Part 3

The success of the large, long-distance flying-boat will mark the beginning of the concentration of fixed-wing machines on long-distance routes and the concentration of moving-wing machines on short, distance routes. The fixed-wing machine, finding it has no rival in the large flying-boat type and finding that it has a strong rival in the comparatively small land-going type (that rival being the moving-wing machine) will gradually remove itself from the short air-lines. The position will then be that all short air-lines are run by moving-wing land-going aircraft while all long air-lines are run by fixed-wing sea-going aircraft.

The real air-liner, as distinct from the commercial flying soap-box of to-day, will be an immense sea-going air-vessel. It will be a self-contained town offering greater attractions to the pleasure-seeker than any other kind of small town. When that machine makes its appearance the Air Age will have begun.

V

Before I described the passenger-carrying flying-machine towards which contemporary research-work seems directed, I postulated the freedom of the air for that machine. I stipulated that the statesman and the financier should be gagged and bound. Now that I come to private-flying and air-racing, however, the imagination jibs at the notion of a similar freedom of the air. If the statesman were prevented from meddling with the technical development of the passenger-carrying flying-machine, he would most likely turn with redoubled vigour to the task of controlling, organizing, watching over, regulating, and generally bleeding the private, the record-breaking, and the racing aircraft.

I can, therefore, sketch the future of those machines only as the statesman will direct it.

The small fixed-wing private flying-machine, especially in the amphibian form, will gradually become more and more popular and, as it grows more popular, so the statesman will take more notice of it. His first opportunity for direct action will come when a few people get killed in an accident involving a private aircraft.

Taking advantage of the Press outcry, of the screams of the Safety First societies and of the opportunity for personal aggrandizement, Members of Parliament will pass a Flying-Machine Act.

Among the provisions of this Act will be a 40-miles per hour minimum speed-limit. No heavier-than-air craft will be permitted to fly at a speed of less than 40 miles per hour. It is easy to follow the workings of the official mind in setting this speed-limit. A fixed-wing aircraft crashes not because it goes too fast but because it goes too slowly. Therefore, the statesman will reason, if it is illegal to go too slowly, there will be no more accidents.

Another provision will make it illegal for anyone suffering from nicotine-poisoning to be in charge of a flying-machine. (Prohibition will be established in England by this time, so that no clause about “drunk in charge of a flying-machine” will be necessary.)

Further regulations will make it necessary for every private pilot to pass a medical examination once a month as a condition of his having a pilot’s licence. Having passed this examination, he will be required to wear, while in charge of an aeroplane, two 8-inch metal discs, with a number stamped upon them. One disc will be worn on the left shoulder and the other on the top of the flying-helmet.

The aeroplane, in addition to its letter markings on wings and fuselage, will be required to exhibit three plaques bearing identification-numbers. One will be on the centre section, one on the undercarriage, and one on the port side of the fuselage. The aeroplane will also carry metropolitan or county police markings on four tablets of given size, besides markings of the appropriate local council on plates of certain specified dimensions, and small circular pieces of paper contained in approved holders on the rear port interplane-strut (or wing-tip in the case of a monoplane), the rear starboard interplane-strut (or wing-tip) the undercarriage port forward-strut, the tail-fin, the fuselage, and the top plane gravity-tank (if any).

In addition to the pilot’s logbook, machine logbook, engine logbook, pilot’s licence, and airworthiness certificate, there will be a registration-book, travel-triptych, flight-permit, landing-permit, and housing-pass.

These items are, of course, extra to the navigation-lights, wing-tip flares, cockpit-illuminants, parachute-flares, fire-extinguishers, silencers, life-saving parachutes, and other obligatory equipment, such as lifebelts, fire-proof bulkheads, stall-indicators, warning-signals, and Very lights.

These regulations will provide the police with the opportunity of displaying their keen sense of duty. They will ignore the old-fashioned and mundane murders, and will say with Horace Walpole: “Do not wonder that we do not entirely attend to the things of earth; fashion has ascended to a higher element.”

Conceive the vigour and elegance with which they will uphold the 40 m.p.h. minimum speed-limit. What their stopwatches (for they will still use them) and observation lacks in accuracy, they will make up for by the free imagery and sweeping poetic fancy of their evidence in Court.

The pilot who flies while suffering from nicotine-poisoning will be the object of universal opprobrium. His social doom will be sealed when the witness says that his breath _smelt of tobacco_ and that he must have been smoking the same morning. The pilot’s statement that he only had two cigarettes during the previous month will be completely discountenanced.

But the best chance for the police will come when the private moving-wing machine begins to make an appearance. Then will dawn the true constabulary millennium.

The moving-wing machine, as it has been shown, can almost hover and can fly comfortably at five or ten miles per hour. One day a moving-wing machine will pass through a police-trap while its pilot is admiring the countryside or inquiring from his companion where they will stop for lunch.

The pilot will appear in Court charged with flying at less than 40 miles per hour, and there will be a sensation when the detectives disclose that defendant’s speed, which he did not deny, was 8 miles per hour over a measured furlong.

The magistrate will say that, although he had been on that bench for thirty-five years, never in his whole experience, never from the moment that he had accepted those duties, never since the time when he devoted himself to the administration of justice, _never_ had he heard of such a flagrant disregard for the safety of the public. Here was a flying-machine, over a populous area, travelling at 8 miles per hour when everyone knew that a flying-machine gained its lift by virtue of its speed through the air, and that if it travelled at less than forty miles per hour it was liable at any moment to fall upon the heads of the people below.

The pilot might endeavour to explain the technical points in the case. If he did so, his fine would be greater than if he merely pleaded guilty and said no more.

That case will be the signal for a wholesale persecution of moving-wing aircraft-owners. The Home Secretary will issue warnings, magistrates will wish that they could send pilots to prison—in fact there will be the usual process of departmental browbeating which we know so well. The theory that the private flyer will not be summoned for slow flying because there will be moving-wing passenger aircraft also capable of slow flying, does not bear investigation. There are now lorries, motor-buses, charabancs, steam-wagons, and trams which persistently exceed the 20-miles per hour speed limit. They are not prosecuted, nor will the passenger aircraft of the future be prosecuted.

Having given some idea of the delightful future which lies before the private flyer, I will add a few remarks upon air-racing.

After motor-road racing, air-racing is the finest sport yet invented. I give it ten more years life in England.

Before the War air-racing at Hendon was highly successful in that it attracted many entries and large crowds of spectators. Since the War air-racing has been unsuccessful. There are signs, however, that there will soon be a revival of it. Larger and larger crowds will collect to watch it. Special machines will be constructed, the number of entries will increase, continental firms will take part.

Then the statesman will step in and play his part, as he always must when anything becomes popular.

Air-racing is and will remain dangerous. Statesmen and newspapers will discover this and talk about it. Now I am informed upon the best authority that in England no one is allowed to face danger of any kind, whether he wants to or not. The State arranges that all dangers, physical and moral, are kept away from the individual. He may not do, see, hear smell, or taste anything calculated to arouse him from the suety state of mind so highly esteemed by the politician. The Englishman is nursed from birth to death by an army of officials. He is permitted to risk his life only in war.

Air-racing, since it is dangerous, will gradually be stamped out of existence. Air-racing improves the aircraft as a machine-entity; it would have a good effect upon the private flyer’s machine and upon the war-machine. When air-racing has been stopped, therefore, a decline in the quality of the private flying-machine and the service-machine will result.

Air-racing (with which I include record-breaking) is as important to pure aeronautical development as anything else. The history of the Schneider Cup seaplane-race is some indication of the technical advance racing achieves. In 1913 at Monaco the Schnieder Cup, was won by France at 45.4 m.p.h. In 1914 (England) at 86.4 m.p.h., in 1919 (Italy) at 124.9 m.p.h. (This race was declared void). In 1920 (Italy) at 107.2 m.p.h. In 1921 (Italy) at 111.4 m.p.h., in 1922 (England) at 146.1 m.p.h., in 1923 (America) 177.4 m.p.h., in 1925 (America) 234.4 m.p.h. and in 1926 (Italy) at 246.5 m.p.h. (Fig. 3).

[Illustration: _Fig. 3 Schneider Cup_]

The Schneider Cup figures show that the much boasted rapidity of progress in the performance of high-speed aircraft during the War is a myth. During the War, progress was almost completely stopped. Even if the Italian win of 1919 at 124.9 m.p.h. be accepted (and the race was declared void because Janello was not observed at one of the turning-points) the rate of progress compares unfavourably with the rates before and after the War. If, on the other hand, the rate be judged by the accepted wins of 1914 and 1920 then the top speed of seaplanes rose only 20.8 m.p.h. in 6 years against 139.3 m.p.h. in 6 years after the War.

Up to 1926 there has been little sign of a falling off in the rate of progress in high-speed seaplane-design, and a rough estimate, puts the probable speed of the winner in 1928 at 290 m.p.h. and in 1930 at 320 m.p.h.

Record-breaking has a similar effect to racing upon technical development. In 1919 Sir John Alcock and Sir A. Whitten Brown flew the Atlantic non-stop for the first time in a heavier-than-air machine. They covered 1,890 miles in about 16 hours. In 1926 M. Dieudonné Coste and Capitaine Rignot covered 3,400 miles non-stop in 32 hours.

Whatever country takes up and encourages private flying, air-racing and record-breaking will play a big part in the future of the flying-machine.

VI

I see no reason to depart from the forecast of the future military flying-machine which I make in my _Strategy and Tactics of Air Fighting_.

Since the fixed-wing machine will probably retain a slightly superior performance over the moving-wing machine (although it is fair to Señor de la Cierva to add that some of the best mathematicians find on theoretical calculation that the moving-wing aircraft should be equal in all-round performance to the fixed-wing type), it is likely that, excepting a proportion of army co-operation machines and a small proportion of night-bombers the moving-wing machine will not in the future be used in large numbers for war purposes.

Before constructing the machine of the future, let us go to the R.A.F. annual Display, and refusing to be fascinated by the intricate shape of the breeches worn by officers and men, let us examine an experimental single-seater fighter of the present. When in the air the machine is remarkable only for the undercarriage-struts and wheels which hang below the fuselage. They look like a labourer’s hands in the drawing-room, they are sturdy but, in the air, they do not seem to know what to do with themselves, they are in unaccustomed surroundings.

Let this machine be compared with the gull. I use the gull for these comparisons because it is common and easily observed and so provides an accessible model. Indeed, it was the gull which instructed Mr A. V. Roe and helped him to become, on June 8th, 1908, the first man to fly over British soil. The experimental single-seater fighter at the R.A.F. Display has very few characteristics of which any bird need be ashamed. One of these characteristics, however, is undoubtedly its undercarriage. The gull folds up its undercarriage when it is in the air; it lets it down only when it is about to land.

But now compare the experimental machine with one of the standard machines in an R.A.F. squadron. The standard service-machine looks as if it has got into the hands of an accessory fiend, one of those who believe that the part is greater than the whole. It is so cluttered up with odds and ends, so cut about, modified, added to, and altered that it resembles no other flying-machine, animal or artificial. It is a sort of winged Air Ministry, a receptacle full of interesting information about everything but the air.

Since this mania for encumbering service-machines is only a superficial failing, it is possible, after remarking it, to go direct to the service-machine of the future.

There is first a new type to be noted, the aerial artillery-machine. This will be a large multi-engined monoplane carrying a single medium-sized gun and a few rounds of ammunition. It will be able to direct close range gunfire from the air at important ground-objectives. The advantage of the aerial big gun over the bomb will be in accuracy, the advantage of the bomb over the aerial big gun will be in the great weight of projectile made possible by the absence of any heavy launching-apparatus like a gun. The height of the aeroplane acts on the bomb as the explosive charge on the projectile. But at long ranges the bomb, with the newest sights and under the best conditions, is inaccurate, and at short ranges its velocity is low. The aerial big gun permits ground-objectives and ships to be attacked at short range with projectiles travelling at a high velocity.

The success of low-flying attacks by machine-guns in the late War was a sufficient demonstration of the potentialities of the low-altitude gun-attack from the air. Experiments were made long ago in mounting small guns in aeroplanes and in arranging for the absorption of the recoil. Against other aircraft the aerial big gun would not be used. In aerial fighting weight of projectile is of less importance than rate of fire.

The night-bombing machine of the future will be an immense flying-boat. It is likely that this type will also be used for day bombing. If so, it will be heavily armed with machine-guns and will not go out without a strong screen and escort of fighting machines.

The fighting aeroplane will be particularly interesting. It will be a small monoplane without external bracing-wires or struts and the undercarriage will be retractable. It will carry one man, and will be an all-metal machine mounting a gas-turbine of some 1,000 h.p.

Performance-figures must be the wildest guess work, because the closest examination of the trend of research gives but small information on the probable rates of progress in speed and climb. Mr A. V. Roe has frequently stated his belief that the future flying-machine will attain 1,000 miles per hour. I will, therefore, give my fighter of this generation 400 miles per hour, 800 miles per hour in the dive, a climb to 20,000 feet in 4 minutes, and a service-ceiling (the height at which the rate of climb falls below 100 feet per minute) of 60,000 feet.

In order that the fighter may operate at high altitudes, and in order that it may be able to change height suddenly by diving or climbing steeply, the pilot will be housed in a pressure-cockpit, from which he will look through a streamline conning-tower made in some transparent material. Unless he were enclosed in some such pressure-chamber or pressure-suit, the pilot would be unable to withstand the cold and the reduced pressure of extreme altitudes, and the sudden changes in temperature and pressure, when the machine was climbing or diving. Pressure-suits are now being experimented with in France and probably elsewhere.

Oxygen would be supplied to the pressure-chamber and an emergency oxygen-apparatus would provide against the chamber being pierced by a bullet. Some form of dessicating apparatus would be essential to prevent the transparent conning-tower from fogging up. The fewest accessories would be carried by these fighters of the future.

In general military aircraft will be more specialized than they are to-day, there will be no many-purpose machines. Instead, the number of specialist machines will steadily increase. In addition to the aerial big guns, there will be flying-tanks or lightly armoured low-flying machines for attacks on ground-targets. These will be developed from the “Salamander”, “Vampire”, and other armoured aircraft introduced during the late War.

Armour for fighting and bombing-aircraft will not be employed for many years. The gunners on the large flying-boat bombers, however, will be provided with small shields.

Perhaps a general idea of the future of the flying-machine in war may best be given by quoting a newspaper report of a day air-attack on London in the next war.

I cut the headlines and start with Our Special Correspondent, who, with the printer’s assistance, has, if I may be permitted to say so, trodden on it through all four gears:

“The greatest air-raid in history was launched on London yesterday evening by a formation estimated at between six and seven hundred aeroplanes.

“For nearly two hours the earth shook to the thunder of the guns, while far up in the blue vault of Heaven there was the flash of wheeling wings, as the heroic pilots of the Royal Air Force plunged again and again to the attack.

“Never before has the heart of the Empire been the objective of so powerful and so determined an offensive, never before have the British air-forces so covered themselves with glory.

“Owing to the vigorous defence which met the raiders as they neared London, casualties are low. Official figures have not yet been issued, but it is thought that fewer than 1,000 people were killed while only some 7,000 were wounded.

“FIRST WARNING.

“The raiders were first reported by the ‘concrete ears’ or wireless disc and super-sensitive microphone sentries which encircle the coast. A large formation (there was much doubt as to the number of machines) was said to be approaching Southampton, and with the exception of three emergency squadrons, every R.A.F. fighting-aeroplane rushed to the attack.

“As our machines, sweeping through the freezing blue of the great altitudes, approached the raiders, the raiders turned and made off at full speed. Our machines bent on reaching the enemy, tore after them.

“It was at this moment that ominous news came through. A second hostile formation, far larger than the first, had been detected approaching the East coast south of Harwich.

“Nearly the whole of the defending airforce was far away: London’s bosom was bared to the attack.

“The new formation—first given as 400 machines but later corrected to 600—was in four great layers and flying at 170 miles per hour.

“The three emergency R.A.F. squadrons, numbering 54 machines of an old type with five or six experimental machines from Martlesham Heath and Farnborough, went up at once and hurled themselves at the vast enemy formation.

“THREE TO ONE ODDS.

“The second layer of the hostile formation, which consisted of about 150 long-distance fighters, engaged them. A furious battle ensued, while the remainder of the hostile fleet, aerial big guns, flying-boat bombers, and, at an extreme altitude, a further batch of long-distance fighters, continued on their way towards London.

“The old R.A.F. machines were literally butchered by the whip-lashes of lead which cracked and curled from the small-calibre stream-fire enemy guns. One of our machines had both its wings cut off and fell to the ground with such force that the airscrew-boss was buried 18 feet in the earth.

“Meanwhile wireless messages had reached the R.A.F. formation, which had been drawn off by the feint attack on Southampton. _They had turned and were tearing to the rescue at 350 miles per hour._

“The two big formations were in sight of each other when the enemy was about 20 miles south west of Chelmsford. At this time there was no active opposition to the invaders in the air. Anti-aircraft batteries, however, were blackening the sky with shells, and had succeeded in bringing down two enemy machines.

“There seemed now no hope that London would escape the full force of the attack. Already two ten-ton wireless-controlled flying-bombs had struck the city. Even so there was little panic. The gas-mask distribution had worked well, and no one was unprovided. The usual shelters were made full use of, but many people, against the orders of the police, remained in the streets anxiously looking skywards and listening to the almost continuous tear and roar of the guns.

“ANXIOUS MOMENTS.

“For some reason the news that the first hostile formation had retired had not come through on the wireless. And, since no one knew that far the greater part of the R.A.F. defending forces had gone in pursuit of that formation or that the emergency squadrons had been cut to pieces, a good deal of uneasiness prevailed among the watchers.

“Where are the R.A.F. fighters? was the question uppermost in everyone’s mind.

“As the noise of the guns grew louder and seemed to vibrate and echo among the houses, considerable alarm was displayed. There were one or two ugly scenes, and some women and children were trampled to death in raid shelters at Hoxton and Liverpool Street.

“A quarter of an hour before dusk the two lower layers of the hostile formation were sighted by some people who had been foolish enough to take up positions on the roof of the _Daily Post_ offices in Fleet Street. Only the trained eyes of the anti-aircraft spotters aided by the new visual detection instruments could distinguish the upper layers.

“Still there was no sign of our aeroplanes. The stories of those irresponsible alarmists who, in books and articles, have prophesied as far back as 1927 that London would be wiped out by aerial attack, seemed likely to prove too true. Excitement among the watchers gave way to a certain grimness. Then came a change in the situation.

“‘What’s that?’

“THE BATTLE JOINED.

“Someone was pointing immediately overhead. Nothing could at first be distinguished in the blue sky; then someone else waved excitedly.

“‘Yes, I caught a glimpse.’

“Just then the light of the setting sun glinted momentarily on some infinitesimal speck like a minute silver fish, rushing through the air at a great height. No one dared to express the hopes which they felt.

“A moment later what looked at first like a small red rose sprang into being high up over the enemy, high over the smoke-blackened sky where the anti-aircraft shells were bursting. Then it fell, like a flaming bomb. There was fighting going on up there, out of sight, in the upper air.

“Still the lower hostile layers came on through the roar and shock of the anti-aircraft fire. They were already over the outskirts of London. Something else fell from above twisting horribly. The white of parachutes drifting fantastically could be observed through high-powered glasses.