Vandaag ... (10) Today ... (10)

 For a summary in English, please scroll down

Vanuit commercieel oogpunt heeft de KLM er altijd aan gehecht met enige regelmaat de aandacht te (laten) vestigen op interessante mijlpaaltjes c.q. -palen. Een eerste vlucht naar een nieuwe bestemming, de eerste vlucht over de pool,

First KLM scheduled flight Amsterdam-Sana'a (Yemen) Oct. 28, 1992

de eerste vlucht naar Indië enz. Allemaal memorabele firsts. Maar sommige van die eerstelingen waren commercieel helemaal niet interessant en daar is dan ook zelden of nooit aandacht aan geschonken. Daarom is het hoog tijd er eentje voor het voetlicht halen al was het alleen omdat deze gebeurtenis vandaag precies 100 jaar geleden heeft plaatsgevonden.

Op 22 november 1895 wordt in Amersfoort ene Adriaan Pieter Johannes Pijl geboren. Hij is de zoon van Leendert Pijl, foerier bij de Huzaren, en zijn vrouw Cornelia Ulb. Na een aanvankelijke carrière als kantoorbediende te hebben nagestreefd, neemt Adriaan in 1915 dienst bij de Landstorm (niet te verwarren met het gelijknamige Duitse legeronderdeel tijdens WOII). Hij brengt het al snel tot sergeant en op 1 november 1918 wordt hij overgeplaatst naar het 5^e Regt. Infanterie waar hij een 5-jarige verbintenis aangaat als vlieger bij de LVA, de Luchtvaartafdeeling (met ee), een legeronderdeel want de Luchtmacht bestaat nog niet. Hij haalt daar op 4 september 1919 zijn brevet en treedt zo in de voetsporen van o.a. Plesman, die dat papiertje een jaar eerder haalde. Adriaan is inmiddels sergeant-vlieger. Op 1 april 1922 gaat hij met verlof  'buiten bezwaar van 's Rijks schatkist' en wordt hij vliegenier bij de K.L.M. (toen nog met puntjes). Hij heeft er inmiddels 750 vlieguren op zitten o.a. op de Nederlandse Spijker V.2, een kist met een motor van wel 80 pk!

Nu hij een baan met vooruitzichten heeft, trouwt Adriaan op 15 november 1922 met Berdina Brinkhoff uit het Limburgse Gennep. Het echtpaar gaat vlak bij Adriaans’ werk wonen en wel aan de Nieuwe Meerdijk in Rijk in de Haarlemmermeer. Of er in die tijd al een WRR (werk- en rusttijdenregeling) bestaat, is niet bekend maar op 24 april 1924 heeft Adriaan 215 oversteken over het Kanaal op zijn naam staan. Dat zijn, naast zijn andere vluchten, 430 starts en landingen in 2 jaar! Op die datum vertrekt hij met de Fokker F.III H-NABS van Croydon richting Waalhaven.

A rare picture of the Fokker F.III H-NABS
(source: Aviation archive Herman Dekker)

Aan boord twee passagiers, de heren Van Hien en Modderman, en 60 kgs vracht (à ƒ 0,80 pkg). De vlucht gaat via het aan de Kanaalkust gelegen Lympne om nog een pakje op te halen. Het vertrek ex Lympne mag Adriaan naar eigen (weers-)inzicht bepalen. Om 14.00 uur krijgt hij informatie dat de mist boven het Kanaal is opgetrokken en hij vertrekt. KLM-vliegeniers hebben instructie van de chef van de Vliegdienst, Dellaert, om het Kanaal over te steken tussen Dover en Folkestone enerzijds en Calais en Gravelines aan de Franse kant. Pijl lijkt dit ook gedaan te hebben; een getuige ziet de Fokker bij goed zicht nog bij Sandgate overkomen. Wel is het zo, zegt de getuige, dat de horizon door mist niet zichtbaar is... 

Dat is het laatste dat van Pijl en zijn passagiers is gezien. Om 17.00 uur is de Fokker nog steeds niet op Waalhaven gearriveerd. Ook de gebruikelijke overvliegberichten van Calais, Duinkerken en Oostende ontbreken. Pijl kan die niet zelf doorgeven want hij heeft geen radio aan boord, hij moet het met alleen een kompas doen. Zoektochten leveren niets op en men moet concluderen dat Pijl heeft geprobeerd boven het Kanaal onder de mist door te vliegen en daarbij met een klap het water heeft geraakt. Er is niet veel fantasie voor nodig om te bedenken wat dat met een machine, het woord 'kist' is hier meer op z'n plaats, doet die voornamelijk bestaat uit triplex (three-ply covering) en de ailerons zelfs uit een weefsel (fabric). Geen wonder dus dat er van de H-NABS niets is teruggevonden en van de inzittenden al evenmin. Daarmee geniet Adriaan Pijl de twijfelachtige eer exact 100 jaar geleden de eerste KLM-piloot te zijn geweest die tijdens de uitoefening van zijn beroep om het leven is gekomen.

Adriaan P.J. Pijl, approx. 1923
(coll. R.I.L. Pijl)

Het overlijden van Pijl is nooit formeel vastgesteld. Daarmee behoort hij tot een grote groep van vermiste personen. Er is een politie-instantie die zich daarmee bezighoudt: het Landelijk Bureau Vermiste Personen. Het bureau bemoeit zich zelfs met aangespoelde lichamen van personen die vanaf 1920 vermist zijn geraakt. Voor identificatie maakt men o.m. gebruik van een DNA-databank. Het DNA van een opgespoorde neef van Pijl, is hierin opgenomen. Maar dat heeft helaas (nog) niet tot resultaat geleid.

Tot slot: zeker in de begindagen van de luchtvaart hadden piloten vaak de status van 'Bekende Nederlander'. Denk aan Van der Hoop, Viruly, Parmentier, Gijsendorfer en Van Veenendaal. Pijl heeft het nooit zover gebracht, daarvoor is hij te jong overleden. Niettemin verdient hij het herinnerd te worden, niet alleen omdat hij de eerste K.L.M.-vlieger was die tijdens een (lijn)vlucht om het leven kwam maar ook omdat hij aan het begin heeft gestaan van de ontwikkeling van het vervoer van passagiers en vracht door de lucht. Dat dit alles in die tijd niet zonder risico's was, heeft hij op tragische wijze moeten ervaren.

Voor veel meer informatie over het verdwijnen van de H-NABS, zie een eerder blog en het indrukwekkende luchtvaartarchief van Herman Dekker.

Update 28 april 2024

Dit blog is ook gepubliceerd in Vrije Vogels nr. 230, het periodiek van de Vereniging Gepensioneerden KLM van april 2024. Met dank aan Henk van Rooijen!

                                           

English summary

On this day, it is exactly 100 years ago that aviator Adriaan Pieter Johannes Pijl disappeared over the English Channel. In a sense, he made history with this unfortunate incident. But I'll come back to that later. 

In KLM we have always been fond of so-called firsts. A first flight to a new destination, the first flight over the North Pole, and before WWII, the first flight to the former Dutch East Indies. Obviously, there always was a commercial/marketing reason behind all publications featuring these firsts. But some of these firsts did hardly get any attention, simply because it was not in the commercial interest of KLM. One of those forgotten events was the a.m. disappearance of Adriaan Pijl on April 24, 1924.

Adriaan was born in Amersfoort on November 22, 1895. His father was a military man and so were his brothers. In 1915 he joined the army and in 1918 he was transferred to the 5th Regt. Infantry. He signed a 5-year contract as a pilot with the Aviation Department. 

Father Leendert Pijl and (f.l.t.r.) sons Leendert,
Cornelis and Adriaan 
(photographer P.H. Kouw*, coll. R.I.L. Pijl)

In September 1919 he got his pilot's license. After having flown 750 hours on various aircraft types - a.o. the French Nieuport with an 80 hp (!) engine -, he joined K.L.M in April 1922. Shortly after he married Berdina Brinkhoff, a girl from Limburg. The couple rented some rooms near Adriaan's work, Schiphol Airport. That saved him a lot of commuting because when he was employed by K.L.M. for hardly two years, he made 215 Channel crossings. That amounts to an impressive 430 take-offs and landings! And he also flew to other places. When he was about to make crossing number 216, he was taking off at Lympne airport, a couple of miles from the English Channel coast. He arrived there from Croydon in his Fokker F.III with registration H-NABS. This aircraft had a payload of 770 kg. With two passengers on board and some cargo, Adriaan remained well within the limits of his Fokker. Before taking off, he received information that the fog over the Channel had disappeared. On his way back to Rotterdam Waalhaven, he was seen overflying Sandgate. This witness said there were good flying conditions but added that he could not see the horizon because of fog ...

When the Fokker did not arrive at Waalhaven airport three hours later, and there were no overflight reports from Calais, Dunkirk, and Ostend rescue aircraft took off. The fact that the Fokker did not have any radio equipment on board -Adriaan's only instrument was a compass- did not help to locate the aircraft. But despite all rescue efforts, the F.III and all three occupants remained missing. The most likely thing that happened was that the aircraft hit the water. One only needs a little imagination to visualize what such an impact does to the structure of this aircraft made of three-ply covering and some fabric here and there.

This incident is why Adriaan Pijl has the dubious honor of being the first K.L.M. pilot who died when practicing his profession.

Legally, to the best of my knowledge, Adriaan must still be considered a missing person. In The Netherlands, there is a police department looking for missing persons (or their remains). In the course of this investigation, I found a cousin of Pijl. He has been so kind to provide a police database with his DNA. But so far that did not provide any clues. 

Although in the early days of aviation, many pilots reached celebrity status, Adriaan was not among them. He simply died too young. Still, he was very instrumental in the development of air transport of passengers, cargo, and mail a little over 100 years ago. For all this, he deserves to be remembered!

For many more details about the disappearance of the H-NABS, please see my earlier blog.

* Based on the activities of this photographer in Nijmegen, the picture was taken in or before 1922.

Sepia Saturday 719 - Two Together

First of all, I must pay tribute to Auntie Miriam: she hasn't changed a bit! I looked up an old photograph of her, and judge for yourself. To be fair, the same goes for Frank.

This week's theme suggests that dancing is the favorite subject. So I went through all my shoeboxes but in vain. Apparently, dancing is not one of the favorite activities in our family. I have to admit I never saw any of my relatives on the dance floor. But fortunately, the situation is different in my wife's family. In particular during weddings, the bride and the groom usually start the wedding party on the dancefloor. And always there is also the family photographer with a talent for pressing the shutter at exactly the wrong moment. But maybe that is because he already had a glass or two. The latter is likely also the reason why this shot is just out of focus.

K.S. and S.O in Loosduinen on Sept. 27, 1965

But as I said, it beats my family's dancefloor pictures. 

During the wedding party, many newlyweds leave the festivities and go on their honeymoon. I've got no idea when this habit started but I have a picture of my father's parents in Valkenburg. They went there by train I assume. In those days the 250-kilometer trip from The Hague must have taken almost a day. They married in The Hague on August 15, 1913. The picture below was taken shortly after. 

Andreas Miebies and Lena Bakker
on their honeymoon in Valkenburg
approx. August 1913

The next twosome shows a cousin of my grandfather and his mother. I guess the picture was taken in early 1900. He lived to be 59 years old only! His wife, my dear Auntie Jo, beat him by 42 years!

Johannes Frederikus Miebies (*July 28, 1899)
and his mother Agatha 't Hart (1871-1956)

Johannes passed away just under 3 years after his mother. 

Speaking of mothers, the next picture of my Mum has likely been taken in a photographer's studio as was the custom in those days. As far as I know, street photographers did not exist simply because carrying large cameras was not very handy.

Johanna Huberta de Langen (1917- 2016)
and her doll in approx. 1921

Johanna Huberta was named after both of her grandmothers. Johanna after her father's mother and Huberta ... The rules about naming first kids were rather strict in those days, daddy's side first, and then mammy's side. Also in this respect, the times have changed. But being a genealogist I loved the old naming rules, they provided me with many clues. But apart from these rules, my mother disliked her names, especially the second one. Therefore, she always called herself Ann or Annie. 

The next picture is dear to me as it is one of the few photo's I have portraying my father. Here he is on horseback together with his kid brother Piet. Judging his age at about 10 or 11 years, this image must have been taken in approx. 1935. The location is unknown to me. I never heard my dad owned a horse but I know he was an experienced equestrian. In a letter written during his mobilization on August 31, 1939, he writes to his wife-to-be about a requisitioned horse. My dad was a troop sergeant in an infantry regiment. The horses served to move the artillery from one position to another. He describes the horse as a 'big black devil' not used to being ridden 'under the man'. Apparently, the horse's owner was a funeral company that used the horse to pull hearses. In his letter, my dad expresses the hope that he will be able to tame this horse. In later letters, the black devil is not mentioned again. So I take it this horse, like a good soldier, followed the troop sergeant's orders.

Johannes Cornelis (1914-1945) and  his younger
brother Piet Miebies (1924-2001)

My last contribution to the '2-2gether'-theme concerns a very, very distant family member. And I'm sure you will understand why I consider him to be so distant. The picture below is a kind of ehh, let me call it a stereo photo. The person is the brother of a man whose daughter was married to a brother of my fraternal grandfather. Are you still with me? 

Before I elaborate further on this person, I want to mention his last name which is Chef d'Hotel. In English, this French-sounding name could mean something like 'manager of a hotel'. Whether that is the true meaning or origin of this name, I have no idea. In French, a town hall is called a 'hotel de ville'. So it might also be the rank of a civil servant. In any case, this is his picture. I believe it is called a mugshot and a double one at that. 

Adrianus Chef d'Hotel (1831-1915)

Adrianus was arrested for begging and vagrancy in The Hague on October 20, 1896, and sent off to a penal institution in Veenhuizen in the province of Drenthe. It is safe to assume that he had been there before because this was arrest #9 for the same offense. His records show that he was a tinsmith but obviously, that offered him insufficient funds to make a living.

Also shown are four fingerprints of his right hand. Apparently, the authorities assumed that the little finger was not used in crime. But the prints were not the only thing recorded. On another page of his file (see below) remarkable measurements are mentioned such as the greatest horizontal width of the cheekbones (14.6 cm), the length of the right ear (6.7 cm), the color of the left eye (light blue), the arch of the back (2), and the length of the outstretched arms (1.78 mtr). Criminal investigation in its infancy.

Description card of Adrianus

In addition to these data, there is a description of the right ear consisting of seventeen (!) measurements. Bureaucracy must have started around that time.

Despite all these descriptions Adrianus fled penal institutions several times after which he was arrested again and sentenced for being drunk in public or for begging. 

But possibly, there were reasons for this behavior. His second wife died back in 1887, and for some unknown reason, his first marriage in 1855 fell through at the very last minute. He did not have any children and at the end of his life, he was an invalid. The only company he had was the other guy on his description card. So all in all Adrianus did not have much reason to dance his way through life. 

For more swinging duos, please go to the Sepia Saturday Site.