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Aviation History
1941
1941 - 0024.PDF
JANUARY 2ND, I94I. WINDY DAYS (Continued) and sideways operations which control elevators and ailerons. "At the slightest irregularity in the noise of the motor, depress the elevator to descend. And, having come to the descending angle, return the lever to normal until you near the ground. Then you elevate to bring the machine to the horizontal for landing. Apart from engine trouble, in making your first descent, come down gradually, reversing the manner in which you ascended. Skim along near the ground, and cut the engine off to alight. If the engine should stop while in full flight, you must descend vol-plane. At the instant the motor stops push the lever forward hard until the machine is at about 30 degrees, and the elevator is about level with your feet. Nose Well Down " Do not be afraid of making the downward path steep. There is a wide range in the angle at which you may descend with perfect safety, but the beginner is liable to err in making the gliding path too gradual. The machine will find its own gliding path when you have brought the eleva- tor down and returned the lever to its normal position. On nearing the ground do not be in a hurry to pull the elevator up. Wait until it appears as if the skids are almost touch- ing the ground ; then gently pull the lever back, feeling the machine into a horizontal position for alighting. '' Before making a turn to right or to left, increase your altitude, because in all turning movements it is advisable slightly to depress the elevator. For turning to the left, push the left foot forward. This deflects the rudder. For turning to the right, push the right foot forward. In turn- ing, it is proper slightly to bank the machine up on the outside of the turn. Thus, for turning to the left, while pushing the left foot forward, you bring the hand lever over a little to the left, returning it instantly to the nor- mal, and then, if necessary, repeating the movement. If you have banked the machine excessively, stop the turn- ing movement at once with the foot-lever and correct the banking by means of the hand-lever. "Never attempt to rise during a turn. Never trouble to elevate to recover from remous, or from 'holes in the wind.' If a side gust tilts the machine up excessively, turn into the wind by steering into it, and at the same time correct the cant with the hand-lever, i.e., if the left wing is forced up- wards turn to the left by pushing the left foot forward, and at the same time the lever over to the left. In turning in a wind be careful about banking. If the wind is blow- ing from the outside of the turn do not bank ; but if the wind is blowing from the inside of the turn you can safely bank a good deal. Never attempt to land in a side wind : you can easily see by observing the movement of the ground. If the machine has any sideways motion, turn into the wind until the ground is moving straight towards you; then land. Switch off before touching the ground. But you can run along the ground under power by switch- ing the engine on and off alternately (this refers to flight with a Gnome motor). To come to a stop run on the ground a few yards, and then slightly elevate to bring down the tail, which acts as a brake." The First Solo Much of this will surprise and amuse the pupil of to-day who, on different instruction machines and the advantages of dual control, flies many hours before he is sent up alone. One morning they sent me off on what seemed to me to be a desperate adventure. I was to make one short straight alone. That it would be short I was certain; but would it be straight? Somehow I went through the "switch off" and "con- tact " formula, and with a courage I have never displayed before or since gave the hand-signal to the mechanics to let go, opening up the engine directly afterwards. The machine gathered way, and somehow I did keep it straight by means of the rudder, which I had never before operated in flight. My mind, of course, was in a whirl, but no doubt it was functioning in more or less the right way, for I felt the machine leave the ground, obeyed the instruction to keep low, and after a minute or so pushed the stick slightly for- ward and switched off. To my amazement I landed safely,, the machine came to a stop, and I waited for the arrival of all hands, and heard the amazing verdict that all was well. In the evening I had to do it again, and this time I really knew what I was doing, and enjoyed i1> In my third flight I caught my glove in the switch, a^a inadvertently cut off the engine just as I reached the end of the flat and was approaching a declivity. But I managed to put the head down and make a decent landing. I had promptly switched on again, but being at less than 100 feet up I dared not venture a turn. At the corners of one of the hangars a stretcher reposed, and on his arrival each pupil's attention was called to this grim reminder of penalty of carelessness or clumsiness. The day came when I was to see it in use. When I was well on the way to become an aviator-Harry Maitland arrived on the scene. He was the brother of Edward Maitland, who has already been mentioned. He was a cheerful—indeed, a merry soul, and of a ready wit. He wrote a humorous book on flying, I remember. Well, he was to fly the E.N.V.-engined machine, and was already well on in the solo stage. One morning he was flying this difficult mount, and we saw him get into difficulties. "He's going to crash," exclaimed someone, and another ran off to the hangar to get the stretcher. Sure enough, the machine was labour- ing, and its nose inclining dangerously upward. Then it appeared to flop down to the ground, nose-down, and we all ran to the spot, fully a mile away. Maitland was pinned down, and was groaning; and with haste we pulled the wreckage away and got him out. This was almost at the exact spot at which his brother had come to grief. Harry had broken both thighs. His brother had broken both ankles. The school carried on as usual, and on the evening of that day I was making another solo. Fig-ures-of-eight In those days the qualifying flights for the Royal Aero Club certificate were two, each consisting /ft five figures of eight over marked turning points. I got through mine all right, but the second and final was only my thirteenth solo. This great event took place on St. George's Day, 1911, and Colonel Harry Delacombe, who was observing for the club, marked his report with something compli- mentary to my flying, for it was made in a wind gusting up to 30 miles an hour or so. The number of my certifi- cate is 70. In the course of my lessons I only had one mishap. One morning someone else was flying, when a thick mist sud- denly blotted out the scprf^T We were all listening anxiously to the sound of the engine away in the distance. Suddenly it stopped, and we went out to explore, fearing the worst. However, all was well. The pilot had made a safe landing where the level of the land was somewhat lower. There we all stood, and waited for the mist to clear away, and when it did Jullerot said to me, "Take it over. Turner." Nothing loath, for this was indeed a mark of confidence, I got into the machine, then looking round with some doubt, for the ground was tussocky heather instead of smooth turf, and I wondered whether I could t$ke off. But I managed it, and was soon flying confidently in the now sunlit air. Alas! satisfaction was brief. The mist came down, rose up or else formed all about me. At any rate, I could not see a yard beyond that delicate front elevator, and in a few moments I was completely lost as to locality. For what seemed an age I flew round wondering what I was to do; and swiftly my difficulties increased. I did not like to land, for I had no idea of the direction of the sheds. But fate took charge. Suddenly I- found myself heading straight for telegraph wires. Then, in a slight
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