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It is our aim, in this book, to show what the war aeroplane has done, and can do. At present, its work has been confined to scouting. But it has other, and grimmer possibilities. It can, and without doubt will, be used as an engine of destruction—not by means of the bomb-dropping attacks of a few aeroplanes, but by the organised onslaught of large squadrons of weight-lifting machines, which will be able to rain down tons of missiles over any given spot.
Thus—probably waged with light guns firing explosive shells—the next great war will begin, not on earth, but several thousand feet in the air.
Claude Grahame-White.
Harry Harper.
London, 1912.
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THE AEROPLANE
IN WAR
BY
CLAUDE GRAHAME-WHITE
AND
HARRY HARPER
AUTHORS OF "THE AEROPLANE: PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE"
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
LONDON: T. WERNER LAURIE
Although it is still a crude machine—in view of the perfected apparatus which is the aim of thoughtful designers—the aeroplane has demonstrated, in a conclusive way, its value as an instrument of war.
In peace manœuvres in France and Germany, and under actual war conditions in Tripoli, scouting machines have proved their ability to pierce most effectually what is known as "the fog of war." Air-scouts have, indeed, revealed the dispositions of an enemy so precisely as to make it necessary to alter—at a moment's notice—an entire plan of campaign.
Ceasing to be fair-weather craft, powerful, modern-type aeroplanes can combat high and gusty winds, and are already capable of being used, for reconnoitring flights, on at least 80 per cent of the days of the year. No longer unreliable, they have become practical weapons.
A squadron of war aeroplanes, carrying pilots and observers, can, as has been shown again and again, lay bare the disposition of a widespread battle-front. In one hour, they can perform the reconnoitring work which has hitherto been carried out in a day, and in a necessarily hit-or-miss fashion, by cavalry and other scouts.
The use of well-trained corps of military airmen will revolutionise the tactics of war. No longer will two Commanders-in-Chief grope in the dark. They will sit, so to speak, on either side of a chess-board, which will represent the battlefield. Each will watch the other's moves; nothing will be concealed. From a blundering, scrambling moving about of masses of men, modern warfare will become—through the advent of the aeroplane—an intellectual process.
The Commander-in-Chief who has no proper air-corps, in the next great war, will be in a hopeless position. He will have lost a battle practically before it begins. Whereas his opponent will know exactly whatheis doing, he will be able to obtain nothing but vague and confusing tidings as to the movements of the enemy. Imagine two armed men approaching each other, one being blindfolded. The Commander-in-Chief without aeroplanes will be like a blindfolded man.
One nation stands head-and-shoulders above all others in the matter of her aerial equipment and experience. That nation is France. So far ahead is she that it will be a long time before other countries will be able to come up with her; but Germany is now making desperate efforts to do so.
Until recently, it must be said, England lagged inactively not only behind France and Germany, in the organising of an air-corps, but even behind such countries as Austria, Italy, and Spain.
Now, however, there are promises of a change. For this, mainly, we must thank the energy and enthusiasm of Colonel Seely, Parliamentary Under Secretary of State for War. When these lines are being read, British aeroplane manufacturers will be preparing for an important military trial of aeroplanes, which is to be held in England during the summer.
The War Office has begun to buy aeroplanes, although on a small scale. We now have a Royal Flying Corps; a body of skilled airmen is being trained. But money is spent very sparingly. Our equipment, compared with that of France, is still a negligible quantity. In machines, and men, and, above all, in training, we are very far behind.
Only by persistent and intelligently directed work, by the spending of more money, by the practical encouragement of manufacturers, and by the appointing of executive officers who are experts in their field of work, can we hope even to approach the organisation of the air-corps of France.
But a beginning has certainly been made. By the end of the forthcoming flying season, we should have in England a small, but well-equipped air service. And the work of this corps will be its own advertisement. Once the potentialities of the war aeroplane are realised adequately, a stinting policy will be impossible.
It is our aim, in this book, to show what the war aeroplane has done, and can do. At present, its work has been confined to scouting. But it has other, and grimmer possibilities. It can, and without doubt will, be used as an engine of destruction—not by means of the bomb-dropping attacks of a few aeroplanes, but by the organised onslaught of large squadrons of weight-lifting machines, which will be able to rain down tons of missiles over any given spot.
And there is another possibility, also. Machines are carrying heavier loads every day. Soon the practicability of aeroplanes to transport troops—particularly in regard to hurrying up reinforcements in an emergency—will be demonstrated.
When two opposing armies both have large fleets of war aeroplanes, and these machines take the air in squadrons, prior to a battle, what will happen when they come in contact with each other?
The question is one which the greatest military experts are discussing. Obviously, there will be an aerial battle, each aeroplane corps seeking to cripple the other. Each Commander-in-Chief will in fact desire, above all else, to obtain supremacy of the air. If he can do so, it will have the effect of seriously handicapping his opponent.
Thus—probably waged with light guns firing explosive shells—the next great war will begin, not on earth, but several thousand feet in the air.
Claude Grahame-White.
Harry Harper.
London, 1912.
CONTENTS
PREFACE
FIRST SECTION REVIEW OF PROGRESS PRIOR TO THE FIRST MILITARY TESTS OF AEROPLANES
I. Dawn of flight—Encouragement in Europe and America—England's lost opportunities—The pioneers.
II. First practical flights—The Wright brothers; the Voisins; Farman—The cross-Channel flight.
III. Aeroplanes at Rheims, 1909—Wright, Voisin, Farman, Blériot, Antoinette—The Gnome engine—First military orders.
IV. The human factor—Growing skill of airmen—Feats of 1910, as compared with those of 1909—Cross-country flying.
SECOND SECTION FIRST EXPERIMENTS WITH AEROPLANES IN THE FRENCH AUTUMN MANOEUVRES, 1910.
I. The historic Picardy tests—First official report upon movements of troops, as gleaned by aeroplane.
II. Second conclusive test—Detecting an army in retreat—France's determination to possess an air-fleet.
THIRD SECTION THE GROWING AIR-FLEETS OF FOREIGN NATIONS
I. Activity in France—Two hundred machines at the end of 1911; a thousand promised by the year 1914.
II. The great French tests of military aeroplanes—Striking results obtained—Era of fast, "air-worthy," weight-carrying machines.
III. Germany's aerial policy—Secret energies in creating a fleet of war aeroplanes—Rivalry with France.
IV. Progress in Russia, America, and other countries-England's position in the autumn of 1911.
FOURTH SECTION IMPORTANCE OF ORGANISATION IN THE USE OF WAR AEROPLANES
I. French plans for the concerted use of squadrons of machines in time of war.
II. Value of air-stations—Selection of landing-grounds—Preparing air-maps.
FIFTH SECTION ENGLAND'S POSITION IN REGARDS TO MILITARY FLYING
I. Lessons which were ignored—Work of the Parliamentary Aerial Defence Committee.
II. Policy of "moving cautiously"—Peril of lagging behind in aerial armament.
III. The financial aspect—Money England is spending—The airship policy—Insufficient provision for aeroplanes.
IV. Dangers of a policy of "drift"—Experience which money cannot buy—Trained men, not so much as machines, the criterion of strength.
V. England's official awakening—The training of 100 airmen—The forthcoming trials of military machines.
SIXTH SECTION WAR AEROPLANES AT THE PARIS AERONAUTICAL EXHIBITION, DECEMBER, 1911
I. Latest-type military monoplanes—Two-seated, reconnoitring machines—Single-seated, high-speed aircraft.
II. Latest developments in biplane construction—The engine-in-front, weight-carrying machine.
III. Healthy position of the French industry—What England has lacked—Danger of neglecting home builders.
SEVENTH SECTION WHAT EXISTING WAR AEROPLANES CAN ACTUALLY ACCOMPLISH
I. Plight of a Commander-in-Chief without an aeroplane corps—The work of cavalry reconnaissance.
II. Work of a squadron of air-scouts described—Tasks of the pilot and observer—Combined reconnaissance by many machines—Effect of aeroplanes upon tactics.
III. Other uses of the war aeroplane—Surveying—Dispatch-carrying—Directing gun-fire—Transport of staff officers.
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.
II. French triumphs with wireless telegraphy—Messages sent over a distance of thirty-five miles.
III. Practical uses of wireless upon aeroplanes—England's lack of effort.
IV. Photography from a war aeroplane—The use of special automatic cameras.
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.
II. Value of high speed, when combating a wind—Constructional difficulties of a hundred-mile-an-hour machine.
III. Variable-speed aeroplane—Plans for constructing aircraft of this type—Advantages of such a machine.
IV. Power-plant of aeroplanes—Fitting two engines to obviate involuntary descents.
TENTH SECTION THE TRAINING OF ARMY AIRMEN
I. French thoroughness—An expert's tribute—Sound training all-important.
II. How the military airman is "schooled"—His course of instruction described.
III. Rules for training—Dummy aeroplanes—A pupil's first "hops."
IV. Cross-country flights—The vol plané—Difficulty of first observation tests from an aeroplane.
V. Finishing work at French schools—Practical tests—German thoroughness—Energy of English officers.
ELEVENTH SECTION THE COST OF WAR AEROPLANES
I. Why manufacturers charge high prices—Cost of experimental work—Building of trial machines.
II. Economy of a large military order for machines—The incidental expenses.
III. Question of renewals—General cheapness of an air-corps, as compared with other forms of armament.
OUR AERIAL PROGRAMME FOR 1912-13
TWELFTH SECTION PROBLEM OF ARTILLERY FIRE AND THE AEROPLANE
I. Conflicting opinions as to an aeroplane's vulnerability—Experiments which have been carried out.
II. Shrapnel shell—Question of hitting a vital part of the aeroplane—Difficulty of identifying friend or foe.
THIRTEENTH SECTION DESTRUCTIVE POTENTIALITIES OF WEIGHT-CARRYING AEROPLANES
I. What a modern-type machine can raise—Load of two men, and explosives.
II. Effect of aerial bombardment upon cities and troops—German tests.
FOURTEENTH SECTION WAR IN THE AIR BETWEEN HOSTILE AEROPLANES
I. Certainty of a combat between aeroplanes in actual warfare—Air-scouts protected by aerial "cruisers."
II. An encounter in the air—Importance to an army of an aerial victory.
FIFTEENTH SECTION VALUE OF THE AEROPLANE IN NAVAL WARFARE
I. Machines for coastal and high-seas work—Question of flying in winds.
II. Interesting tests—Machines for rising from water, and landing on a ship's deck.
SIXTEENTH SECTION AERIAL WORK IN THE FRENCH AND GERMAN AUTUMN MANOEUVRES, 1911
I. French successes—Proof of the value of organisation—Flights in high winds.
II. Work in the German manœuvres—An instance of the utility of air-scouts—Reconnoitring from high altitudes.
III. Aeroplanes in actual warfare—What Italian airmen accomplished in Tripoli—Scouting and bomb-dropping under service conditions.
IV. A final word—Conclusions to be arrived at—Problems outstanding.
ILLUSTRATIONS
In order to pave the way for a description of what the war aeroplane, as we know it to-day, can accomplish, it is necessary to trace—although only briefly—the development of the heavier-than-air machine during recent years.
One fact immediately claims the attention of any student of this question. He sees that England might to-day, had she not shown initial apathy, be the first nation in the world in the fostering, and development, of aerial navigation.
Instead of holding such a proud position, however—and any nation may well be proud of having encouraged this new art—we suffer for having displayed a lack of interest in the conquest of the air, and for having given practically no help to far-seeing enthusiasts who first devoted themselves to the great problem.
There was no lack of pioneers in England; but, instead of giving them assistance, we discouraged them, with the result that such countries as France and Germany—wide awake to all forms of progress—have moved forward from one triumph to another.
More than a hundred years ago, for instance, England had an opportunity of displaying a definite interest in flying. Sir George Cayley, a remarkably clever engineer, turned his attention to the design of a flying machine, and actually produced, in the year 1809, plans of a machine which anticipated many constructional features of the monoplane as it is built to-day. Of course there was not, in those days, any such efficient motive power as is now supplied by the petrol engine; but Sir George Cayley lectured upon his ideas, and sought to interest people in them. Had his deductions been greeted with enthusiasm, it is not probable that any successful flying machine would immediately have been produced; the difficulty of finding a reliable propelling medium would have prevented this. But what a ready and encouraging acceptance of Sir George Cayley's pioneer work would inevitably have done, would have been to turn the minds of other inventors towards the problem, and so pave the way for a series of discoveries, each more important than its predecessor.
The imaginations of those who might have exercised a great influence upon future progress were not fired, however; and the same remark applies to the efforts of those who followed in Sir George Cayley's footsteps, and endeavoured to give his ideas more practical shape.
Stringfellow and Henson, for example, pored over the great engineer's drawings, and produced working models of a flying machine. Their apparatus was crude, it is true; but this toil represented so many steps forward along the path of progress. It had been man's ambition, for centuries, to fly; success could not be expected without infinite labour. Nothing definite came of the work of these pioneers, however. They had little encouragement; they were regarded as "cranks." The importance of the work they were engaged upon was not, indeed, realised.
Now, as a striking contrast, let us turn to the reception which early enthusiasts received in other countries. Let us take France, for example. Ader, an electrical engineer, devised, in 1896, a very ingenious, bat-like aeroplane. With it, having fitted a small steam-engine, he actually achieved a short flight—or, rather, a brief "hop" from the ground.
Instead of being greeted apathetically, or having his sanity doubted, Ader was promptly called to appear before the military authorities. They, after hearing his theories expounded, cheerfully voted him £20,000 in order that he might continue his experiments upon an adequate scale. Thus, even at this early stage, France revealed her keen interest in aerial navigation. Ader, lacking the petrol motor, could not carry his investigations much further. But the encouragement he received gave heart to other inventors. And so France went forward to success.
America offers another example of a sane, far-seeing policy. Professor Langley, an eminent scientist, was making a series of wonderfully interesting model aeroplanes at about the time Ader was experimenting in France. To further his work, the American authorities very promptly came forward with a grant of £10,000.
He, like Ader, was unable to carry his individual experiments to a successful issue; but further investigation, on the part of other workers, was greatly stimulated. It is interesting to note what position these two countries, which first encouraged flying, afterwards took when the aeroplane became a reality.
To America, in the work of the Wright brothers, has gone the honour of the first practical flights with a heavier-than-air machine, while France is to-day the premier nation in the world in the development of airmanship.
Thus it is legitimate to pass to a consideration of the first machines that flew, and consider their capabilities from the military point of view. The Wright biplane, naturally, is the first to attract attention, because it was as long ago as 1903 that these two quiet, determined Americans made their first successful flights. From a military aspect, this aeroplane had many drawbacks; and to cite them is instructive, seeing that, by this means, a reader will be better able to judge, later on, what vast strides towards perfection the aeroplane has already made.
The first Wright biplane would, indeed, just fly; that was all. Its pilot only dared to leave the ground when an absolutely dead calm prevailed; he feared the overturning influence of even the smallest gust of wind. His engine, being then a novelty as applied to the aeroplane, required the most patient "tuning up" before even a brief flight could be essayed; and, when it was aloft, the machine only passed through the air quite close to the ground.
Each flight had to be started by sliding the aeroplane forward along a rail; away from this rail, the machine was helpless. From the point of view of a military expert, indeed, this early machine could have been condemned upon several counts. It was unreliable. It could not fly in gusty winds; it was not portable; it could only take the air when launched from its rail.
But the true expert is far-seeing. He makes light of present imperfections if, in any idea, he can see future developments of undoubted importance. Such an expert, for instance, was the late Captain Ferber, of the French Army. He was the first military officer to whom the task fell of reporting, for his Government, upon the capabilities of a military aeroplane.
Representations were made by the Wright brothers to the French Government in the year 1905—two years after their first flights. They had improved their machine considerably; they were now ready to carry a passenger; and they wished to sell their secret. So Captain Ferber was instructed to go to America and investigate their claims.
The Wrights were anxious to sell their secret for a lump sum of money. They had begun their experiments in the humblest possible way, being small cycle-makers at Dayton, Ohio; and they were unable to protect, by patents, the machine which they had evolved by so vast an amount of patient work.
Thus they sought to enter into negotiations with some Government. They asked for a guarantee that their machine would be bought, for a certain price, were it to perform a series of stipulated flights. Their position was, as a matter of fact, a somewhat awkward one. Even a brief examination of their aeroplane, by an expert, would have revealed its principle.
In this quandary, they were led to approach the French Government. They chose France for a very good reason. Already, as has been indicated, this country was keenly alive to the possibilities of flying. The two brothers imagined, therefore, that they would be able to make their best bargain with the French Government.
The practical interest which the French authorities took in the question of military flying was evidenced by their action when they received a communication from the Wright brothers. Although reports of the Wrights' experiments had been greeted, in Europe, with great scepticism, and there was reason, in view of the failure of other inventors, to doubt their claims, the French Government at once detailed Captain Ferber to make the long journey to Ohio, so as to go into the matter in a business-like way.
Captain Ferber, who was one of the first officers in France to become actively interested in airmanship, duly visited America, and interviewed the Wright brothers. They could not show him their machine. Had they done so, their secret would have been revealed. Regarding the flights which they had made, up to this time, Captain Ferber had to rely, for testimony, upon the statements of certain responsible men living in Dayton, who had witnessed them.
The position, so far as he was concerned, was rather an unsatisfactory one. It was like buying "a pig in a poke." But this officer, being a student of character, and an enthusiast regarding flight, saw what manner of men these two brothers were. He did not doubt their word, nor the statements of those who had seen them fly. So, when he returned to France, he recommended his Government to enter into negotiations with the Wrights, and buy their invention before any other nation took steps to secure it.
It was a tribute to his foresight that he should have done this; but, for the time being, the negotiations fell through. The Wrights, for one thing, wanted a very considerable sum of money; and there was difficulty, also, in arranging what the series of tests of their aeroplane should be. Thus it was that, after many communications had passed between the interested parties, the matter stood in abeyance.
In the meantime, however, other inventors were striving with the great problem. In France, in 1906, Santos-Dumont effected "hops" with a machine like an exaggerated box-kite; and this led the way to the remarkable achievements of two particularly clever brothers, Charles and Gabriel Voisin. They busied themselves with a biplane which, at the end of 1907, they asked Henry Farman, a well-known racing motorist, to test for them.
This led to the first famous flights of the Voisin machine at the military parade-ground of Issy-les-Moulineaux, outside Paris. France went wild with enthusiasm when this big, clumsy machine, piloted by the quick, agile Farman, succeeded in flying for a mile, and in making a turn while in the air.
The Voisin aeroplane needed to run along the ground for quite a hundred yards before it could gain sufficient support from the air to enable it to rise. When it did so, it was only just able to skim along above the ground. Compared with present-day aeroplanes, it was an unwieldly, unsatisfactory machine; and, to make matters worse, its motor became overheated after only a minute or so's running.
As a machine for military purposes, it would have been useless. But it represented a definite stage in the progress of aeroplaning. From this machine of the Voisin brothers, which Farman first flew, developed the great school of biplane construction in France.
Also experimenting in France, at the same time as the Voisin brothers, was another great master of flight—M. Louis Blériot. His methods were original. He pinned his faith to the monoplane.
Hastening our review, in order to reach matters of more definite interest from the military point of view, we find that, in 1908, the Wright brothers made aerial history by a series of magnificent flights which were, however, unfortunately marred by a tragedy.
Coming to France, Wilbur Wright flew for a couple of hours, without descending, at Le Mans. At about the same time, in America, Orville Wright was carrying out a series of demonstrations before the military authorities. He achieved remarkable success, particularly from a war point of view, by carrying a passenger in his machine for quite a long flight.
Then, when taking up Lieutenant Selfridge, of the American army, he met with disaster. One of the propellers of his machine broke; it crashed to the ground from a height of about 100 feet. Lieutenant Selfridge was killed, being the first victim of the aeroplane, and Orville Wright broke his thigh. The accident, as may be imagined, cast a gloom over flying in America for a long time.
Longer flights by Henry Farman, on an improved Voisin biplane, were also to be noted in the year 1908; and thus the way is cleared for a description of the wonders achieved in 1909, when it may be said that the importance of the aeroplane, from a military point of view, was first demonstrated, and the attention of nations seriously directed towards the possibilities of this new "arm."
Early in the summer of 1909, after innumerable disappointments, and the breaking-up of many experimental machines, Blériot began to achieve success with a simply-constructed monoplane, driven by an equally simple three-cylinder petrol motor; and, at the same time, another French monoplane, the Antoinette, larger than Blériot's, and having an eight-cylinder motor developing sixty horse-power, was also flying surprisingly well.
It was in July, 1909, that these two machines, representing a distinct type, when compared with the biplane, were brought down to the French coast at Calais with the intention of invading England by air, and winning a prize of £1000 offered by theDaily Mail. Piloting his small monoplane was M. Blériot himself, while the Antoinette was flown by Mr Hubert Latham, an airman already famed for his daring.
The method of Blériot's arrival at Calais gave promise of the eventual utility of his machine from the military point of view. The two wings of his monoplane could easily be detached. They were then folded on either side of the body of the machine; and, thus dismantled, it could be placed for transport upon an ordinary railway truck.
In this fashion it reached Calais, greatly to the surprise of those who had, hitherto, only been familiar with the huge cases needed for the transport of biplanes. When taken from the railway van, the monoplane was tied with ropes behind a motor-car, and ran upon its own pneumatic-tyred wheels to the shelter prepared for it near the sand-hills of Les Baraques, a mile or so from Calais.
Blériot, as history records, won the £1000 prize by flying across the Channel from France to England, just after the dawn on 25th July, 1909. He landed near Dover Castle, after a flight of thirty-seven minutes. Latham, unfortunate with his engine, made two attempts at the crossing, but fell into the sea on both occasions.
Blériot's feat made a deep impression upon all thoughtful men, and particularly upon the military authorities in France. If such a flight could be achieved with a small, crude machine, what might not be possible with a perfected apparatus? This, naturally, was the question which was asked.
In the next important demonstration of the possibilities of flight, which was made at the Rheims flying meeting, held in August, 1909, the French Government took a very active interest. They sent special representatives to this meeting—the first of its kind—to study the various types of flying machines which took part in the contests organised. As a further instance of the practical ideas already being displayed by military men in France, it may be mentioned that one of the competitors at this memorable flying meeting was the French officer whose work has previously been mentioned—Captain Ferber. He flew a Voisin biplane. It was not, unfortunately, very long after the Rheims meeting that this enthusiastic military airman met with his death at Boulogne, his loss being sincerely mourned by the French Government. His biplane overturned in a ditch, and he was killed by the heavy motor, which was torn from its bed, and fell upon him.
Seeing that the Rheims meeting of 1909 was the first occasion upon which a definite military inspection of aeroplanes was made, it should be interesting to describe the machines which were then available. Let us take, for example, the Wright biplane, of which we have previously spoken. This machine, as piloted at Rheims by Lefevre, Tissandier, and the Comte de Lambert, undoubtedly proved itself one of the best all-round machines then in existence.
The aeroplane represented the usual biplane form of building, having one sustaining plane fixed above another, the two being held apart by wooden struts, made taut by cross-wiring.
In front of these main-planes, upon outriggers, was a small double-plane elevator. At the rear of the main-planes, also carried upon outriggers, was a double-plane vertical rudder. The engine of the machine, set upon a wooden bed on the lower plane, actuated two wooden propellers, which—driven by chains—revolved in opposite directions behind the main-planes.
The pilot's seat was on the front edge of the lower main-plane, and his control of the aeroplane, when in flight, was effected by means of two levers. One, moved forward and backward, actuated the elevating planes, and the other was given a dual motion. Moved to and fro, it operated the rudder of the aeroplane. Shifted from side to side, it warped the rear extremities of the main-planes, and so controlled the lateral stability of the aeroplane.
This wing-warping mechanism was, as a matter of fact, one of the salient features of the Wright biplane. The system is considered to be the most efficacious method of combating the effect of wind-gusts when an aeroplane is in flight.
In operation, this wing-warping device was simple. When the airman discovered that his machine was tilting over one side, owing to a sudden inequality in wind pressure, he quickly warped down the plane-ends on the side of the biplane that was depressed. The result was that there was increased wind-pressure under the plane-ends warped down, thus tending to force the machine back again upon an even keel.
The pilot who distinguished himself greatly at Rheims, when flying the Wright biplane, was Lefevre; but this daring airman was, unfortunately, killed shortly afterwards at Juvisy, when testing a new machine. At Rheims he circled in the air, and effected sharp turns, in an altogether remarkable way, demonstrating an absolutely complete control over his machine. So impressed were the representatives of the French Government by the performance of the Wright biplane, that they ordered several machines for military use. This represented their first definite order for aeroplanes for war purposes.
The chief drawback of the Wright biplane, in comparison with other machines flown at this time, was that it needed to make a start into the air from a launching rail, as has previously been mentioned.
The advantage of this system of starting—in which a weight, dropped from a derrick, gave the aeroplane its initial impetus along the rail—was that the machine could be fitted with a lower-powered engine.
