I consulted with Denis Jackson at Derby, who masterminded most of the company’s foreign licences and is a man of great drive and energy. We produced a very broad-brush ‘heads of agreement’ document. Kenneth said it was a ‘pretty thin effort’ but told me to take it to the Chinese Commercial Office in London for transmission to Beijing. This thin effort happened to be the only piece of paper recording any discussion between our two countries; it was to be several years before the Chinese put a single word on paper, and everything was done by word of mouth — and with no tape recorders! In early 1973 Mr Peng, the Chinese Commercial Counsellor in London, invited me to return to Beijing for further discussions. Taking the same team as before I arrived in the Chinese capital in March 1973. I told Kenneth that, if things went well, he might be asked to join us. We were received with the usual hospitality, and on our arrival at Er Li Co I emphasized that Sir Kenneth was a most important man who should be invited to join the discussions.
The chairman of the meeting was Madame Wei, a fierce-looking lady of ample proportions. Suddenly it dawned on me that all was not well; there was a distinctly frosty atmosphere. Then I suddenly noticed that Madame Wei was clutching an envelope from Rolls-Royce with the address heavily underscored in red. She spoke harshly: ‘This letter is addressed to the Republic of China. That is not our address. We are The People’s Republic of China’. It really was an imperial brick, because the Republic is Taiwan. I apologised profusely, and ate all the humble pie around. She went on, ‘People who address us incorrectly are not our friends, and we do not do business with them’. I crawled on my belly, as Hs used to say, and explained that it must have been a typist’s error. She replied, ‘Correspondence should not be left to people who make mistakes. We are severely displeased, and we shall therefore accommodate you in the Friendship Hotel, which is reserved for common foreigners’. She arose, and the meeting was over.
My Chinese friends were somewhat embarrassed as we were packed off to the outskirts of Beijing where the huge concrete hotel, built by the Russians for their various missions in the 1950s, was being prepared for the visitors to the first British Trade Fair, due to take place in April. Nonetheless, I had a comfortable suite, and in fact we all had excellent accommodation provided one did not mind the four of us dining alone in a room that would comfortably seat a thousand. From then on, all went well as we spent our days in discussions at Er Li Co trying to soften them up on the Spey 512 instead of the Mk 202.
When Kenneth’s arrival was imminent, I plucked up courage and said that the Friendship Hotel was no place to accommodate the Chairman of Rolls-Royce. I even told my hosts that, unless they were prepared to forgive us and put him in a suite at the Beijing Hotel, I should reluctantly have to advise him not to come. They appeared to ignore this puny threat until, as we were leaving a preparatory meeting on the very day of his arrival, I was informed that all our things had been transferred to the Beijing Hotel. Kenneth finally arrived, with Sir William Cook and Denis Jackson.
I did not know Jackson very well, and what I did know seemed dour and not very likeable. He was a tough and determined character, who had trained as an engineer prior to joining the Commercial Department. It was when we were thrown together on this trip that I began to realise his worth, and to discover that under his ‘stonewall’ exterior there resided not only logic and leadership but also a heart of gold. But that knowledge came later, when he took over the whole of the negotiations and organised a special team to answer the myriad questions put by the customer.
We briefed Kenneth on the position, and then had a formal meeting with Mr Sui Chen’s office in Er Li Co. Kenneth used all his great powers of persuasion, which I do not think lost much in translation, but our hosts shook their heads. It was the Spey 202 or nothing. At last Kenneth gave up. Rising, he said, ‘I am very sorry but I do not think we can do business. It has taken a great deal of effort to get our government to agree to our licensing the Spey 512, and I cannot even discuss the Mk 202 until I have had further talks back in England, about the outcome of which I am not very sanguine’. We returned to our hotel, but within the hour we were summoned to see the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who explained to us that their sole purpose was to modernize their air force for defence, and he hoped we would use our best endeavours to get the British Government to agree. Kenneth said he fully understood the position, but pointed out that many nations (by implication, not Britain) were afraid of the might of China, and he said he doubted that he could swing the government to agree to license the military engine.
In fact, that is just what he did do. As soon as we got back to England Kenneth began to lay about Whitehall with all his great energy and influence. He tackled the Minister of Aviation, Michael Heseltine, the Minister of Defence, Lord Carrington, the Foreign Minister, Sir Douglas Home, and the PM, Mr Edward Heath. In parallel, delicate negotiations were necessary with our NATO allies. Eventually we received full permission to proceed with negotiations on the Spey 202, an afterburning engine designed to fly at over Mach 2.
In the autumn of 1973 I was back at Er Li Co, this time with a different team specializing in the Spey 202. Day after day we toiled through every detail of the engine, though we still had no formal understanding of any kind, only the spoken words that they were interested in having a proposal. Suddenly I was summoned to the office of the Minister of Foreign Trade, Li Chang, a most cultured man of the Old School. He was another Bodnaras in that he thrilled me by talking about his country’s history, though the difference was that Li Chang talked only of ancient history. He produced a small slip of paper and read out that his government had decided to acquire the licence for the Spey 202, and that I could now take that as a firm decision. Wildly excited, I asked him if he wanted to know how much this would cost, because I was empowered to quote the figures we had in mind. I was dumbfounded when Li Chang said no, that was no longer the way they did things!
The first task, he said, would be to define precisely what they were going to get, and his experts would be attending to that. I then asked if it would be in order for me to inform our Ambassador, and send a cable to our Chairman, giving him the great news. He said, ‘Certainly, although that again is not the way we do things in China’. But he was certainly not put out, because the next thing he said was, ‘I wish to invite you to become the first Honorary Professor at the Aeronautical Institute’. He had discussed this with Sir John Addis, who had signified Her Majesty’s government’s agreement. I was quite overcome by this unique distinction. I reminded Li Chang of the appointment to the first professorship of aeronautics in China in 1936, and he told me he was aware of this.
I went back to the hotel walking on air, and we decided to have a celebration dinner. Long ago we had named the head waiter Gregory, because his horizontal quiff above his forehead looked like Gregory Peck. I said, ‘Go and see Gregory and tell him we want plain roast duck served whole, without sauces and spices.’ It was the custom to produce the most fabulous roast duck, but then to cover it with fancy sauces and spices. After displaying it to the admiring guests they would take it away and chop it up with axes into small pieces, bones and all. This time we asked Gregory to leave it intact, and not only did he do so but he started us off with a large bowl of caviare (which is plentiful and cheap, but not eaten by the Chinese) and then produced Chinese champagne. We had never sampled the latter, and Gregory proceeded to unwire the cork. Shortly afterwards there was a loud bang and the whole contents of the bottle arose like an atom bomb, hit the ceiling high above and fell to earth we knew not where. This set us off on a memorable and highly successful celebration.
Soon the day of my initiation arrived, timed for 4 pm at the Institute. Sir John Addis said he was coming, and where was the Institute? I could not tell him, and he had to follow the official car! We were greeted by the entire academic staff and conducted to the main reception room where Shen Yuan made a nice little speech in Chinese. I replied as best I could. Then, standing formally under a large picture of Mao,
I was presented with a red silk certificate conferring on me the title of Honorary Professor. It was over very quickly, and then Shen Yuan invited us to a party in the adjoining room. I expected drinks and nick nacks, but not a bit of it! The Chin Sao Hotel staff had moved in, and there were the round tables seating ten apiece, each absolutely groaning under ham, pork, chickens, ducks, prawns and fish, European style, all exquisitely decorated and each plate set with knives and forks!
It was an occasion I shall never forget. The Institute has made enormous advances in the ten years since that time, and the honour bestowed on me by my Chinese friends is one I prize above all the other academic awards that have come my way. When Kenneth commissioned my portrait which hangs in the foyer of our London office he had the Chinese characters from my certificate copied into the background, and this is now read with delight by the company’s many Chinese visitors.
Denis Jackson toiled with the utmost care for two further years until the licence agreement was signed on 13 December 1975. Then the transfer of extremely complicated modern technology began in earnest, and Rolls-Royce played a central role in the conversion of another big engine factory, at Xian, from the Nene to the Spey 202. Xian is situated on the south bank of the Wei Ho river, a little over 600 miles south-west of Beijing, and somewhere in its 3,000-year recorded history (the estimate is 200BC) an incredible array of life-size terra-cotta figures of soldiers and horses — each beautifully and individually sculptured, and no two alike — were placed in serried ranks in the tomb of the first Quing Dynasty emperor. They were only recently discovered, and their number is estimated at 6,000. Xian was the capital of the Tang Dynasty, between AD 618-907, and I was allowed to bathe in the Emperor’s fabulous sunken marble bath, about 12 feet square, at the nearby Hua Quing hot springs. Sadly, I was alone, which I felt the emperor would not have been.
Xian eventually was tooled up to make the Spey 202. In 1979 the first Chinese-built engine was successfully tested, and in May 1980 it was brought to Derby and successfully put through a 150-hour type test. With the achievement of Spey manufacture at Xian my mission to that great country was complete. Unquestionably, we built a bridge between East and West, and my great friend Vice-Premier Wang Chen often told me, ‘The ball is at your feet. All you have to do is kick it through the goal’. Changed priorities in China have slowed down the planned expansion of aviation, but they still remain by far the largest market for a vast range of all kinds of equipment, and we neglect them at our peril. I had the pleasure of welcoming Mao’s successor, Chairman Hua Quo Feng, on his only visit to a British factory: Rolls-Royce, Derby.
During the period 1972/79 I paid many visits to China, and from the many Chinese engineers and high officials that I met I have received nothing but generous hospitality, respect and warm friendship. I hold them all in great affection, and have been very happy to make my contribution to the progress of aeronautics in that Great Nation.
Of course, it is the great name Rolls-Royce that opens the doors in aeronautical circles all over the world, and to have the experience of travelling under their patronage is a privilege that can never be forgotten.
Chapter 14
Farewell to Nightingale Road
In 1978 I made my last nostalgic trip down Nightingale Road, Derby. It seemed not to have changed much in the forty years since I walked along it to start my new career in aero engines with Rolls-Royce. Gone was my smart commissionaire at the main entrance, as I turned in at the familiar gate and entered the old Engineering Block.
I suppose I expected to see therein the ghosts of Elliott, Ellor, Barrington, Rubbra, Lovesey and Horace Percival Smith, walking along the corridors or in their old offices. I wanted to try to conjure up the memory of those anxious, frightening but exciting days of 1940, when the fate of Great Britain and its Empire stood in the gravest danger. And above all I wanted to remember the great camaraderie and team spirit that existed throughout the factory as we all laboured long hours, seven days a week, responding to the call of the Royal Air Force for more, more and more Merlin engines for Spitfires and Hurricanes.
But it was not to be. The internal geometry of the place had been completely changed. Gone were the large drawing offices where the aero engines and the motor cars were designed, and gone were the peripheral offices that had housed the great men of my early days. I could not even find the exact spot where my first little office had been, and sadly I turned back and left the building, my feelings numbed and flat.
Yet this was the most famous factory in the world, where the great reputation for Rolls-Royce excellence had been established, and where the aura of the magic of the name had been nurtured. It had been the nerve centre, from which the instructions emanated to the hundreds of subcontracting firms all over the country that poured in the parts to make the Merlin programme possible.
But in 1978 there was a strange quietness. Gone was the roar of Merlins, which in 1940 sang twenty-four hours a day as they were subjected to their final test before being dispatched to the Battle of Britain. It now seemed unbelievable that here, at Nightingale Road, was made every engine that fought for that historic victory, long before the great factories at Crewe, Glasgow and Manchester, and Packard at Detroit, were built. These hallowed buildings, which for fifty years had housed the pride of Rolls-Royce, were now nothing but a manufacturing centre doing the bidding of the huge new headquarters a mile away on Sinfin Moor.
But there was one ghost that nothing could lay for me: the memory of Hs sitting at the centre of this now forlorn factory, directing, co-ordinating and inspiring everyone to greater efforts, never relaxing his relentless pressure and encouraging words.
I did not have the heart to climb up to his old office, but I did go into the main hall to see the stained-glass window, and to read again the moving words: “This window commemorates the pilots of the Royal Air Force who in the Battle of Britain turned the work of our hands into the salvation of our country”.
Glossary
afterburning See reheat.
axial compressor A compressor having the form of a drum, carrying many small radial blades (see stage) and rotating about the central axis, there being a row of fixed blades (called stators or vanes) between each two rows of moving blades. The compressed fluid enters at one end and flows parallel to the axis of rotation.
boost pressure Excess pressure, over and above that of a datum (usually that of the local atmosphere), resulting from the air or mixture in a piston-engine induction manifold being compressed by a supercharger.
boundary layer The layer of fluid (such as air) in contact with, or close to, a solid surface such as an engine inlet wall or an aircraft wing. Because air is viscous the layers of air slide over each other until at the surface the molecules of the fluid are at rest (measured relative to the surface).
bypass ratio In a turbofan engine the BPR is the numerical ratio of the cold mass flow to the hot mass flow, in other words the ratio of the cool airflow discharged from the fan duct to the gas flow discharged from the core jetpipe.
centrifugal compressor A rotary compressor in the form of a disc carrying radial vanes to accelerate the compressed fluid radially outwards to leave the periphery moving at high speed (which the diffuser then partly converts into high pressure).
CG, centre of gravity The point in a solid body through which the resultant force (acceleration) of gravity acts, irrespective of orientation.
detonation Extremely rapid and violent combustion (essentially, explosion) of the mixture in a piston engine resulting from a combination of high compression ratio or supercharger boost pressure with fuel of inferior octane number.
diffuser A fixed duct, often containing curved vanes to guide the flow, through which a fluid is increased in pressure at the expense of reduced velocity. For subsonic flow the duct has to expand from inlet to outlet.
drag Loosely, air resistance; in cruising flight the total aircraft drag is balanced by the total engine thrust.
Fir-tree root Turbine ro
tor blades are often held in the disc by a root-shaped like a fir-tree, each branch of which diffuses the stress into the disc.
HP High pressure; in a two-spool jet engine the HP spool is much smaller than the LP spool, and may have to be made of heat-resistant material.
lift/drag ratio Ratio of the lift, which always must be sufficient to balance the aircraft weight, to the total aerodynamic drag.
LP Low pressure; in a turbofan the LP spool is often the same thing as the fan.
M Mach number.
Mach number Ratio of actual speed to the local speed of sound, expressed as a decimal fraction (note: the local speed of sound varies as the square root of the fluid’s absolute temperature).
mass flow In any clearly bounded fluid flow, such as that through a jet engine, the total mass of fluid passing in unit time (in Imperial measures, expressed in lb/s, pounds per second).
octane number Also called octane value, octane rating or PN (performance number), a standard numerical scale for expressing the resistance of a hydrocarbon fuel to detonation in a piston engine, ranging from 0 through 100 (pure iso-octane) up to about 150.
pressure ratio Ratio of the pressure at the delivery of a compressor to that at its inlet. The p.r. can be measured across a single axial stage, or a complete spool or the entire multi-spool system of an engine. Equivalent to the compression ratio of a piston engine.
Not Much of an Engineer Page 28
