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Aviation History
1947
1947 - 0665.PDF
MAY IST, 1947 FLIGHT Stormy Weather Are we Overlooking that Vital Link Between the Dashboard and the Controls—the Pilot ? By » VERTIGO " 391 ONE of the most exasperatingfeatures of Civil Aviation to-dayis the apparent delay which seems to dog at every turn the applica- tion to the purposes of peace the great ^wartime advances in radio and radar Jfeds to Navigation. There have been far too many avoidable accidents lately—many in bad weather, too many funeral pyres on too many hill- sides. Public confidence in air trans- port, both here and in the U.S.A., has been shaken, and a belated emphasis has been placed on safety. There is a general feeling that something, some- where in the Battle against the Weather, is impeding the advance— nobody seems to know just what. Off at Half-cock It is obvious, of course, that Civil Aviation went off rather at half-cock after the war in a blaze of wishful thought. Nobody seemed to appre- ciate, sanely and calmly, the part it had to play in modern transport. There was an enthusiastic assumption ii?at the sky would soon be darkened with flying wings (mostly American) swooping about like jet-propelled bats in terrifying confusion. Spurred on by the appalling prospect there was a feverish quest for the magic aid—the "Holy Grail"—that would devise a wondrous pattern in the sky, fashioned by an incessant bombardment of the ether by all the pulses the '' boffins could bring to bear. Surely, it was thought, by rummaging in the heap of electronics, some technique would be discovered which would impose, by sheer weight of wizardry, hyperbolic order in the turbo-gaseous chaos. It was only a question of time. Torrents of words poured down every national stream—only, alas, like the mighty St. Lawrence, to be lost in the vast, ,, .tolling, endless but completely tideless ocean of PICAO. There, everything is discussed but the sole reality—the Veto. Nothing happens—not a thing. The Yanks still ride the range, and we poor suckers scream madly for fixes on M/F to guide us to the haven of the occasional but blessed SB A. The art of bad-weather flying has not pro- gressed a whit since 1939—some say it's even gone back a bit. Promising Devices There are, of course, a number of very promising devices under develop- ment—some of a beauty that almost catches the breath—but what do they promise exactly? I can't help feeling that the scientists are galloping ahead too fast without a proper appreciation of what is really required. Are we quite certain that we know what we want? I wonder. In the fascinating pursuit of the problem we seem to have forgotten all about the mere man who sits in the cockpit, interprets the in- formation, and converts it, inside his brain (if any), to the necessary psycho- motor reactions. If we cannot develop the man to keep pace with the devices then we must ensure that what we offer him is presented in a way that is most likely to stimulate his bodily mechanisms quickly and correctly. It is in this direction, I think, that we have a long way to go. You will admit, if you are honest, that blind approach, for instance, is very largely a matter of mental approach. Nobody really likes to be still in cloud at 300ft, one hand on the throttle, the other feeling the slip- stream beating on the elevator, one eye on the airspeed, the other on the gyro, the altimeter almost audible, both feet firmly on the quivering rudder, and across your subconscious the sole link with the outside, the little model ludicrously gummed on the glass like a fly against the horizon, waiting IN this thought-provoking article the ' author utters a serious warning that the psychology of the pilot, and his re- actions to the maze of " gadgets " on the instrument panel and in the cockpit, are not being studied as they should. "Vertigo" is a pilot of long exper- ience, especially in bad-weather flying, and his views should not be lightly dismissed, in spite of the whimsical form in which he has chosen to express them. while time stands still for the cloud to break and reveal the blessed Earth. All those precious eggs are in the palm of the hand that holds the basket, to be placed comfortably on the floor or, if he sneezes, smashed to smithereens. The degree of responsibility on the shoulders of the driver at that moment is terrific—far greater than that de- manded at any time in any other form of transport. That is why, of course, the pilot is paid an exorbitant salary—and he knows it. As a professional he would be hard pressed to justify his pay on his qualifications. It's "different," you see. He's far more of a driver than a captain, and there is more mental strain in flying in bad weather than most of them would care to admit. The closed-shop technique, professional secrecy, the cult of the elite, the priesthood—call it what you wiii_tends to exclude the laity from probing too deeply. Sit down, little man, fasten your safety belt, light a cigarette—and don't worry. I've got this wrapped up, we'll be rolling up the runway in a twink. But the little man is beginning to rebel. He won't go by air—the windy little rat—not until he's convinced that it's a lot safer than it is, and all this Passenger-mile per Prang stuff leaves him cold. Surely, the time has come, if you admit that all -weather Hying is as much a matter of the mind as of the body, when we must investigate much more thoroughly this aspect of human behaviour. What on earth is the use of devoting tremendous technical effort to the improvement of the air- craft and its devices if we stop short, higgledy-piggledy, at the dashboard, and omit consideration of that vital link between the dials and the controls •—the bloke himself. Bewildering- Array Take the average cockpit, for example. What a shocking place it is. Talk about science having outstripped mankind! A bewildering array of knobs, levers and dials, never twice in the same place. It is quite impossible, to fly a modern aircraft for (he first time without a detailed cockpit brief- ing, and even then, when you've plucked up courage to open the taps, you are either very strong-minded—or a little tight—if you don't wonder, just for a moment, whether you've for- gotten something. Is there any good reason, other than sheer human cussedness, why instrument layouts should not be standardized as far as possible? Time and motion studies have been carried out on housewives cooking meals to determine the best design for the modern kitchen. But has anyone ever thought of doing the same thing in the cockpit, so that at least all the vital controls are arranged in the proper sequence, and in the cor- rect sense, for natural and efficient action ? When you think of all the ingenuity expended in getting the thing to fly at all, the haphazard arrangement of all the gubbins in the cockpit, based on no really scientific data as a result of experiment and observation, or even theory, is quite, quite crazy. There have been attempts to solve parts of the problem—illu- mination, vision, control loads and so on—but without that overall co-ordina- tion which alone can succeed in making the " office " a fit place for the job. If you delve into your flying past you will find some strange things. Properly analyzed they must all have a meaning of some sort. They cannot just be dismissed as the wanderings of
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