Some admirable hints, as to the methods which should be adopted in
teaching airmen, have been given by foreign military experts.
An officer of great experience, for instance, declares it essential that
the pupil should first devote himself to a theoretical and practical
apprenticeship in regard to aeroplane motors. He should, he also
declares, be called upon to detect the reason for any stoppages
intentionally caused by the instructor.
This officer also advocates the driving of motor-cars, at high speed, as
a useful preliminary stage for intending military airmen, holding that
such rapid driving gives a man a judgment of pace and distance which he
would not otherwise possess.
It is contended, also, by other authorities, that ascents in free
balloons are of value, as a preliminary to actual aeroplaning. Such
ascents, in the opinion of these experts, help a man to gauge heights,
and so prove of value to him in subsequent tests with aeroplanes.
While doing a brief course of ballooning, the officer can, it is pointed
out, study the contour of the ground below him, and can also make
himself acquainted, to a certain extent, with the use of maps and
compasses. He may also practise aerial photography.
What other practical authorities have found of value, and what they
recommend as a stage in the tuition of an officer-airman, is a day or so
during which a pupil takes the driving-seat of a military machine, and
practises—on the ground—the manipulations which he would have to make
were the aeroplane in actual flight.
When the novice is thus in the driving-seat, it is suggested that an
instructor should put him through a regular lesson—asking him, for
instance, what manipulations of his levers would be necessary to effect
a turning movement.
Such a plan is, undoubtedly, of value. Preliminary work of this kind,
conducted by a pupil while on the ground, in order to accustom him to
the handling of a machine, before actually taking the air, is encouraged
at many civilian schools; and, to facilitate such practice, several
ingenious machines have been devised. In one of them, the pupil sits in
a wooden framework, which is balanced on a pivot, and is equipped with a
forward elevating plane, and "ailerons."
When the beginner is ready for a spell of practice, the machine is
turned, so that it faces the wind. Then the pupil takes his seat, and
grips his levers. The balance of the machine is such that any gust has a
tendency to make it tilt over from side to side, or tip forwards or
backwards. If he is quick enough, the pupil can check these overturning
influences by movements of the controlling planes. Thus he obtains,
without risk to himself, or the danger of damaging an aeroplane, an
insight into the general principles of control.
Also emphasised by many experts, is the value of a stage in military
training which has already been described—that in which a pupil is
taken, for a series of passenger flights, by an expert airman. During
these flights, of course, the novice is learning many practical lessons.
Other authorities advocate, as a definite stage in a pupil’s course of
training, an exercise which has not previously been touched upon. This
entails arranging a machine so that it will move along the ground at a
high speed, but will not ascend. The beginner should be allowed to
manipulate such a machine for a day or so, running it up and down the
aerodrome. Such a period of "rolling," as it has come to be termed at
the flying schools, should be sandwiched between the pupil’s flights as
a passenger, and his first attempt at solo work.
The first of these "rolling" tests should, it is held, be undertaken
with an instructor. When he can control a machine perfectly well on the
ground, the novice has learned a very useful lesson. In this "rolling"
work, he becomes accustomed, also, to operating his engine controls, and
shakes off the confusion that the noise of the motor so frequently
occasions.
The pupil’s first solo flights should be nothing more than short jumps
off the ground, made while moving along in a straight line. At the
flying schools, these attempts at flight, on the part of novices, are
described as "hops"; and, when performing them, the beginner resembles a
young bird which is first trying its wings. He flutters into the air for
a yard or so, and then descends again—not always elegantly.
"Hopping" practice, if systematically carried out, obviates the
breaking-up of many a machine, because it teaches the pupil how to make
a descent. Landing is, it may be pointed out, the chief difficulty for
the beginner. He can usually get into the air all right—sometimes, more
quickly than he desires. The problem is how to return to earth again,
making a correct descent.
When a man learns to ride a bicycle, the inevitable tendency, which he
displays, is to overdo the balancing movements. The result is that he
swerves abruptly from side to side, and frequently comes to grief. The
same mistake is, to a great extent, made by the novice in flying. He
jerks his machine off the ground with an over-abrupt operation of his
elevating plane, and he sometimes descends with a disconcerting dive.
It is not until he has been practising for some little time, that a
pupil obtains what has been described as the "feel" of his machine. What
happens, really, is that he suddenly obtains a sensitive touch upon his
controlling levers; and then, instead of obeying his instructor without
appreciating exactly what he has been doing, he begins to act for
himself—with the commencement of that feeling of sureness which reveals
the expert.
From "hops," according to expert ruling, the military pupil should
proceed to straight flights of gradually increasing length. This
recommendation presupposes the possession of an aerodrome of ample size.
Nothing is, as a matter of fact, more important than a commodious
aerodrome for purposes of instruction.
The selection of a ground which is cramped, or in a bad position, is
very poor policy. Unless he has plenty of manoeuvring space, a pupil
acquires a feeling of nervousness, which is sometimes disastrous. Under
the influence of it, when he first assumes sole control of a machine, he
is occasionally induced to make mistakes which result in the wrecking of
machines.
A wide, flat, perfectly-unobstructed space is the ideal. When he brings
his machine out upon such an aerodrome, the novice is inspired with a
confidence which is half the battle. He feels he has not got to do
things in a hurry; he knows there is plenty of room.
As soon as straight flights can be accomplished, the pupil should, it is
held, be set the task of learning to "bank" his machine over, and make
circles. The thoroughness of the pupil’s tuition, up to this point,
should stand him in good stead. He knows his motor; he knows his
machine; he is familiar with his controls; he is not flustered when he
is in the air.
All such points count enormously—added to the fact that we assume the
aerodrome he is practising over is a good one. In such cases, the pupil
should be able to make wide turns in the air without any trouble at all.
Afterwards, the budding airman should learn to fly high. "Climbing" is
what experienced airmen call it. Here, again, the requisite for success
is a pupil’s confidence in himself, and in his machine—is inspired by
the stages through which he has previously passed.
As has been quite rightly stated, the airman’s need, before he attempts
anything in the nature of high flying, is to feel perfectly at home on
his machine. He must have no anxiety as to any possible mistake in his
controlling movements; he must not be worrying about his engine. In a
word, he must have a perfectly-undisturbed mind.
This mental state is brought about, of course, by feeling perfectly
competent to deal with any emergency, should it arise. By the time he
has reached the high-flying stage, any pupil should—if he has been
thoroughly trained—begin to experience a feeling of "one-ness" with his
machine.
IV. Cross-country flights—The _vol plané_—Difficulty of first
observation tests from an aeroplane.
"Only when it is possible to control a machine with safety, and without
anxiety, at a height of 600 feet, should the military airman attempt to
fly across country."
This declaration, made by an acknowledged authority, is a perfectly
sound one; and, so far as the military flying schools are concerned, it
represents a rule now almost generally adopted.
A most necessary step, before setting forth on a cross-country flight,
is to master the art of effecting a safe and steady _vol plané_. The
airman, when he is on a cross-country journey, must be ready at any
moment for his engine to miss-fire, and perhaps stop. With the reliable
motors now obtainable, this is not likely to happen, as has been shown;
but engine failure is still a contingency for which the pilot must be
prepared.
We will suppose, for the sake of argument, that a military airman is
flying at an altitude of 1000 feet, across an average country. Suddenly,
with a splutter, his engine ceases to work. If he is dexterous, he is
not nonplussed. With a movement of his elevating plane, he tilts the
aeroplane upon a downward glide, and comes sweeping towards the ground.
Experience tells him just what is a safe gliding angle; he does not
pitch his machine too far forward, nor does he make his angle so fine
that there is any chance of the aeroplane losing way, and so becoming
unmanageable.
As he glides down in this fashion, with perfect control over his
machine, although it has been deprived of motive power, he looks about
keenly to select a suitable landing-place. He is not forced to keep
gliding straight ahead. He can, if he elects, turn either to right or
left; and it is possible to make a half-circle in the air, while gliding
down, and so land upon some spot which lay beneath the machine at the
moment the engine stopped.
Therefore, granted that fairly-normal country lies below, the airman
should have plenty of time, from an altitude of 1000 feet, to select a
landing-place, and make a fair descent upon it.
If a pilot knows, thoroughly well, the kind of country he is flying
over, and no difficulty presents itself in finding a landing-place, he
can fly comparatively low, if he prefers to do so. By this is meant an
altitude of perhaps five or six hundred feet.
If the country is difficult, however—that is to say, if fair
landing-places are not easy to find—it behoves the airman to attain a
considerably greater altitude. Over unfavourable country, from the
landing-point of view, an experienced pilot will maintain a height of
2000 feet, or more. He does this because, should his engine fail him, he
will have plenty of time to pick out—from a considerable area of country
around him—some fairly-suitable descending-point.
In the flying contests held last summer, the most expert pilots, such as
Beaumont and Vedrines, flew across country at an altitude of about 3000
feet. What influenced them, in doing so, was the knowledge that any wind
that is blowing is generally most steady at such altitudes.
Once he is able to fly across country, without worrying at all about the
control of his machine, the military airman is ready to take up the
practical tasks which await him. One of the most interesting
experiments, which he will be asked to carry out, is to fly over bodies
of troops on the march, and test his powers of observation. It is one
thing, of course, to see troops below him, and another to render an
accurate report as to their strength and formation.
One of the most expert of French military airmen describes, very
interestingly, how a reconnoitring officer seeks to render accurate his
observations of troops; and his remarks go to prove, very distinctly,
that nothing but unremitting practice will create a reliable air-scout—a
contention which is made by all experts upon this subject.
The strength of columns on the march—when seen from the bird’s-eye view
of an aeroplane—should, says this officer, be estimated by comparison,
on the airman’s map, with the length of the road along which they are
marching.
Massed formations of troops should, he adds, be determined according to
the open spaces separating the various units. From the airman’s point of
view, other clues to the strength of an enemy are the number of waggons,
the number of mounted officers (in the case of infantry), and so forth.
It will be seen that, although the elevation of an aeroplane gives the
observer a unique advantage, reconnoitring from an altitude of, say,
3000 feet is by no means easy work; the point of view is strange, and
new rules have to be made, if reliable information is to be forthcoming.
With adequate practice, of course, an observer becomes remarkably quick
in estimating the import of what he sees below him. Details, which would
mean nothing to the novice, frequently tell him the whole story.
Thus a novice becomes, in time, a thoroughly-expert airman, capable of
carrying out, satisfactorily, all the tasks that are set him. To
encourage military pilots at their work, the French authorities have
very wisely instituted a special scale of pay—or, rather, an arrangement
of bonuses—for flights effected.
Naturally, such practical encouragement is greatly appreciated by the
officers who take part in the air service. The work is arduous, beyond
all question, and the men who are engaged upon it now are pioneers. All
that they discover, through dint of enthusiastic and self-sacrificing
work, is to the benefit of those who follow in their footsteps.
Therefore, they richly deserve all the practical aid that can be given
them.
V. Finishing work at French schools—Practical tests—German
thoroughness—Energy of English officers.
Having described the instructional work at the French flying schools, it
may be interesting to show how practical tests are carried out—almost
every day—to prepare the officer-airmen for the duties which they will
be called upon to perform, in time of war.
As has been mentioned, the French authorities have now organised flying
schools, and air-depots, in many parts of the country; and, when any
general movements of troops is being made, the officer in charge of the
nearest aviation centre is frequently ordered, by a message from
Headquarters, to carry out some special aerial manœuvre.
[Illustration: THE PILOT’S SEAT.
Photo, M. Branger.
In the illustration above is seen the driving seat of a military-type
Blériot monoplane, with the airman’s map, in its case, fixed immediately
before him.]
One example of this excellent system is sufficient. Not long ago, a
fairly large body of troops was manoeuvring between Rheims and Chalons.
Seeing an opportunity for a practical test of aeroplane efficiency, one
of the Generals engaged in the operation sent a message to the officer
in charge of the air-depot at Chalons, requesting the services of four
airmen, without delay.
The summons was quite unexpected, as it was intended to be; but the
military school was not unprepared. Within a few minutes of the receipt
of his instructions, the officer commanding the aeroplanes had detailed
four lieutenants for service. Their machines were made ready, by the
mechanics, with practically no delay at all; and, in less than half an
hour, the officers were in the air, and on their way to the point where
they had been instructed to report themselves.
They arrived at the appointed place without hitch or delay, and
immediately received orders to reconnoitre specified tracts of country.
They were quickly in the air again; and each of the four air-scouts was
able to carry out his task with complete success.
Returning to their starting-point, the four pilots duly presented their
reports, made out according to the system in vogue. They were then
informed that their work was, for the time being, at an end. Whereupon
all four took their seats in their machines again, and flew back to the
aviation camp.
The point to be emphasised, in this connection, is that the manœuvre was
carried out by four scouts. Had one, or even two, performed these
flights, it would not have been so noteworthy. But the fact that four
machines could make a series of test flights, without prearrangement,
and yet without mechanical breakdown of any kind, provides a convincing
tribute to the reliability of a well-built military machine.
When no specific reconnoitring flights are on hand, officers from the
various French schools are frequently instructed to leave Headquarters
in the early morning, and make as long an aerial tour as possible before
nightfall, traversing a specified route, and returning to their
starting-point.
Such tests as these, of course, demonstrate the reliability of
aeroplanes and engines, and also the skill and endurance of the pilots.
One officer, for example, started away early in the morning, and
succeeded in flying for a distance of 250 miles between St Omer and the
Belgian frontier. A military observer accompanied him; and brief
reports, describing the country surveyed, were sent back by means of
carrier pigeons.
This flight—typical of many now being performed—occupied practically the
whole day. Descents were made, occasionally, to replenish petrol and oil
tanks, the aeroplane being followed, on its pilgrimage, by motor-cars
laden with fuel and spare parts.
Motor-car gangs, equipped with all material likely to be necessary in
connection with a breakdown, are now in readiness at the French
air-stations; and they will play a highly-important part when aeroplanes
are employed upon active service.
Mention has been made of the thoroughness of the German War Office in
regard to military flying schools; and, while citing practical
instances, it may be interesting to extract an item from the German
general programme.
In one batch, during the summer of 1911, seventeen officers were
selected to undergo a special flying course at Doeberitz. These courses
lasted a specified number of months, and the officers were drafted from
one class to another according to their state of proficiency.
The adequacy of the training, given to the German officer-airman, is
revealed in the practice flights which are attempted, immediately the
pilots have obtained full control over their machines. Here, for
example, is a typical reconnoitring trip. Two young airmen left the
Doeberitz aerodrome, and flew over a distance of 400 miles, weathering
two severe storms while upon their aerial journey.
The machine they employed was a military-type, weight-carrying biplane,
and they took it in turns to steer. Their tour lasted several days; and,
in one flight, extending over three and a half hours, they traversed a
distance of 149 miles. Motor-cars, bearing spare parts, kept in touch
with the airmen; the whole undertaking was admirably organised, from the
military point of view.
It is in work like this, of course, that definite progress is made. In
connection with such long reconnoitring tours, a German officer of
experience has placed upon record the view: "However good you may
imagine your organisation to be, a practical test will generally reveal
at least one or two false links in the chain; and, of flying, this is
truer than of anything else. Once an air-corps is proficient, actual war
conditions should be represented as frequently as possible. This will
polish up the entire system, and make each unit sure of its work. Unless
reconnoitring tests, carried out on a practical war basis, are
frequently made, it is idle to assume that your corps is ready to do any
valuable work during a campaign."
There is no need, at any rate, to impress the wisdom of this observation
upon the French military authorities. Whenever a long reconnoitring
flight is accomplished, from one of the flying schools, the officer who
is acting as observer is instructed to send a concise service telegram
to Headquarters, describing the journey that has been made.
It may be interesting to reproduce the text of such a message, in order
to show the business-like way in which the French air-work is carried
out. This was a telegram, for example, received in Paris in connection
with a typical practice flight:—
"Lieut, in command aeroplane 11 to War Office. Lieuts. Cammerman
pilot. Vullieume observation officer. Left Mezieres 7.10 a.m.
Passed over Vervins, Guise, St Quentin, landed north of Amiens
at 9.55 a.m. to inquire direction aerodrome. Landed aerodrome
10.30 a.m. Voyage difficult owing mist, which frequently
obscured ground. No incident."
Messages, such as this, are now being dispatched and received daily, in
connection with the flights organised at the French flying schools. The
dispatching of such telegrams is, of course, only a detail of the
general work; but it is one of those items, nevertheless, which needs
practice to make perfect.
In the arrangement of non-stop flying tests, the officers in charge of
the French schools leave no stone unturned to promote the efficiency of
their pupils. As a contrast to long tours, lasting several days,
continuous flights, involving a return to the aerodrome before
descending, teach an airman useful lessons.
Three instances of such non-stop flights, selected more or less
haphazard from the reports received, from day to day, in connection with
French military aviation, are sufficient to indicate what excellent work
is being done. They are appended:—
"A lieutenant flies with an observer, without descending, over a
prearranged course of 100 miles. The flight lasts two and a half hours.
"A lieutenant, carrying a special observation officer, remains in the
air for three hours fifteen minutes.
"A lieutenant, taking up a captain as observer, flies for 125 miles,
non-stop."
It is by means of flights such as these, carried out regularly, and
without ostentation, that the French air-corps obtains the efficiency
which is the admiration of those who are in a position to realise what
complete organisation means.
As regards England, it should be mentioned that the few officer-airmen
who have, so far, been permitted by the authorities to study military
flying, have done their utmost to perfect themselves in the art. They
are making experimental flights, whenever possible, and are becoming
thoroughly competent.
They have proved indeed, beyond question, that England has the right
material. All that is wanted, as has been pointed out again and again,
is practical encouragement. As a matter of fact, both in "dash" and
judgment when flying, British pilots have shown that they need fear no
foreign competition.
The cool nerve which is possessed by the English officer-airman was
revealed, in a most striking way, by an experience, while flying, which
befell Lieutenants Reynolds and Barrington-Kennett—two of the most
ardent officers of our Air Battalion.
The adventure occurred while the two airmen were reconnoitring in
Cambridgeshire during the autumn of 1911; and it possesses a unique
interest, inasmuch as it affords an example of the most remarkable
escape from death yet chronicled in connection with the aeroplane.
The two pilots, flying separate machines, were reconnoitring from a
temporary aviation camp during the evening, and were passing across
country at an altitude of a little less than 2000 feet. The weather was
oppressive—a thunderstorm threatening.
Suddenly a violent wind, the forerunner of the storm, began to sweep
across country. So powerful was this wind that it tore roofs off sheds.
Lieutenant Barrington-Kennett, flying a little lower than Lieutenant
Reynolds, felt the force of the wind first; his biplane tossed and
rolled ominously.
Pointing his machine earthwards, and keeping his engine running at its
full power, he began to descend as rapidly as possible. But the wind
increased in violence, to a remarkable extent. The biplane gave a sudden
leap into the air. Then it dropped sheer for many feet. The airman was
flung upwards from his driving-seat, and came into abrupt contact with
the lower part of his upper main-plane. Then he was jerked back again,
coming down half in, and half out of his seat, and smashing the side of
it. Fortunately, however, he was able to grip the lever actuating the
elevating-plane and "ailerons," and so maintained control of his machine
until he made a hurried landing in a field.
Lieutenant Reynolds had an experience far more alarming. Apart from the
fact that he was flying higher than his companion, the machine he was
piloting was a military biplane fitted with weight-carrying extensions,
which made it more difficult than an ordinary machine to control in a
wind.
When the first gusts struck him. Lieutenant Reynolds sought to follow
the other pilot’s example, and make a descent. He had actually come down
from 2000 feet to about 1500 feet, when a sudden and overwhelmingly
powerful rush of wind caught the biplane, and turned it completely
upside-down.
As the machine swung helplessly over, entirely beyond its pilot’s
control, Lieutenant Reynolds had the presence of mind to switch off his
engine. This probably prevented the biplane from rushing pell-mell to
destruction. The next thing that the young airman remembers was clinging
desperately to the edge of the lower main-plane, having been swung
abruptly out of his driving-seat—which was now above his head.
Upside-down, and beyond any possibility of control, the aeroplane began
to fall to the ground, which was more than 1000 feet below. It would
appear that nothing but a miracle could save an airman under such
circumstances as these; and Lieutenant Reynolds, certainly, regarded his
chances as being slender.
But, extraordinary as it may seem, the extent of his injuries, in this
1000-feet fall, were a sprained ankle and a general shock; and this is
how the miracle happened. The big biplane, being very lightly laden, did
not fall sheer to the ground, but came fluttering down like a box-kite.
At first, after overturning, it dived a short distance, tail-first; then
it came to a halt, and floated down for a second or so, following up
this manœuvre by a forward dive, and another period of floating.
Lieutenant Reynolds continued to cling grimly to the lower plane; and
the machine came down in a field, still upside-down, and with its
running wheels thrust up in the air. At the actual moment of striking
the ground, the aeroplane was fluttering, and not diving. This was
fortunate for the pilot, as the biplane came in contact with the earth
without any great violence.
Many a man’s nerve would have been shattered by such an experience, but
this was not the case with Lieutenant Reynolds. He was soon flying
again, as though nothing had happened. There is, therefore, reason for
stating that England has the right material among her few military
airmen.