Journey to the Centre of the Earth (and Further)
(1958-59)

My name is Professor Hubert Dalbington-Flintlock and, thanks to unforeseen circumstances, I am now at liberty to cut the red tape and break through the security curtain to reveal my exciting and fiendishly cunning scheme to infiltrate a British Expeditionary Force behind the Iron Curtain.

I was asked to design a machine late in 1916, a few years ago, by M.1.6 agents who consulted me in my secret laboratory in the village of Hackney Marsh. At once I set to work on designing something which the Soviet air-defences, coastal defences, road blocks, and the Soviet Boy Scout Organisation, could not detect; in five minutes I had printed the blueprint and started on the construction of my giant, troop-carrying, mechanical mole.

This was to be called 'Mole I'; it was heavily constructed of stained-glass leaded windows cut into eight-inch strips and tied to form a rigid frame with half-inch wide elastic braces (of the nylon reinforced type, for a sounder machine). The stressed skin was of vanadium foil. Whilst I was securing the last piece of foil with instant glue, from the inside of the vehicle I noticed that there was no door. Unfortunately, as I was about to get out by ungluing a portion of the skin, I dropped the ungluer into the bilge-hold and it was never seen again. They had to use a glass-cutting oxy-acetelyne burner to get me out and so 'Mole I' was scrapped.

'Mole II' was of the same sound construction as Mole I, but a door was included. This version had cutting blades at the front (kitchen spoons) and the vehicle was powered by a modern Austin 7 engine found in a breaker's yard; regrettably, on the first trial a vital rubber broke; consequently 'Mole II' was also scrapped.

'Mole III' was fitted with my own little invention; paddles. These are pieces of wood projecting from the sides of the machine. When one exerts a force on the piece on the inside of the vessel, the piece on the outside moves in the opposite direction around the fulcrum, owing to the law of moments. These 'oars' can be used to move the vessel in any direction. The first tests were carried out on Salisbury Plain, much to the dismay of local peasants, who disliked falling into the holes that we left. Our last test was carried out to try the strength of the machine, but it was not altogether successful. 'Mole III' was hoisted, nose down, into the mouth of a vertical mine shaft and I, from my position near the emergency escape-hatch, gave the order to let go.

'Mole IV' (commemorating all those who lost their lives in 'Mole III') was built incorporating the silver-plated spoons and the renovated engine as well as the oars. The new machine had in front a large sheet of welded lead dust-bin lids, to protect the cutting blades.

After successful tests I, my technicians, and some battalions of British Troops (the 24th Dragoon Guards) boarded the vehicle and set off secretly for the U.S.S.R. via the centre of the earth.

After going at full paddle for some time and having reached a depth of 3,000 feet, we grew rather warm; I therefore gave the order, "Left hand down a bit," and we headed for the surface.

We surfaced three months after departure to be welcomed by half of the Red Army, and two dozen irate Russian Customs officials. We were arrested by the police and charged with the illegal importation of (a) silver spoons, (b) Austin 7 engines and (c) stained-glass leaded windows cut into strips.

As we are due to be shot any day now, I hope the pigeon carrying this story gets through to the outside world.

R. GREEN, 4C