Part 11

Having toured France quite recently, an expert thus describes the activities at the French flying schools. "Those who are not directly in touch with the various Government departments cannot estimate how many airmen there are at work. Flying schools seem to be springing up everywhere. Depots are being established all over the country. Officers are flying from place to place every day. To see a military machine, carrying a pilot and observer, passing swiftly overhead, is now quite a common sight. Orders are being received almost daily at the military camps, instructing a machine to set forth upon a reconnoitring flight, or to carry a dispatch from one camp to another.

"It is the thoroughness, and the business-like way in which this work is done, that are so impressive. An order for a reconnoitring flight is received. Promptly the officer and his observer prepare themselves. The aeroplane, properly tuned up, is all ready, and is quickly wheeled from its shed. They mount to their places, and are away.

"Directly afterwards, perhaps, another machine is ordered out. In the early days of flying, one was prepared for a delay of several hours when an airman set out upon anything like a long flight. His engine had to be tuned up with laborious care; there were a hundred and one details that had been forgotten, and had to be put right after the machine had been brought out of its shed. Now, contrast this wearisome delay with the promptitude of the French officer-airmen. There is no feverish rush and bustle at the commencement of a flight. The propeller is turned; the motor fires at once; and the machine takes the air.

"This, of course, is the direct fruit of training. This familiarity with machines, and with the routine of flying, is the reward which France is already gaining for her devotion to military aviation, and her unsparing efforts to make her service thoroughly efficient.

"The way in which the aeroplanes are kept in trim, and the cool, alert manner in which they are handled, come as revelations to a man who has only seen the machinery of flight as it is in operation at an ordinary flying school. Particularly is one impressed by the skill, and good organisation, among the engineer-mechanics at the military stations.

"The use of the aeroplane, for purposes of war, necessitates a vast amount of training for every unit engaged in the aerial work, and, without such training, nothing in the nature of real success can be attained."

This tribute provides an indication of the practicability of the military training now proceeding in France. Efficiency is, indeed, the constant watchword. Operating with a war weapon that is new and strange, the French military authorities have already worked wonders; and their success is due to the organisation they have been able to introduce at their flying schools.

Very carefully considered, in every way, is the course of instruction through which an officer-airman is called upon to pass. The aim is to make him proficient in every respect. For military purposes, it is not sufficient for an officer to be, say, a fine "fancy" flyer, and ignorant in regard to engines, or a skilled engineer and an indifferent pilot. He must be a thoroughly all-round man.

II. How the military airman is "schooled"—His course of instruction described.

The novice who comes to the French military schools is given a course of general tuition. He is first brought to study flying in its broad aspect, and not as regards detail. This period of general "schooling" may last for two or three months, during which the beginner makes it his business to study aeroplanes, and their motors, very carefully. He acquaints himself, for example, with the method of control employed in the various machines.

Then, as regards motors, he has much to occupy him. He will take an interesting engine like the "Gnome," for instance, and make himself thoroughly conversant with all its details. The value of such preliminary work is often shown subsequently when, perhaps, an officer may be stranded some distance from Headquarters with a jibbing engine.

Instead of being helpless in such circumstances, his previous period of tuition stands him in good stead, and he is able to run over his motor with an expert eye, and so discover the little defect which may be causing all the trouble.

Apart from the "Gnome," there are other makes of engine in the aviation school to which the pupil may direct his attention, with good results. Thus the novice acquires a general knowledge regarding aeroplanes and their motive power, and prepares himself for the second stage of his tuition.

This resolves itself into a series of flights, which end in his taking control of an aeroplane himself. But, first of all, he takes his place in the passenger-seat of a military machine, and is piloted round the aerodrome by an officer-instructor of proved skill. For his first few flights, the beginner merely sits in the machine, and accustoms himself to the novel experience of being in an aeroplane.

This first acquaintance with flight generally proves confusing. The engine of an aeroplane makes a din which is trying to the novice. Then the pace of the machine, when it moves across the ground, and the rapidity with which it soars in flight, are confusing, also.

It is, therefore, a sound policy to allow a beginner to make several trips with an experienced officer, before he attempts to control a machine himself. By so doing, the pupil has an opportunity of getting over his first bewilderment, and contrives to be in a fairly cool and collected frame of mind when his turn comes to assume control of the levers.

After several trial journeys have been made, and the novice is no longer embarrassed by the strangeness of his position, he is allowed, by his instructor, to exercise temporary command over the aeroplane while it is in flight. This is accomplished by means of a dual control; a set of levers are before the pilot, and another in front of the pupil.

The former, after warning his charge to be ready, relinquishes his hold upon the levers, and the pupil takes charge of the machine. The instructor, of course, keeps a keen eye upon the behaviour of the machine; should the pupil make an error, the pilot is able to rectify it before there is any chance of an accident.

By this admirably practical system, a pupil can be led to a satisfactory state of proficiency without risk, either to himself or to his instructor. After he has controlled the machine, for a spell, during straight flights, he is given the opportunity of making a turn in the air.

This operation requires the exercise of skill and judgment. Apart from moving the rudder, or rudders, which send the machine round, the pilot needs to operate his "ailerons," or wing-warping device, as the case may be, in order to "bank" the machine over, and so facilitate the turning movement.

As soon as he shows sufficient skill in controlling an aeroplane, while with a pilot, the pupil is given an opportunity of flying by himself. As a rule, his previous tuition has been so valuable to him that he finds little difficulty in performing a solo flight, and so prepares himself for the obtaining of his certificate from the French Aero Club.

This certificate of proficiency is obtained by making a series of flights before official observers, and in maintaining a certain altitude, while so doing. A descent has also to be made with the engine of the machine stopped, so as to demonstrate the pilot’s ability to effect a _vol plané_.

In the case of a civilian airman, the passing of this test is considered sufficient evidence of his ability to control a machine; but, as regards French military airmen, a greater degree of proficiency is required. Therefore, when he has acquired his Aero Club certificate, the officer-airman has to prepare himself for another ordeal.

The French military authorities demand that he should make a long flight across country, that he should remain in the air for a couple of hours without descending, and that he should demonstrate his capabilities by piloting his machine in a fairly-high wind.

After this, he is regarded as a man well qualified to study the actual work to be undertaken by an airman in war-time. The next stage, as a matter of fact, is in learning to observe over a given tract of country.

In this test of his skill, a superior officer indicates for him an aerial route, which covers a fairly-wide district in the vicinity of the air-station. The pupil flies over this, and, on his return, presents a report upon what he has seen while in the air.

This report—which deals with roads, railways, and the general characteristics of the country—is examined by his chief, who points out in whatever way it might have been improved, probably in the direction of military precision, or in the statement of more detail. Then the pupil flies over the same, or another route, on another day; and so on.

No pains are spared to make him acquainted with his work. It is an axiom, at the French schools, that a pilot should be so accustomed to flying that the actual manipulation of his machine becomes mechanical. When such skill is attained, the airman is free to devote his mind to whatever work is on hand; but such a state of proficiency can only be acquired in one way—and that is by constant flying.

After he has become accustomed to observing from his machine while it is in flight, the pupil is set a variety of other tasks, at the discretion of his instructors. He is, for example, detailed to fly across country from point to point, bearing a message, and to return with another dispatch. Cross-country journeys, from one flying school to another, are also encouraged.

In this way, by actual practice in the manipulation of his machine, and in the carrying out of tasks such as he would be set in time of war, the pupil gains skill and confidence, and eventually becomes a thoroughly well-trained and proficient member of the air-corps.

III. Rules for training—Dummy aeroplanes—A pupil’s first "hops."

Some admirable hints, as to the methods which should be adopted in teaching airmen, have been given by foreign military experts.

An officer of great experience, for instance, declares it essential that the pupil should first devote himself to a theoretical and practical apprenticeship in regard to aeroplane motors. He should, he also declares, be called upon to detect the reason for any stoppages intentionally caused by the instructor.

This officer also advocates the driving of motor-cars, at high speed, as a useful preliminary stage for intending military airmen, holding that such rapid driving gives a man a judgment of pace and distance which he would not otherwise possess.

It is contended, also, by other authorities, that ascents in free balloons are of value, as a preliminary to actual aeroplaning. Such ascents, in the opinion of these experts, help a man to gauge heights, and so prove of value to him in subsequent tests with aeroplanes.

While doing a brief course of ballooning, the officer can, it is pointed out, study the contour of the ground below him, and can also make himself acquainted, to a certain extent, with the use of maps and compasses. He may also practise aerial photography.

What other practical authorities have found of value, and what they recommend as a stage in the tuition of an officer-airman, is a day or so during which a pupil takes the driving-seat of a military machine, and practises—on the ground—the manipulations which he would have to make were the aeroplane in actual flight.

When the novice is thus in the driving-seat, it is suggested that an instructor should put him through a regular lesson—asking him, for instance, what manipulations of his levers would be necessary to effect a turning movement.

Such a plan is, undoubtedly, of value. Preliminary work of this kind, conducted by a pupil while on the ground, in order to accustom him to the handling of a machine, before actually taking the air, is encouraged at many civilian schools; and, to facilitate such practice, several ingenious machines have been devised. In one of them, the pupil sits in a wooden framework, which is balanced on a pivot, and is equipped with a forward elevating plane, and "ailerons."

When the beginner is ready for a spell of practice, the machine is turned, so that it faces the wind. Then the pupil takes his seat, and grips his levers. The balance of the machine is such that any gust has a tendency to make it tilt over from side to side, or tip forwards or backwards. If he is quick enough, the pupil can check these overturning influences by movements of the controlling planes. Thus he obtains, without risk to himself, or the danger of damaging an aeroplane, an insight into the general principles of control.

Also emphasised by many experts, is the value of a stage in military training which has already been described—that in which a pupil is taken, for a series of passenger flights, by an expert airman. During these flights, of course, the novice is learning many practical lessons.

Other authorities advocate, as a definite stage in a pupil’s course of training, an exercise which has not previously been touched upon. This entails arranging a machine so that it will move along the ground at a high speed, but will not ascend. The beginner should be allowed to manipulate such a machine for a day or so, running it up and down the aerodrome. Such a period of "rolling," as it has come to be termed at the flying schools, should be sandwiched between the pupil’s flights as a passenger, and his first attempt at solo work.

The first of these "rolling" tests should, it is held, be undertaken with an instructor. When he can control a machine perfectly well on the ground, the novice has learned a very useful lesson. In this "rolling" work, he becomes accustomed, also, to operating his engine controls, and shakes off the confusion that the noise of the motor so frequently occasions.

The pupil’s first solo flights should be nothing more than short jumps off the ground, made while moving along in a straight line. At the flying schools, these attempts at flight, on the part of novices, are described as "hops"; and, when performing them, the beginner resembles a young bird which is first trying its wings. He flutters into the air for a yard or so, and then descends again—not always elegantly.

"Hopping" practice, if systematically carried out, obviates the breaking-up of many a machine, because it teaches the pupil how to make a descent. Landing is, it may be pointed out, the chief difficulty for the beginner. He can usually get into the air all right—sometimes, more quickly than he desires. The problem is how to return to earth again, making a correct descent.

When a man learns to ride a bicycle, the inevitable tendency, which he displays, is to overdo the balancing movements. The result is that he swerves abruptly from side to side, and frequently comes to grief. The same mistake is, to a great extent, made by the novice in flying. He jerks his machine off the ground with an over-abrupt operation of his elevating plane, and he sometimes descends with a disconcerting dive.

It is not until he has been practising for some little time, that a pupil obtains what has been described as the "feel" of his machine. What happens, really, is that he suddenly obtains a sensitive touch upon his controlling levers; and then, instead of obeying his instructor without appreciating exactly what he has been doing, he begins to act for himself—with the commencement of that feeling of sureness which reveals the expert.

From "hops," according to expert ruling, the military pupil should proceed to straight flights of gradually increasing length. This recommendation presupposes the possession of an aerodrome of ample size. Nothing is, as a matter of fact, more important than a commodious aerodrome for purposes of instruction.

The selection of a ground which is cramped, or in a bad position, is very poor policy. Unless he has plenty of manoeuvring space, a pupil acquires a feeling of nervousness, which is sometimes disastrous. Under the influence of it, when he first assumes sole control of a machine, he is occasionally induced to make mistakes which result in the wrecking of machines.

A wide, flat, perfectly-unobstructed space is the ideal. When he brings his machine out upon such an aerodrome, the novice is inspired with a confidence which is half the battle. He feels he has not got to do things in a hurry; he knows there is plenty of room.

As soon as straight flights can be accomplished, the pupil should, it is held, be set the task of learning to "bank" his machine over, and make circles. The thoroughness of the pupil’s tuition, up to this point, should stand him in good stead. He knows his motor; he knows his machine; he is familiar with his controls; he is not flustered when he is in the air.

All such points count enormously—added to the fact that we assume the aerodrome he is practising over is a good one. In such cases, the pupil should be able to make wide turns in the air without any trouble at all.

Afterwards, the budding airman should learn to fly high. "Climbing" is what experienced airmen call it. Here, again, the requisite for success is a pupil’s confidence in himself, and in his machine—is inspired by the stages through which he has previously passed.

As has been quite rightly stated, the airman’s need, before he attempts anything in the nature of high flying, is to feel perfectly at home on his machine. He must have no anxiety as to any possible mistake in his controlling movements; he must not be worrying about his engine. In a word, he must have a perfectly-undisturbed mind.

This mental state is brought about, of course, by feeling perfectly competent to deal with any emergency, should it arise. By the time he has reached the high-flying stage, any pupil should—if he has been thoroughly trained—begin to experience a feeling of "one-ness" with his machine.

IV. Cross-country flights—The _vol plané_—Difficulty of first observation tests from an aeroplane.

"Only when it is possible to control a machine with safety, and without anxiety, at a height of 600 feet, should the military airman attempt to fly across country."

This declaration, made by an acknowledged authority, is a perfectly sound one; and, so far as the military flying schools are concerned, it represents a rule now almost generally adopted.

A most necessary step, before setting forth on a cross-country flight, is to master the art of effecting a safe and steady _vol plané_. The airman, when he is on a cross-country journey, must be ready at any moment for his engine to miss-fire, and perhaps stop. With the reliable motors now obtainable, this is not likely to happen, as has been shown; but engine failure is still a contingency for which the pilot must be prepared.

We will suppose, for the sake of argument, that a military airman is flying at an altitude of 1000 feet, across an average country. Suddenly, with a splutter, his engine ceases to work. If he is dexterous, he is not nonplussed. With a movement of his elevating plane, he tilts the aeroplane upon a downward glide, and comes sweeping towards the ground. Experience tells him just what is a safe gliding angle; he does not pitch his machine too far forward, nor does he make his angle so fine that there is any chance of the aeroplane losing way, and so becoming unmanageable.

As he glides down in this fashion, with perfect control over his machine, although it has been deprived of motive power, he looks about keenly to select a suitable landing-place. He is not forced to keep gliding straight ahead. He can, if he elects, turn either to right or left; and it is possible to make a half-circle in the air, while gliding down, and so land upon some spot which lay beneath the machine at the moment the engine stopped.

Therefore, granted that fairly-normal country lies below, the airman should have plenty of time, from an altitude of 1000 feet, to select a landing-place, and make a fair descent upon it.

If a pilot knows, thoroughly well, the kind of country he is flying over, and no difficulty presents itself in finding a landing-place, he can fly comparatively low, if he prefers to do so. By this is meant an altitude of perhaps five or six hundred feet.

If the country is difficult, however—that is to say, if fair landing-places are not easy to find—it behoves the airman to attain a considerably greater altitude. Over unfavourable country, from the landing-point of view, an experienced pilot will maintain a height of 2000 feet, or more. He does this because, should his engine fail him, he will have plenty of time to pick out—from a considerable area of country around him—some fairly-suitable descending-point.

In the flying contests held last summer, the most expert pilots, such as Beaumont and Vedrines, flew across country at an altitude of about 3000 feet. What influenced them, in doing so, was the knowledge that any wind that is blowing is generally most steady at such altitudes.

Once he is able to fly across country, without worrying at all about the control of his machine, the military airman is ready to take up the practical tasks which await him. One of the most interesting experiments, which he will be asked to carry out, is to fly over bodies of troops on the march, and test his powers of observation. It is one thing, of course, to see troops below him, and another to render an accurate report as to their strength and formation.

One of the most expert of French military airmen describes, very interestingly, how a reconnoitring officer seeks to render accurate his observations of troops; and his remarks go to prove, very distinctly, that nothing but unremitting practice will create a reliable air-scout—a contention which is made by all experts upon this subject.

The strength of columns on the march—when seen from the bird’s-eye view of an aeroplane—should, says this officer, be estimated by comparison, on the airman’s map, with the length of the road along which they are marching.

Massed formations of troops should, he adds, be determined according to the open spaces separating the various units. From the airman’s point of view, other clues to the strength of an enemy are the number of waggons, the number of mounted officers (in the case of infantry), and so forth.

It will be seen that, although the elevation of an aeroplane gives the observer a unique advantage, reconnoitring from an altitude of, say, 3000 feet is by no means easy work; the point of view is strange, and new rules have to be made, if reliable information is to be forthcoming.

With adequate practice, of course, an observer becomes remarkably quick in estimating the import of what he sees below him. Details, which would mean nothing to the novice, frequently tell him the whole story.

Thus a novice becomes, in time, a thoroughly-expert airman, capable of carrying out, satisfactorily, all the tasks that are set him. To encourage military pilots at their work, the French authorities have very wisely instituted a special scale of pay—or, rather, an arrangement of bonuses—for flights effected.

Naturally, such practical encouragement is greatly appreciated by the officers who take part in the air service. The work is arduous, beyond all question, and the men who are engaged upon it now are pioneers. All that they discover, through dint of enthusiastic and self-sacrificing work, is to the benefit of those who follow in their footsteps. Therefore, they richly deserve all the practical aid that can be given them.

V. Finishing work at French schools—Practical tests—German thoroughness—Energy of English officers.