Chapter IV: Part 4

Whereupon, the pilots will soar into the air from their camp, and speed away upon their missions. The pilot of the aeroplane will be concerned with nothing save the control of his machine. He will not need to trouble himself about the route taken, or about what is seen below.

This work will fall upon the observer, who will be placed in the machine with an uninterrupted view of the country below him, and who will instruct the pilot as to the course he shall steer, and the elevation he shall maintain.

The observer, indeed, will be in charge of the aeroplane. Upon him will rest the responsibility of the success of the expedition, from the point of view of the information to be obtained. But the work of the pilot will be important, also. Upon his skill, in manipulating the machine, will depend the carrying out of the flight, and the safe return of the aeroplane to Headquarters.

Thus the fleet of air-scouts will start upon their errand of observation. Each machine will mount steadily, until an altitude, under ordinary conditions, of between 3000 and 4000 feet has been reached. Then, at this height, they will sweep out over the enemy’s lines. The altitude mentioned is generally regarded as a good height for reconnoitring work because it permits the observer a fairly-detailed view of the ground below, and places him, also, at what is considered a safe elevation, so far as artillery fire is concerned. The important question of the vulnerability of aircraft, in regard to artillery fire, will be dealt with fully in a later section.

As the reconnoitring machine moves out over the enemy, the pilot will be busy with the control of his machine. If the weather proves very favourable, his task will be a comparatively light one. All that he will need to do is to see that he is steering accurately upon the course laid down by the observer, and that his altitude remains at the level chosen. He will also listen attentively to the running of his engine, and occasionally note the number of revolutions it is making, as recorded by an indicator placed before him.

If a reconnoitring flight has to be undertaken in adverse conditions, say with a gusty, treacherous wind blowing, the task of the pilot will be an extremely arduous one. Apart from the difficulty of keeping his craft upon a proper course, he will be faced with the nerve-racking task of preventing it from "side-slipping," under the onslaught of vicious gusts of wind.

The "side-slip" which an aeroplane may make in a gusty wind is, indeed, a very unpleasant experience for those who are on board it. What happens is this: under the influence of a sudden gust, the machine heels over until it reaches an angle when forward motion is replaced by a swift, sickening slide sideways. A machine may "side-slip" in this fashion, for an appreciable distance, before the pilot is able to regain control of it.

An example may be cited of an airman who slid down from an altitude of more than 800 feet, until he was within a couple of hundred feet of the ground. There is only one thing to do when a machine begins to "side-slip" in this way. The pilot must alter the angle of his elevating planes, so that the aeroplane dives forward as well as slips sideways. This dive adds to the machine’s speed, and so checks the sideway fall; and, if his altitude is sufficient, the airman is able to regain control of his machine, and bring it back again upon an even keel, before there is danger of contact with the ground.

In bad weather, as may be imagined, a reconnoitring trip may be a serious ordeal for the man at the levers. The responsibility for undertaking a flight, in unsuitable weather conditions, will fall upon the officer in command of the aviation depot. If, for example, the wind is too high for flying, it will be his duty to tell the Commander-in-Chief so, and delay the intended reconnaissance until conditions improve.

The work of the pilot of the aeroplane, during a reconnoitring flight, has only been described so far; now we may deal with the task of the observer. He will, probably, have a busier time than the man at the levers. From the moment of leaving the ground, until the flight is finished, he will need to be on the alert.

As the aeroplane approaches the enemy’s lines, he will pore over the map fixed in a frame before him. In addition to this map, he will be provided with pencil and notebook.

Thus, when any portion of the enemy’s troops appear below him, his task will be perfectly clear.

He will first need to identify them. That is to say, he must be able to determine whether he is looking at infantry, cavalry, or artillery; and then he must be able to decide as to the strength of the forces that are in view.

These points determined, he will turn again to his map, so as to make sure of the actual point, on the battle line, where the troops he sees are stationed. This done, he will make notes in his book.

And so, throughout the flight, will the observation officer be busy, peering downwards; consulting his map; afterwards scribbling hastily in his notebook. If he is not quite sure what anything is that he sees below him, he will ask the pilot to circle back, so that he can make another inspection.

If the weather is perfectly clear, he may be able to instruct the airman to soar higher, and so be safer from any gun-fire from below. On the other hand, if the morning or evening is misty, he may have to take the risk of descending lower.

Each unit on the squadron of observing aeroplanes will be carrying out the same routine. Wide-spread, the air-scouts will sweep over the enemy’s position. In an hour, each air-scout will be able to traverse a distance of more than fifty miles, and nothing of importance below him should pass undetected.

In a little more than an hour, from the time of their starting away, the squadron of machines should be returning to their camp. One by one they will come gliding down, and the observation officer in each machine will present a written report to his immediate chief. This officer, when all these reports are in his possession, will seek the Commander of the aviation depot. These two officers will speedily sift out the information brought in by air-scouts, and prepare, for the consideration of the Commander-in-Chief, a summary of the whole reconnaissance.

This the Commander of aeroplanes will take with him to Headquarters, and the Commander-in-Chief, with the members of his staff, will bend over their maps, tracing the enemy’s dispositions, noting his weak points, and also the positions where he may be in force.

In regard to observing the actual movements of troops, as apart from the positions of stationary forces, the work of the war aeroplane should be wonderfully effective. An air-scout may, for example, report that a section of the enemy is on the march between two points at a given time. This news may be considered, by the Commander-in-Chief, to have a very important bearing upon the development of the enemy’s plan of campaign. Is this body of troops still moving in the same direction, say an hour later? This may, quite likely, be the question upon which the Commander-in-Chief may want information.

Upon hearing this, the Commander of aeroplanes will soon have two or three scouting machines on the move. There will be no difficulty about such individual work as this; and very soon the Commander-in-Chief should be supplied with the news that he requires.

Thus it is possible to outline, in a general way, the reconnoitring work of the war aeroplane. It is not necessary to emphasise again the value of information which can be borne so quickly to a Commander-in-Chief; the importance of the news which will be gleaned by the air-scouts is, indeed, self-evident.

As the result of an aerial reconnaissance by many machines, well-organised and successfully carried out, the Commander-in-Chief should be supplied with information which could not possibly be acquired in any other way, and which should tell him where the enemy was, and what they were doing, only an hour before the news is put before him.

On such information, also, he can act with confidence. He need not hesitate, questioning its authenticity. On the maps before him, set forth in a manner beyond dispute, he will have the position of his foe, and the direction in which the chief bodies of troops are being moved.

Nor is this all that the aeroplane can do, as has been shown. If a Commander-in-Chief is in doubt about any movement of the enemy, during the course of an action, he still has the aeroplane at his immediate service.

There is no reason, indeed, why constant reconnaissances should not be made during the course of a battle. Suppose, for example, that a heavy attack has been made upon the enemy. It is sought to know whether such onslaught has had its full effect. Is the enemy falling back? This may become a question of great urgency, as it may govern a Commander-in-Chiefs next offensive move. Here is a task in which the air-scout can reveal his worth.

Rising high, and flying over the enemy, he should be able to determine whether a retreat has begun, and should bring back this information to Headquarters with a minimum of delay. A definite instance of the use of the aeroplane in this connection was, it may be remembered, given in the French manœuvres in Picardy, when Lieutenant Sido was able to inform his Headquarters that the enemy was in retreat, after an important action.

If his aeroplane service is efficient, and there is no delay in obtaining news, a Commander-in-Chief should be receiving constant intelligence, concerning the movements of the enemy, during the progress of a battle. It may be extremely important, for example, to know that the enemy is bringing up batteries to a certain point; or that a hill, or other point of vantage, is to be abandoned. From first to last, indeed, the aeroplane should be of the greatest use.

But, as has been shown before, it will not be so much a case of the number of aeroplanes used, as of the organisation behind them. In this lies the crux of the situation. Unless pilots and observers are absolutely competent, and ready for their work, the results obtained cannot be satisfactory.

The influence of the aeroplane scout upon military tactics will, undoubtedly, be marked. The German school, for example, advocates a strong, determined advance—not caring so much what the precise dispositions of an enemy are, but seeking to envelop him, and deliver one quick and crushing blow.

French military tactics, on the other hand, are more strategical—more prone to play a waiting, watching game, and make a master-move after the battle scheme has, to a certain extent, revealed itself.

What has been called "the fog of war"—that is to say, the meagre information regarding an enemy’s movements, which is all that is available if aeroplanes are not used—suits the German method of blunt, dogged, hit-or-miss advance. Lack of information is not advantageous, on the other hand, to the carefully thought-out French strategy.

What the advent of the air-scout does is to help the Commander-in-Chief, who is able to make subtle, deeply-planned moves, in which precise information is essential, and to discount a blind, crushing use of numbers.

III. Other uses of the war aeroplane—Surveying—Dispatch-carrying—Directing gun-fire—Transport of staff officers.

The duties so far mentioned do not, by any means, exhaust the possibilities of the war aeroplane. So far, only military reconnaissance has been touched upon. This work is, of course, of outstanding importance; but an air-corps could, during a campaign, be put to many other tasks, all of them of genuine utility.

Take, for example, the work of discovering the nature of the country over which an army is about to operate. This is a task which is extremely important. But, hitherto, the process of obtaining such information has been painfully slow—painfully slow, that is, when compared with the way the aeroplane will be able to carry out the work.

Here, indeed, will be an ideal opportunity for a long-distance flight. In a three-hour, non-stop journey, a machine should be able to survey at least 150 miles of country, and return with reports of the utmost value.

How important this aerial survey-work will be is instanced by Major J. N. C. Kennedy, who, from his experience in the South African war, states that such disasters as Spion Kop could not have happened, if there had been aeroplanes to fly over and observe the country beforehand.

Here, then, is another practical use for the aeroplane. A squadron of machines, flying ahead of an army on the march, will be able to return with accurate news as to the position of roads, railways, rivers, and bridges. Such information, received in good time, may prove of exceptional value to a Commander-in-Chief.

Apart from general survey work, also, the air-corps will be able to execute highly-important orders in locating the position of an enemy’s supply trains, magazines, and depots.

Thus it can be seen that there will be practically constant use for war aeroplanes during a campaign—apart from their potentialities as weapons of destruction, concerning which notes will be written later.

So highly does he rate the work of aircraft in wartime, for reconnoitring purposes, that the director of the military aviation service of the French army has declared: "Aeroplanes, carrying a steersman, observer, and combatant, will eventually supersede cavalry for scouting purposes."

In this regard, it is interesting to note the opinion of a famous German military expert, who says:—

"They (aeroplanes) will collect much information which would
never be accessible to cavalry, and, above all, they will do it
over long distances, and in a much shorter time. It is a defect
of cavalry reconnaissance that the knowledge which it yields has
necessarily, in the great majority of eases, been long overtaken
by events. No small gifts, on the part of the General, are
necessary to infer, from what was ascertained many hours
previously, what is actually the existing situation. The
possibilities of error are very great."

Here is another striking tribute to the value of the war aeroplane. What this German expert was particularly impressed by, after observing a series of tests of aeroplanes for reconnoitring, was their wonderful speed, as compared with any other means of obtaining information.

The point he makes, in this connection, is highly important. Not only will the aeroplane scout bring back news which it would be impossible to obtain by the use of cavalry, but he will place this news in the hands of a Commander-in-Chief while it is fresh, and of the fullest importance, and not many hours old—as the intelligence brought in by other methods of reconnaissance generally is.

Another extremely useful function of the aeroplane, during a campaign, must not be forgotten. This is its use as a dispatch-carrier. In this regard, a light, swift machine will be found of utility. No ordinary obstacle will hamper it. The fact that the country is mountainous, or that there are awkward rivers to negotiate, present serious problems for the dispatch-rider, who sets out to carry a communication from point to point on horseback. In many cases, indeed, it becomes impossible to send a dispatch across country.

But the aeroplane dispatch-carrier will think nothing of such difficulties as these. Over precipitous country, and across mountains, he will fly without hindrance; and he will be faced with no problems concerning the fording of rivers. As straight as an arrow, from point to point, he will carry his message, and at a pace in excess of that of the express train.

The fact that skirmishing parties of the enemy are dotted about, between his starting-point and his objective, will not perplex him either, although it would prove a serious embarrassment to the dispatch-rider who used the land when in transit.

Instances of the practical value of dispatch-carrying, in time of war, are readily forthcoming. A distinguished cavalry-officer, Colonel Grantham, supplies one, for instance. In the Chinese war, he recalls the plight of two columns which were advancing, about twenty miles apart, to deliver a combined attack. The country dividing them was mountainous; parties of the enemy were also moving about on it. The result was that, for several days, no message could be got through. This lack of communication made the scheme of a joint advance very difficult to carry out. Had an aeroplane dispatch-carrier been available, in such circumstances as these, he would have linked up the two columns in a twenty-minute flight, irrespective of all that lay below him.

It is, of course, frequently necessary, during the progress of a battle, for Generals commanding various sections of an army to report to the Commander-in-Chief. Here the dispatch-carrying aeroplane, on account of its speed, will be of the greatest value.

What can be done, in the way of long-distance dispatch-carrying, has been demonstrated most effectually by Captain Bellenger, a well-known French military airman. This officer, while stationed at the Vincennes air-depot, received instructions to carry a dispatch, as quickly as possible, to the military flying school at Pau. This represented a distance of 450 miles. Starting early one morning, Captain Bellenger reached Pau in seven hours sixteen minutes of actual flying. While _en route_ he made three halts to replenish his petrol tank.

Recent tests in France show that quickly-assembled, single-seated monoplanes will be extremely useful, in actual military operations, in co-operating with artillery, by giving aerial directions as to gun-fire.

Upon occasions when the effect of long-distance fire is unknown to the gunner, an aerial observer, ascending to an altitude of several thousand feet, will be able to detect what mischief the shells are doing, and suggest—either by wireless telegraphy or by messages dropped from his machine—corrections in the gunner’s aim.

Another field of practical utility for the aeroplane, during an action, lies in the quick transport, from place to place, of staff officers. Horses, motor-cars, and motor-cycles have, hitherto, been employed for this purpose. But the aeroplane is infinitely their superior in the matter of speed.

Roads may be blocked with troops, or transport waggons, thereby holding up, temporarily, the passage of any motor-cars or motor-cycles. No such hindrances affect the aeroplane. With such reliable passenger-carrying machines as are now available, staff officers will be able to flit from point to point on a battlefield, with a minimum of delay. This will prove an extremely valuable addition to what may be termed the conveniences of war.

It is legitimate, at this juncture, having illustrated the uses of an aeroplane in time of war, to picture, briefly, the contrast between two Commanders-in-Chief, one of them possessing an up-to-date fleet of war aeroplanes, and the other without any such aid. Prior to an action, the one who has an aeroplane corps sends out his machines upon a general reconnaissance. As a result he is, in an hour or so, in possession of all the information he requires concerning the enemy. He is able to calculate where his antagonist’s main blow is to be struck; and he is also able to estimate the weak points in his opponent’s fighting line.

The Commander who is without aeroplanes sends out his cavalry scouts, in the time-honoured fashion, and relies upon news from outposts. What information he thus obtains is bound to be many hours older than that, concerning his own movements, which is in the possession of the enemy. Furthermore, it leaves many questions of urgency altogether unanswered. But, unsatisfactory though his knowledge of his opponent’s intentions is, the Commander has to grope forward. A certain blind doggedness actuates him; it is a case, more or less, of hit-or-miss.

Now, were his opponent in a similarly fumbling state of mind, it would not matter so much. But, thanks to his aeroplanes, Commander No. 1 has his opponent’s dispositions and movements carefully marked upon his maps.

Thus the two armies come into conflict. One Commander-in-Chief knows everything; the other knows practically nothing. What is the result likely to be? One strikes swiftly and surely, aware of the precise strength opposed to him. The other fumbles blindly in the dark.

EIGHTH SECTION WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY AND PHOTOGRAPHY AS AIDS TO AERIAL RECONNAISSANCE

I. First tests and successes with wireless telegraphy—Difficulty of equipping an aeroplane with transmitting plant.

In the descriptions of the uses of an aeroplane in war, which have been set forth in previous sections, nothing has been said concerning an adjunct which now promises to have an importance quite overwhelming upon future operations with aircraft.

This has reference to the use of wireless telegraphy. It was thought, at first, that any employment of this marvel of science, so far as aeroplanes were concerned, would be hopeless. The fact that the aeroplane is suspended, so to speak, in mid-air, with no earth communication, made the problem of equipping it with wireless particularly difficult.

But the value of a wireless message, from a flying machine, has always been recognised; and so most careful experiments have been made to devise an apparatus. In addition to the difficulty of transmitting messages from an aeroplane, there was the important question of weight to be considered. It was seen that any apparatus, made to be carried upon aircraft, must be extremely light; and, at the same time, it was essential that it should be of a small and convenient size, so that it could be stowed away somewhere in the proximity of the pilot’s seat.

It was in America, in August, 1910, that the first success was obtained. An aeroplane ascended with the necessary transmitting mechanism on board, and with a long aerial wire trailing behind it, weighted with lead, from which the wireless messages were radiated. The apparatus was crude, and unsatisfactory from many points of view, but actual signals were received, from the aeroplane, by a station on the ground.

Only the most simple messages were attempted, and the aeroplane flew round in fairly close proximity to the receiving station. As a matter of fact, the best results reported, in connection with this series of tests, was a message transmitted from the aeroplane when it was 500 feet high, and which reached the receiving station from a distance of about a mile.

This result was distinctly encouraging. It showed that wireless telegraphy, as applied to the aeroplane, was not impossible; and it had the effect, also, of stimulating interest in other countries, and of setting many clever brains to work.

It was in the following month (September, 1910) that a series of experiments were begun in England. Salisbury Plain was the flying ground chosen, and Mr Robert Loraine, a well-known actor who had become prominent as an airman, was the pilot of the machine with which the tests were made.

The aeroplane employed in the experiments was a Bristol biplane, fitted with a "Gnome" motor; and the designer of the wireless transmitting mechanism used was Mr Thome Baker, a well-known electrical expert. After a number of tests, he had produced a transmitter which only weighed about 14 lb., and which could be fixed, quite conveniently, behind the pilot’s seat.

Mr Baker was also able to abolish the long trailing wire behind the machine, which had been used in the American experiments. Such a wire, it was recognised, was a bad feature of any equipment. Apart from the obvious clumsiness of such a device, it offered a danger of becoming entangled with the rapidly-revolving propeller of the machine, and so causing an accident. Mr Thorne Baker obviated this difficulty, in his tests, by twining his aerial wire round the wooden supports between the main-planes of the machine.

Another long wire, the receiver, was stretched between posts on the ground; and then Mr Loraine ascended, and began to circle round and round the aerodrome. For transmitting purposes, he had a little key strapped to his knee, and operated it with his left hand—his right hand being engaged, of course, with the controlling lever of his machine.

Again, as in the American experiments, only the simplest messages were attempted. They were, however, quite distinctly heard. At first, the signals were not received over a distance of more than half a mile, but it was soon found possible to increase the distance between transmitter and receiver to approximately one mile. At this distance, the dots and dashes telegraphed were distinctly read by Mr Thorne Baker, who received them—as is the custom with wireless telegraphy—through telephone ear-pieces.

Following these tests, Mr Thorne Baker set himself the task of perfecting his apparatus; and a very interesting experiment was planned, in December, 1910, in connection with the De Forest cross-Channel aeroplane prize.

Lieutenant H. E. Watkins, one of the competitors, consented to take up a transmitting apparatus with him, on his cross-Channel flight, so that he might endeavour to keep in touch with a steam-tug, in which his friends intended to follow him from Folkestone to the French coast.

The transmitter which Mr Baker prepared for this experiment was more powerful than the one used in the Salisbury Plain tests, and some conclusive results were expected from this oversea flight. Unfortunately, however, Lieutenant Watkins was delayed by bad weather, and a series of trifling accidents, and so was unable to start upon the flight. The wireless test had, therefore, to be abandoned.

After this, it fell to the lot of America to make the next move of any interest. Lieutenant Beck, a young officer-airman engaged in military experiments with aeroplanes, took up a transmitter with him, and was able to send messages to a special receiving station, over a distance of quite two and a half miles. This, naturally, was regarded as distinct progress. The messages were clearly read; and there now seemed no difficulty, with better transmitting mechanism, in increasing the distance over which the signals were sent.

II. French triumphs with wireless telegraphy—Messages sent over a distance of thirty-five miles.

In the meantime, as may be imagined, France had not been lethargic in dealing with this subject. The French military authorities had, from the first, recognised that wireless telegraphy, if it could be applied reliably to the aeroplane, would greatly increase the utility of aircraft in time of war.

At several of the French military aerodromes, at the beginning of 1911, experiments were in progress, and clever civilian electricians were called into conference by the authorities. But only meagre news leaked out as to what was actually being done.

Before the end of January, 1911, however, definite results had been obtained. Mr Maurice Farman, a brother of Mr Henry Farman, who had built an excellent biplane for military use, ascended at the aerodrome at Buc, and sent a wireless message back to the flying ground, when he was passing over the countryside quite ten miles away.

This was a highly-important result, and promised to place the wireless outfit on a practical basis, so far as war purposes were concerned. Further tests were made at Buc, and the radius over which messages could be transmitted was soon increased from ten to fifteen miles.

At this juncture, the French military authorities took the matter in hand with renewed vigour, and the energies of the scientific staff were directed towards still further increasing the transmitting power of the apparatus installed.

An improved transmitting mechanism, weighing about 55 lb., was built and fitted to a biplane at the beginning of July, 1911; and Captain Brenot, a prominent French military airman, was given the task of thoroughly testing this device. He was able to do so with remarkable results.

While flying between St Cyr and Rambouillet, he succeeded in getting into touch with the wireless installation fixed upon the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The distance was one of at least thirty-five miles.

Captain Brenot did more, also, than transmit a mere series of dots and dashes. He spelt out a complete message while flying, and it was correctly received by an operator of the Eiffel Tower wireless station. This historic aerial message was as follows:—

"Captain Brenot, conducting experiments in aeroplane with
wireless telegraphy, to the Minister of War.—Flying between St
Cyr and Rambouillet. We beg to present our sincere regards. We
are above the forest of Rambouillet, at a height of 1640 feet."

Nothing could have been more dramatic, in its way, than the receipt of this message in Paris from an aeroplane, fitted with wireless telegraphy, thirty miles away; it demonstrated, conclusively, that an aeroplane, when equipped in this way, was an absolutely-revolutionary weapon of warfare.

Since then, French tests with wireless have been steadily going ahead, and improvements have been made. The results obtained are now more certain; and it has been proved, beyond doubt, that the wireless message from an air-scout will play a very prominent part in future military operations.

III. Practical uses of wireless upon aeroplanes—England’s lack of effort.

How wireless telegraphy will aid the military airman may readily be seen. It will, in the first instance, be a remarkable time-saver. Instead of returning to Headquarters with a brief and urgent report, the observation officer in an aeroplane will be able to transmit it instantaneously, while still flying on his course. In the case of machines not equipped with a wireless installation, a reconnoitring flight will need to be followed by a return journey to the aeroplane camp. Then the airman’s message will have to be brought along to Headquarters. Thus there will be some delay, although this can, of course, be reduced to a minimum by sound organisation.

But the fitting of a wireless apparatus will obviate, at one stroke, all delay occasioned by a machine flying back from the district over which it is reconnoitring, by the descent at the military camp, and by the conveying of the news to Headquarters.

It is not likely, however, that every machine will be fitted with a wireless outfit. In an aerial reconnaissance under ordinary conditions—made, say, during the early morning or evening, to show the general disposition of an enemy at a specified time—it will be sufficient if the airmen return to their starting-point, and the news is brought to Headquarters in the ordinary way. There will not, in such cases, be sufficient urgency to justify the use of wireless messages.

But, under many circumstances which will arise during war, a machine which can flash back frequent messages, without losing the time of actually flying back with them, will be of almost inestimable value.

Let us take, for example, the position of a Commander-in-Chief who is in the act of delivering a heavy attack, and wishes to know, from moment to moment if possible, how the onslaught is being withstood, and if there is any tendency on the part of his enemy to retreat. In such a case a special aeroplane, fitted with wireless, would be dispatched, to fly in circles over the fighting area; and a portable receiving apparatus would be moved up close beside the point where the Commander-in-Chief had stationed himself. In this way, news could be received in the form of a constant stream of messages.

This is only one instance of the practical utility of wireless telegraphy from an aeroplane during wartime; many others, naturally, present themselves. In the course of a battle, the officer commanding aeroplanes should always have, ready for an emergency, one or two machines which are equipped with wireless. Thus, immediately any point arises regarding a movement of the enemy, upon which the Commander-in-Chief desires speedy enlightenment, a machine can be sent off without a moment’s delay; and the information, once obtained, can be flashed back by wireless a second or so after the observation officer has made his reconnaissance.

During a series of military experiments with wireless telegraphy, carried out in France during August and September, 1911, the possibility of directing the fire of artillery, by means of messages from an aeroplane, was investigated. Ascending from a fortified position, which was supposed to be besieged, aeroplanes, equipped with wireless installations, made circuits over the country, in the immediate neighbourhood, and sent back messages to their Headquarters, describing with complete accuracy the position of concealed batteries, which were assumed to be carrying out a bombardment.

Aided by this intelligence, the gunners of the besieged position would, in actual warfare, have been able to direct a telling fire upon their hidden enemy. It would be possible, also, in such circumstances, for the aeroplanist to remain aloft during the firing, and actually direct the gunners in their aim by means of wireless signals.

Taking into consideration such possibilities as these, an eminent French military expert has observed: "The aeroplane, without wireless telegraphy, is a sufficiently wonderful ’arm,’ altering all our preconceived notions concerning warlike operations. And now comes this new marvel. It is almost impossible to calculate what the effect of wireless signals from an aeroplane, during a battle, will be. This much is certain. The use of machines so equipped will play a revolutionary part in any action. Upon their skilful handling, of course, much will depend. Unless a Commander-in-Chief has accustomed himself to their use, during peace manœuvres, and unless the officers operating the transmitting mechanism, and those receiving the messages, are well-trained and thoroughly accustomed to their work, the best results are not likely to be obtained."

Naturally, in this connection, the question arises: what is England doing? The reply cannot be anything but disappointing. The privately-conducted experiments of Mr Thorne Baker, previously mentioned, represent practically all that has been done to perfect wireless telegraphy for aerial use.

So far as the authorities are concerned, civilian suggestions of co-operation, towards obtaining improved apparatus, have not been received in an encouraging spirit. From the small army airship, "The Beta," wireless trials have, it is true, been carried out once or twice; and some unambitious experiments with biplanes, at the Royal Aircraft Factory, were reported in April, 1912. But no practical outfit has been devised.

As a matter of fact, this question of the application of wireless telegraphy to aeroplanes provides a very striking illustration of the evils of our backward policy. Immediately there was an opportunity of using wireless successfully, the French military authorities were able to take advantage of the situation, and carry out adequate tests. This was because their organisation was what it should be, and because they had men and machines ready to be used in any experiments required.

Our backward position told against us inevitably, when this new adjunct to the aeroplane came along. We had insufficient machines, and not enough men. It was, as a matter of fact, more than sufficient for us to make anything like a show in ordinary flying work, without being required to go a stage further, and experiment with wireless.

Thus the lesson can be forced home. France has taken up this new aid to aerial reconnoitring—is perfecting herself in it, and accustoming her officers to its use. We have not begun to work with it yet. We are thus a definite stage behind, and shall remain so, unless a real effort is put forth to make up leeway.

By the time we have come to the stage of adopting a wireless installation upon aeroplanes, France may be busy with some new, and even more important, phase of flying.

As the military expert quoted above remarks, with perfect truth, it is essential that adequate and realistic tests should be carried out, with such an aid as wireless telegraphy, before any really effective use can be made of it.

IV. Photography from a war aeroplane—The use of special automatic cameras.

While dealing, in this section, with such an adjunct to reconnoitring as is afforded by wireless telegraphy, it is permissible, also, to refer to the use of photography in connection with aeroplanes.

Here, once more, it is necessary to turn to France for an illustration of recent work. Ascending from the Chalons military camp, quite recently, Lieutenant Blard, an army airman, succeeded in obtaining some excellent photographs of Rheims when flying at an altitude of 4000 feet. He used a special camera.

In America, also, practical attention has been devoted to this phase of military aeroplaning. An officer, when flying in a biplane, has succeeded in obtaining good photographs from as great an altitude as 6000 feet.

The utility of photography, as increasing the powers of the aeroplane in war-time, will be considerable. In an aerial survey of country, for instance, the camera will play an important part. A series of good photographs, when pieced together, will reveal the characteristics of land from the military point of view; and, in taking photographs of fortifications, the aeroplane with a camera will find another ready use.

It is now held that all scouting aeroplanes should be fitted with a camera, to be used, during reconnoitring, whenever a favourable opportunity arises.

In the first tests made with photography from an aeroplane, an ordinary camera was used, being held, by the passenger in the machine, in the best position possible to secure a photograph of whatever object it was desired to snapshot.

But this method was seen to be somewhat clumsy. In many machines, for example, it was not possible to obtain a picture, when taken in this fashion, of anything directly below. The business of changing plates, also, was found to be an awkward one.

So it was seen that there was need for something in the nature of the automatic camera, specially designed for military work. In Germany, where great interest has been evinced in aerial photography, a camera with a special telephoto lens, operating almost like a gun, has been devised for use in an aeroplane. This machine the observer holds to his shoulder, "aiming" it at the object which he wishes to photograph, and making the exposure by the pulling of a trigger.

In England, where private enterprise has outstripped any official action, Mr Thorne Baker has devised a very ingenious camera. This is suspended below the aeroplane, in such a position that it points directly downwards; and the whole operation of the camera is automatic.

The airman or observer puts the machine in action by pressing a button. This causes a photograph to be taken of whatever the aeroplane is passing over at the moment. Then, by means of another piece of automatic machinery, a plate is changed for a fresh exposure. Such a camera as this will, undoubtedly, prove of very considerable value as an adjunct to survey work with an aeroplane.

At the end of August, 1911, several military officers in France carried out special tests with aerial photography. They made flights over fortresses, for example, and secured excellent pictures. Tracts of country were also photographed, as were troops on the march.

The result is that photography has joined wireless telegraphy, in the French air-corps, as a definite aid to aerial reconnoitring.

NINTH SECTION DEVELOPMENT OF ALL-WEATHER WAR AEROPLANES

I. Flights in thirty-five-mile-an-hour winds—Arguments of sceptics—What the great contests of 1911 proved.

Reference has been made to the fact that, as soon as engines became reliable, and airmen gained confidence, winds of an appreciable velocity were successfully combated.

But even now, despite the strides which the aeroplane is making towards becoming an all-weather machine, those who belittle it from the military point of view, and uphold an official policy of inactivity, are found ready to argue that the heavier-than-air machine is still purely a fine-weather craft. Such an attitude is governed, not so much by deep-rooted conservatism, as by ignorance.

The fact is that the wind-flying capabilities of an aeroplane have been improved to an altogether remarkable extent. So far as an average can be struck, it may be said that, at the present time, a war machine can be operated, and can carry out useful work, in a wind blowing at the rate of from thirty to thirty-five miles an hour. Higher winds are, as has been said, occasionally combated; but this represents, approximately, the maximum for practical purposes to-day.

Some military critics, when such facts as these are adduced, raise the point that such "air-worthiness" as this is not sufficient. The complications of war are already so great, they declare, that a Commander-in-Chief is not justified in increasing his responsibilities by saddling himself with a squadron of aeroplanes, when the machines will be inoperative should a high wind spring up.

"Enthusiasts do not seem to realise this point," a military critic has observed, in regard to the general question of aeroplane reliability. "A commander of troops would, almost, be more hampered than helped by an air service, were it only possible to use it one day, and then not the next, and so on. He would rely upon it, you see, and then it would fail him just at some critical moment. I know it may be said, in answer to this, that even if only occasional use can be made of aeroplanes, it is worth while to equip an army with them, because, if they succeed in their object once in six times, they may alter the whole course of a battle. But it must be remembered that a very considerable organisation has to be built up, if an aeroplane service is to be of any real use. The already huge impedimenta of an army has to be added to; and this, alone, is a very serious point. On account of the unreliability of the air service, also, cavalry scouts, and other scouting agencies, have to be employed, just as usual. The position is, really, a somewhat unsatisfactory one. For days on end, if the weather is bad, the aeroplanes may be inoperative."

This view is, of course, an unduly pessimistic one.

Having regard to the capabilities of present-type aeroplanes, the occasions upon which war machines would be windbound would be very rare. It is reliably estimated, in fact, that aeroplane scouts would be able to render good service on 80 per cent, of the days of the year.

It might happen that a boisterous wind, rising in the morning, would prevent the air-scouts from working at midday, or during the afternoon. But, even during a generally unfavourable spell of weather, a shrewd Commander of aeroplanes should be able to snatch an hour’s lull in the wind, probably in the early morning or evening, and get his machines to work.

Either a morning or evening calm, during a period of gusty winds, is generally experienced; and, in any such lull, so rapid is their work, the aeroplanes should be able to acquire what information is necessary, and be back again at Headquarters, before any hazardous rising of the wind takes place.

In this way, it should be possible to manipulate the service, even with existing machines, so as to make it of practical value, upon almost every day of a campaign; and the fact that one hour’s work would probably be sufficient for a reconnoitring flight, is the important factor of the situation to be remembered.

The point to be made in this connection is this: those who have studied the progress of aeroplaning, and realise the wonderful strides which have recently been made, see quite clearly that, even under unfavourable conditions, a war machine should be able to give a very good account of itself.

This fact will not be admitted, however, by those who still maintain the attitude that the aeroplane is a fair-weather machine, and will never be anything else. Their prejudice will not permit them to read, as they should, the lessons of recent events. They magnify failures, and ignore successes.

For such a negative policy there was, at first, some excuse, although scepticism, at the dawn of a new industry, is the reverse of helpful. When aeroplanes were in their crudest stage, they provided plenty of material for the cynic. In those days, pilots spent most of their time in their hangars, tuning up obstinate engines; and it was a case, as one humorous pioneer put it, of flying "a mile a month."

The prevailing spirit of scepticism was well revealed in the attitude taken up by many people in connection with the prize of £10,000 offered by _The Daily Mail_ for the flight from London to Manchester. To imagine that such a feat would be accomplished was regarded as ridiculous. And yet, practically at the first attempt, the flight was made. Then came the second £10,000 prize by the generous and far-seeing proprietors of _The Daily Mail_—this time for a 1000-miles aerial tour around Great Britain, in which rules were introduced to make it incumbent upon pilots to complete the whole course upon one machine.

Here was a leap, indeed. From 180 miles to 1000! Could it be done? Could such a reliable aeroplane be found? These were the questions asked; and, in this connection, one significant fact may be mentioned. It was this: even some of the experts—men thoroughly well acquainted with the industry—were doubtful as to whether this prize would be won. They knew, of course, what giant strides were being made. But, still, so severe was the ordeal, they had their doubts.

What a triumph this great contest was for the aeroplane will be fresh in any reader’s memory. Flying neck and neck round the 1010-miles course, Beaumont and Vedrines astonished the world by the certainty of their aerial progress.

Calculations as to when the race would finish had been made beforehand. Reckoning the very highest speeds it would be possible to attain, and assuming an entire absence of mechanical troubles, it was estimated that the winner would complete the circuit at a certain hour on a specified morning; and the winner, Beaumont, was only four hours longer, in completing the course, than the most favourable estimate had allowed him.

Even the most enthusiastic supporters of the aeroplane were astonished by this feat. In flying, which was spread out over several days, and involved aerial journeys over most difficult country, Beaumont and Vedrines made light of every adverse condition. In Scotland, they combated winds so violent that their machines danced and plunged in the air, and occasionally "side-slipped" for many feet under the treacherous impulses of unexpected gusts. But, when they were begged to wait a while, and give the weather an opportunity of improving, these two champions resolutely took their seats in their monoplanes, and flew on. The lesson, from the military point of view, was overwhelmingly important.

Not only did these two men fly with the regularity and speed of express trains, but they both performed their wonderful feats on machines which were unchanged throughout. This represented the real progress. In previous contests of a similar nature, in which long distances had been traversed, there had been no restriction at all as to the number of machines used.

The result had been, therefore, that makers of aeroplanes, naturally anxious to see their representatives win, had dotted spare machines all over the route; and, in one instance, a competitor used as many as three aeroplanes before completing one long-distance race.

The point we are immediately concerned with is this. A certain number of days, chosen a long time ahead, were set apart for this 1000-miles race round Great Britain; and upon these days it was flown. Beaumont and Vedrines proceeded from stage to stage, flying to schedule, and making light of adverse weather. The climatic conditions, as has been said, were not ideal. When the time came to leave Edinburgh, for instance, so powerful a wind was blowing that it was not reckoned, even by practical men, that the pilots would be able to get away.

But, to the amazement even of officials, the two monoplanists soared up, and deliberately fought the wind. While flying on to the other stopping-places in Scotland, also, both men passed through heavy storms of rain; and again, contrary to expectation, they did not descend, but battled on. The result was that, when this wonderful air race was at an end, both men were justified in describing their monoplanes as all-weather machines.

What this performance, and others, have demonstrated is this: at the present moment, although admittedly experimental, the aeroplane is sufficiently well able to combat adverse weather as to make it a highly-useful weapon of war.

II. Value of high speed, when combating a wind—Constructional difficulties of a hundred-mile-an-hour machine.

It is unwise to regard the capabilities of the present-type aeroplane as representing, in any way, a limit, or a standard of achievement. What the machine built to-day can perform, the aeroplane of to-morrow will, assuredly, be able to improve upon; and so progress will be recorded, until something in the nature of a perfected aircraft is evolved.

As a matter of fact, there is practically no stage, in connection with any forms of manufacture, when a builder can say: "Here is a machine incapable of improvement." Take, as an example, the motor-car. The luxurious, six-cylindered machine appears to represent what may be termed "the last word"; but small improvements are constantly being made, and thoughtful manufacturers still see new avenues of progress.

So it is in regard to the wind-flying capabilities of an aeroplane. Thirty to thirty-five miles an hour represents, as has been said, a fair maximum for the strength of wind in which a machine can be navigated at the present time. But this will not exist long as a standard; improvements in the speed, and in the general stability of machines, are being made from day to day.

The result of this progress in manufacture will be that the aeroplane will be navigable in higher and higher winds. Forty-mile-an-hour winds will, before long, cease to prevent regular flight; and it is the view of eminent designers and builders that it will be possible for the aeroplane to remain aloft in winds blowing at the rate of more than fifty miles an hour. It is hoped, in fact, that machines will, eventually, be able to live in any wind save such a raging gale as drives big steamships to port.

Already, certain definite lines of improvement suggest themselves to the makers of aeroplanes. In combating a high wind, failing any device to provide an aeroplane with automatic stability, high speed is found to be of the greatest aid. But there are difficulties in connection with the attaining of high speed, as will be shown later.

An illustration of the value of high speed, in overcoming the wind, was giving at the Rheims flying meeting in the summer of 1910. Morane, testing a monoplane fitted with a motor of a hundred horse-power, attained a speed of quite eighty miles an hour. Travelling at this rate, he found that he was able to pass close behind other machines, despite the rush of wind from their propellers. Had he been flying a slower machine, this "back-draught" would, inevitably, have caused him to capsize.

Speed, also, was what helped Beaumont and Vedrines, when they were fighting adverse winds in the Circuit of Britain. Beaumont’s monoplane had a speed of a little over sixty miles an hour; and that of Vedrines was a trifle faster. Had either of these airmen been piloting a slow-flying biplane, he would have been forced to descend, seeing that his machine would have become unmanageable in heavy gusts.

Speed, therefore, is the aim of most manufacturers. They see that the aeroplane must, if it is to compete commercially with land or sea transit, provide a means of locomotion more rapid than any which at present exists; and they recognise, also, that speed offers—at any rate at present—a solution of the problem of all-weather flying.

But there are, as has been hinted, difficulties in the way of large increases in speed. Two hundred miles an hour through the air is, frequently, cited as the ideal to be aimed at. So far, with a specially-built racing machine, a speed of approximately a hundred miles an hour has represented the maximum attained. Such machines are, however, more or less "freaks"; the best results obtained with ordinary machines being from sixty-five to seventy miles an hour.

Higher speeds still might be thought to be merely a question of increasing horse-power. But other considerations enter into the question. A high-speed machine has, it must be remembered, to start away from the ground, and land again at the end of a flight; its actual passage through the air is not the only point to be considered.

With a racing monoplane, for example, the small size of its supporting wings, and the slight camber upon them, necessitate its moving over the ground at a very high speed before it can obtain the necessary "lift" to get into the air; and then comes the question of returning to the ground again. These fast machines will only glide at comparatively high speeds.

A problem arises, therefore, as to the landing chassis which will withstand the shock of high-speed landings—that is to say, on anything save perfectly smooth ground. Apart from the question of the skill of the pilot, in effecting a safe descent at such high speeds—and this is a factor seriously to be reckoned with—the running-wheels and skids of a machine will not endure the strain of a landing on anything like a rough surface.

Thus, were speeds to be pushed, say, to a hundred and fifty miles an hour, under present conditions of flying, and with any existing method of building landing mechanism, accidents would be likely to happen, when airmen came to the point of effecting a descent.