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RUMPLER Designs Largest Plane

Herr Rumpler, famous designer of Germany’s war time fighting planes, is turning his peace time activities to good account in developing the world’s largest airplanes. Rumpler, shown above in a characteristic pose at his drafting board, is now building an enormous monoplane which will have wings large enough to place staterooms in. A new blunt-nosed wing section is used to effect this design. Huge wheels, 10 feet in diameter, will be used on the landing gear. All motors will be easily accessible in flight. Navigating quarters will be in a cabin atop the wing.

The new Rumpler monoplane, now nearing completion in Germany, will have a span of 300 feet and a chord of 50 feet. It will be so large that space between the sides of each wing spar will be used for hallways, staterooms and motor compartments. A specially designed, power operated air field railway track will be constructed for housing the new giant. The cross section drawing shows the disposition of the arrangement. The plane will cruise at 82 m.p.h. A gigantic hangar is shown in the photo below with the big ship on the track. Note room for two of these monsters.

Richard Du Pont—Millionaire Glider Fan

ONE would expect to find a Du Pont in a Washington drawing room or on the sands at Newport; but young Richard Du Pont, son of the industrial magnate, reverses the procedure by spending a great part of his time in a workshop.

Out in the San Fernando valley, a short distance from Los Angeles, stands a small laboratory. There young Du Pont and his co-workers are daily experimenting to make the air currents safer for glider-conscious America.

Building gliders is not a fad with Du Pont—the adventurous hobby of a rich young man luckily possessed of both the time and money to indulge his fancies. There is work to be done in the glider field; and Du Pont intends to do it.

Hazards of Glider Flying Flying a glider or a sailplane is at all times a hazardous business. In the past, too many amateur craft took the air without proper regard for safety in construction. Fatal crashes were not uncommon and the Department of Commerce stepped in to halt the mounting death toll.

A code governing construction and equipment of gliders was drawn and rigidly enforced. The fatalities stopped; but so did the business of sailplaning. The pilot ranks thinned. Today there is only about one licensed glider pilot where there were ten three years ago. The result is a total of slightly more than 200 licensed glider, men in this country as contrasted with Germany’s huge army of 350,000.

Viewing the situation, Du Pont decided that his wealth could serve no better purpose than to develop the science of gliding. One of his first steps was to enlist the aid of Hawley Bowlus who put gliding on the American front page in 1930 by remaining aloft near San Diego for nine hours and five minutes.

Long hours are spent by Du Pont and Bowlus working over glider plans. As soon as they finish a sailplane, they test it thoroughly, determine how it might be made better, and proceed to build another one.

Through their efforts a glider plane possessing every safety factor will eventually be available to air-minded men who cannot afford costly experimentation.

The benefits of Du Pont’s experiments are two-fold. Every glider pilot is a potential national defender. Any man who can fly a sailplane can, with little instruction, fly a motored ship, although the opposite is not necessarily true. Aside from its military aspects, glider flying is a valuable addition to American sports. Glider construction is not essentially expensive. The plane takes no fuel, requires no overhauling of the motor, needs no costly airport as an operating base. But gliding does require initial safety in construction. And that is what young Du Pont hopes to provide.

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What Will Happen to Flying?

by CAPT. EDDIE RICKENBACKER

Commander of the First A. E. F. Air Squadron in the World War.

GIANT dirigibles a mile in length, airplanes capable of flying at 500 miles an hour—these are only two amazing developments which Capt. Rickenbacker predicts are waiting just around the corner of the new air age in which we live. Being the greatest of America’s war aces as well as a motor car engineer of national reputation, Capt. Rickenbacker’s predictions are those of a recognized authority.

Men wonder today whether they will live long enough to see the day of airplanes. As matter of cold fact, that day is here now and we hardly realize it. We travel more commercial miles by air in this country than in all the rest of the world combined, covering 32,000 miles every twenty-four hours—a figure that will be doubled within three years.

Development of air transport will help to open vast areas of territory now unsettled. Such development requires no right of way. Tracks and highways are not needed. Only terminal facilities are required and these necessitate only a modest investment.

Ten per cent of the annual maintenance cost of good roads in the United States would supply a fully equipped air port, one mile square, for every town of 500 population or more in the country.

Railroads will use the airplane. They lost short haul business by neglecting the bus in its early day, and they are not going to lose passenger travel, mail, express, parcel post, and light freight to the airplane. This sort of traffic will normally go through the air and would make up the biggest transportation industry in the world. The railroads see the possibility and are intent upon developing it.”

One feature of their plans is the combination of Pullman and plane service for cross-country travel. The New York Central will haul passengers from New York to Detroit over night. They will take a plane to Fargo, North Dakota, during the day and entrain for Spokane for second night’s ride. The following day they will fly on to the coast. The Pennsylvania is organizing a similar service with changes at Columbus, Wichita, and Tuscon.

Within a few years this combined service will be superseded by airplanes covering the entire route in twenty to twenty-five hours. These planes will have sleeping quarters, dining salons and all requisite travel comforts.

All rail lines will be paralleled by air lines under the same management. Traffic is the railroad companies’ business. They are awake to the possibilities of air transport and are not going to let new men take the business away from them. They will build their own systems and compete with newcomers or will buy them out.

It may safely be predicted that passenger trains will pass out of use within fifteen years. Long hauls will be covered by air, short hauls by private cars and by public buses.

Railroad yards will decked over and utilized as landing fields so that planes can alight in the hearts of the cities. Railroad traffic, in the meanwhile, will be handled by electric locomotives on the lower levels.

These changes will come about because time demands them. Time cannot be saved up and used as needed in the future. It must be used now if at all, and the man who uses it most effectively has all the advantage in the commercial competition of today. That competition is pitiless— far more so than in military combat where all the resources of science are marshalled to the help of the injured. In commercial warfare, the man is soon eliminated who does not make the most effective possible use of his time.

Bigger Planes to Come

The present transport plane is as obsolete as a five-year-old car. Cruising speeds of 100 to 150 miles an hour for transport planes are perfectly feasible. With such planes the Pacific Ocean, in hours of travel, would be brought as close to New York as Detroit is now, and Detroit would be four hours from New York instead of the fourteen hours required by the fastest trains.

Air transport would thus, in effect, reduce the size of the United States to the size of the state of Texas. The fastest train across Texas requires twenty-four hours. At an average speed of 150 miles a plane crosses the continent in less time than that. It is very difficult to conceive of speed in terms of the future. The Spad plane as used by me during the World War travelled 125 miles an hour and was the fastest thing in the world. Single seater planes have been built capable of 350 miles an hour. It is only a matter of engineering to build a plane to go 500 miles an hour and someone will do it somewhere on earth within three years.

Big as present planes are, they are mere kites in comparison to the ones to be used in the future. The biggest thing we know of on earth is the ocean of air in which our earth floats. No one has ever conceived how vast this ocean is, and upon it every city and town is a port. The possible size for a plane or dirigible is therefore limitless, and we must expect them to increase largely in size because the ratio of pay load increases with the size of the unit. Size is now merely an engineering problem of control.

A plane is now being built in Germany that will carry 100 passengers. It is powered with 12 engines of 500 horsepower each, giving a total of 6,000 horsepower, and will fly at full load with any seven of these engines. It will have a cruising radius of 5,000 miles.

Cruising radius is merely a matter of supplies. When planes and dirigibles can carry reserve supplies of oil and fuel, they can go anywhere. Under present conditions, they must go straight ahead on their course. If ocean vessels had to operate the same way, they would lose 15% to 20% of their shipping every year through storms. But ships go around storms or lay by until the weather ahead has cleared. Very soon aircraft will do the same.

In fact, the Graf Zeppelin abundantly proved the value of cruising radius in crossing to Lakehurst. It travelled far south to avoid a storm, was delayed a full day, yet arrived after 6,000 miles with sixty-five hours of fuel still in the tanks.

The Graf Zeppelin with its 3,600,000 cubic feet capacity is now the biggest dirigible in the world. But the United States Government has signed a contract with the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company for two dirigibles of 6,500,000 cubic feet capacity—a 100% increase in size between models.

England is building two dirigibles of 5,000,000 cubic feet which are equipped with dining rooms for fifty people, dance floors, promenade decks, showers in passengers’ cabins. One of these will go into passenger, mail, and express service between London and Sydney, Australia, going always from west to east with the prevailing winds and thus circling the globe on each round trip. The other is expected to go into service between London and Buenos Aires. This trip, which now requires thirty days by the fastest boat connections, will then be made in three and one-half days. Dirigibles can be built to any size and may eventually be a mile in length and of 25,000,000 to 30,000,000 cubic feet capacity. Such ships would be capable of staying in the air five or even ten years, making repairs en route and taking on new supplies without stopping.

The dirigible would therefore go continually on its way around the world. As it approached a city another ship would go out to meet it and dock on its decks. It would unload supplies, exchange cargoes and passengers, and possibly relieve the crew, then take off again and return to its home city.

It is worthy of note that the airplane would be largely useless without the automobile. No one would use aircraft if he had to travel by horse and buggy from the airport to the heart of the city. There must be cars at both ends of the airline, which increases the use of cars and means increased business for automobile makers.

Private ownership of planes is coming through the keen interest of the younger generation. The motor car was developed in precisely the same way. It was commercialized by the generation succeeding the one which created it. Older men have responsibilities which restrain them from developing the new to its utmost extent. The youngsters, who grow up with it, make full use of it.

Buying Hats by Radio

Twenty-five years ago the social radius was five miles and the commercial radius not to exceed ten miles. The automobile extended the social radius to twenty-five miles and the truck increased the commercial radius at a very conservative estimate, to fifty miles. Now aircraft extends these limits to 75, 100, 150 miles and puts cars to work at both ends of the line.

These amazing developments in transportation are equalled, if not even surpassed, by improvements in communicating ideas. Here radio and television are supreme. And so rapidly is it being developed, that very soon important advertisements will be dispatched by television to the newspapers of the country the night before insertion. Last winter an advertisement of a bond issue was televisioned across the ocean to Paris and was on the streets there within three hours of its release in New York.

Three days before last Easter, a milliner in New York received from Paris a television showing in colors a new hat, copied it in his designing department, and had it on sale within three hours of its showing in Paris.

It is the clear obligation of the present generation to develop these possibilities nationally and internationally and devote them to world understanding and world peace. We have already proved what a wealth of good will can be gained from transportation and communication by our glorious apostle of youth—Lindbergh. We should send a thousand Lindberghs every day with messages of good will and with merchandise. A better world wide understanding will result, and will eliminate the jealousies, intrigue and envy that have caused wars.

We must do it before the next generation comes to manhood and womanhood. “We must turn all these mighty forces to the service of mankind. If we fail to do it, civilization is in jeopardy. When wars are fought in the air, there will be no “No Man’s Land” but every man’s house top will be the front. Aircraft of today will carry bombs of 5.000 pounds. They can be built to carry them of 10,000 pounds, 20,000 pounds— large enough to lay waste whole city areas, wrecking the buildings and destroying the people. It is possible for planes to use giant burning lenses weighing tons with which they could focus the rays of the sun upon a city and melt it.

These deadly weapons could thus be used for the destruction of mankind. But they need not be so used. It is the part of wisdom to turn them into economic blessings and angels of peace.

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Rockne Plane Crash Inspires Safety Inventions

FOLLOWING the recent tragic crash of a tri-motored airplane in which Knute Rockne, Notre Dame’s famous football coach, and seven others were instantly killed, a new impetus has been given to the invention of safety devices designed to prevent the recurrence of such catastrophes in the future. It will be remembered that one wing of the Rockne plane was torn off in mid-air.

Even at this late date, no one officially knows what caused the Rockne plane crash. One theory is that ice formed on the wings; another, that ice made certain instruments inoperative; still another, that ice forming on a propeller hub broke off, struck the propeller blade and shattered it, with the result that the engine, running wild, wrenched off a wing of the plane. Whatever the cause of the crash, the safety devices illustrated on these pages, every one of which is commercially available to airplane owners, are designed to improve the already excellent record of flying from a safety standpoint.
Huge parachutes, large enough to lower an entire plane to the ground, are now for sale by at least one manufacturer. The Rockne plane was flying at a height of some 500 feet when it lost its wing. A plane parachute, released at this height, would have been adequate to lower the ship in safety.

Two methods of doing away with the danger of ice forming on the wings are now available. One, manufactured by the Goodrich rubber company, consists of a thin rubber “glove” placed over the leading edge of wings and tail surfaces, and even of propellers. Underneath this rubber sheet is placed a length of flexible tubing through which air can be forced under pressure. This causes the tubing to expand, moving the rubber glove to such an extent that any ice formed on it is immediately cracked off. Actual tests have proved this device workable.

A second way of fighting ice is illustrated on this page. It is the invention of Archie F. Thompson, and consists of an asbestos base, curved to fit the leading edge of the wing, to which is fastened heating coils of the type used in an electric toaster. Over the coils is placed a surface plate of aluminum alloy. Electric current supplied by a wind-driven generator mounted alongside the fuselage heats the resistance wires and melts any ice which may have formed on the aluminum surface plate.

Super-power horns which amplify the voice to such a degree that verbal communication can be established between an airplane and a ground crew are now available. In case of fog or other emergencies, the value of such equipment is obvious.

One disadvantage of personal parachutes on a cabin plane is that the time required to secure a chute, fasten it, and jump, is likely to be so great that the ship will have crashed before the passenger leaves the cabin. A new type airplane seat in which is incorporated a parachute was introduced at the recent Detroit air show. The passenger sits comfortably on the ‘chute pack, and in case of danger has his safety device already attached so all he has to do is jump.

Eye-Shade for Watching Planes
A NOVEL card-board shield, shaped to fit tightly around the eyes, has recently been devised for watching airplanes, boats and other objects where glaring reflections are hard on the eyes. The inside of the shield is painted black.

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Freak Plane Crashes

By RAOUL WHITFIELD

Wartime Aviator and Famous Author of Air Fiction ISSOUDUN, FRANCE. August, 1918. Grey sky, spit of rain. Two fifteen-meter Nieuports doing combat work at eight thousand, just under the clouds. And then, wings too close, the crash!

I’ve seen a lot of sky bangs. This one took the prize. I watched it from the earth—it was my turn to take one of these ships up next. It was my turn, but I didn’t take one. They tangled wings, and one ship spun free like a top. A wing dropped loose as she spun, But not her wing—the other plane’s.

I watched the other. She was sliding toward the field in a sort of half spin. Her left wing was gone. It looked like the finish. But it wasn’t. The pilot got a leg over the side of the fuselage—he got more weight, body weight, on the one good wing. She slithered around in a crazy manner, losing altitude in a series of queer dives and level-offs. The pilot was out of the cockpit—then in it again. He worked hard.

I looked for the other Nieuport. She was nosing straight for the earth—and pretty close. Suddenly she came out of the dive. She half zoomed, went off on a wing. She got level—lost altitude very slowly. She stalled, struck almost gently. My eyes went to the plane with only one wing. She was down to three thousand —and actually gliding! The pilot got down in a fast landing—got off with a broken leg and arm, and some cuts.

The other pilot had a scratch on his chin. And they’d sky-banged at eight thousand!

St. Jean de Monts, France. September, 1918. Flying at three thousand. Along edge of Bay of Biscay. Sergeant in rear cockpit, ready to throw out folded target, to be towed. I zoom her, so that the folded silk pack will have room in the toss. I start to zoom her. We hit a down current —the nose drops. Sergeant, off balance, throws back the silk. She jams between the rudder and elevator fins. I cut the power and try to move the elevator fin. No go. We glide for the beach—a mild glide. But we’re going to crash unless I can get the nose up. The stick is frozen —the silk target pack is jammed tight. All the way down I work. But that silk won’t free. We hit sand—the under-gear buckles. Wheels in one direction, struts in the other.

Ten days later, at the same field, a ground officer neglected to have petrol placed where petrol should be placed in a flying ship. DeHaviland Nine, she was. I took off, got about eight hundred feet over the beach, when the engine died abruptly. Couldn’t make the field—dove for the sand. I could use the controls, this time—but no power. Dropped straight for a half dozen of those bathing houses the French wheel down near the water. The bathers heard the D. H.’s wires shrill. They sped forth in various stages of dress and undress. But it wasn’t funny. Stretched the glide and cleared the last bath house by inches. Blew the left rudder in the set-down—nosed over. No personal damages.

Kelly Field, Texas. March, 1918. This particular cadet let a Curtiss “Jenny” skid on the ground, while taking off. He got her off, minus the landing gear. Just a few shreds left. They rolled out the ambulance, waved pieces of the under-gear up at him—and waited to see what he’d do. I’d like to write that he did the best thing—and stalled her down. But he didn’t. He stayed up until she was almost out of gas—and gave every one on the field a terrible hour. Then he made a fast forced landing. His plane pin-wheeled all over the place. The cadet had a broken nose and a lot of bruises.

Mines Field, Calif.—at the National Air Meet, last year. Lieutenant Hasselman, Navy pilot, was banking vertically around the home pylon, located some two hundred yards from the packed stands. He was doing about a hundred and fifty miles an hour, in a V. B. 2B Squadron, Boeing Pursuit ship. His plane’s nose got down when he had a wing to the sky, and a wing to the earth, about a hundred feet below. She slipped off, but he got her fairly righted before she struck dirt. It was a nasty crash. She pin-wheeled several times. The friend with me was very certain, with his view from the dead-line, that the pilot was finished. But I remembered past air crashes and ground crack-ups. I wasn’t so sure. Five days after the crash the pilot was transferred to a big Fokker hospital plane and winged back to his base at San Francisco.

Fatal air accidents, however, are becoming rarer all the time. The parachute saves hundreds of lives every year. They have even perfected parachutes which can lower a disabled airplane safely to the ground. Huge chutes they are, and mighty effective1. Passengers aboard tomorrow’s transport planes need have no worry in the very unlikely event that their machines crash in the air, as depicted on the cover of Modern Mechanics this month. All they’ll have to do will be to pull a lever and, zip! The chutes grab hold and the planes drift easily to earth.

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Cars That Fly

YOUR car of the future may have no wheels. It may not even touch the road as it races along the turnpike at speeds well above 100 mph while you and your family sit back and enjoy the ride—without fear of accident or injury.

This revolutionary new mode of travel was recently unveiled by the Ford Motor Company in the form of the Glideair—a wheel-less vehicle that rides on a thin film of air a fraction of an inch above the road.

Says Andrew A. Kucher, Ford’s vice president in charge of Engineering and Research: “We look upon Glideair as a new form of high-speed land transportation, probably in the field of rail surface travel, for fast trips of distances of up to about 1,000 miles.” A gas turbine or turbojet engine would supply the power to both levitate and propel the Glideair. Instead of wheels the vehicle would employ “levapads,” a Kucher-coined word. Tiny jets of air would stream through holes in the levapads, supporting the vehicle. It is significant to note that levapads have already been designed to fit around a standard rail. They raise the vehicle from the rail and keep it away from the rail sides.

There are also others with their fingers in the wheel-less vehicle pie. Noted designer Carl Reynolds recently showed off his concept of a car without wheels which he forsees by 1978. Mr. Reynolds says, “The highway cruiser, or large passenger car will float, or literally fly a short distance above the road supported on air compressed by turbine-driven ducted fans.”

“In the wheel-less car,” Reynolds goes on to say, “the driver’s controls will be automated to simplify safe and effortless driving. . . Inter-city expressways will have electronic equipment for driver information as well as for traffic control and guidance… The car without wheels will negotiate fairly rough terrain, even travel over smooth water!”

Piasecki Aircraft Corp. has a Sky Car in the works for the not-too-distant future. It will be an offspring of their 59-K, one of two Flying Jeeps being developed for the Army. The 59-K, which is “well ahead of schedule,” according to the Army, is designed to combine the utility of ground jeeps with the hovering capabilities of small helicopters.

The Sky Car will be the civilian version. It will have no wings or conventional propellers and will be pow- ered by two horizontal three-bladed rotor-props, one at the front and one at the rear, which will support the craft on two columns of air.

Both rotor-props will be shielded for safety and the Sky Car will hold a driver and three passengers. It will be able to fly down narrow streets or get above heavy traffic. It will also have powered wheels to drive it in and out of the garage or congested areas.

According to Piasecki, the Sky Car will cost little more than a high-priced motor car of today.

Ford also envisions what it calls an aero-car. Dubbed the Volante, the vehicle would be powered by means of three fan units arranged in a triangular pattern to provide lift and thrust somewhat like a helicopter.

That’s the story of tomorrow’s vehicles. How soon they’ll appear above the roads is anybody’s guess. Scientists are currently experimenting with the means to power such vehicles. One thing is certain—cars that fly are on the way; you may be parking one in your backyard in just a few short years. •

Bottoms Up!
IT LOOKS like an aviator’s nightmare of a mass crack-up, but it’s just the way one airport solves a “parking” problem. Due to lack of space, these light planes are set up on their noses in a hangar at Boston Municipal Airport, their propellers protected from injury by wooden blocks. By using this unique, if unorthodox method, 15 ships can be stored in the same space that five would ordinarily use.

Floating Fuel Station for SEAPLANES

IN THE future, when airplane travel comes to be as commonplace as automobile travel, we may expect to see floating filling stations, such as shown in the drawing above, dotting the airplane travel lanes of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. This is by no means a fantastic project of dreamers, for already just such floating service stations are to be seen scattered along the Pacific coast; and a west coast oil company, looking to the future, has announced its intentions of establishing a chain of 99 such stations for the accommodation of planes journeying up and down the seaboard.

These floating service stations are marked by neon lighted towers and are equipped to service a plane in any way necessary, their chief function, however, being refueling. A wireless transmitter and receiver keeps the station in constant communication with land, so that weather information and emergency orders can be provided for the pilots. When a pilot wants to take on fuel he brings his ship up alongside the barge, fastens his mooring lines to the mooring post, and swings the hose, which is attached to the projecting fuel arm, into position and signals to the attendant to begin pumping.

The barge is moored in place by means of anchors. All fuel tanks are below decks, with no projection above save for the office at the stern. The fueling pumps are sunk in pits to safeguard the wings of planes moored alongside.

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Firefighting Helicopters

Guardians of our national forest reserves now have a versatile weapon to pit against nature’s ancient and devastating enemy—fire.

BY DAVID P. GODWIN, Asst. Chief, Div. of Fire Control, U.S. Forest Service, as told to James N. Miller

THE newest and most promising tool tor the protection of our national forests is the firefighting helicopter. Its practicability has already been proven in tests conducted by Army and Forest Service officials.

The greatest value of the rotary wing aircraft lies in its ability to hover and land almost anywhere. Visibility is not a serious problem for the craft literally can feel its way through darkness or cloudy flying weather by circling around trees, mountains and other obstacles. In these respects it is superior to the airplane which has been used by the Forest Service for some 25 years.

Heading up the helicopter-forest project is Colonel Wallace S. Ford, commanding the Air Rescue Service, AAF. I serve in a like capacity for the Forest Service with headquarters in Washington. In charge of the actual experiments are Major Fred W. Milam, AAF, headquartered at March Field, Calif. His able associate is Clare Funk, Forest Service equipment engineer for the California region.

After reviewing the results of our program, covering a period of about five months, we feel that the helicopter is about the most versatile type of flying machine for our work. It is capable not only of vertical rise and descent within an area slightly larger than that swept by its rotors, but also of hovering, climbing, gliding and flying backward, forward or sideways.

The Forest Service is not planning to maintain what might be called a helicopter “patrol.” The role of this type of flying machine in fire control work, as compared with that of the airplane, is about the same as that of the city fire engine as contrasted to the fire patrol car. It’s most likely to become largely a standby proposition, with the helicopter always on tap as a “hot shot” unit, ready for quickest possible use for transporting men and firefighting equipment to remote sections of our national forests otherwise inaccessible by air, water, trail or road.

For several years Forest Service officials have conferred with manufacturers of rotary wing aircraft concerning their fire problems. At the moment it seems most likely that the Army’s R-5, a Sikorsky model, such as we used in our tests, will be the first to actually go into forest protection work. The R-5, with 450 hp, is the prototype upon which the first Sikorsky commercial model, the S-51, is based. The latter has a cruising speed of 80 mph, a service ceiling of 13,000, a cruising range of over 200 miles and its fuel consumption is roughly 28 gallons per hour. It carries a fuel weight of around 500 pounds and has accommodations for a pilot, three passengers and a baggage weight of 70 pounds.

At present there are comparatively few competent helicopter pilots and mechanics. I would guess that there are probably not 200 pilots who have checked out on the helicopter. However, 30 hours of training is sufficient to make a helicopter pilot out of a good airplane pilot, so we don’t expect this to be a problem in the future.

Because it can land and take off in . very restricted areas, the helicopter could deliver men and supplies in thousands of spots through forested areas, such as flat ridge tops, small meadows or clearings, and in canyon bottoms.

Among the areas now under consid- eration for maintaining helicopters are the Northern Rockies, which take in sections of Montana and Idaho; the Northern Cascades, running through Oregon and Washington, and the Sierra Nevada range that hooks into the Cascades, running southward through California. Other possible regions are the Central Rockies in Colorado and the mountainous areas of New Mexico and Colorado.

Early in our research program, Forest Service officials realized that for their type of work greater lift and better all round performance were a “must.” Sikorsky answered our prayer and equipped some of the experimental R-5’s with a newly designed type of rotor blade, offering much improved lift characteristics—so much so that at 7,000 feet with the new blades we were able to achieve about the same performance that we got with the old type at heights of only 4,000 feet.

As a rough performance specification you might say that the Service is now seeking a helicopter that will behave as well at 8,000 feet as present ones do at 1,000 feet in take off, hovering, landing and cargo hauling. We are confident the industry will be able to develop this type of super-craft in the reasonably near future.

We most certainly expect radical changes in the shape of tomorrow’s helicopters. Already on the drawing boards are cabins almost exactly like those found on regular cargo and transport airplanes. We in the Forest Service are thoroughly in accord with this idea. For we need as much open space as possible for men and cargo. A little later on there seems to be no engineering reason why the industry cannot produce a helicopter with a payload of 2,000 to 3,000 pounds. Which would mean that we could transport ten “smoke-chasers” with complete equipment for each man.

Tomorrow’s firefighting helicopter no doubt will go much faster than today’s. However, speed is not the main thing we’re seeking. A speed of 100 mph. is just about adequate for our purposes.

Many other potential forest uses loom for the helicopter. On large fires men could be shuttled back and forth between fire camp and fire line, and prepared food taken to smoke-chasers on the job. For various types of observation, the helicopter would be ideal. These include detection of fires, scouting big areas already burning and prevention and law enforcement in sections where incendiarism is suspected.

Millions of dollars have been invested in roads and trails constructed primarily for fire protection. A well planned and skilfully managed helicopter operation could provide a degree of protection justifying reduced road-building and abandonment of some existing roads.

Experimenter Flies With Bat Wings

RESURRECTING an ancient theory of the Greeks which had to do with the flight of humans equipped with bird wings, Adolph Matz, an aeronaut of Brookline, Mass., recently gave a demonstration of a novel means of self propulsion through the air by the use of bat’s wings.

Made of heavy cloth and braced with wooden ribs, the wings are strapped to the body as illustrated in the photo below.

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Flying Cameraman Ousts the Old-Time Prospector

Where prospectors of the old school searched the gold country for years in quest of the precious metal, the modern aerial cameraman discovers and records all the salient features of a mineral-bearing region by the simple click of a shutter. Read here how the amazing instruments disclose topographical secrets to flying prospectors.

SINCE the beginning of history, gold has taken its toll of human effort. The desert sand holds fast among its trackless wastes mute evidence of prospectors who rest at Rainbow’s End after a life spent in an elusive search for riches.

But no longer so! The airplane and the aerial mapping camera have changed it all. The burro, the frying pan, the kit of bacon and beans, and the water bag have been displaced in this modern mining game by roaring trails through the sky and the click, click, click of the camera shutter recording the features of the ground upon the ineradicable memory of the film.

In a few flying hours the airplane, soaring at altitudes of from 10,000 ft. to 18,000 ft., records in perfect detail areas comprising hundreds of square miles. Of course, these pictures do not tell the entire story, but they eliminate many a tedious mile upon the ground and give the continuity of such geological features as faults, contacts, intrusions, anticlines, and a variety of others, and bring to a focus those regions which appear to justify intensive investigation, committing the sterile 99% remainder into the irrevocable discard.

Difficult indeed is the task before the aerial mapping pilot. He needs a delicately adjusted sense of balance and position to solve the kaleidoscopic changes of the elements in which he operates. The wind direction changes, the air is rising, he strikes a down-draft, and his instincts must respond instantly and precisely in order to maintain his constant course and altitude. Few indeed are the pilots possessed of this rare combination of faculties.

Ground Shown in Relief The finished pictures thus secured are suitable for a number of different uses. Consecutive overlapping pictures may be viewed with a stereoscope, showing the ground and every feature on it in relief. The view secured in this manner enables the observer to see the stereoscopic image as though he were a giant with eyes three miles above the ground and thousands of feet apart. Every acre of the area mapped may be so studied and many preliminary engineering problems may be solved without further costly mapping.

Frequently it is desired to mosaic all the pictures which have been secured on the flight together to form a large map showing the relation and continuity of different parts of the area. This may be accomplished by carefully determining the scale of each picture and enlarging or reducing it for differences in elevation and projecting onto tilted easels to compensate for sloping ground, etc.

Perhaps the most amazing result of recent progress in this art is the precise contour map which may be made from pictures. These pictures may be secured on the ground by an instrument called the photo-theodolite or they may be made from the air by the aerial camera. Astounding machines, called the aerocartograph, with almost human qualities, receive these pictures and from them draw a map, depicting faithfully every feature of the ground in its precise location, as well as contour lines from which the most exacting engineering study may be made. Mining engineers can easily locate from this type of map veins, faults and other invaluable guides to modern-day gold mining.

While looking very complicated indeed, these machines are fundamentally simplicity itself. As simple, in fact, as the old-fashioned stereoscope, that almost every family used to own, is the principle upon which the aerocartograph is based. The same basic princi- ples have been employed for more than thirty years in astronomical observatories for measuring distances. Again this fundamental factor, stereoscopic parallax, is used in our laboratories of physics for the measurement of ultra-microscopic electron tracks.

Fit to Fly a Jet?
OUR jets are the hottest things in the air and it takes hot pilots to fly them. Even the fighters cost a few hundred thousand dollars each and Uncle Sam makes certain he doesn’t put a muttonhead behind the stick whenever there’s flying to be done. It’s easy for him to select good pilot material, however. The Air Force has formulated a series of tests which reveal a candidate’s mental and physical alertness in short order. It’s all done with lights, levers, noises and, of course, the necessary laboratory measuring instruments. There are vision testers, wobble meters and spinning chairs. A few are explained here. Think you could qualify?

Future Dirigible Without Hangar
A GIGANTIC dirigible which would have an all metal body made of corrugated sheet steel, and which would be so durable as to eliminate the need of the customary hangar, is the novel craft recently designed by an eminent Russian inventor, Konstantin Ziolkowski. This craft will expand or contract according to the interior gas pressure.

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AIR WAR OVER THE ARCTIC

Our planes are waging a relentless battle to conquer polar cold and guard America against sneak attacks across the world’s roof.

By Major General K. P. McNaughton, U. S. Air Force

FOR nearly four centuries the Arctic defied the hardiest explorers from the temperate zones. This vast ice-locked world with its midnight sun, Aurora Borealis and paralyzing cold has been an impregnable barrier across the shortest route between the East and West.

Now the development of long-range aircraft is wiping out that barrier and, for the first time, exposing America to bombing and invasion by air. The polar regions have become vitally important to our national defense. For, should that dreaded World War III suddenly explode upon us, the key battles probably will be decided in the air over the Arctic.

By traveling the polar routes, military aircraft now

may fly with ease from the major cities of Europe and Asia to the industrial centers of the United States. For example, by way of the Arctic, the air distance from Chungking, China to New York City—two of the world’s most strategic cities from the military viewpoint—is a mere 7800 miles against 12,700 by land and sea. Long-range jets could cover that shorter route in a matter of hours, where the conventional surface journey would take at least three weeks.

Should an airfield be set up on the frozen wastes near the North Pole, cities open to shuttle air attacks would include New York, 2950 miles away; San Francisco. 3150; Detroit, 2850; Moscow, 2050; Berlin, 2200, and London, 2300.

In these tense times, America therefore must keep a watchful “aerial eye” guarding the top of the world. To fill this need, the United States Air Force is training and organizing what might be called an “Arctic Air Force” to meet and destroy any enemy bombers or guided missiles before they can strike our industrial targets.

Three large Air Force fields are now in operation in Alaska. At Ladd Field, near Fairbanks, an outdoor cold-weather test unit is maintained. In the immediate area, at Mile Twenty-Six, a World War II fighter base has been enlarged to accommodate our heaviest bombers. To the west, near Anchorage, Elmendorf Field is under expansion. Emergency airfields are located throughout Alaska and at strategic points along the Aleutians.

Flights by Alaska-based squadrons during the past two years have shown our Air Force how to operate planes and equipment efficiently in the polar regions and have proved that U.S.A.F. units can fly anywhere in the Arctic during any time of the year. It is no accident, moreover, that jet planes have been undergoing intensive tactical exercises up there for well over a year.

Within recent months remarkable progress has been made in our knowledge of polar aerial navigation. Alaska has been mapped comprehensively for the first time in history. Our airmen have cleared up much of the mystery concerning the magnetic north pole—which is really three poles in a magnetic field in the vicinity of Prince of Wales Island. Now, thanks to such discoveries as this and a revolutionary system of navigation, a pilot can fly anywhere and fix his location to within one mile.

When the 46th Reconnaissance Squadron arrived in Alaska, navigators found their maps were marked with huge white areas marked “Unexplored.” They also found that the charts used in the lower latitudes were not practical for polar, or high-latitude, navigation.

Converging latitudes at the top of the world made guesswork out of most attempts to navigate by means of ordinary maps. Near the magnetic poles, compasses perform like roulette wheels. Northern lights and sunspots black out radios and electronic equipment.

Sounds have terrific carrying power in the cold, clear air. During World War II the Japs on Kiska didn’t need air-warning devices. They could hear our bombers taking off from Amchatka, 75 miles away.

For many months jet fighters have been going through rigid tests in the Arctic under simulated combat conditions. The Air Force’s “Hat-in-the-Ring” Squadron, equipped with Lockheed P-80B “Shooting Stars,” arrived at Ladd Field, Fairbanks. Alaska, in December, 1947, for the first mass tactical operation of jet aircraft over the polar area. This was a unit of the First Fighter Group, based at March Field, Calif.

Before taking off, the planes were winterized. To withstand temperatures down to minus 65 degrees F., they were modified so that their GE-Allison J-33 turbo-jet engines could be started with gasoline, because that fuel is more readily combustible. Later they switched to kerosene, the regular jet fuel. Recently the Navy Bureau of Aeronautics and the AiResearch Manufacturing Co. of Los Angeles have developed the first successful starter for jet and turbo-prop engines. This new self-starting system may solve one of the problems of jet operations in the Arctic.

Exact training procedure for the jets is, naturally, secret. In general, though, when not supporting the ground forces in simulated combat the jets “go upstairs” to fly top fighter cover for bombing missions and aerial supply flights. Officials have expressed complete satisfaction with the jet fighter as experimental, first-line equipment in the Arctic. Using the faster jets, pilots can complete their missions in about half the time required in conventional aircraft.

Special weather-equipped B-29s make regular flights over the Arctic. The 375th Reconnaissance Squadron has been handling two vital missions for more than a year: first, to observe weather conditions over the North Pacific from the Aleutians to Japan, and second, to maintain weather recon reporting facilities in the polar area. Because of the scarcity of ground weather stations, there is a negligible amount of forecasting data available north of 70 degrees latitude.

Polar prowls are made thrice weekly by the 375th Recon Squadron, flying out of Ladd Field. In these nights, B-29s take off with capacity loads of 134,000 pounds on 17-hour missions. At takeoff they carry 8500 gallons of fuel, 14 crewmen.

For most of the trip these planes fly level at 10,000 feet which is high enough to evade most bad polar weather. However, they must go up to 20,000 feet till they are north of the Alaskan mountain ranges.

Summer missions are flown in continuous daylight and winter missions in continuous darkness. To aid comparison of all types of information, the planes usually follow the same route: From takeoff point the 375th heads for Aklavik on the Arctic Sea Coast of Yukon Territory, then to Cape Manning on the southern tip of Prince Patrick Island, from there northward up the 123rd meridian to the Pole. The return trip is via Point Barrow, Alaska.

Radar is vitally needed for Arctic flying. The operator can track and determine active cold fronts 50 miles away and identify various types of ice formations.

There are few manmade landmarks such as cities, roads, railways and towns. Natural landmarks like lakes, rivers and coastlines are often so badly obscured by snow that it is next to impossible to distinguish them from land.

By a new grid system, radar operators have learned to estimate wind, drift and ground speed to a fine margin, even through an overcast. The margin of error in figuring the drift has been narrowed to one degree. Ground speed can be computed to within five knots.

Actually polar weather isn’t as treacherous as legend would have it. The air is mostly stable and the greatest hindrances are fog, snow and ice haze. In winter there are few clouds and it is fairly clear although of course darkness prevails all, the time.

Right at the North Pole it often is warmer than at Ladd Field. Strong winds are prevalent, one mission hitting a cyclone over the polar cap. ‘ Pertinent weather information is relayed by a Naval weather-teletype machine to all points of the U. S., Canada, Alaska and even Hawaii. Such information is extremely important since Arctic weather today foretells the world’s weather tomorrow.

The Air-Weather Service operates a network of sub-Arctic weather stations that have shown the feasibility of sustained operation in the area. It also operates daily round-trip weather flights from Fairbanks, Alaska, to the North Pole and is experimenting with auto- matic weather stations in remote Arctic regions where it is impractical to assign personnel.

Following a new rotation system for training in Arctic air war, the 43rd Bomb Wing, a Strategic Air Command unit is rotating three five-plane units of B-50s to Alaska for 45-day special field exercises, ending March 15. The four-engine Boeing B-50 is an improved postwar version of the B-29, with a top speed of 400 miles an hour, a cruising speed of 300, and service ceiling of 30,000 feet.

Wing headquarters for these first B-50s in Alaska is at Davis-Monthan Air Force base, Tucson, Arizona. Under the plan the bombers are flown from Tucson to Eielson Base near Fairbanks.

It is almost impossible to exaggerate the danger of the effect of intense cold on metals, plastic and rubber. Equipment must be thoroughly winterized. Plastic brackets on aircraft crystallize at low temperatures and must be replaced with metal. Hydraulic propellers are hard to “feather” and give way to those that are electrically controlled. All exterior plumbing has to be specially wrapped. Sometimes truck engines have frozen right while they are running.

When a plane lands, the fuel must be drained or it will freeze in the fuel lines. Engines, tail surfaces, wings, turrets and carburetors air scoops must be covered. Covers have to be pulled skin tight to prevent moisture from forming underneath, then freezing.

Batteries are removed and stored in a warm place. Mats are placed under all rubber tires so that they won’t freeze to the runway, go flat or have the bottoms torn off.

All parked aircraft must be tied down because of the Alaska Williwaws. These storms, often including 100-mile-an-hour winds are caused by wind piling up against a mountain and then “boiling over” on the leeward side. They strike suddenly and toss unsecured airplanes around like chips. Luckily, it’s easy to anchor a plane against one of these violent storms. A crewman tosses the loose end of a .rope on the runway and pours a bucket of water over it. In a moment the rope’s end freezes solidly and securely to the runway.

Other changes to adapt our planes to subzero operations include the use of new greases, cold-weather packing around hydraulic units and the installation of an electric blower to defrost the pilot’s windshield and canopy. Synthetic rubber, brittle under severe cold, was replaced with natural rubber, including the sealing of the pressurized cockpit.

When a plane is prepared for polar flight, the covers must be removed. Snow, frost and ice (which may form instantly) must be cleared from all surfaces. All parts of the plane must be checked carefully because metal sweats and ice forms wherever there is moisture. The same cold that will freeze a man’s bare hand in two minutes will cause the small amount of moisture discharged from the exhaust of a single plane to create an ice fog that may settle over an entire airfield and paralyze operations. The engines must be preheated by ground-heating units before they can be started and aircraft weapons thawed before they will operate.

Many of these winterization problems in the Arctic are being solved despite temperatures as low as 65 degrees below zero. Among the test planes being used are Fairchild Packets loaded with special equipment. The huge twin-box car is provided with snow and ice tires for the main landing-gear wheels. These tires have small slivers of steel impregnated in the tread to provide better traction and protect the rubber from ferocious slashing by the elements.

In one recent and very successful test with the Packets, additional heat for the cargo compartment, cabin and also for the outside wings, fuselage and tail surfaces was provided by four specially designed hot-air exchangers, instead of the two inboard exchangers formerly used. These furnish enough heat per hour to warm over 200 big rooms in a good-sized hotel. In this new system air, introduced by scoops, is heated to 350 degrees and forced under pressure to the leading edge of the wings and tail surfaces. The temperature on the outside surfaces of these equipment items, rises to about 130 degrees, preventing the formation of ice.

Training exercises for Arctic maneuvers have been conducted in various parts of Alaska and the United States by the Army and Air Forces since 1946. In 1948 two of these were held, “Yukon,” at Big Delta, Alaska, and “Snowdrop” at Pine Camp, N. Y. They proved the efficiency of transporting men, equipment, material and supplies by air to a combat, cold-climate area, fully prepared to engage an enemy. They also revealed improved methods for parachuting equipment and for landings and takeoffs by gliders on ice and snow.

The Air Force’s new crash rescue system deserves special mention. Since 1947 the A. F. has maintained parachutist teams of medical technicians and guides to be used by the 10th Rescue Squadron in Alaska. The teams each include two medical technicians, two Alaskan guides and a jump surgeon and do remarkable rescue jobs when aircraft are forced down in inaccessible areas.

For more than a year the squadron also has been using long-range Douglas C-54 Sky-masters for glider hauls and pickups. With the new method, rescue squadron can fly gliders loaded with medical aidmen and Arctic survival equipment to the scene of a crash without trying to land the four-engine transport the airmen “snatch” injured and survivors back to safety.

The squadron now includes four separate flights, each having two twin engine Catalina amphibious aircraft (for air-sea rescue), two four-engine bomber-type aircraft, two helicopters, two liaison-type aircraft and one twin-engine transport.

The four-engine jobs B-17s carry large lifeboats. The boats are dropped to crews forced down in the water. The long-range bombers also are used to locate crashed aircraft.

Often the parachutist rescue teams accompany the bombers in locating downed aircraft. These teams jump immediately on their missions of mercy rather than await arrival of the transports.

Helicopters have conclusively proved their usefulness in the Arctic. Back in September, 1947 an A. F. Sikorsky R-5 helicopter 10th Rescue Squadron at Ladd Field, made its first rescue mission above the Arctic circle, flying to Bettles, Alaska, 185 miles northwest of Fairbanks, to rescue George Plucinski, a trapper, stranded for two weeks on an inaccessible river bank.

Since this dramatic rescue the air force has been testing for frigid climates the new R-5F helicopter, which holds three passengers and the pilot—two more than earlier models. A tricycle-type landing gear and “high-lift” rotor blades provide better performance.

The R-5F can carry a covered Utter or rescue hoist on each side of the cabin. Cruising speed is 85 miles per hour, range is 245 miles and climb rate is 1200 feet a minute.

Realizing that morale and efficiency are all-important in combating the rigors of Arctic flying, the Air Force set up an Arctic Indoctrination School at Nome, Alaska in September, 1947, to teach air crews how they can best survive the subzero cold.

Fliers are warned not to bail out of their planes in emergencies unless there is immediate danger of explosion. Chances of survival in the bleak polar wastes are much better if the crew rides the crippled plane down to a crash landing, then sticks near it both for shelter and for easier spotting in the snow and ice by search parties.

The men learn how to live off the land and build snow houses for survival in the face of 60-below-zero weather. They must get used to wearing clothing loose enough for air to circulate. Tight garments cause perspiration, which quickly freezes in the cold and thus forms a frost lining next to the skin. The men also find out that they may suffer a frostbitten face unless they shave regularly, as the moisture in the breath will freeze on a beard and turn it into an ice mask. On the other hand, the face must be protected with a special shield, or heavily greased, to prevent sunburn. Goggles, too, must be worn all day outdoors as a precaution against snow blindness from the intense glare.

After a course in the new school, the men still respect the Arctic and its very real dangers, but they show more courage and confidence in facing the rugged polar life.

The late General “Billy” Mitchell, noted air pioneer, said: “Whoever holds Alaska will control the airlines of the world.”

So far, our only challenge for control of those airlines has come from a nonhuman enemy, the polar cold. Should this cold air war over the Arctic suddenly grow hot, at least we’ll have the pilots and planes right there on top of the world—ready to spring to America’s defense and strike back a powerful counter-blow.

WORLD’S LARGEST WHIRLYBIRD

THE world’s largest transport helicopter and America’s first twin-engined tandem whirlybird transport is the Piasecki YH-16. An important feature of its tandem design is that cargo can be loaded quickly without too much regard for weight balance. The craft’s rotors are connected by a shaft to permit single engine operation and its all-metal blades, 82 feet in diameter, are the biggest shaft-driven rotors in existence at the present time.

Air Buoy Marks Location of Field

Suggested as a means of enabling fog-bound pilots to locate the position of landing fields, the floating air buoy above has won the approval of veteran airmen. A plane flying above the cloud or fog strata sights the captive balloon bearing the name of the airport, learns of conditions by reading large-dialed instruments suspended from the balloon, and is enabled to make a safe landing in spite of the fog.

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Crashing PLANES for the Movie

by DICK GRACE – the world’s most famous movie stunt man

FOREWORD
Dick Grace is by long odds the world’s most famous movie plane crasher. He has cracked-up 34 planes intentionally, and lived to spend the money. The reasons why he has been able to climb alive out of these wrecks he tells in this thrill-packed article. Crashing planes for movie shots, such as Grace did in “Wings,” “Lilac Time,” “The Flying Circus,” and many other films, is done scientifically, by physics and mathematics. How he does it Grace explains in this personal story written expressly for Modern Mechanics’ readers, and his thrilling narrative is told with the same gusto and cool assurance that makes him the most famous stunt flyer in the world. Dick Grace is also author of the book “Squadron of Death,” an amazing autobiography telling his own story and that of countless other stunt men.

“ANYONE who would crash an air-plane intentionally is crazy,” a gentleman with a florid complexion and a bulky fuselage said to another curiosity seeker by his side.

For some minutes they had been berating the foolhardiness of the pilot who was to intentionally dive an airplane into the mud flats of Sherwood Lake for the picture “Young Eagles.”

The scoffing I received at the hands of these wise men did not bother me. T5y this time I was used to it. And they were halfway right. If it were they who attempted to do such a thing undoubtedly they would be killed. I’ve been called a fool. I know many people believe me insane. The companies I work for give me no credit; to them I am but a service to be used at times when a thrill is urgently needed.

Why is it no one realizes why I consistently crawl from wreckage—from a mass of struts and torn wings which seconds before had been an airplane? Is it not possible that there is more to it than mere chance?

If I had crashed an airplane but once it could be said that it was all luck. Then I might be called a brainless fool and a daredevil. But I’ve crashed 34. If you see a squadron with that many ships on the line and say to yourself as you survey each one: “Now I’ll crash this one!” or “Here goes that one,” you would realize that 34 airplanes is quite a squadron.

I don’t mean to say that there is no danger in crashing* at a speed of from 80 to 110 miles per hour. I have had my neck, ribs, chest bone, some teeth, collar bones and a few other things broken in the last 14 years, but I challenge anyone to walk out of all of the crashes which I have done if they are performed under the same conditions and the same handicaps with which I have been confronted.

This may sound a little egotistical. To dispel any such idea I am going to expose a few of the minor details which have figured in the success of my crashes.

I have no voice in picking the location, nor can I dictate the nature of the ground into which I must fall. Sometimes it is in barbed wire entanglements of shell-pitted No-man’s Land, and at others over cliffs, or into the roof of a house, or the edge of a muddy swamp. Whatever the nature of the location, I must accept it as part of the problem I must solve. Before the stunt I must know every inch of that territory and the ground surrounding it for several hundred yards.

The next thing I note is the prevailing wind, presupposing that in all likelihood conditions on the appointed day will be normal.

One of the little details which plays a most important part in the successful completion of a thrill is the time of day at which it is done. I have always tried to crash at 11:45 a. m. Such a statement sounds absurd—ridiculous. It would almost seem as if I were superstitious. But when consideration is given to this angle it becomes quite the sensible thing to do. At that time of day the sun is highest in the skies and so there is less likelihood of being blinded as I dip a wing or tear off a landing gear.

Equally important as the sun are the general wind conditions. I have found that the best prevailing weather for my purpose occurs at high noon. There may be a slightly stronger breeze at that time than earlier in the morning or later in the afternoon, but it is usually constant and steady, varying but slightly in direction or force.

It was eleven o’clock. In three quarters of an hour I was due for another crash, so I went immediately for my physical check-up. I have made it a rule to have such an examination both before and after every crash.

The majority of people understand my object for the latter, but very few realize the importance of the former. A person’s physical condition may change enough in 24 hours to make him unfit to stunt a ship, much less crash one. For the few seconds before and during the impact every muscle and nerve must coordinate. Complete relaxation as far as feasible must prevail at such a time. If the nerves are taut, the muscles will be also. My eyes, ears, lungs and blood pressure are tested. My pulse is taken.

The minute I crawl from the cockpit of the wreck there is a similar examination. So far there has not been a difference of one heart beat. This comparison of examinations is partially a scientific experiment. It gives me a basis to analyze the reactions of crashes on my entire system. If there were a great variance it would show that I was under a strain. It would show that I had a tendency to become excited.

Again I went to the spot where the crash was to take place. The border line behind the ropes was crowded—crowded with people who, if I should be injured, might rush in and ruin the shot. To avoid such a contingency a number of my crew, who had power to stop anyone from stepping into the restricted area, were placed at intervals along the ropes.

Eight men were detailed for fire duty. They were to act at the command of their leader and his instructions were to proceed immediately if the wreck should start to burn. As equipment they had two 40-gal-lon chemical tanks and a quantity of smaller extinguishers.

The doctor and nurse stood by a fast ambulance. The motor was idling, the driver in the seat.

Now that these three important divisions were properly cared for there remained but one to receive instructions—the actual rescue squad.

In charge of this group of men was Captain Watton, a soldier and a flyer. He had been with me on “Wings,” “Lilac Time” and a score of others.

“All-set, Tom?” I asked.

“Every man has his implement of rescue as usual. One has four-foot nippers, another short steel cutters, others have hammers, saws, pliers, sledges—and as long as there is danger of landing upside down in the mud I have a pulmotor.”

I knew the captain; efficient as always. Perhaps a habit acquired from his years with the Service—maybe because he. Lieutenant Commander Harry Reynolds and I had been together so often before.

I took my last walk alone before going to the emergency field for the take-off. I stood on the spot where the ship would finally lay, and from there walked over the ground into which the ship would plunge.

Sometimes a crashing airplane will spread debris over a space of a couple of hundred feet. At others all the force must be dissipated in four or five yards, which means that the plane strikes with great impact. The speed of 85 to 110 miles an hour must be lost instantly. If the distance is 20 feet and the momentum 100 miles an hour I must stop five miles of speed in every foot of space. The force of such a shock is terrific both on the rending, tearing parts of the plane and upon the body.

The crash for which I was prepared was exceptionally difficult. I was forced to do the complete crash in approximately ten feet. The location picked for it lay in a bowl. Mountains from 500 to 700 feet completely surrounded it. Once I dropped into the uneven air currents below I had no alternative. It must be a crash, whether it was recorded by the sound cameras or not. I did not dare to miss, for directly in front of the spot, lined up on parallels, was the huge battery of cameras. An error of judgment would kill half a dozen people and injure a score more.

Getting into a waiting automobile I was taken to the ship. I felt sorry for it, all dressed up for the last flight in a newborn suit of camouflage. Rather like buying a new suit in which to bury a person. The linen was all smooth and the wings were taut. It stood there awaiting the end aloofly. But soon the linen would be crumpled, the propeller splintered, the motor pushed through its stomach and the ribs piercing its guts. It would join that ever-growing squadron of dead ships which I had sent flying out of existence so that people might gasp or cry or laugh.

Don’t tell me that ships don’t have personality. Some I like and some I hate. I hate to destroy anything I like; and like to destroy anything I hate—it’s human. And ships, of course, aren’t supposed to like or dislike, but they do perform better for some pilots than others. I think they respond, like horses, to those who really know how to handle them.

Eleven-thirty. In 15 minutes the crash was due, so I proceeded with the last of the funeral arrangements. The gas had to be drained from the main tank. Once I had a fire which burned almost 800 square inches of skin from me. No death is more horrible, more painful. To avoid this menace I built a tank on the top wing designed to carry just twenty minutes more gas than I actually needed for the flight. There are many advantages to such a system. If I used a partially full main tank the explosion would be enough to give me wings all of my own. One that is full will burn but seldom explode, there being no room for expansion of gases. It also gets away from pressure feed, though few ships of the present day are so equipped.

After draining the big tank I slit the bottom of it so there could be no sudden compression of air. I carefully measured the amount of petrol for the flight and having warmed the motor before, was set to go on as soon as the prop was turned over.

With this last precaution behind me I got into the seat. The switch and throttle had been moved so close together that I could operate them with three fingers. The tachometer was imbedded in horsehair at the left of my feet and the rest of the instruments were hidden behind a thick padding which covered the entire panel.

Other than these precautions the cockpit was similar to that of any ship, though in some with wooden or old steel longerons, bracing is often necessary.

The clothes which I wore were regulation Bedford cords, the usual leather coat, golf sox and ordinary shoes. Boots are too awkward to remove in case of leg injury. The helmet was of hard leather and the goggles the same type generally found in use today. % I have been asked many times why I don’t pad myself; why I don’t use a steel jacket or other protection. If I were looking for protection I probably would never have started crashing airplanes. Another and more reasonable explanation for such action is that if I follow my mathematical calculations to a logical conclusion, only the parts of the ship will go that I desire. Sometimes it is necessary to cut struts or to strengthen them to get the desired effect and to produce the proper dissipation of forces. If I missed, no matter what form of padding or armor I wore it would be no more protection than paper. In one of my crashes a splinter of wood pierced a steel longeron, after having passed between the belt and sleeve of my leather coat. What use then of armor? It is better to try to keep wreckage from puncturing a vital part of my body. It only takes a gash an inch and a half in the back, and then, of course, I’ll fly over to the Other Side. Until that time I can still say I’ve solved crashes.

I fastened the belt around my knees and the extra one around my chest. The latter is an invention of Harry Reynolds’ and mine. After I broke my neck on “Wings” we decided that a device ought to be made to eliminate the snap of the neck. So the chest belt. At first we built it as strong as possible, but after I had injured several ribs from the mere pressure of my chest against the six-inch webbing, we decided that it had to give just before it crushed me. We approximated the pressure necessary to break these bones at 600 pounds, providing that the speed was about ninety miles per hour. Therefore belts now give at that point.

We also found after several more crashes that even the chest and lap belts were insufficient. If I landed on my back with great force there was a tendency for me to dive out. I never quite made the final getaway, but I have bumped my head. So we put shoulder straps on the chest belt and now think that that minor detail is completely-solved.

I looked at my watch. In just seven minutes I was due. Soon as the motor was turned over and revved up it would be time for the take-off.

I adjusted the goggles and found the point on the strap which was easiest to grasp when I wanted to throw them away. Everyone knows that it would be foolish to crash with goggles on the eyes. Just a splinter of glass or a sudden gouge on the sharp steel rim and the crash pilot might never see again.

Thy prop was revolving slowly, mv goggles were in place, the blocks removed. I was down the runway with full gun on. The ship became lighter on its wheels. It left the ground—its last take-off. The motor was humming, the wires singing. Now the ship and I were one. It assumed part of my personality and I became an integral part of it. Together we had a mission to perform; a mission of mechanics and mathematics which should destroy it and leave me unscathed.

As I gained altitude I noticed that the wind was favorable. It was blowing five miles an hour, in a direction which would almost head us into it for the crash. Conditions seemed ideal.

In five minutes I had sufficient altitude to skim the mountains and with full gun on pulled over the cliffs and dropped to the gully-like bowl below. The stunt was on. I couldn’t have changed my mind if I had wanted to, and no one was more anxious to see me start into that grinding, rending spill than I was.

Those on the ground were excited. Yet under the circumstances they maintained exceptional self-control. I could see the police, fire and rescue crews standing by. I glimpsed Reynolds and Director William Wellman by the pulmotor.

But as I nosed down I paid little attention to them. I had to hit the spot, to miss cameramen and to vindicate myself by getting the effect the company wanted for the picture.

I felt a change in the air. From the smooth, undisturbed currents I had encountered above the rim of the pocket, the air became a swirling, bumpy, unsupporting mass of atmosphere. I had to have full motor to keep altitude.

Then came an unexpected bad break. As I made a vertical bank to come directly into the crash the wind switched from a breeze on my nose to a brisk 15-mile current on my tail.

That meant I could not crash at less than a hundred. I could not climb out. It had to be done. It was a rotten break of luck.

A few hundred feet ahead of me and down I glimpsed the spot. The troupe, the cameras, the onlookers might as well not have been there. I was oblivious to everything but the one spot. The finger of my air speed indicator wavered unsteadily around 105. It was going to be one of the fastest crashes I had ever attempted. Only twice before had I exceeded this speed. The one at 110 broke my neck; the one at 135 hurled me 40 feet from the ship.

At such times there are but two things to guard against; over-confidence, which makes the pilot inclined to be careless about details; and a lack of confidence, which robs his brain of the power to act decisively at the right moment. I have never been overconfident, but as I enter the last rushed moments of a crash I have supreme belief in my ability to walk out. Ships must go where I say and when I say; I could not let this be an exception.

When 500 feet away I ripped the goggles off. Then, leaning over the side of the cockpit, with the left hand on the stick and the right handling the throttle and switch, I got the last glimpse.

The ground was passing so fast that I could distinguish nothing. Even the spot was but a blurred outline in advance. The moment came. One short fraction of a second would carry me yards beyond the mark, into those cameras, the men—into tragedy.

Pushing the throttle full on I jabbed the stick entirely over to the right, dipping the wing. Just before I hit I kicked the rudder to the left, sliding the wing in first, thus keeping the motor from hitting directly on its nose.

The right wings hit and were torn from the fuselage. As the ship pivoted the propeller bit into the ground. The motor went into the main tank. Then I cut the switch. I saw the wheels tear through the lower wing toward the cockpit as the fuselage crumpled over on its back. I was upside down now. The crash was over. My face was covered with mud. Directly beneath me was a pile of scrambled iron, struts, braces and parts of the steel engine mount.

The force with which I hit was sufficient to tear one of my feet from a shoe—also to knock the wind from me and break a rib on my right side. But what a shot! I had ended just four feet from a microphone and six feet from the nearest cameraman.

The majority of people who were there did not know that in dipping the right wing first there was a motive. A broken rib on the left could puncture the heart, and that organ must be protected. Shock alone could injure or stop it altogether. The stomach, too, is farther toward the left than to the right. As I eat nothing 24 hours before a crash there is little to fear from rupture of the digestive tracts. If they were punctured it would be better not to have them filled with food.

I walked over and had my physical. There was no change of heart beats.

That was the thirty-fourth airplane which I crashed. I have still four more to do this year.

If one little strut should go wrong and play me a dirty trick should people say, “See, I told you it was all luck”?

I’ve crashed Spads, Fokkers, Jennies. I’ve smacked Standards, T.M. Scouts, and L.W.F.’s. I’ve pushed in S.E.5’s and Thunderbirds; American Eagles, Waco’s, Eagle-rocks, Ryans. Each has its peculiarities. Some must be strengthened, others weakened.

Directors have told me to slip, spin and nose into the ground. They’ve had me fly into cliffs, buildings and church-steeples. I’ve had to hit and slide backwards and have been told that the shot would be useless unless I turned the plane on its back. Once I was warned that if the ship did overturn I would not be paid, which was not easy with the wind on my tail. So I welded a heavy anvil in the rear section of the fuselage. When I hit, the plane did a complete barrel roll on the crankshaft and for seventy-five feet flew in a reverse direction. The anvil alone was responsible for the success of that stunt.

Is it all luck or isn’t there just a little bit of science to it? Some people call them scientific crack-ups. Some think me a fool. The majority who have seen me do it over and over think nothing. They expect me to get results and to walk out. But even they are so excited that they can’t intelligently agree as to what exactly happened. Some day I may gratify the pessimists and those who would like to have vindication for the statements they have made. Some day I may miss, but I don’t expect to. I don’t look forward to it. One of the worst crashes I ever had was when I slipped on wet pavement and landed on top of my mother’s Christmas present—a cut-glass pitcher.

Crashes are crashes — there are many things tougher. They’re not all fun but they’re not all hazard. The satisfaction I get afterwards compensates me sufficiently for any little inconvenience to which I may be subjected. The gasps I’ve given movie fans never will equal the drama of the moment for those on the troupe.

The reward I receive is not financial. I am happy to vindicate my judgment by doing these things scientifically. I have turned destructiveness to a constructive channel, and reduced immediate accident to artful design. There is much to be learned from crashes. I’ve learned as I’ve done them, for I get the double reaction of being in the ship and then later of seeing on the screen how they look to those standing by.

When I can solve necessary crashes, when I can teach others the results of my experiments, then I will have accomplished my purpose. Until then I shall continue to crash for your pleasure. I’ll be a double who tries to make thrilling pictures more thrilling—giving heros more heroics and hero-worshippers more to worship.

Invents Hourmeter to Time Hops

THROUGH an electrical contact attached to the landing gear, the recently invented hourmeter timing device records trip and total flying time the moment the plane leaves the ground. The same contact stops the clock when the landing is made. Spreading and contracting of the landing gear actuates the electrical circuit. Current is supplied by two dry cells, or from the ship’s battery.

Aeronautical experts declare that this instrument will fill in one of the gaps of aviation.

“PLAYER PIANO” ROLL Controls Sky Sign

USING a musical siren to gain attention, a new sky sign, designed by Edward Link, Cortland, New York, aeronautical engineer, after five years of experimental work, took to the air for the first time over Miami this winter.

The sign, constructed as a lower wing to a high wing monoplane, is operated from an automatic “feeler” roll. It can display ten letters at one time, using as many as 75 words per message.

Light squares of ten by six inch Dural strip are hung four feet below the mono-wing on a Dural rack. Each square contains 300 lights, so wired that the control mechanism, operated from inside, delivers to each square any letter or numeral desired.

The operating mechanism consists of a rotating roller on which is placed a roll of heavy paper with perforations through which the feeler pins make contact. Each feeler pin controls a letter or numeral. Due to a perforation machine, messages can be changed while flying.

Tiny Ford Has 10 Horsepower

A RISE to ten horsepower over the previous “Baby Eight” is one of the leading features of the new four-cylinder British-made Ford recently on exhibit at the Albert Hall motor show in London.

The new motor, following the modern trend, has a three-point rubber suspension. Body space is increased by pushing the engine farther forward and increasing the overall length of the chassis one inch. The chassis, just as in the “Baby Eight,” is mounted over a 90-inch wheelbase with a 45-inch-tread. It has one-eighth the power of the American Ford.

Manpower Flight Greatest April Fool Joke

PHOTOGRAPHS of a man flying through the air by his own power, the dream of scientists for centuries, completely fooled outstanding U. S. newspapers recently.

Captions on the photographs, coming from Germany, explained that Pilot Erich Kocher took off with a pair of rotor wings strapped to his chest. Kocher supposedly blew into a box which converted the carbon dioxide of his breath into fuel to operate the rotors. The turning rotors developed a vacuum ahead pulling the man through the air.

Newspaper editors failed to note several important angles that would have revealed the hoax. No cable story had appeared previously describing what would have been one of the greatest achievements of science. The pilot’s name Kocher was from the German “Keucher,” meaning “hot air merchant.” Carbon dioxide is not a combustible gas.

The great hoax originated in the Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung, editors of which faked the pictures for the magazine’s April Fool edition.

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NOVEL IDEAS Keep Pace with AVIATION’S ADVANCE

THERE is no industry — American or foreign—that is receiving as much attention from creative minds today as aviation. That is amply demonstrated by the remarkable number of new ideas that daily find their way into the patent or copyright divisions at Washington.

And the list of the things that inventors feel the industry requires is almost unending. From new-fangled ways of bolting a spar to complete designs and models of planes, everything is included. There is a constant parade of things new and novel to flying. True, much of it is “chaff” but from it all has dropped much “wheat” that has grown into important factors in the field. The Guggenheim search for the foolproof plane is but one example. Others are contained in the pictures that illustrate these two pages. They—in practically all cases—are ideas from fellows outside the pall whose only contact with the field is a sincere interest to add their bit of knowledge to an industry that requires the help of many to raise it to perfection.

The tendency seems to be toward increasing the factor of safety. In the three ideas shown here that thought has been dominant. Vance, Shrum and Hennesy have each tried to overcome some of the hazards of air travel and in a measure seem to have succeeded if tests and models are any criterion at all. In the Eaglerock that Vance equipped with two sets of auxiliary control surfaces, Fritz Secor, veteran stunt pilot, flew about without a hand on the control and finally left the cockpit altogether and climbed about the wings and fuselage to show that the ship could fly and regulate itself alone.

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Supersonic +

GERMAN aeronautical engineering was much further advanced than our own at the end of the war in spite of that country’s defeat. The Me-163 was the world’s first successful rocket plane and it saw service against our bombers over Europe. Recently it has been revealed that to Germany, also, must go credit for developing the world’s first supersonic fighter, the Jaeger P-13, which was under hurried construction before VE day. Had this plane been used early enough, the war may have continued many months longer, and might even have meant Nazi mastery of the skies over the Continent.

Powered by a revolutionary and advanced Lorin type ram-jet unit, a wind tunnel model had been tested and the prototype under construction when Nazi military might crumbled. Unlike any other fighter or aircraft in appearance, it was an all-wing design, with an extremely sharp taper commencing at the wing roots. A horizontal oval air duct provided the intake scoop at the machine’s nose. Simplest and most efficient of all jet turbine designs, the ram-jet (or athodyd) powerplant uses the forward speed of the craft to produce air compression, therefore increasing in efficiency as the velocity increases.

The only protuberances of the machine were the single vertical fin and rudder, and a very low, streamlined cockpit canopy which flowed into the fuselage-wing contours. The cockpit was directly aft of the nose-intake duct, and had a very slight and rounded turtleback to the vertical fin.

Wingtips were turned down vertically; this seemed to add a substantial degree of stability. The Germans succeeded in discovering the solution to compressibility, something that has baffled our designers constantly with 500 mph-plus aircraft. Apparently a razor-sharp leading edge for the wing is not the answer. The 550-mph rocket-propelled 8-263 and Me-163B fighters were the first machines to utilize the German concept, an airfoil section with an unusually sharp sweep-back of entire airfoil and controls.

Another of the most advanced and unusual of the German fighter type designs is the Triebflugel Flugzeug (power-winged airplane), that has a cigar-shaped fuselage with three airfoil sections. The two main wings are set in horizontal position with marked upward dihedral, each with conventional control surfaces. The third unit is in a vertical position.

The empennage is of the full vertical and horizontal control-surface type, basically of the same design as that of the Dornier Do-335 “mystery fighter.” The tips of each unit are rounded out in one circular piece.

The propulsion units of the plane are ram-jet, or athodyd. They closely resemble long tubes and have straight-through ducts which are capable of atomizing any combustible fuel, whether gas or liquid. German tests with pulverized coal as a jet unit fuel may have been realized successfully with this plane.

Powerful nose armament of cannon and/or machine guns are fitted in the nose directly forward of the streamlined cockpit. Accommodation for the single pilot is far up in the nose, making for excellent visibility.

The three-winged plane takes off in the same manner as the standard A-4 vertical rocket: it is stood on its specially-designed tail and, with the aid of auxiliary rockets, is hurtled into the air. Because runways would not be necessary, the Germans hoped to create secret landing sites for the plane that would be invisible to Allied bombardiers. The rockets were to have been jettisonable, which would keep fighting weight to a minimum.

With no coal now available for homes in Switzerland, local peat is being used.

AIR-SEA JETLINER

AFTER months of top-secret tests, the Navy has partially lifted the wraps on its XF2Y-1 Sea-Dart, world’s first delta-wing seaplane, which uses retractable hydro-skis for take-off and landing.

MI’s cover and the Convair drawing above show what this sensational development may mean to commercial air travel of the future. Imagine a supersonic jetliner, too large to be handled efficiently at even our largest airports but perfectly capable of squatting at any of our innumerable seaports and being nuzzled to its dock by tugs! In addition to passenger convenience and greater capacity is the extra safety factor in trans-oceanic hops.

Tail Props, counter-rotating, powered through a 60′ shaft by two Allison 1630 hp engines, drive the speedy new 48-passenger Douglas DC-8 transport.

3-Wheel Car powered by an aircraft engine, will do 100 mph and 40 miles to a gallon. In production now on West Coast, it will be on sale in 3 months.

Eerie Flight was “Slick” Goodlin’s description of his 19 minutes in the XS-1. He and the plane, above, were dropped from the belly of a B-29 at 27,000 feet. Once, to feel it out, he shot the XS-1 up to 550 mph. This summer he’ll try to crash the sonic barrier. He predicts 1,000 mph. (See Bell’s XS-1, MI, Oct. ‘46.)

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Building AMERICA’S Largest Plane

Alfred W. Lawson, pioneer figure in aviation, who built the first commercial cabin passenger plane and the first tri-motored ship with heated cabin and sleeping berths, reveals to Modern Mechanics readers his plans for a 125-passenger air liner weighing 50 tons which he is now building in his New Jersey factory.

Editor’s note: Known as one of aviation’s keen-visioned pioneers, Alfred W. Lawson is one of those few men who, back in the earliest days of flying, dared to look into the future and predict that the day was coming when giant ships of the air would carry passengers comfortably, safely, and swiftly to destinations throughout the world. Not content with mere prediction, he has been quietly working out the design of a gigantic passenger airplane which will be the largest in America when completed. In this interview, one of the very few he has ever accorded, he reveals interesting facts concerning his past and present work in aviation, and explains in detail features of his huge 125-passenger air liner.

BACK in aviation’s uncertain pioneering days in 1908, when I was editor of Fly, then the national aeronautical magazine, I was regarded as a prophet of doom. The general public, which is always skeptical at the appearance of engineering innovations, sneered and scoffed at my forecasts for flying. Everywhere I was regarded as a crank. It is a wonder I wasn’t condemned to the stake for witch-craft, now that I reflect on turbulent days that have gone.

During the twenty-two years that I have now completed in the field of aviation, sticking tenaciously and doggedly to my theories and principles through periods of time when the future of aviation seemed doubt- ful, I have seen that industry rise from a struggling business to the most thriving enterprise on the great American commercial scene. Today, no less enthusiastic in my belief in aviation than I was twenty-two years ago, I am the advocate of the air-liner. My disciples are legion, at this time, however. The Graf Zeppelin’s round-the-world flight, the incarnation, so to speak, of one of my ideas, has demonstrated that my ideas are not so fantastic as they once were thought to be.

Rarely have I come from behind the scenes to be interviewed for publication. My mission and my work in aviation has at all times been that of the quiet producer. On this occasion I have been induced to enter the limelight for a brief moment in the interests of the industry which has occupied my attention night and day for twenty-two years. I am pleased to tell about my super air liner and the future which is in store for this branch of aeronautics.

At the present time I am building in my factories’ at Trenton, New Jersey, an enormous double-tier super air liner which will carry 125 passengers. It is only partly finished and will require another year for completion. It will cost in the vicinity of $500,000.

It was back in 1909 that the first air liner was born in my brain. I saw the idea in the crude Bleriot fuselage. However, it was not until 1919 that the industry had developed sufficiently to allow me to build an air liner. During those intermediate ten years my mind was thinking about big, practical air carriages. At the same time I was quietly accumulating the knowledge and experience necessary to build them.

In 1919 I first demonstrated the practical usage of the air liner in a successful flight from Milwaukee through New York City to Washington and return, personally acting as captain and navigator, and with nothing but a map, a compass and my sense of direction for guidance. On August 27,1919, without any advance notice, I covered the first lap of the trip from a point ten miles north of Milwaukee to Chicago, a distance of more than 100 miles, in less than an hour.

Betting ran high in Milwaukee that day and few imagined that the weighty machine would ever soar from the earth. They called me a drunkard of dreams. But today I sit back in my offices at 1819 Broadway, New York City, and during odd moments there flash across my mind the spectacles of my types of commercial airplanes flitting across the American and European continents—all dreams which have come true.

When the Lawson 125 seater air liner proves to be the success which I expect, I shall enlarge my factories and build planes of this type in mass production. We will be able to turn them out as fast as flivvers once we get started.

In the latest Lawson air liner now under] construction, the front section of the cabin, rounded out to reduce wind resistance, will be devoted to the pilots and mechanics. Two pilots will sit up front at the dual controls. Beneath them space has been provided for the mechanics. They will remain there until some emergency makes it necessary for them to crawl out on the wings to the motors.

On either side of the cabin and half-way back trap doors have been built in the sides through which the mechanics will pass to reach the engines. It will not be necessary for the ship to descend to make repairs.

Directly behind the extreme front compartment and next to the cabin are the officers’ quarters, where the conductor can count his tickets and discuss with the pilots whether or not they will arrive on time.

The next section is the main passenger cabin itself. There is an aisle through the center and double seats on both sides. Above is another tier of seats which are reached by steps located at intervals. Inside, the cabin resembles the ordinary Pullman car made up for the night, except that seats take the place of berths.

The passengers will make the trips in chairs, although the liner can be converted into a sleeper in two hours. A porter in the customary white coat will serve light lunches and put up tables between seats for card games, or for passengers who elect to spend the time writing letters.

The compartment behind the cabin will be used for freight and mail and the sorting of mail during the trip. Two lavatories will be installed in this part of the ship.

The ship will be equipped with twelve motors. Only eight of them will be necessary to keep the plane, weighing fifty tons, in the air. Each of these motors will develop 400 horsepower. The four reserve motors will insure the safety of the ship.

Six men as a crew will be all that will be needed to man the new Lawson super air liner, so the operating expenses will be low. By the way, the fuselage is 100 feet long and the wing spread is 200 feet wide. As I designed this giant airplane, I had in mind not only safety and economy but also speed. I have calculated that my ship will make 100 miles an hour easily and steadily.

When I speak of air transportation, and it is my remotest notion ever to over-leap the bounds of modesty, I unhesitatingly say that I know whereof I speak. In 1913 I was christened the first air commuter when I flew daily from my New Jersey home to my New York office. In 1918 I built the first commercial cabin passenger plane, in which people could actually stand up and walk around. In 1920 I built the first three-engine air liner with sleeping berths, heated cabin and mail chutes.

And if I may be permitted another admission, those who have followed the glowing pages of aviation’s history will recall that on August 10, 1918, I appeared before War Department officials and proposed a trans-oceanic float system, installing landing stations in relays along the route from America to Europe. Today such a float system is actually in the course of construction.

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Jap Pilots Ride to DEATH on Flying Bombs

By Ray Holt

The current conflict between Japan and China has brought out an amazing revelation of the methods by which Japanese pilots assure air bombs reaching their target by putting a man inside to steer them. Why? Read the reasons in this article, and you’ll have a better understanding of Japanese psychology toward the machines of war.

IMAGINE yourself strapped within a hollow chamber inside a huge air bomb, surrounded on all sides by high explosives. In front of you is an airplane type rudder which steers the tail unit of the bomb. Windows in the nose enable you to see ahead. You’re loaded into the bomb, which is placed in its nest under the fuselage of a bombing plane. The bomber takes off, soars above a target—say, an ammunition dump of the enemy. Up above you, the pilot of the plane pulls a lever.

Down you go, plunging toward the ground with terrific speed. You see that you aren’t going to strike the ammunition dump, but will land many yards to one side of it. So you twist the control rudder, swerving the bomb’s course. Success! The dump looms up directly below the windows of your bomb. And that is practically the end of things for you.

Sounds like the superheated imagining of a Jules Verne, doesn’t it—the sort of absurdity that a sensible man would laugh off as being unheard of, an astounding, amusing impossibility?

It’s nothing of the sort. It’s an actual fact of warfare, a method used by Japanese pilots who deem it an honor transcending all others to ride to glory for the mother country. They know that their memory and their families will be forever honored in their homeland.

Rumors of the flying bomb death ride have filtered out of the conflict now being waged by the Japanese and Chinese. Necessarily this information has been of a confidential, undercover nature, but not long ago it was given nation-wide publicity by a radio commentator on international affairs.

Japanese and Machines To make the man-steered bomb a credible actuality, an understanding of the peculiarities of the Japanese character is necessary. And some such understanding may sooner or later be forced upon, the great powers of the world who are all too likely to become involved in the aggression of Japanese militarists in China, where the United States, Great Britain, France, Italy and Germany do much business.

In the field of machinery the Japanese mind is at a peculiar disadvantage. They 1 are able to turn out an exact copy of any mechanism that comes into their hands, but the type of mechanical imagination which went into its original creation—which, for want of a better term, is sometimes known as Yankee ingenuity—they are at a loss to duplicate.

The simple truth of the matter is that -a man is practically required to steer Japanese bombs to their mark because they haven’t been able to develop the bomb-sighting machinery which makes Uncle Sam’s flyers, for instance, so deadly in their accuracy.

Peculiar Oriental Psychology As to why Japanese soldiers fight among themselves for the honor of being the bomb pilot who can look forward to being blown to certain oblivion, that’s a matter of psychology not so easy to understand. Patriotism rules the Japanese to an almost fanatical degree, and love of country is so bound up with religion—the emperor being regarded as an incarnate god—that to be blown up in a bomb to further the successes of Nippon becomes something to be desired above all things.

When one understands the popularity that hara-kiri, a form of suicide by self-disembowelment, has had among the Japanese for centuries, the national willingness to dive to death in a bomb, or in any other way, becomes credible.

Hara-kiri, as formerly practiced, was compulsory upon a noble of the higher class Who received a courteously phrased message from the mikado intimating that he must die for some offense of lawbreaking or disloyalty. The suicide, using a jeweled dagger customarily sent by the mikado for performing the act, proceeded in a prescribed ritual. Seated on a dais, surrounded by officials and friends, the suicide plunged the dagger into his stomach below the waist on the left side, drew it slowly across to the right, and turning it, gave a slight cut upward.

This compulsory suicide has been abolished, but the idea has such a striking appeal for the Japanese imagination that some 1500 hara-kiris take place annually as a purely voluntary gesture.

In the final analysis, the amazing thing is not that the Japanese should succeed in finding pilots for their man-bombs, for volunteers for such a mission of certain death can be found in any army in the world, but that such a weapon should be necessary. It simmers down to the fact, as hinted at above, that the Nipponese are conscious of their inferiority in developing new and fearful weapons of war, and are forced to rely on man-power.

A country like the United States would approach the problem of directing bomb flight in an entirely different way. Some method of mechanical control of the bomb would be sought—in fact, the idea of controlling a bomb or gun shell by radio is already being worked on, as described in Modern Mechanix and Inventions some months ago. It will be seen that, entirely aside from making the sacrifice of a man’s life unnecessary, radio control of a bomb is much more accurate and less liable to error through the failure of the human machine in a moment of critical nervous tension.

Superiority of American engineering brains over the Oriental variety is well demonstrated in the newest United States army bombing plane, a photograph of which is reproduced in these pages. It is a monoplane of all-metal construction—no wood or fabric to catch fire from incendiary bullets of the enemy—and is so well streamlined, with its landing gear pulled up under its belly, that it can do a top speed of 200 miles an hour, fully loaded with a two ton cargo of bombs. This is 80 miles an hour better than the speed of the Curtiss bomber, a biplane, previously used by the air corps.

Features of U. S. Bomber A revolving turret to protect the gunner in the nose of the ship is another feature. It diverts the rush of air and makes accurate aiming much easier. At high speeds, the windstream is so powerful that, in an ordinary ship, it has a tendency to wrench a swivel mounted gun out of the gunner’s control.

In connection with the possible need of protecting our country from Pacific aggression, the news that a government expedition has just left for an extensive survey of the Aleutian islands (which constitute the tip of the Alaskan peninsula) is important. A map, reproduced herewith, shows the extremely important location of these islands in their relation to Japan and the Orient.

Geologically, these islands are thought to be the sunken peaks of land that once connected the mainland with Asia. Siberia is but a stone’s throw distant, and the northern islands of Japan not much farther away. Since, by a recent bill passed in Congress, the United States has relinquished control of the Philippine islands, we will have no Pacific base of importance other than Hawaii and Guam, which makes the Aleutian chain all the more important in the scheme of national protection.

Strategic Importance of Islands Airplanes are being carried by the expedition and these will make a careful aerial survey of the islands. A weather observation station will probably be established on Tanago or Adak island, and the best suited of the nearby islands will be chosen as a possible base for an airplane field. Harbor facilities will be carefully charted with a view to possible installation of a naval base for ships and submarines. Alaska, of course, is a United States possession which we are free to fortify as we may see fit. An incident of the World War which has just come to light illustrates the ingenuity of the western mind in the world of machines. German engineers designed a mine fitted with clockwork which permitted the device to float in toward English shores when the tide was right. When the tide ebbed, the mine automatically sank to the bottom, where it waited the proper interval and then released itself again to float closer to the shore. The British were unable to figure out how the mines got there.

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These SKIMMERS Go Anywhere

THE Wright boys would blink in astonishment at some of the weird rigs taking to the air these days. Air-Cars, Sky-Boats, Flying Jeeps, Hovercraft—they’re revolutionizing the Age of Flight.

Most of these craft are based on two new devices: the ducted fan and the air cushion.

The ducted fan is simply a horizontal prop that supports the vehicle on a column of air. Forward movement is provided by slanted vanes.

With the air cushion, air under pressure is forced downward, raising the vehicle a few inches above the ground or water.

Here are a few of the latest skimmers to come off the drawing boards.

Orange Ribbon Locates Airplanes Forced Down in Woods

IN CASE OF FORCED LANDING THE PILOT RELEASES 800 FEET OF WIDE ORANGE RIBBON WHICH RESTS ON THE TREE TOPS SHOWING THE PLANE’S LOCATION TO SEARCHING AIRMEN,THOUGH CONCEALED BY TREES.