The first person Corrigan met was an army officer. Corrigan introduced himself saying, ‘I left New York yesterday morning headed for California.’ He added, ‘I got mixed up in the clouds, and I must have flown the wrong way.’ The officer responded, ‘Yes, we know.’ Corrigan was surprised, ‘Really?’ he said. ‘How did you find out?’ The officer replied: ‘Oh, there was a small piece in the paper saying someone might be flying over this way. Then we got a phone call from Belfast saying a plane with American markings had passed over, headed down the coast.’ A customs official in a blue uniform came up and asked Corrigan if he had landed anywhere else. ‘I did pass over a city–I guess it must have been Belfast,’ explained Corrigan. ‘But I didn’t see an airport there. This is the first place I’ve landed since leaving New York.’

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‘That makes it easier for us, then,’ said the customs agent amiably. They led Corrigan into the field office, where he signed the airport register. Then they showed him the newspaper article, which talked about an unknown pilot who had disappeared over the Atlantic.

Corrigan not only did not have permission to make the flight, he had neither a passport nor entry papers. The officials were not surprised. The officer said he would call the American minister, Stephen Cudahy. ‘Why don’t you come down to the barracks and have a spot of tea while we’re waiting?’ suggested the officer. Corrigan gladly accepted the invitation.

When Cudahy was ready to see him, the customs man was reluctant to let Corrigan go. ‘I haven’t heard from my superiors yet,’ he objected. ‘Why don’t you wait around awhile longer?’ The officer spoke up: ‘What’s the matter? You’re not putting him under arrest, are you?’ The customs man seemed confused. ‘No, but this never happened before,’ came the response. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ The officer just laughed, and he and Corrigan left.

When they met with Cudahy, the American minister wanted an explanation as to how Corrigan ended up in Ireland. Corrigan knew this was a key moment. He smiled and explained that he had taken off from Floyd Bennett Field–heading east. ‘It was a very foggy morning,’ he pointed out. ‘I see,’ said Cudahy dryly.

Corrigan went on to tell the same story he later told in his autobiography. He explained that the plane was so weighed down with fuel that it would not climb fast enough, so he had decided to fly east for a few miles and burn off some fuel before he turned around. He also said his main compass was broken–the liquid had somehow leaked out, and he had had to use a backup compass.

‘Couldn’t you see anything below you?’ asked Cudahy. ‘It was just too foggy,’ responded Corrigan. ‘At one point there was a break, and I could see a city. I figured it was Baltimore–which would have meant I was on course for California.’ The city had actually been Boston.

That was the only break in the clouds he had seen, Corrigan said. He spent the rest of the flight navigating by compass alone. When he finally emerged from the clouds 26 hours later, he saw only ocean. ‘That was strange, as I had only been flying 26 hours and shouldn’t have come to the Pacific yet,’ he said. ‘I looked down at the compass, and now that there was more light I noticed I had been following the wrong end of the magnetic needle on the whole flight. As the opposite of west is east, I realized that I was over the Atlantic Ocean somewhere!’ So he just flew on from there. Finally, he saw a city below him, and he noticed that the airport was marked Baldonnel. ‘Having studied the map of Ireland two years before, I knew this was Dublin.’

Cudahy was skeptical. ‘It was hazy when you took off, was it?’ he said. ‘Well, your story seems a little hazy, too–now come on and tell me the real story.’

‘I’ve just told you the real story,’ replied Corrigan. ‘I don’t know any other one.’

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