There are moments in history when human ambition outpaces available technology. The Madrid-Manila flight of the Elcano Squadron is one such instance. In an era when airplanes were fragile, navigation relied on dead reckoning, and constant risk was inherent, six men decided to cross half the world by air.
The Departure from Cuatro Vientos
On April 5, 1926, three Breguet XIX aircraft from the Spanish Army departed from the Cuatro Vientos airfield in Madrid. Aboard were Captains Martínez Esteve, González Gallarza, and Joaquín Loriga, accompanied by their mechanics Calvo, Pérez, and Arozamena. This was no ordinary flight; it was a gamble to prove that Spain could compete in major international raids, a challenge where perishing in the attempt was a distinct possibility.
As open-cockpit planes, they were “limited by meteorological conditions, such as the intense heat of the deserts they had to cross in Cisjordania and Jordania, or the typhoons of the China Sea, among many other problems,” explains Antonio Utrilla, an Air Force and airline pilot, and currently a guide at the Museum of Aeronautics and Astronautics, located at the very same Cuatro Vientos site from which the Elcano Squadron, as the expedition was named, departed 100 years ago.
The aerial expedition was intentionally linked to the great Spanish navigators of the route to the East. Indeed, the three planes were christened with the names of Fernando de Magallanes, Juan Sebastián Elcano, and López de Legazpi. The planned route was as long as it was uncertain: crossing North Africa, the Near East, India, and Southeast Asia before reaching the Pacific. In total, more than 17,000 kilometers, divided into multiple stages.
Facing Extreme Conditions and Early Setbacks
From the outset, the aviators faced extreme conditions: sandstorms, unpredictable winds, and practically unknown routes. In the desert, dust could disable engines and force them to fly at higher altitudes, losing visual references. Without GPS, without modern radio aids, and with incomplete maps, each stage was a gamble. The pilots relied on their intuition, experience, and an enormous amount of composure. They were the conquerors of past centuries, the astronauts of today.
And as expected, the expedition soon began to fragment. Technical difficulties and accidents reduced the chances of completing the raid with all three planes. One of the most dramatic episodes occurred in the desert, where some members were stranded after breakdowns and extreme conditions.
On April 6, 1926, during the Algiers-Tripoli leg, Rafael Martínez Esteve’s Breguet XIX had to divert to Tunis for an unscheduled stop to repair a fuel pump malfunction. Shortly after, on the Cairo-Baghdad leg, the longest and most dangerous, Esteve suffered another engine failure on April 11, forcing him to land in the Syrian desert, specifically in the Rutbah Wells area. A total fuel leak left him stranded there with his mechanic, Pedro Mariano Calvo, without any food, as they only carried thermos bottles of drinks in the plane.
Both remained lost for seven long days, enduring thirst, disorientation, and a critical situation. “Upon waking, covered in cold sweat, I chased away a pack of hyenas that had watched over my sleep,” Captain Esteve wrote in the book An Adventure in the Desert.
Finally, British aviators rescued him on April 16, and a day later, his mechanic, as they had separated. Neither of them could rejoin the raid, but their adventure was widely celebrated in Spain and the Philippines as a testament to resilience and heroism, gracing the front pages of newspapers at the time.
In fact, the Elcano Squadron was followed almost in real-time by the press, becoming a true media phenomenon. Newspapers like ABC, La Época, and El Sol published daily chronicles of their progress, fueling growing public anticipation and presenting the aviators as true modern heroes.
The Journey Continues: Challenges and Triumphs
“Gallarza and Loriga, along with their mechanics, waited for a few days, but then had to continue the flight from Baghdad towards the Persian Gulf,” illustrates Utrilla in front of a Breguet XIX Bidón, similar to those of the raid, preserved at the Museum of Aeronautics and Astronautics.
The Elcano Squadron continued to Agra, India, where they visited the Taj Mahal. Afterwards, they arrived in Calcutta, Rangoon, and Bangkok, the latter city to which they had to return after takeoff due to mosquito ingestion. They solved the problem by placing grilles on the engine to prevent obstruction of its ducts.
The initial plan was to go to Canton, but they discarded it because revolutionary movements in China would prevent Shell from guaranteeing fuel and oil supplies. Instead, they decided to go to Macao, but before arriving, Loriga had to make an emergency landing in Tien Pack when his engine seized.
Both he and his mechanic Pérez spent several days in a pirate-infested area, eventually having to be rescued by a Portuguese patrol boat. Afterwards, they went, without the plane, to Macao, where they were to meet Gallarza and Arozamena, who, for their part, having no landing field, planned to descend to land on a football field, lightly colliding with one of the trees surrounding the field.
“With large panels, they made a cross on a part of the terrain, which Gallarza interpreted as meaning he could not land there, so the field became even shorter for him,” comments Utrilla, who emphasizes that one cannot think of mechanics like today’s, as the Wright brothers’ first flight had been only 23 years earlier, in 1903. “The planes of that era didn’t even have brakes on their wheels,” says the pilot.
The Final Stretch and a Hero’s Welcome
After provisionally repairing the plane, the Spanish government decided that Gallarza and Loriga would finish the journey together in the sole remaining Breguet, with Gallarza piloting. And so, on May 11, they undertook the Macao-Aparri (Philippines) leg. After flying over the island of Luzon, on May 13, the López de Legazpi was flanked by 12 aircraft from the US Air Force, which provided an honor escort.
In Manila, the reception was rapturous. Chronicles spoke of an overflowing crowd, a city dedicated to the aviators. The landing took place at Nichols Camp, and the feat was even reported by The New York Times: “Flight to Manila Completed. Spanish Aviators Reach Their Goal After Series of Stages from Madrid,” published the American newspaper.
For several days, tributes in the Philippines followed one after another, reflecting the impact the feat had made. And it was no wonder. In an era when great flights were global events, the Elcano Squadron had managed to connect two ends of the world. As was said then, they had not only charted an air route but a symbolic bridge between Spain and the Philippines.
The flight was considered a resounding success. In total, they covered some 17,100 kilometers, accumulated 106 hours of flight (sometimes more than 10 consecutive hours), and their average speed was about 161.1 kilometers per hour.
A Lasting Legacy of Audacity and Willpower
But the true dimension of the feat lies not in the numbers, but in what it represented. In the 1920s, great raids demanded meticulous planning, physical and mental endurance, and constant coordination between pilots and mechanics. As Antonio Utrilla points out, “it seems negative that two of the planes did not arrive, but it was extraordinarily fortunate that one did.”
The entire experience was compiled in the book The Madrid-Manila Flight, by Gallarza and Loriga. In it, the pilots emphasize that these expeditions could only be completed with audacity, tenacity, and willpower, in addition to meticulous preparation and constant maintenance of the planes. “The soul of the people, of all the Filipino people, vibrated in unison with ours, full of love for the old metropolis,” wrote Joaquín Loriga. And it is that in the Philippines, the arrival of the aviators was interpreted as a gesture recalling the ties between both territories.
A century later, the Elcano Squadron remains a benchmark of Spanish aviation. Its flight not only opened routes but also demonstrated that, even in adverse conditions, human determination can overcome seemingly insurmountable limits. Today, when flying is a daily routine guided by technology, it is hard to imagine that in 1926, crossing half the world by plane was not just a journey, it was an odyssey.
Source: https://www.elmundo.es/madrid/2026/04/04/69cd39f7fc6c83da658b457e.html
