He taxied 25 yards and his machine took the air. Beginning to climb at an angle of 30 degrees, he went upward at the rate of 3,000 ft. per minute. In four minutes he had climbed two miles. He took a sniff of his oxygen to keep his head clear. The climb became only 2,000 feet a minute. He climbed three, four, five, six miles. The engine began to slow down for lack of air. He turned on the super charger to increase air pressure in the carburetor.

Watchers on the ground had lost sight of the little plane in the sky. But when the supercharger was turned on, smoke began to pour from the exhaust. Apollo's place in the sky was once more visible.

His upward pace grew slower and slower. At 37,000 ft. frost formed upon his goggles. At about that time another airplane arrived—too late—at the airfield below, bringing another naval flier with a pair of electrically heated goggles that will not frost. The bringer of the goggles was Zeus,* brother of Apollo Soucek, coming from the Philadelphia naval aircraft factory.

High in the sky Apollo opened his oxygen supply full. The temperature was nearing a minimum of 76° below zero. The controls were growing stiff from cold. It became impossible to see anything even through the holes in the goggles. In spite of the temperature the flier ungoggled his eyes, the better to watch his instruments. He was dizzy but he pushed the plane slowly through a last thousand feet. At 39,140 ft. he finally pushed it too far. The nose whipped over; the plane plunged 2,000 ft. in a spin. Then the new holder of the altitude record took control of the machine once more, brought it and himself to earth unharmed, 1¼ hrs. after leaving.

From Medford, Okla., to Washington, sped a telegram of congratulation sent by John, father of Zeus and Apollo Soucek.
Source: Time Monday, May. 20, 1929