The Mastery of the Air
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William J. Claxton >> The Mastery of the Air
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There is, however, one serious drawback to the use of the
monoplane: it is far more dangerous to the pilot than is the
biplane. Most of the fatal accidents in aviation have been
caused through mishaps to monoplanes or their engines, and
chiefly for this reason the biplane has to a large extent
supplanted the monoplane in warfare. The biplane, too, is better
adapted for observation work, which is, after all, the chief use
of air-craft.
In a later chapter some account will be givcn of the three types
of aeroplane which the war has evolved--the general-purposes
machine, the single-seater "fighter", and those big
bomb-droppers, the British Handley Page and the German Gotha.
CHAPTER XXIX
Henri Farman and the Voisin Biplane
The coming of the motor engine made events move rapidly in the
world of aviation. About the year 1906 people's attention was
drawn to France, where Santos Dumont was carrying out the
wonderful experiments which we have already described. Then came
Henri Farman, who piloted the famous biplane built by the Voisin
brothers in 1907; an aeroplane destined to bring world-wide
renown to its clever constructors and its equally clever and
daring pilot.
There were notable points of distinction between the Voisin
biplane and that built by the Wrights. The latter, as we have
seen, had two propellers; the former only one. The launching
skids of the Wright biplane gave place to wheels on Farman's
machine. One great advantage, however, possessed by the early
Wright biplane over its French rivals, was in its greater general
efficiency. The power of the engine was only about one-half
of the power required in certain of the French designs. This was
chiefly due to the use of the launching rail, for it needed much
greater motor power to make a machine rise from the ground by its
own motor engine than when it received a starting lift from a
falling weight. Even in our modern aeroplanes less engine power
is required to drive the craft through the air than to start from
the ground.
Farman achieved great fame through his early flights, and, on
13th January, 1908, at the flying ground at Issy, in France, he
won the prize of L2000, offered by MM. Deutsch and Archdeacon to
the first aviator who flew a circular kilometre. In July of the
same year he won another substantial prize given by a French
engineer, M. Armengaud, to the first pilot who remained aloft for
a quarter of an hour.
Probably an even greater performance was the cross-country flight
made by Farman about three months later. In the flight he passed
over hills, valleys, rivers, villages, and woods on his journey
from Chalons to Rheims, which he accomplished in twenty minutes.
In the early models of the Voisin machine there were fitted
between the two main planes a number of vertical planes, as shown
clearly in the illustration facing p. 160. It was thought that
these planes would increase the stability of the machine,
independent of the skill of the operator, and in calm weather
they were highly effective. Their great drawback, however, was
that when a strong side wind caught them the machine was blown
out of its course.
Subsequently Farman considerably modified the early-type Voisin
biplane, as shown by the illustration facing p. 160. The
vertical planes were dispensed with, and thus the idea of
automatic stability was abandoned.
But an even greater distinction between the Farman biplane and
that designed by the Wrights was in the adoption of a system
of small movable planes, called AILERONS, fixed at extremities of
the main planes, instead of the warping controls which we have
already described. The ailerons, which are adapted to many of
our modern aeroplanes, are really balancing flaps, actuated by a
control lever at the right side of the pilot's seat, and the
principle on which they are worked is very similar to that
employed in the warp system of lateral stability.
CHAPTER XXX
A Famous British Inventor
About the time that M. Bleriot was developing his monoplane, and
Santos Dumont was astonishing the world with his flying feats at
Bagatelle, a young army officer was at work far away in a
secluded part of the Scottish Highlands on the model of an
aeroplane. This young man was Lieutenant J. W. Dunne, and his
name has since been on everyone's lips wherever aviation is
discussed. Much of Lieutenant Dunne's early experimental work
was done on the Duke of Atholl's estate, and the story goes that
such great secrecy was observed that "the tenants were enrolled
as a sort of bodyguard to prevent unauthorized persons from
entering". For some time the War Office helped the inventor
with money, for the numerous tests and trials necessary in almost
every invention before satisfactory results are achieved are very
costly.
Probably the inventor did not make sufficiently rapid progress
with his novel craft, for he lost the financial help and goodwill
of the Government for a time; but he plodded on, and at length
his plans were sufficiently advanced for him to carry on his work
openly. It must be borne in mind that at the time Dunne first
took up the study of aviation no one had flown in Europe, and he
could therefore receive but little help from the results achieved
by other pilots and constructors.
But in the autumn of 1913 Lieutenant Dunne's novel aeroplane was
the talk of both Europe and America. Innumerable trials had been
made in the remote flying ground at Eastchurch, Isle of Sheppey,
and the machine became so far advanced that it made a
cross-Channel flight from Eastchurch to Paris. It remained in
France for some time, and Commander Felix, of the French Army,
made many excellent flights in it. Unfortunately, however, when
flying near Deauville, engine trouble compelled the officer to
descend; but in making a landing in a very small field, not much
larger than a tennis-court, several struts of the machine were
damaged. It was at once seen that the aeroplane could not
possibly be flown until it had been repaired and thoroughly
overhauled. To do this would take several days, especially as
there were no facilities for repairing the craft near by, and to
prevent anyone from making a careful examination of the
aeroplane, and so discovering the secret features which had been
so jealously guarded, the machine was smashed up after the engine
had been removed.
At that time this was the only Dunne aeroplane in existence, but
of course the plans were in the possession of the inventor, and
it was an easy task to make a second machine from the same model.
Two more machines were put in hand at Hendon, and a third at
Eastchurch.
On 18th October, 1913, the Dunne aeroplane made its first public
appearance at Hendon, in the London aerodrome, piloted by
Commander Felix. The most striking distinction between this and
other biplanes is that its wings or planes, instead of reaching
from side to side of the engine, stretch back in the form of the
letter V, with the point of the V to the front. These wings
extend so far to the rear that there is no need of a tail to the
machine, and the elevating plane in front can also be dispensed
with.
This curious and unique design in aeroplane construction was
decided upon by Lieutenant Dunne after a prolonged observation at
close quarters of different birds in flight, and the inventor
claims for his aeroplane that it is practically uncapsizable.
Perhaps, however, this is too much to claim for any
heavier-than-air machine; but at all events the new design
certainly appears to give greater stability, and it is to be
hoped that by this and other devices the progress of aviation
will not in the future be so deeply tinged with tragedy.
CHAPTER XXXI
The Romance of a Cowboy Aeronaut
In the brief but glorious history of pioneer work in aviation,
so far as it applies to this country, there is scarcely a more
romantic figure to be found than Colonel Cody. It was the
writer's pleasure to come into close contact with Cody during the
early years of his experimental work with man-lifting box-kites
at the Alexandra Park, London, and never will his genial smile
and twinkling eye be forgotten.
Cody always seemed ready to crack a joke with anyone, and
possibly there was no more optimistic man in the whole of
Britain. To the boys and girls of Wood Green he was a popular
hero. He was usually clad in a "cowboy" hat, red flannel shirt,
and buckskin breeches, and his hair hung down to his shoulders.
On certain occasions he would give a "Wild West" exhibition at
the Alexandra Palace, and one of his most daring tricks with the
gun was to shoot a cigarette from a lady's lips. One could see
that he was entire master of the rifle, and a trick which always
brought rounds of applause was the hitting of a target while
standing with his back to it, simply by the aid of a mirror held
at the butt of his rifle.
But it is of Cody as an aviator and aeroplane constructor that we
wish to speak. For some reason or other he was generally the
object of ridicule, both in the Press and among the public. Why
this should have been so is not quite clear; possibly his quaint
attire had something to do with it, and unfriendly critics
frequently raised a laugh at his expense over the enormous size
of his machines. So large were they that the Cody biplane was
laughingly called the "Cody bus" or the "Cody Cathedral."
But in the end Cody fought down ridicule and won fame, for in
competition with some of the finest machines of the day, piloted
by some of our most expert airmen, he won the prize of L5000
offered by the Government in 1912 in connection with the Army
trials for aeroplanes. In these trials he astonished everyone by
obtaining a speed of over 70 miles an hour in his biplane, which
weighed 2600 pounds.
In the opening years of the present century Cody spent much time
in demonstrations with huge box-kites, and for a time this form
of kite was highly popular with boys of North London. In these
kites he made over two hundred flights, reaching, on some
occasions, an altitude of over 2000 feet. At all times of the
day he could have been seen on the slopes of the Palace Hill,
hauling these strange-looking, bat-like objects backward and
forward in the wind. Reports of his experiments appeared in the
Press, but Cody was generally looked upon as a "crank". The War
Office, however, saw great possibilities in the kites for
scouting purposes in time of war, and they paid Cody L5000 for
his invention.
It is a rather romantic story of how Cody came to take up
experimental work with kites, and it is repeated as it was given
by a Mohawk chief to a newspaper representative.
"On one occasion when Cody was in a Lancashire town with his Wild
West show, his son Leon went into the street with a parrot-shaped
kite. Leon was attired in a red shirt, cowboy trousers, and
sombrero, and soon a crowd of youngsters in clogs was clattering
after him.
"'If a boy can interest a crowd with a little kite, why can't a
man interest a whole nation?' thought Cody--and so the idea of
man-lifting kites developed."
In 1903 Cody made a daring but unsuccessful attempt to cross the
Channel in a boat drawn by two kites. Had he succeeded he
intended to cross the Atlantic by similar means.
Later on, Cody turned his attention to the construction of
aeroplanes, but he was seriously handicapped by lack of funds.
His machines were built with the most primitive tools, and
some of our modern constructors, working in well-equipped
"shops", where the machinery is run by electric plant, would
marvel at the work accomplished with such tools as those used by
Cody.
Most of Cody's flights were made on Laffan's Plain, and he took
part in the great "Round Britain" race in 1911. It was
characteristic of the man that in this race he kept on far in
the wake of MM. Beaumont and Vedrines, though he knew that he had
not the slightest chance of winning the prize; and, days after
the successful pilot had arrived back at Brooklands, Cody's "bus"
came to earth in the aerodrome. "It's dogged as does it," he
remarked, "and I meant to do the course, even if I took a year
over it."
Of Cody's sad death at Farnborough, when practising in the
ill-fated water-plane which he intended to pilot in the sea
flight round Great Britain in 1913, we speak in a later chapter.
CHAPTER XXXII
Three Historic Flights
When the complete history of aviation comes to be written, there
will be three epoch-making events which will doubtless be duly
appreciated by the historian, and which may well be described as
landmarks in the history of flight. These are the three great
contests organized by the proprietors of the Daily Mail,
respectively known as the "London to Manchester" flight, the
"Round Britain flight in an aeroplane", and the "Water-plane
flight round Great Britain."
In any account of aviation which deals with the real achievements
of pioneers who have helped to make the science of flight what it
is to-day, it would be unfair not to mention the generosity of
Lord Northcliffe and his co-directors of the Daily Mail towards
the development of aviation in this country. Up to the time of
writing, the sum of L24,750 has been paid by the Daily Mail in
the encouragement of flying, and prizes to the amount of L15,000
are still on offer. In addition to these prizes this journal
has maintained pilots who may be described as "Missionaries of
Aviation". Perhaps the foremost of them is M. Salmet, who has
made hundreds of flights in various parts of the country, and has
aroused the greatest enthusiasm wherever he has flown.
The progress of aviation undoubtedly owes a great deal to the
Press, for the newspaper has succeeded in bringing home to most
people the fact that the possession of air-craft is a matter of
national importance. It was of little use for airmen to make
thrilling flights up and down an aerodrome, with the object of
interesting the general public, if the newspapers did not record
such flights, and though in the very early days of aviation some
newspapers adopted an unfriendly attitude towards the
possibilities of practical aviation, nearly all the Press has
since come to recognize the aeroplane as a valuable means of
national defence. Right from the start the Daily Mail foresaw
the importance of promoting the new science of flight by the
award of prizes, and its public-spirited enterprise has done much
to break up the prevailing apathy towards aviation among the
British nation.
If these three great events had been mere spectacles and nothing
else--such as, for instance, that great horse-race known as "The
Derby"--this chapter would never have been written. But they
are most worthy of record because all three have marked
clearly-defined stepping-stones in the progress of flight; they
have proved conclusively that aviation is practicable, and that
its ultimate entry into the busy life of the world is no more
than a matter of perfecting details.
The first L10,000 prize was offered in November, 1906, for a
flight by aeroplane from London to Manchester in twenty-four
hours, with not more than two stoppages en route. In 1910 two
competitors entered the lists for the flight; one, an Englishman,
Mr. Claude Grahame-White; the other, a Frenchman, M. Paulhan.
Mr. Grahame-White made the first attempt, and he flew remarkably
well too, but he was forced to descend at Lichfield--about 113
miles on the journey--owing to the high and gusty winds which
prevailed in the Trent valley. The plucky pilot intended to
continue the flight early the next morning, but during the night
his biplane was blown over in a gale while it stood in a field,
and it was so badly damaged that the machine had to be sent back
to London to be repaired.
This took so long that his French rival, M. Paulhan, was able to
complete his plans and start from Hendon, on 27th April. So
rapidly had Paulhan's machine been transported from Dover, and
"assembled" at Hendon, that Mr. White, whose biplane was standing
ready at Wormwood Scrubbs, was taken by surprise when he heard
that his rival had started on the journey and "stolen a march on
him", so to speak. Nothing daunted, however, the plucky British
aviator had his machine brought out, and he went in pursuit of
Paulhan late in the afternoon. When darkness set in Mr. White
had reached Roade, but the French pilot was several miles ahead.
Now came one of the most thrilling feats in the history of
aviation. Mr. White knew that his only chance of catching
Paulhan was to make a flight in the darkness, and though this was
extremely hazardous he arose from a small field in the early
morning, some hours before daybreak arrived, and flew to the
north. His friends had planned ingenious devices to guide him on
his way: thus it was proposed to send fast motor-cars, bearing
very powerful lights, along the route, and huge flares were
lighted on the railway; but the airman kept to his course chiefly
by the help of the lights from the railway stations.
Over hill and valley, forest and meadow, sleeping town and
slumbering village, the airman flew, and when dawn arrived he had
nearly overhauled his rival, who, in complete ignorance of Mr.
White's daring pursuit, had not yet started.
But now came another piece of very bad luck for the British
aviator. At daybreak a strong wind arose, and Mr. White's
machine was tossed about like a mere play-ball, so that he was
compelled to land. Paulhan, however, who was a pilot with far
more experience, was able to overcome the treacherous air gusts,
and he flew on to Manchester, arriving there in the early
morning.
Undoubtedly the better pilot won, and he had a truly magnificent
reception in Manchester and London, and on his return to France.
But this historic contest laid the foundation of Mr.
Grahame-White's great reputation as an aviator, and, as we all
know, his fame has since become world-wide.
CHAPTER XXXIII
Three Historic Flights (Cont.)
About a month after Paulhan had won the "London to Manchester"
race, the world of aviation, and most of the general public too,
were astonished to read the announcement of another enormous
prize. This time a much harder task was set, for the conditions
of the contest stated that a circuit of Britain had to be made,
covering a distance of about 1000 miles in one week, with eleven
compulsory stops at fixed controls.
This prize was offered on 22nd May, 1910, and in the following
year seventeen competitors entered the lists. It says much for
the progress of aviation at this time, when we read that, only
a year before, it was difficult to find but two pilots to compete
in the much easier race described in the last chapter. Much of
this progress was undoubtedly due to the immense enthusiasm
aroused by the success of Paulhan in the "London to Manchester"
race.
We will not describe fully the second race, because, though it
was of immense importance at the time, it has long since become a
mere episode. Rarely has Britain been in such great excitement
as during that week in July, 1911.
Engine troubles, breakdowns, and other causes soon reduced the
seventeen competitors to two only: Lieutenant Conneau, of the
French Navy-who flew under the name of M. Beaumont--and M.
Vedrines. Neck to neck they flew--if we may be allowed this
horse-racing expression--over all sorts of country, which was
quite unknown to them.
Victory ultimately rested with Lieutenant Conneau, who, on 26th
July, 1911, passed the winning-post at Brooklands after having
completed the course in the magnificent time of twenty-two hours,
twenty-eight minutes, averaging about 45 miles an hour for the
whole journey. M. Vedrines, though defeated, made a most plucky
fight. Conneau's success was due largely to his ability to keep
to the course--on two or three occasions Vedrines lost his way--
and doubtless his naval training in map-reading and observation
gave him the advantage over his rival.
The third historic flight was made by Mr. Harry Hawker, in
August, 1913. This was an attempt to win a prize of L5000
offered by the proprietors of the Daily Mail for a flight
round the British coasts. The route was from Cowes, in the Isle
of Wight, along the southern and eastern coasts to Aberdeen and
Cromarty, thence through the Caledonian Canal to Oban, then on to
Dublin, thence to Falmouth, and along the south coast to
Southampton Water.
Two important conditions of the contest were that the flight was
to be made in an all-British aeroplane, fitted with a British
engine. Hitherto our aeroplane constructors and engine companies
were behind their rivals across the Channel in the building of
air-craft and aerial engines, and this country freely
acknowledged the merits and enterprise of French aviators.
Though in the European War it was afterwards proved that the
British airman and constructor were the equals if not the
superiors of any in the world, at the date of this contest they
were behind in many respects.
As these conditions precluded the use of the famous Gnome engine,
which had won so many contests, and indeed the employment of any
engine made abroad, the competitors were reduced to two aviation
firms; and as one or these ultimately withdrew from the contest
the Sopwith Aviation Company of Kingston-on-Thames and Brooklands
entered a machine.
Mr. T. Sopwith chose for his pilot a young Australian airman, Mr.
Harry Hawker. This skilful airman came with three other
Australians to this country to seek his fortune about three years
before. He was passionately devoted to mechanics, and, though he
had had no opportunity of flying in his native country, he had
been intensely interested in the progress of aviation in France
and Britain, and the four friends set out on their long journey
to seek work in aeroplane factories.
All four succeeded, but by far the most successful was Harry
Hawker. Early in 1913 Mr. Sopwith was looking out for a pilot,
and he engaged Hawker, whom he had seen during some good flying
at Brooklands.
In a month or two he was engaged in record breaking, and in June,
1913, he tried to set up a new British height record. In his
first attempt he rose to 11,300 feet; but as the carburettor of
the engine froze, and as the pilot himself was in grave danger of
frost-bite, he descended. About a fortnight later he rose 12,300
feet above sea-level, and shortly afterwards he performed an even
more difficult test, by climbing with three passengers to an
altitude of 8500 feet.
With such achievements to his name it was not in the least
surprising that Mr. Sopwith's choice of a pilot for the
water-plane race rested on Hawker. His first attempt was made on
16th August, when he flew from Southampton Water to Yarmouth--a
distance of about 240 miles--in 240 minutes. The writer, who was
spending a holiday at Lowestoft, watched Mr. Hawker go by, and
his machine was plainly visible to an enormous crowd which had
lined the beach.
To everyone's regret the pilot was affected with a slight
sunstroke when he reached Yarmouth, and another Australian
airman, Mr. Sidney Pickles, was summoned to take his place. This
was quite within the rules of the contest, the object of which
was to test the merits of a British machine and engine rather
than the endurance and skill of a particular pilot. During the
night a strong wind arose, and next morning, when Mr. Pickles
attempted to resume the flight, the sea was too rough for
a start to be made, and the water-plane was beached at Gorleston.
Mr. Hawker quickly recovered from his indisposition, and on
Monday, 25th August, he, with a mechanic as passenger, left Cowes
about five o'clock in the morning in his second attempt to make a
circuit of Britain. The first control was at Ramsgate, and here
he had to descend in order to fulfil the conditions of the
contest.
Ramsgate was left at 9.8, and Yarmouth, the next control, was
reached at 10.38. So far the engine, built by Mr. Green, had
worked perfectly. About an hour was spent at Yarmouth, and then
the machine was en route to Scarborough. Haze compelled the
pilot to keep close in to the coast, so that he should not miss
the way, and a choppy breeze some what retarded the progress of
the machine along the east coast. About 2.40 the pilot brought
his machine to earth, or rather to water, at Scarborough, where
he stayed for nearly two hours.
Mr. Hawker's intention was to reach Aberdeen, if possible, before
nightfall, but at Seaham he had to descend for water, as the
engine was becoming uncomfortably hot, and the radiator supply of
water was rapidly diminishing. This lost much valuable time, as
over an hour was spent here, and it had begun to grow dark before
the journey was recommenced. About an hour after resuming his
journey he decided to plane down at the fishing village of
Beadwell, some 20 miles south of Berwick.
At 8.5 on Tuesday morning the pilot was on his way to Aberdeen,
but he had to descend and stay at Montrose for about half an
hour, and Aberdeen was reached about 11 a.m. His Scottish
admirers, consisting of quite 40,000 people at Aberdeen alone,
gave him a most hearty welcome, and sped him on his way about
noon. Some two hours later Cromarty was reached.
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