[Illustration: THE GERMAN EMPEROR WATCHING THE PROGRESS OF AVIATION]
The use of air craft as military auxiliaries is not new. As early
as 1812 the Russians, before retreating from Moscow, attempted to
drop bombs from balloons: an attempt carried to success by Austrian
engineers in 1849. Both contestants in our own War of Secession
employed captive and drifting balloons. President Lincoln organized a
regular aeronautic auxiliary staff in which one Lowe held the official
rank of chief aeronaut. This same gentleman (who had accomplished a
reconnaissance of 350 miles in eight hours in a 25,000 cubic foot
drifting balloon) was subjected to adverse criticism on account of a
weakness for making ascents while wearing the formal "Prince Albert"
coat and silk hat! A portable gas-generating plant was employed by
the Union army. We are told that General Stoneman, in 1862, directed
artillery fire from a balloon, which was repeatedly fired at by the
enemy, but not once hit. The Confederates were less amply equipped.
Their balloon was a patchwork of silk skirts contributed (one doubts
not, with patriotic alacrity) by the daughters of the Confederacy.
It is not forgotten that communication between besieged Paris and the
external world was kept up for some months during 1870-71 by balloons
exclusively. Mail was carried on a truly commercial scale: pet animals
and--the anticlimax is unintended--164 persons, including M. Gambetta,
escaped in some sixty-five flights. Balloons were frequently employed
in the Franco-Prussian contest; and they were seldom put _hors de
combat_ by the enemy.
During our war with Spain, aerial craft were employed in at least
one instance, namely, at San Juan, Porto Rico, for reconnoitering
entrenchments. Frequent ascents were made from Ladysmith, during the
Boer war. The balloons were often fired at, but never badly damaged.
Cronje's army was on one occasion located by the aid of a British
scout-balloon. Artillery fire was frequently directed from aerial
observations. Both sides employed balloons in the epic conflict between
Russia and Japan.
A declaration introduced at the second international peace conference
at the Hague proposed to prohibit, for a limited period, the discharge
of projectiles or explosives from flying machines of any sort. The
United States was the only first-class power which endorsed the
declaration. It does not appear likely, therefore, that international
law will discountenance the employment of aerial craft in international
disputes. The building of airships goes on with increasing eagerness.
Last year the Italian chamber appropriated $5,000,000 for the
construction and maintenance of flying machines.
A press report dated February 4 stated that a German aeronaut had
been spending some weeks at Panama, studying the air currents of the
Canal Zone. No flying machine may in Germany approach more closely
than within six miles of a fort, unless specially licensed. At the
Krupp works in Essen there are being tested two new guns for shooting
at aeroplanes and dirigibles. One is mounted on an armored motor
truck. The other is a swivel-mounted gun on a flat-topped four-wheeled
carriage.
The United States battleship _Connecticut_ cost $9,000,000. It
displaces 18,000 tons, uses 17,000 horse-power and 1000 men, and makes
twenty miles an hour. An aeroplane of unusual size with nearly three
times this speed, employing from one to three men with an engine of 100
horse-power, would weigh one ton and might cost $5000. A Dreadnought
costs $16,000,000, complete, and may last--it is difficult to say, but
few claim more than ten years. It depreciates, perhaps, at the rate
of $2,000,000 a year. Aeroplanes built to standard designs in large
quantities would cost certainly not over $1000 each. The ratio of cost
is 16,000 to 1. Would the largest Dreadnought, exposed unaided to the
attack of 16,000 flying machines, be in an entirely enviable situation?
An aeroplane is a fragile and costly thing to hazard at one blow: but
not more fragile or costly than a Whitehead torpedo. The aeroplane
soldier takes tremendous risks; but perhaps not greater risks than
those taken by the crew of a submarine. There is never any lack of
daring men when daring is the thing needed.
All experience goes to show that an object in the air is hard to
hit. The flying machine is safer from attack where it works than it
is on the ground. The aim necessary to impart a crippling blow to an
aeroplane must be one of unprecedented accuracy. The dirigible balloon
gives a larger mark, but could not be immediately crippled by almost
any projectile. It could take a good pounding and still get away.
Interesting speculations might be made as to the outcome of an aerial
battle between the two types of craft. The aeroplane might have a
sharp cutting beak with which to ram its more cumbersome adversary,
but this would involve some risk to its own stability: and the balloon
could easily escape by a quick ascent. It has been suggested that each
dirigible would need an aeroplane escort force for its defense against
ramming. Any collision between two opposing heavier-than-air machines
could not, it would seem, be other than disastrous: but perhaps
the dirigible could rescue the wrecks. Possibly gas-inflated life
buoys might be attached to the individual combatants. In the French
man[oe]uvers, a small aeroplane circled the dirigible with ease, flying
not only around it, but in vertical circles over and under it.
[Illustration: 7.5 CENTIMETER GERMAN AUTOMATIC GUN FOR ATTACKING
AIRSHIPS
(From Brewer's _Art of Aviation_)]
The French war office has exploited both types of machine. In
Germany, the dirigible has until recently received nearly all the
attention of strategists: but the results of a recent aerial war
game have apparently suggested a change in policy, and the Germans
are now, without neglecting the balloon, actively developing its
heavier-than-air competitor. England seems to be muddled as to its
aerial policy, while the United States has been waiting and for the
most part doing nothing. Now, however, the mobilizations in Texas have
been associated with a considerable amount of aeroplane enthusiasm.
A half-dozen machines, it is expected, will soon be housed in the
aerodrome at San Antonio. Experiments are anticipated in the carrying
of light ammunition and emergency supplies, and one of the promised
man[oe]uvers is to be the locating of concealed bodies of troops by air
scouts. Thirty army officers are to be detailed for aeroplane service
this year; five training schools are to be established.
If flying machines are relatively unsusceptible to attack, there is
also some question as to their effectiveness _in_ attack. Rifles have
been discharged from moving balloons with some degree of accuracy in
aim; but long-range marksmanship with any but hand weapons involves the
mastery of several difficult factors additional to those present in
gunnery at sea. The recoil of guns might endanger stability; and it is
difficult to estimate the possible effects of a powerful concussion,
with its resulting surges of air, in the immediate vicinity of a
delicately balanced aerial vessel.
But aside from purely combative functions, air craft may be
superlatively useful as messengers. To send despatches rapidly and
without interference, or to carry a general 100 miles in as many
minutes--these accomplishments would render impossible the romance
of a "Sheridan's Ride," but might have a romance of their own. With
the new sense added to human equipment by wireless communication,
the results of observations may be signaled to friends over miles of
distance without intervening permanent connections of however fragile a
nature.
Flying machines would seem to be the safest of scouts. They could pass
over the enemy's country with as little direct danger--perhaps as
unobserved--as a spy in disguise; yet their occupants would scarcely
be subjected to the penalty accompanying discovery of a spy. They
could easily study the movements of an opposing armed force: a study
now frequently associated with great loss of life and hampering of
effective handling of troops. They could watch for hostile fleets with
relatively high effectiveness (under usual conditions), commanding
distant approaches to a long coast line at slight cost. From their
elevated position, they could most readily detect hostile submarines
threatening their own naval fleet. Maximum effective reconnaissance in
minimum time would be their chief characteristic: in fact, the high
speeds might actually constitute an objection, if they interfered with
thorough observation. But if air craft had been available at Santiago
in 1898, Lieutenant Blue's expedition would have been unnecessary, and
there would have been for no moment any doubt that Admiral Cervera's
fleet was actually bottled up behind the Morro. No besieged fortress
need any longer be deprived of communication with--or even some
medical or other supplies from--its friends. Suppose that Napoleon had
been provided with a flying machine at Elba--or even at St. Helena!
The applications to rapid surveying of unknown ground that have been
suggested as possible in civil life would be equally possible in time
of war. Even if the scene of conflict were in an unmapped portion of
the enemy's territory, the map could be quickly made, the location of
temporary defenses and entrenchments ascertained, and the advantage
of superior knowledge of the ground completely overcome prior to an
engagement. The searchlight and the compass for true navigation on long
flights over unknown country would be the indispensable aids in such
applications.
During the current mobilization of the United States Army at Texas, a
dispatch was carried 21 miles on a map-and-compass flight, the round
trip occupying less than two hours and being made without incident. The
machine flew at a height of 1500 feet and was sighted several miles off.
A dirigible balloon, it has been suggested, is comparatively safe while
moving in the air, but is subjected to severe strains when anchored to
the ground, if exposed. It must have either safe harbors of refuge or
actual shelter buildings--dry docks, so to speak. In an enemy's country
a ravine or even a deep railway cut might answer in an emergency, but
the greatest reliance would have to be placed on quick return trips
from a suitable base. The balloon would be, perhaps, a more effective
weapon in defense than in attack. Major Squier regards a flying height
of one mile as giving reasonable security against hostile projectiles
in the daytime. A lower elevation would be sufficient at night. Given a
suitable telephotographic apparatus, all necessary observations could
easily be made from this altitude. Even in the enemy's territory,
descent to the earth might be possible at night under reasonably
favorable conditions. Two sizes of balloon would seem to be indicated:
the scouting work described would be done by a small machine having the
greatest possible radius of action. Frontiers would be no barrier to
it. Sent from England in the night it could hover over a Kiel canal or
an island of Heligoland at sunrise, there to observe in most leisurely
fashion an enemy's mobilizations.
[Illustration: GERMAN GUN FOR SHOOTING AT AEROPLANES
(From Brewer's _Art of Aviation_)]
At the London meeting of the Institute of Naval Architects, in April,
1911, the opinion was expressed that the only effective way of meeting
attack from a flying machine at sea would be by a counter-attack from
the same type of craft. The ship designers concluded that the aeroplane
would no more limit the sizes of battleships than the torpedo has
limited them.
For the more serious work of fighting, larger balloons would be needed,
with net carrying capacities perhaps upward from one ton. Such a
machine could launch explosives and combustibles against the enemy's
forts, dry docks, arsenals, magazines, and battleships. It could easily
and completely destroy his railroads and bridges; perhaps even his
capital itself, including the buildings housing his chief executive
and war office staff. Nothing--it would seem--could effectually combat
it save air craft of its own kind. The battles of the future may be
battles of the air.
There are of course difficulties in the way of dropping missiles
of any great size from flying machines. Curtiss and others have
shown that accuracy of aim is possible. Eight-pound shrapnel shells
have been dropped from an aeroplane with measurably good effect,
without upsetting the vessel; but at best the sudden liberation of
a considerable weight will introduce stabilizing and controlling
difficulties. The passengers who made junketing trips about Paris on
the _Clément-Bayard_ complained that they were not allowed to throw
even a chicken-bone overboard! But it does not seem too much to expect
that these purely mechanical difficulties will be overcome by purely
mechanical remedies. An automatic venting of a gas ballonet of just
sufficient size to compensate for the weight of the dropped shell would
answer in a balloon: a similar automatic change in propeller speed and
angle of planes would suffice with the aeroplane. There is no doubt
but that air craft may be made efficient agents of destruction on a
colossal scale.
[Illustration: SANTOS-DUMONT CIRCLING THE EIFFEL TOWER
(From Walker's _Aerial Navigation_)]
A Swedish engineer officer has invented an aerial torpedo,
automatically propelled and balanced like an ordinary submarine
torpedo. It is stated to have an effective radius of three miles while
carrying two and one-half pounds of explosive at the speed of a bullet.
One can see no reason why such torpedoes of the largest size are not
entirely practicable: though much lower speeds than that stated should
be sufficient.
According to press reports, the Krupps have developed a non-recoiling
torpedo, having a range exceeding 5000 yards. The percussion device is
locked at the start, to prevent premature explosion: unlocking occurs
only after a certain velocity has been attained.
Major Squier apparently contends that the prohibition of offensive
aerial operations is unfair, unless with it there goes the reciprocal
provision that a war balloon shall not be fired at from below. Again,
there seems to be no good reason why aerial mines dropped from above
should be forbidden, while submarine mines--the most dangerous naval
weapons--are allowed. Modern strategy aims to capture rather than to
destroy: the man[oe]uvering of the enemy into untenable situations by
the rapid mobilization of troops being the end of present-day highly
organized staffs. Whether the dirigible (certainly not the aeroplane)
will ever become an effective vehicle for transport of large bodies of
troops cannot yet be foreseen.
Differences in national temper and tradition, and the conflict of
commercial enterprise, perhaps the very recentness of the growth of a
spirit of national unity on the one hand, are rapidly bringing the two
foremost powers of Europe into keen competition: a competition which
is resulting in a bloodless revolution in England, necessitated by the
financial requirements of its naval program. Germany, by its strategic
geographical position, its dominating military organization, and the
enforced frugality, resourcefulness, and efficiency of its people,
possesses what must be regarded as the most invincible army in the
world. Its avowed purpose is an equally invincible navy. Whether the
Gibraltar-Power can keep its ascendancy may well be doubted. The one
doubtful--and at the same time perhaps hopeful--factor lies in the
possibilities of aerial navigation.
[Illustration: LATHAM, FARMAN, AND PAULHAN]
If one battleship, in terms of dollars, represents 16,000 airships,
and if one or a dozen of the latter can destroy the former--a feat
not perhaps beyond the bounds of possibility--if the fortress that
represents the skill and labor of generations may be razed by twoscore
men operating from aloft, then the nations may beat their spears into
pruning-hooks and their swords into plowshares: then the battle ceases
to hinge on the power of the purse. Let war be made so costly that
nations can no more afford it than sane men can wrestle on the brink
of a precipice. Let armed international strife be viewed as it really
is--senseless as the now dying duello. Let the navy that represents
the wealth, the best engineering, the highest courage and skill, of
our age, be powerless at the attack of a swarm of trifling gnats like
Gulliver bound by Lilliputians--what happens then? It is a _reductio ad
absurdum_. Destructive war becomes so superlatively destructive as to
destroy itself.
There is only one other way. Let the two rival Powers on whom the peace
of the world depends settle their difficulties--surely the earth must
be big enough for both!--and then as one would gently but firmly take
away from a small boy his too destructive toy rifle, spike the guns
and scuttle the ships, their own and all the rest, leaving to some
unambitious and neutral power the prosaic task of policing the world.
Here is a work for red blood and national self-consciousness. If war
were ever needed for man's best development, other things will answer
now. The torn bodies and desolated homes of millions of men have paid
the price demanded. No imaged hell can surpass the unnamed horrors that
our fathers braved.
"Enforced disarmament!" Why not? Force (and public opinion) have
abolished private duels. Why not national duels as well? Civilization's
control of savagery always begins with compulsion. For a generation,
no first-class power has had home experience in a serious armed
conflict. We should not willingly contemplate such experience now. We
have too much to do in the world to fight.
* * * * *
The writer has felt some hesitancy in letting these words stand as
the conclusion of a book on flying machines: but as with the old
Roman who terminated every oration with a defiance of Carthage, the
conviction prevails that no other question of the day is of comparable
importance; and on a matter of overwhelming consequence like this
no word can ever be out of place. The five chief powers spent for
war purposes (officially, as Professor Johnson puts it, for the
"preservation of peace") about $1,000,000,000 in the year 1908. In
the worst period of the Napoleonic operations the French military and
naval budget was less than $100,000,000 annually. Great Britain, on
the present peace footing, is spending for armament more rapidly than
from 1793 to 1815. The gigantic "War of the Spanish Succession" (which
changed the map of Europe) cost England less than a present year's
military expenditure. Since the types for these pages have been set,
the promise of international peace has been distinctly strengthened.
President Taft has suggested that as, first, questions of individual
privilege, and, finally, even those of individual honor, have been
by common consent submitted to adjudication, so also may those
so-called "issues involving national honor" be disposed of without
dishonor by international arbitration. Sir Edward Grey, who does not
hesitate to say that increase of armaments may end in the destruction
of civilization unless stopped by revolt of the masses against the
increasing burdens of taxation, has electrified Europe by his reception
of the Taft pronouncement. England and the United States rule one-third
the inhabitants of the earth. It is true that a defensive alliance
might be more advantageous to the former and disagreeably entangling to
the latter; but a binding treaty of arbitration between these powers
would nevertheless be a worthy climax to our present era. And if it
led to alliance against a third nation which had refused to arbitrate
(led--as Sir Edward Grey suggests--by the logic of events and not by
subterranean device) would not such be the fitting and conclusive
outcome?
The Taft-Grey program--one would wish to call it that--has had all
reputable endorsement; in England, no factional opposition may be
expected. Our own jingoes are strangely silent. Mr. Dillon's fear that
compulsory disarmament would militate against the weaker nations is
offset by the hearty adherence of Denmark. A resolution in favor of the
establishment of an international police force has passed the House of
Commons by a heavy majority. It looks now as if we might hope before
long to re-date our centuries. We have had Olympiads and Years of Rome,
B.C. and A.D. Perhaps next the dream of thoughtful men may find its
realization in the new (and, we may hope, English) prefix, Y.P.--Year
of Peace.