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Aviation History
1913
1913 - 0669.PDF
JUNE 28, 1913. A MAN AND THINGS move with remarkable swiftness in aviation. It is speed everywhere. Aviation itself has come upon us with remarkable speed. Aerodromes crop up in the form of a field and a couple of sheds, and in a few short months, before we seem to have time to look round, we have a fashionable racecourse and " White City" combined. Pilots come and go. The pilot of to-day is the memory of to-morrow, and the learner of yesterday is the man of the moment. Only a few weeks ago and Chevilliard was making us catch our breath with his remarkable flying on the Henry Farman at Hendon, now it requires something of an effort to remember just exactly what it was he used to do. We have not forgotten him, of course, but other men have come along to hold our attention, and we are essentially creatures of the moment. I first saw Sydney Pickles at Salisbury, only last year—a pupil—a learner. Nobody seems to take any notice of pupils, but some of them have a way of coming along and forcing themselves into a position where we not only have to notice them, but admire them. They seem to slip from the embryo to the concrete in a few moments, without any intermediate stage, and Sydney Pickles is one of them. After Salisbury, he next appeared at Brooklands, and all I noticed about him was that he still wore the same hat with the striped band, and seemed very earnest about it all, but did not do much. Then little bits of news began to filter through. " Pickles was flying this machine " or " that machine." Pickles seemed to be flying all machines, everywhere. Then he got to Hendon. A few days, and he had taken out the little Caudron monoplane, that fast little machine which nobody seems to care to tackle, and flown it to Brook- lands and back, in what I believe to be record time for the out and home flight: 12^ minutes out, and 17 minutes back over a course of 21 miles—42 miles in 29^ minutes, with, and against the wind, surely a fine flight. Then came the Caudron biplane, the Handley Page, the Bleriot, and now the Caudron again; and, Pickles, this is your machine in my opinion. It is very noticeable, as time moves on, how certain pilots take to certain machines, and stick to them. We have Hamel on the Bleriot, Pierre Verrier on the Maurice Farman, Chevilliard on the Henry Farman: pilots who fly those machines and no other ; and this is, I think, as it should be, for no pilot flies every machine equally well. It is a combination of man and machine, and the men who are our greatest flyers—the men who earn the most money—the men whose names ring throughout the world, are the men who have found the machine to suit them, and stick to it; and for you, Sydney Pickles, it is the Caudron biplane, take my word for it. It has not been my pleasure to see other pilots of the Caudron outside this little isle, so I cannot say how they handle their machines; but I am sure that could our friend Rene Caudron have been at Hendon on Sunday week and have seen Pickles on the new Hewlett and Blondeau British-built 45 h.p. biplane, it would have done his heart good; it was wonderful. Now as to the machine. It is the second of three built and building for Mr. Ewen, by Messrs. Hewlett and Blondeau, under licence from Caudron Brothers, and as a piece of workmanship leaves nothing to be desired, and could not have been beaten by Caudrons themselves. Could they see it, they would feel pleased and proud that the building of their machines in England had got into such good hands. I had a good look round it, and 695 I/SI A MACHINE. I had to admit that I had never seen a machine which surpassed it for the excellent way in which everything had been carried out. There is not one little part in the whole machine which one could point to and say that it might have been better done. It has been built, of course, exactly on Caudron lines, and coloured the "Caudron" blue, but owing to the slight yellow tint of the dope, in the air it assumes a pale green colour, and looks remarkably pretty. With the 45 h.p. Anzani engine now fitted, it is remarkably fast, and climbs like a rocket. I do not think I ever saw a biplane—with the possible exception of the Sopwith tractor—climb quite so rapidly. I should like, just as a sporting event, these two machines matched one day in an altitude contest, say, of five minutes' duration, which, taking into consideration that one is of 80 h.p. and the other only 45 h.p., should put up a most interesting event. I think little sporting matches of this description would create a deal of interest, and be very instructive. And now for the machine and the man, as a combina tion. On the signal to let go, the machine ran a short, a very short, distance, and leapt into the air—simply leapt, there is no other word for it. In half a circuit of the aerodrome, Pickles had got her up to a great height, and in a very few minutes he was circling at an altitude of well over 3,000 ft. Then, right over the centre of the grounds, he commenced a spiral corkscrew dive of such small radius that from the ground it looked as though the machine was turning in very little over its own length, and diving at an angle that looked appalling. Round and down, down and round it came, accompanied every few seconds by those momentary little puffs from the ^*m* \ " Flight" CoDvright Mr. Sydney Pickles, on the British-built 45 h.p. Caudron, making a fine straight vol plani over the sheds at Hendon« D 2
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