repair it with the limited facilitiesavailable.

When the overland party from Fairbanks drew near a fast sledge was sent out toget Waskey and his portable outfit and bring them into barrow in advance of themain party, and it was through Waskey and his little transmitter that the worldfirst learned that Wilkins was safe.

Trouble continued to dog the expedition's footsteps however. A series ofmishaps finally forced abandonment of the plan to fly over the Pole, andthereafter Wilkins confined himself to the less spectacular activity ofcarrying on exploration flights over uncharted regions of the Arctic.

The one striking accomplishment of the 1926 Detroit Arctic Expedition was itsdemonstration of the reliability and range of the low-powered shortwave radioequipment. The tiny battery-operated sets gave unprecedented performance withpower inputs of but a few watts. Waskey at Point Barrow was heard as far awayas Transaval, South Africa, on one of his transmissions reporting the safearrival of Wilkins from a ferrying trip.

This performance was especially striking in comparison with that of the radioon the Amundsen-Ellsworth-Nobile Expedition which carried no shortwaveapparatus and was equipped only for the longer commercial wave lengths.

The Amundsen Expedition planned to fly from King's Bay, Spitsbergen (Svalbard),over the Pole to Point Barrow in the dirigible Norge. The two-hundred-wattBritish Marconi transmitter, operating between six-hundred and fifteen hundredmeters, succeeded in maintaining contact with Spitsbergen up to the time theairship neared the Alaskan coast. Then the orthodox equipment failed, and thedirigible itself was not heard for the rest of the twenty-seven-hundred-mileflight.

When the Norge approached Point Barrow, however, it was seen by Bob Waskey ofthe Wilkins party who flashed the news down to Howard Mason at Fairbanks. Masoninformed the correspondent of the North American Newspaper Alliance, giving thenewspapers of the N.A.N.A. a big scoop. This was a heartbreaking disappointmentfor the New York Times correspondent who had started mushing overland toPoint Barrow two months before with a radio operator and a portable short-wavestation just to get that story; they were still some thirty-five miles outsideBarrow when the airship passed overhead.

The Norge continued on until it landed at Teller on May fourteenth. For twodays the anxious world had no news of her. Twenty-four hours after the landing,however, her radio officer located an ancient spark transmitter on a reindeerranch near Teller and finally got word out that the party was safe.

Then Mason and the N.A.N.A. correspondent at Fairbanks scooped the otherservices again, enabling N.A.N.A. to beat its competitors by an hour andone-half with the news that the Norge was safe at Teller.

The third expedition in the race, the Byrd Arctic Expedition, was the winner.Short-wave radio played an important part in its success.

The expedition, under Lieutenant-Commander Richard E. Byrd, sailed from NewYork for Spitsbergen on the SS Chantier in April. Lloyd Grenlie and GeorgeJames were the radio operators in charge of the short-wave sets on the Chantierand the three-motored Fokker, Josephine Ford, with which the polar flight wasto be made.

The story of that expedition is now history. On arrival at King's Baypreparations were rushed to quick completion, and on May ninth Commander Byrdand Floyd Bennett took off in the Josephine Ford for the fifteen-hour flight tothe Pole and return.

No radio operator was taken on the flight, and in consequence amateurs missedthe opportunity they had hoped for--a chance to talk with the first airplane inflight across the Pole. The Chantier, however, continued to maintain contactwith the United States via short-wave radio, both at Spitsbergen and on thetrip home.

Even before before the expedition reached American shores on its return rumorhad it that before long the Byrd party would shove off for the Antarctic, to bethe first to conquer the South Pole by air as well.

It was not until 1928, however, that the involved arrangements attendant uponsuch an expedition were completed. That summer the first Byrd AntarcticExpedition set sail from New York on the SS Eleanor Bolling and the SS City ofNew York.

Commander Byrd had learned the value of short-wave radio on his earlier trips,in the command of MacMillan's aviation party in 1925 when John Reinartzoperated WNP, as well as on the 1926 Byrd Arctic Expedition, and radiopreparations for the new venture were even more extensive. Five radiomen--Lieutenant Malcolm P. Hansen (who had built much of the gear usedpreviously by Byrd, Wilkins and others), Carl Peterson, Lloyd Berkner, HowardMason and Lloyd Grenlie--accompanied the party from New York. At Dunedin, NewZealand, they were joined by Neville Shrimpton, a New Zealand amateur.

Immediately upon departure from New York schedules were instituted from the twovessels. All the way down the coast of South America and through the AntarcticOcean contact was maintained. In January 1929 the radio equipment was landed onthe ice floe. The three huge masts supporting the antennas were raised, and thetransmitters were installed. Almost at once Little America was heard round theworld!

All through the long winter night that followed, past the time of the momentouspolar flight which climaxed the two-year struggle, Byrd and his men were inregular communication with the outer world. Contact was sure, speedy andreliable. More than two million words were handled by the stations of theexpedition, a great part of the traffic going through amateurs. Even on thefinal lap of the undertaking when the City of New York left Dunedin on April 1,1930, homeward bound, the contact with civilization was unfailing.

'The greatest radio achievement of recent months was the constant radiocommunication with the Byrd Expedition and the part played by the amateurs.Time and time again these youngsters of the American Radio Relay League kept intouch with Byrd when the big fellows lost him. It was the amateur who reallydiscovered the value of short-wave radio.' Thus did Dr Lee DeForest, inventorof the vacuum tube and one of the foremost radio men of all time, acclaim theperformance.

The first man in history to reach both the North Pole and the South Pole,Commander Byrd's name rapidly became synonymous with exploration andexpeditions in the minds of Americans. No short-wave operator could conceive ofa higher honor than a chance to join his subsequent ventures. Some of thefinest members of the fraternity participated in the Second Byrd AntarcticExpedition in 1933 and in the U.S. Antarctic Service Expedition of 1940,commanded by Byrd in his new rank of rear admiral.

Their spirit is the same that inspired Columbus is 1492 and Lindbergh in 1927;the same spirit drove Galileo and Hertz and Marconi and it is alive in theexplorers and the radio hams of today.