“Too much of a good thing, sir?”
“Luckily I first tried, carefully, at four thousand feet. I came out of the stall at one thousand. I did not care to experiment further.”
Tommy knew that de Havilland was an experienced and competent pilot; not his own match, but few were. If de Havilland had needed three thousand feet to regain control, then many ordinary pilots would never have managed at all; the winglets had been killers.
He took off cautiously; de Havilland had told him that the DH1 climbed comfortably at three hundred feet a minute, which was fast for a pusher, but he kept to a peaceable two hundred, listening and getting the feel of the machine. It was demanding, insisted on being flown. The BE2c particularly would ignore air-currents and updraughts, simply bumping and then resuming her posture in the air; the DH1 had to be actively returned to her climb. In motoring terms, it was the difference between the sporting Sunbeam and the stolid Lanchester.
He took the machine up to four thousand feet over Hendon and proceeded to make a series of turns and banks, each a little greater than the previous. Provided that he was concentrating wholly on what he was doing, the machine would behave perfectly; in France, when he had to keep a lookout for other machines in formation with him and for the enemy as well, it would be no easy aeroplane to fly.
He brought her down in a series of dives, pushing the machine to its limits, trying to discover those limits; when he was fighting he would wish to dive on the enemy, put a burst of machine-gun fire into its tail and then dive away and zoom to repeat the process. It might be embarrassing were the wings to fold up and drop away.
The dives went well enough, but attempts to bank and zoom resulted in determined attempts to fall into a spin, averted only because he was waiting for the very first indication that she would fall off. He found he was sweating as he landed, which was a surprise for a January day.
A Deadly Caper
Chapter Three
“The DH1 is under-powered, sir, as you know. I don’t like the vertical stabiliser and rudder, either; it needs two, perhaps three square feet of extra surface, sir. If you can get the bigger engine, then a strengthening of the wings will make sense. It will make a very good advanced trainer as it stands, sir, rudder excepted. Pilots who have gone solo and who need then another hundred hours before they can go to France will benefit from flying an unstable machine such as yours. It could be used to chase German reconnaissance machines out of the air as it is. It is just fast enough to be useful, but it climbs too slowly to be ideal.”
“Harsh, Tommy, but much as other pilots have said. I had hoped that you might tell me that a pilot of outstanding quality could do more with it.”
“Not as it stands, sir. Two choices, I believe, sir. One possibility is to get a bigger engine, convert the front cockpit into a bomb carrier and use it for bombardment purposes. But it would be better to develop it as a single seater, sir; that is what I would do, sir, if it was my choice. A lot of work to do to bring the centre of gravity forward, of course, but you could shorten the bathtub and increase the size of the petrol tank, as well as fix a Lewis within reach of the pilot so that he can change the ammunition pan in flight. A carrier for four ammunition pans as well.”
“There is a development of the Lewis in hand at the moment to increase the pans to nearly one hundred rounds.”
“Good. Still carry four if possible, sir. The three-o-three is a light round and it must need a good few to bring a large reconnaissance or bombardment machine down.”
“How do you navigate without an observer, Tommy?”
“Learn the ground, sir. Study the maps and watch the terrain. I would expect the pursuit scout commonly to be in company with the reconnaissance machines as escort, so they can do the hard work of finding where they should be more often than not. Failing that, the pilot will generally be in sight of the trenches and will know which side he should be.”
The opinion in the factory generally was that Tommy was right; they would make their drawings and perform the calculations and build the prototype of the single-seater DH2 – but they were at a loss to find an engine for it.
“Rolls-Royce hope to be producing engines within a few months, and in some numbers, but they are delayed by having to design and build magnetos for themselves. They habitually imported all that they used, from Germany; they will not simply copy the German models, for that would be to infringe patents which is wrong and would put them in trouble after the war ended. Beardmore are still too small to churn out the numbers of engines needed. Green is also small, and has Army orders as well. Anzani are expanding – ‘soon’. We are talking with a maker in America, but we would have to get around their neutrality laws – which will take time and a bit of fiddling and finding the right people to pay-off. The Spanish people are as good a hope as any; we might be able to set up a factory in England to build Hispano-Suizas under licence, but we are short of engineers and skilled workers to actually man the production line. A year, at least, before we could send a single-seater across to France in any numbers.”
“By that time the Germans might have produced something better, sir.”
De Havilland agreed that might well be the case, but suggested that would not matter too much.
“The Prussian is not the stuff that provides fliers, you know, Tommy. The horse-riding sportsman is an Englishman, you know, and that is what pilots are made of! The man who plays the game, that is what we need in the air, and do you think the Prussian understands the very concept?”
Tommy swore to himself and spoke very patiently.
“I was the best pilot in Three Squadron, sir, not for courage or anything like that, but simply for skill in the air. Mostly because I learned as a boy – far too young, as you know.”
De Havilland, who had known his father, had a very good idea of Tommy’s true age.
“I can ride, of course, sir, but I have never played a game in my life! The next best men in the squadron, the ones to pick when judgement and sense and ability to assess a situation was required, were sergeants who had been taken out of the hangars and given the chance to fly as observers and then to sit in the business seat. They became officers, of course, and they might have kicked a football about – the round ball, that is – but they were not sportsmen and I don’t think either has sat a horse, sir. A pilot needs fast hands and good eyesight and a lot of common sense, sir, and I think those attributes will be found in Germany and France and Austria and Russia, as well as in England. The man sat in the faster machine with the better climb and turn will beat the sportsman in an inferior aeroplane every time, sir.”
“I am not sure I agree, Tommy. But one thing I know for certain is that you must never make that statement in the hearing of Brigadier Sykes, Tommy, or of Henderson! You would never fly again, I suspect!”
That threat was sufficiently drastic to cow Tommy; he promised never to open his mouth carelessly in the future.
Two days with the DH1 told him that it was a machine that could be used in France – for a few months. It would quickly become obsolete, he thought. De Havilland agreed; it would be better to concentrate on a single-seater rather than waste steel and aluminium on the DH1.
Tommy went home for the weekend rather disturbed by what he had seen. There was a war, but the aeroplane manufacturers were still no bigger or more efficient than they had been in the days of peace. He received a telegram on the Saturday instructing him to report to the Royal Aircraft Factory on Monday.
“Good morning, Captain Stark! I am told that you are one of the leading pilots in this country, one of the dozen who can give an opinion on a flying machine and be relied upon.”
Tommy knew of Mr O’Gorman, the Irish-born engineer, reported to be renowned for intelligence, ability and irascibility; a man who knew better, it was said.
“I will tell you how a machine flies, sir, and whether I could do a particular job with it. More than that, I will not venture, because I am a pilot, sir, not a designer, and not a s
trategist either.”
“I am pleased to hear that, Captain Stark. The bulk of pilots I have met have known precisely how the war should be fought and the best ways of winning it; they have also known exactly what an aeroplane should do.”
“I can tell you what I would like an aeroplane to do, Mr O’Gorman. But, I am no engineer, sir, and do not know what is, or is not, possible in the current state of knowledge. I am given to understand as well that there is a practical limitation imposed by the lack of engines and magnetos and spark plugs, and of trained engineers and mechanics in the country. All at second hand, sir – because I know how to fly a machine, not how to build one. My father was an engineer, and I can recall him being frustrated by the limitations imposed on him by the engines available, and the lack of specialist steels and the slow supply of duralumin and of bearings of the specification he required. I cannot imagine that any of these problems will have eased in the past year, sir.”
Tommy had been warned that O’Gorman was of uncertain temper – though he had also been told by others that much of the feeling against the man was no more than the English prejudice against the comic-book Paddy. It was wiser, he thought, to tread very carefully until he had come to know him and make his own decision.
“They have not, Captain Stark, and they have been worsened by the proliferation of manufacturers with their insistence each on producing their own models. It would be far better were they simply to make an agreed aeroplane, designed by a committee of the best in the country and properly organised from the centre.”
Tommy thought that O’Gorman regarded himself as the centre in question.
“We have the Bleriot Experimental for reconnaissance, in the RE form as well, and the Farman Experimental and the Scout Experimental which will provide the fighting escort that may be required. There are others in development that will be designed for bombardment, Captain Stark. We need no more!”
“I suspect, sir, purely from the flier’s perspective, that it will be useful to have single-seaters as well as twins. They will be lighter and more manoeuvrable, sir, and thus able to counter anything the enemy offers. From the little I have seen in France, there is a need for a pursuit aeroplane as well as an escort. Talking with French officers, sir, they are much of that opinion. Particularly, the Army will wish to drive German observation machines away from their people – and we must endeavour to keep the generals sweet, sir.”
“No man on Earth could achieve that last, Captain Stark! You may have a point, sir. You have flown Major de Havilland’s machine, I believe.”
Tommy admitted that he had.
“I am told that he has it in mind to produce a second version which will be a single-seater.”
“He has, sir. Given a larger engine, then it is probable that his new aeroplane will serve as a pursuit craft. I have to say, however, that the pusher configuration is not suited for high speed, and if one cannot catch the enemy then there is very little one can do in the way of driving him off.”
“My thoughts exactly, Captain Stark! The need is to produce a tractor, a puller not a pusher, with a machine-gun capable of firing forwards by means of an interruptor gearing. Production of a single seat pursuit machine is pointless until that first aim is achieved. The effect will be to waste scarce resources on the production of inadequate machines. I am glad you agree with me, sir.”
Tommy was not sure that he had agreed, but Mr O’Gorman was a thrustful and strong personality who had overridden far more experienced men than him; he subsided into silence.
“What do you say to the BE2 series, Captain Stark?”
“Slow and unarmed, sir. To survive they must have a more powerful engine to allow them to fly faster and higher and carry a gun. They are excellent simply for the purpose of observation, but they will not live in the air against an enemy equipped with a quick-firing weapon. The German Army possesses a Parabellum, a light machine-gun comparable to the Lewis; if they manage to put that aboard an aeroplane then the BE2 will die.”
“An escort will be the answer, do you agree, Captain Stark?”
“If you will produce two escorts, and the skilled pilots for them, for each BE, then yes, sir. But even then, if the escorts are ambushed, the BE2 is left exposed and unable to defend itself.”
“It is war, Captain Stark. We must all take risks!”
That was indisputable, but Tommy wondered precisely what risks Mr O’Gorman was taking at Farnborough.
“We produce very few aeroplanes here, prototypes only, Captain Stark, but there are FEs in the development in the factory. You might wish to give an opinion.”
“I shall be very pleased to do so, sir, but you must understand that I am a pilot and no more than that. I can fly a machine and tell you how it might be bettered, or quite possibly inform you that it is a menace, a useless death-trap, but I can do very little on the ground other than say that I do or do not like the looks of a prototype. I will say, sir, that I do not like the rotary engine as a general rule – it is unpleasant in its effects on the pilot. My father told me as well that he believed that the rotary was efficient when small but that the attempt to get more than perhaps two hundred horse power would lead to something he called ‘diminishing returns’, which probably will mean more to you than to me.”
“Yes… it might well. The thing is, Captain Stark, that your rotary spins around a fixed crankshaft, as you must know. To an extent, the greater the number of cylinders, and the larger they are, the more powerful is the engine. We typically use nine cylinders now, but if we were to choose more or larger, then the engine would grow heavier, possibly out of ratio to the increased power… I wonder…”
O’Gorman remained silent for a minute or so, then nodded decisively.
“I must sit down with the mathematics, Captain Stark, but I think your father may be right, and friction would be an increasing element in the equations as well. Wiser then to develop in-line or Vee configurations for our engines. I would much like to speak with your father, Captain Stark.”
“He stalled in at Brooklands a year ago, sir.”
“Oh, I am so sorry, Captain Stark! I tend not to notice things in the newspapers, being so busy here, and with motoring and my photography as well…”
“It is of no matter, sir. One cannot either see or remember every newspaper headline, and often it is desirable that one should not, bearing in mind the gutters that so many of the press crawl in!”
“Well said, sir!”
O’Gorman had suffered from the ‘irresponsible’ writing of journalists, so he said.
They made their way into the small factory, more of a developmental workshop than a place to actually produce aeroplanes.
“Mr Busk does much of the design work, but he is not to hand today, I am afraid. This is our latest idea for the FE, Captain Stark.”
Tommy inspected the machine in horror; it was a monster, half again as large as the de Havilland but essentially of the same configuration. The observer sat in a front cockpit that was much lower than the pilot’s and there were three mountings for a Lewis Gun, as in the DH1, but there was no more than a low coaming for him to lean against.
“We believe that the observer/gunner will be able to stand and lean out to fire down and to an extent behind him. It will be possible as well for the pilot to have a fixed Lewis Gun of his own, to fire over the gunner’s head, thus making it possible to engage two aeroplanes at once.”
“Blind behind, sir.”
“Unfortunately, yes – a fault shared with the Vickers Farman type, of course, and I suspect with Major de Havilland’s machine. A more powerful engine and it might become possible to fix a gun to face to the rear, though how it might be aimed is another question. We have the Beardmore one hundred and twenty fitted in the prototype; other engines may become available. What is your opinion of stability, Captain Stark?”
“Against it, sir. A fighting machine must want to stunt, sir, and must, of course, have a pilot who can do so.”
“Po
ssibly… What if a much greater gun could be fitted? A two-pound cannon, perhaps?”
“Aiming, sir, and reloading, might be difficult. Worth trying, particularly if one wishes to shoot at Zeppelins. A two pounder would fire an explosive shell, would it not?”
“It would, and, as you say, no Zeppelin could stand a single hit from such a weapon. The hydrogen would certainly ignite.”
Tommy was inclined to be cautious; he much doubted that they could carry a two-pounder high enough and with sufficient speed to reach a Zeppelin, especially in the ponderous monster in front of him.
“Have you given thought to a larger calibre machine-gun, sir? A half-inch round, possibly tipped with phosphorous, or something similar, might be a better bet. Reloading a two-pounder in flight will not be easy, and the gun will be heavy. The machine-gun has the advantage of having several uses, sir – including perhaps attacking troops on the ground. Single two-pounder shells will do little harm to a battalion in the field.”
Mr O’Gorman was not too pleased at the suggestion; it was his part to have the ideas and the fliers could evaluate them.
“Why phosphorous, Captain Stark?”
“I hope it might show at night, sir, when the Zeppelins will be more likely to come.”
“Good point. I do not know about a half-inch machine-gun though… I will consider it. What is your general opinion of the FE otherwise, Captain Stark?”
“Very big, sir. How capable is it of manoeuvre, sir?”
“A very good question; you must take one up, I think. I shall try to arrange it.”
Tommy was sent home for a few days, told to make himself available to Mr O’Gorman’s call.
Friday saw him at Brooklands, staring dubiously at a FE sat on the grass and awaiting him.
“Two Lewis Guns, fitted, sir, and with ammunition pans for both. Sandbags to the weight of ten stone in the front cockpit, sir, to simulate a gunner or observer.”
A Deadly Caper (Innocents At War Series, Book 2) Page 6
