THE STAGES OF TUITION
Flying schools--those which really can be described as such--have been
in operation now for seven years; and during this time, with thousands
of pupils going through their period of tuition, many very valuable
lessons have naturally been learned. To-day, at a well-managed school,
each stage in a pupil's instruction, mapped out as a result of
experience, is arranged methodically and with care; the idea being
that the novice should pass from one stage to another by a
smoothly-graduated scale, facilitating his progress and reducing
elements of risk.
It is in the early morning, and again in the evening, that the flying
schools are most busy as a rule. At such times--morning and
evening--the wind blows with least violence; and it is very necessary
that a pupil, when he is handling craft for the first time, should
have weather conditions which are favourable. Summer and winter, as
soon as it is light, and granted conditions appear suitable, mechanics
wheel the aeroplanes from the sheds, and the instructors begin their
work. Should there be any doubt as to the weather, or as to the
existence, say, of difficult air currents, an instructor will fly
first, circling above the aerodrome at various heights, and satisfying
himself, by the behaviour of his machine, whether it will be safe for
the novices to ascend. If he pronounces "all well," school work begins
in earnest, and continues--provided the weather remains
favourable--until all the pupils have had a spell of instruction.
Towards the middle of the day, and in the afternoon, it is quite
likely the wind may blow and school work be suspended. But in the
evening again, when there is usually a lull, a second period of
instruction will be carried out. In well-equipped schools, to meet
such conditions as these, it is customary to provide two complete and
distinct staffs, both of instructors and mechanics. One staff takes
the morning spell of work, while the second is held in readiness for
the evening. This ensures that, both morning and evening, there shall
be available for instruction a fresh, alert, and unfatigued staff.
[Illustration: REAR VIEW OF A SCHOOL BIPLANE. _Photo by Topical Press
Agency._
This photograph shows clearly the hinged ailerons fixed at the
extremities of the plane-ends for maintaining lateral stability: also
the rear elevating plane (which acts in conjunction with the
fore-plane mounted on outriggers at the front of the machine) and the
twin rudders.]
A pupil will find that, as the first stage of his tuition, he is given
the task of familiarising himself with the controls of a school
biplane. The system we have described already, and a pupil should find
no difficulty in mastering it. Placing himself in the driving-seat of
the machine, while it is at rest on the ground, the pupil takes the
upright lever in his right hand, and rests his feet on the rudder-bar,
making the various movements of control, again and again, until he
finds he is growing accustomed to them, and can place his levers in a
position for an ascent or descent, or for a turn, without having to
wait while he thinks what it is necessary to do.
In the next stage, a more interesting one, the pupil, occupying a seat
immediately behind his instructor, is taken for a series of passenger
flights. These accustom him to the sensation of being in the air, and
also train his eye in judging heights and distances. A minor point the
pupil should bear in mind, though his instructor will be quick to
remind him, is not to wear any cap or scarf that may blow free in the
rush of wind and become entangled with the propeller. Scarves need to
be tightly wrapped; while it is usual, with a cap, to turn it with the
peak to the back, and so prevent it from having a tendency to lift
from the head. Many pupils provide themselves with a helmet designed
to protect the head in case of an accident, and these are held firmly
in position. Should a passenger's cap blow off, and come in contact
with the propeller, it may be the cause of an accident. How
carelessness may lead to trouble, in this regard, will be gathered
from the following incident.
Some slight repairs had been made one day to the lower plane of a
machine while it stood out on the aerodrome, and one of the workmen,
through inadvertence, had left lying on the plane, near its centre, a
roll of tape. The pilot decided to make another flight, and the motor
was started and the machine rose. Suddenly the aviator was startled by
a sound like a loud report, which seemed to come from the rear of his
machine. The craft trembled for a moment, and he feared a structural
collapse. Nothing worse happened, however, and he was able to pilot
his machine in safety to the aerodrome. What had happened, it was then
ascertained, was that the roll of tape, sucked back in the rush of
wind, had been drawn into the revolving propeller and had broken a
piece out of it. Luckily the impact had not been heavy enough to
damage the propeller seriously, or cause it to fly to pieces.
A problem with which the pupil will be faced in his first flights,
particularly if he is learning in winter, will be that of keeping
himself warm. The speed at which an aeroplane travels, combined with
the fact that it is at an elevation above the ground, renders the
"bite" of the cold air all the more keen, and makes it difficult very
frequently, even when one is warmly clad, to maintain a sufficient
warmth in the body, and particularly in the hands and feet. The
question of cold hands is, from a pilot's point of view, often a
serious one. There is a case on record of an aviator who, his hands
being so numbed that his fingers refused to move, found he could not
switch off his motor when the time came to descend; and so he had to
fly round above the aerodrome, several times, while he worked his numb
fingers to and fro, and beat some life into them against his body. At
last, having restored their circulation to some extent, he was able to
operate the switch and make a landing. While on active service in
winter, after flying several hours at high altitudes, and in bitter
cold, the occupants of a machine have descended in such a numbed
condition, despite their heavy garments, that it has been found
necessary to lift them out of their seats. But a pupil need not face
such hardships as these. He will be flying for short periods only, and
at low altitudes; so if he makes a few wise purchases from among the
selection of flying gear now available, and particularly if he equips
himself with some good gloves, he should be able to keep sufficiently
warm in the air, even if he is going through his training in winter.
[Illustration: POWER-PLANT OF A SCHOOL BIPLANE. _Photo by Topical
Press Agency._
Showing the 60-h.p. Le Rhone Motor, with its mounting on the machine,
and the method of attaching the propeller. The fuel tank is also
visible; and, forward at the front of the machine, the seats of
passenger and pilot.]
A pupil will feel curious, naturally, as to his sensations in the
first flights he makes with his instructor. Of the exact moment when
the machine leaves ground he will be unaware probably, save for the
cessation of any jolting or vibration, such as may be caused by the
contact of the running wheels with the surface of the aerodrome. His
first clearly-marked sensation, when in actual flight, will occur most
likely when the pilot rises a little sharply, so as to gain altitude.
Then the pupil will have a feeling one might liken to the ascent, in a
motor-car, of a steep and suddenly-encountered hill; though in this
case the hill is invisible, and there is no earth contact to be felt.
This sensation of climbing is exhilarating; and when the pilot makes a
reverse movement, descending towards the ground, the feeling is
pleasant enough also, provided the dive is not too steep.
The pupil's chief sensation, probably, will be that of the rush of
wind which beats against him. Some people feel this much more than
others. There is sometimes a feeling--it is no more than temporary--of
inconvenience and of shock. The pupil feels as though his breathing
was being interfered with seriously; as though the pressure was so
great he could not expel air from his lungs. But this sensation, even
when it is experienced, is short-lived. In a second flight, quite
often, the novice finds that this oppression diminishes very
perceptibly; and soon he does not notice it at all. Motoring
experience proves useful here, particularly high-speed driving on a
track.
Some confusion is felt by the pupil, as a rule, and this is only
natural, in regard to the pace at which the aeroplane travels through
the air, and at the way in which the ground seems to be tearing away
below. Occasionally, in a first flight, this impression of speed, and
of height, produce in the pupil a sensation of physical discomfort;
but it is one again which, in the majority of cases, is quickly
overcome. A few balloon trips are a useful preliminary to flights in
an aeroplane. They familiarise one in a pleasant way with the
sensation of height, and accustom the eye also to the look of the
ground, as it passes away below.
While he is making his first flights with the instructor, and apart
from analysing his sensations, the pupil will observe the lever
movements made by the pilot in controlling the machine; and the fact
that will impress itself upon him, as he watches these movements, is
that they are not made roughly or spasmodically, but are almost
invariably gentle. During these flights as a passenger, and after he
has accustomed himself to the novelty of being in the air, the pupil
will be allowed by the instructor to lean forward and place his hand
on the control lever; and in this way, by actually following and
feeling for himself the control actions the pilot makes, he will gain
an idea of just the extent to which the lever must be moved, to gain
any specific result in the flight of the machine.
[Illustration: MOTOR AND OTHER GEAR--ANOTHER VIEW. _Photo by Topical
Press Agency._
This shows the constructional unit that is formed, on a suitably
strong framework of wood, by the engine, propeller, and fuel tank, and
also by the seats for the pilot and passenger.]
The next stage of tuition is that in which a pupil is allowed to
handle a biplane alone, not in flight though but only in "rolling"
practice on the ground--driving the machine to and fro across the
aerodrome. The motor is adjusted so that, while it gives sufficient
power to drive the machine on the ground and render the control
surfaces effective, it will not permit the craft to rise into the air.
This stage, a very necessary one, teaches the pupil, from his own
unaided experience just what movements he must make with his levers to
influence the control surface of the machine, and to maintain it, say,
on a straight path while it runs across the ground. One of the
discoveries he will make is that the biplane, if left to itself, shows
a tendency to swerve a little to the left--the way the propeller is
turning; but this inclination may be corrected, easily, by a movement
of the rudder.
The pupil learns also to accustom himself, while in this stage, to the
engine controls which have been explained already; and he is not
likely to be guilty of the error of one excitable novice who, while
driving his machine back on the ground towards the sheds at an
aerodrome, after his first experience in "rolling" became so confused,
as he saw the buildings looming before him, that he lost his head
completely and forgot to switch off his motor. The result was that the
aeroplane, unchecked in its course, crashed into some railings in
front of the sheds and stood on its head. Not much damage was done
however, and the novice was unhurt. He seemed as surprised as anyone
at what had happened, and confessed that, for the moment, his mind had
been an utter blank.
A pupil continues his practice in "rolling" till he can drive his
machine to and fro across the aerodrome on a straight course, and with
its tail raised off the ground; the latter action being obtained by
the pupil by means of a suitable movement of the vertical lever which
operates his elevating planes.
Now comes the time when a pupil, taking the pilot's seat, and with the
instructor sitting behind him--so as to be ready, if necessary, to
correct any error the novice may make--begins his first short flights
across the aerodrome. He rises only a few feet to begin with, and
flies on a straight course, alighting each time before he turns, and
running his machine round on the ground. He repeats this test until
his instructor feels he is sufficiently expert to take the machine
into the air alone. When this stage is reached, the instructor leaves
his position behind the pupil, and the latter goes on with his
practice till he can fly the length of the aerodrome alone, landing
neatly and bringing his machine round on the ground, and then flying
back again to his starting point.
In the early days of flying schools, before a pupil went through any
regular system of instruction, there were remarkable incidents in
regard to these first flights. In one case a pupil, having bought his
own aeroplane from the proprietors of a school, insisted on having
installed in it a motor of exceptional power. When the time came for
him to make his first flight alone, and he opened the throttle of this
engine and it began to give its full power, the aeroplane ran only a
short distance across the ground, and then leapt into the air. The
engine was in charge of the machine, in fact, and not the pupil. Away
above the aerodrome, and beyond its limits, in a strange, erratic
flight, the biplane made its way. As the pupil struggled valiantly
with his engine switch, which appeared to have become jammed, he made
unconscious and jerky movements of his control levers. One moment the
machine would ascend a little, the next it would approach nearer the
ground; then it would swing either right or left. Those watching from
the aerodrome held their breath. But with the luck of the beginner, a
luck which is proverbial and sometimes amazing, the pupil managed at
length to stop his motor and land without accident--though by no means
gracefully--in an abrupt gliding descent.
[Illustration: PUPIL AND INSTRUCTOR READY FOR A FLIGHT. _Photo by
Topical Press Agency._
The pupil, occupying in this case the driving seat, has in his right
hand the lever controlling the elevator and ailerons, while his feet
are on the bar which operates the rudder. The instructor (in the
passenger's seat) is demonstrating how, when necessary, he can place
his hand on the control lever, above that of the pupil, and correct
any error in manipulation of which the latter may be guilty.]
Another story concerns one of those temperamentally reckless,
happy-go-lucky men who, though providence seems to watch over them,
are an anxiety nevertheless to their instructors. This pupil, breaking
the rules of a school, flew out on one of his first flights beyond the
limits of the aerodrome, disappearing indeed from the view of those
near the sheds. Not far from the aerodrome lay a main road, with
tramway-lines along it. A tram, with passengers on top, happened to be
passing down the road; and it was to the astonishment of these
passengers, and to their perturbation as well, that they observed an
aeroplane in full flight, moving very low across a neighbouring field,
and bearing down straight towards them. The machine passed, indeed,
unpleasantly close above their heads, and then vanished as
dramatically as it had appeared. Its pilot, as may be guessed, was the
pupil who had disobeyed orders, and was now on a wild and erratic
flight. Presently, after swerves and wanderings over the surrounding
country, he was discerned making his way back towards the aerodrome,
still flying unreasonably low. Some trees bordered one end of the
aerodrome; and towards these, as though he meant to finish his exploit
by charging into them, the novice was seen to be steering an
undeviating course. Nearer he came to them, and still he did not turn
either right or left. The instructor, and those gathered with him,
made up their minds that nothing could avert an accident. But it
happened that there was, between two of the trees, a space only large
enough for an aeroplane to pass through. A skilled pilot, a man of
experience, would not have cared to risk his machine in an endeavour
to creep between those trees. But this pupil, a complete novice,
steered boldly towards the opening and slipped through it with a
precision that would have aroused the envy of an accomplished pilot.
Then he landed on the aerodrome and climbed in leisurely fashion from
his machine--"not having turned a hair," as the saying goes. The
remarks of the instructor when he neared the machine, and began to
unburden himself, do not appear to be on record, and no doubt this is
as well.
Having shown his ability to make a succession of straight flights,
taking his machine into the air with precision and landing without
awkwardness, the pupil finds himself faced next with the problem of
turning while in the air. On this stage, however, he is not allowed to
embark alone. The instructor takes his place again in the passenger's
seat, so as to be ready to help the novice should he become confused,
or find himself in any difficulty. Turns to the left are attempted
first; and the reason is that, the propeller of the aeroplane
revolving to the left--and the motor too if it is a rotary one--the
machine has a tendency which is natural to turn in this direction.
Half turns only are tried at first, the pupil landing before he has
completed the movement. In making these first turns a pupil finds that,
apart from his action with the rudder-bar, it is necessary to employ
the ailerons slightly, so as to prevent the biplane from tilting
sideways. The outer plane-ends of the machine have indeed, when a turn
is being made, a natural tendency to "bank" as it is called, or tilt
upward; the reason being that, as the machine swings round, these
outer plane-ends, moving faster for the moment than the wing-tips on
the inside of the turn, exercise a greater lift, and have an
inclination to rise. An experienced aviator, having learned what is a
safe "banking" angle, makes a deliberate use of this tendency when he
is turning, and may on occasion even exaggerate it, to facilitate the
swing of his machine on a very rapid turn, and to prevent it skidding
outwards. But with the novice, engrossed completely as he is with the
mere problem of getting his machine round in the air, "banking" is an
art that must be deferred for awhile. It is perilously easy, for a
beginner, to overstep the danger-line between a safe "bank" and a
side-slip.
[Illustration: PUPIL AND INSTRUCTOR IN FLIGHT (1). _Photo by Topical
Press Agency._
A school biplane is seen just after it has left the ground, with the
pupil at the control levers, and the instructor seated behind
him--ready, if necessary, to correct any error the novice may make.]
It is not long before the pupil can make a full left-hand turn; and
then he goes on to perfect himself in this movement, flying alone now,
and repeating the turn till he feels he can make it with confidence,
and at a fair height.
And now he comes to his final evolutions. Having mastered the
left-hand turn, he proceeds to make one to the right. It used to be
the contention--a contention that is now disputed--that in this
movement, if the pupil employed his rudder-bar only, he would find the
biplane showed an inclination to rise; a tendency due to the
gyroscopic influence of the engine and propeller which--assuming a
rotary engine is used--are now revolving in the opposite direction to
that on which the machine is turned. What the pupil was recommended to
do, in order to counteract this rising movement, was to tilt down his
elevator a little, as he would in making a descent.
When right-hand turns can be made with the same facility as those to
the left, the pupil begins to combine the two without descending,
making left turns and right turns, and so achieving in the air a
series of figures of eight. He learns also to fly a little higher,
thus preparing himself for one of his certificate tests.
There are now certain very important rules which, in the navigation of
his craft, he must accustom himself to bear constantly in mind. Should
the engine of his machine, for example, betray any signs of failing,
he must tilt down his elevator very promptly, and place his craft in a
position for a descent. If he does not do this, and should the motor
stop before he has his biplane at an angle for descent, the machine
may lose speed so quickly, and its tail-planes show such a tendency to
droop--owing to the lessening of pressure on their surfaces,
consequent upon the failure of the motor--that there is a risk of the
craft coming to a standstill in the air and then either falling
tail-first, or beginning a side-slip that may bring it crashing to the
ground.
The pupil must learn also, and this again is important, not to force
his machine round on a turn while it is climbing. If he does so the
power absorbed in the ascent, combined with the resistance of the turn,
may so reduce the speed of the machine that it threatens to become
"stalled," or reach a standstill in the air, with the result that it
either side-slips or falls tail-first. The procedure the pupil is
taught to follow is this: when he leaves the ground he climbs a little,
then he allows his machine to move straight ahead; then he proceeds
to ascend again for a spell, repeating afterwards the horizontal
flight. In this way he ascends by a series of steps, like climbing a
succession of hills in a car; and his turns should be made only during
the spells when he is flying horizontally.
In this stage of his tuition, the pupil must learn also to make a
vol-plane, or descent with his engine stopped. The essential point to
be borne in mind, here, is that an aeroplane will continue in flight,
and remain under control, even when it is no longer propelled by its
engine. But what the aviator must do, should his engine stop through a
breakdown, or should he himself switch it off, is to bring the force
of gravity to his aid, and maintain the flying speed of his craft by
directing it in a glide towards the ground. Provided he does this, and
keeps his machine at such an inclination that it is moving at a
sufficient speed through the air, he will find that the craft
maintains its stability and that he has full command over its control
surfaces, being able to turn, say, right or left, or either increase
or slightly decrease the steepness of his descent. But all the time,
of course, seeing that it is gravity alone which is giving him his
flying speed, he is obliged to plane downward.
[Illustration: PUPIL AND INSTRUCTOR IN FLIGHT (2). _Photo by Topical
Press Agency._
This shows clearly how the instructor, from his seat behind the pupil,
can lean forward and, by placing his hand on the control lever, check
the novice in an error of manipulation.]
A vital point to remember, when a pupil is handling a "pusher" type of
biplane, is to incline the machine well downward, by a use of the
elevator, before switching off the motor. Unless this is done, and if
the machine is, say, at its normal horizontal angle when the engine is
stopped, the sudden removal of pressure from the tail-planes of the
craft, brought about by the absence of the wind-draught from the
propeller, may cause the tail so to droop as to render inoperative any
subsequent action of the elevator. When the tail droops, the
main-planes are set at a steep angle to the air, and this has a
slowing-up influence on the whole machine. It threatens therefore to
stand still in the air; its controls become useless; and the pupil is
faced probably with the danger of a side-slip.
A story will illustrate this point; and it is one that has a special
significance, seeing that the error which might have cost him his life
was made by an aviator of experience. He had learned to fly on a
monoplane, and had devoted his subsequent flying, for many months, to
this one type of machine. Then he found himself associated with an
enterprise in which a number of "pusher" biplanes were employed, and
he decided that it would be useful for him to become accustomed to
this type of machine. His flying experience of course helped him, and
he soon found himself passing to and fro above the aerodrome, the
biplane well in hand. Then he thought he would make a vol-plane, with
his motor stopped, as he had been in the habit of doing in a
monoplane. He switched off his engine without further thought, and
moved his elevator to a position for the descent. But it was here that
he made the mistake. In a monoplane, which has the weight of the
engine and other gear well forward in the machine, the bow has a
natural tendency to tilt down when the motor is cut off--particularly
as the propeller-draught ceases to sweep under the sustaining planes.
Therefore one can, in such a machine, switch off safely without first
shifting the elevator, and getting the bow down as a preliminary. What
the pilot had forgotten, for the moment, was the essential difference
between monoplane and biplane. When he had switched off the engine in
the biplane, and moved his elevator as he was accustomed to do, he
found to his dismay that the machine failed to respond. Instead of
pointing its bow down, indeed, it began to tilt rearward. Also, and
this fact was noted by the airman with even more dismay, the craft
lost forward speed so rapidly that it became uncontrollable. The next
moment, the pilot helpless in his seat, the machine began a side-slip
towards the ground. One sweep it made sideways, falling till it was
not far short of the surface of the aerodrome. It paused an instant,
then began a side-slip in the opposite direction. But here good
fortune came to the pilot's aid. In this second swing, the machine
being near the ground, it came in contact with the surface of the
aerodrome before the "slip" had time to develop any high rate of
speed. The biplane took the ground sideways, breaking its
landing-chassis and damaging the plane-ends which came first in
contact with the earth. But the pilot emerged from the wreckage
unhurt. The accident was a lesson to him, though, as it was to others,
and as it should be to all pupils. A machine must be in a gliding
position before the engine is switched off.
The art of the accomplished pilot, granted there is no reason for him
to reach earth quickly, is to glide at as fine an angle as is possible,
consistent of course with maintaining the speed of the machine
through the air, and so preserving his command over its controls. A
beautifully-timed, fine glide, the machine stealing down gracefully,
and touching the aerodrome light as a feather, at a precise spot the
airman has decided on even when he was several thousand feet high, is
a delightful spectacle for the onlooker, and a keen pleasure
also--from the point of view of his manipulative skill--to the aviator
himself. But a pupil, at any rate in his first attempts, must not
concern himself too much with any idea of a fine or graceful glide. It
is his business to get to the ground safely, and not trouble too much
whether his method is accomplished, or merely effective. Once with the
bow of his machine down, and his motor switched off, it must be his
concern to maintain the forward speed of his machine, which can be
done only by holding it well on its dive. For the novice, if he
attempts any fine or fancy gliding, there is the very real danger that,
in his inexperience, he may lose forward speed to such an extent that
his controls become inoperative, and his machine threatens to
side-slip. One's ear should, apart from the inclination of the machine,
and the sensation of the descent, help one materially in judging the
speed of a glide. There is a "swish" that comes to the ear, now the
engine is no longer making its clamour, which gives a guide to the
pace of one's downward movement. Aviators who are skilled, and have
done a large amount of flying, are able to judge with accuracy, by the
ear alone and without the aid of a mechanical indicator, what their
speed is as they pass through the air.
[Illustration: PUPIL AND INSTRUCTOR IN FLIGHT (3). _Photo by Topical
Press Agency._
Here the pupil is descending in a glide with his engine stopped, the
cylinders of the rotary motor being clearly visible.]
Having held his machine firmly on its glide, till it is quite near the
surface of the aerodrome, the pupil has next to think of making a neat
contact with the ground. The art here is, at a moment which must be
gauged accurately, to check the descent of the machine by a movement
of the elevator--to "flatten out," as the expression goes. If the
movement is made neatly the craft should, when only a few feet from
the ground, change from a descent into horizontal flight, and continue
on this horizontal flight for a short distance, losing speed naturally
each moment--seeing that there is no driving power behind it--and so
losing altitude also through its decrease in speed, until its wheels
come lightly in contact with the ground, and it runs forward and then
stands still. What the novice may do, if he is not careful, is to
"flatten out" when he is too high above the ground. The result is that
the machine slows up till it stands still in the air, robbed of its
speed, and then makes what is called a "pancake" landing: it descends
vertically, that is to say, instead of making contact with the ground
at a fine angle and with its planes still supporting it; and the
effect of such a "pancake," if the machine comes down with any force,
may be that the landing-chassis is damaged, or perhaps wrecked. But as
a rule, remembering that he has careful instruction to guide him
before he attempts a gliding descent, the pupil masters the art of
landing without difficulty, and without mishap.
Now, after repeating perhaps certain of his evolutions, at the
discretion of his instructor, in order to make sure that he can
accomplish them with ease, the pupil is ready for the tests which will
give him his certificate of proficiency.