Learning to Fly: A Practical Manual for Beginners

by Claude Grahame-White; Harry Harper

PUPIL AND INSTRUCTOR READY FOR A FLIGHT.
Photo by Topical Press Agency.
The pupil, occupying in this case the driving seat, has in his right hand the lever controlling the elevator and ailerons, while his feet are on the bar which operates the rudder. The instructor (in the passenger's seat) is demonstrating how, when necessary, he can place his hand on the control lever, above that of the pupil, and correct any error in manipulation of which the latter may be guilty.

Another story concerns one of those temperamentally reckless, happy-go-lucky men who, though providence seems to watch over them, are an anxiety nevertheless to their instructors. This pupil, breaking the rules of a school, flew out on one of his first flights beyond the limits of the aerodrome, disappearing indeed from the view of those near the sheds. Not far from the aerodrome lay a main road, with tramway-lines along it. A tram, with passengers on top, happened to be passing down the road; and it was to the astonishment of these passengers, and to their perturbation as well, that they observed an aeroplane in full flight, moving very low across a neighbouring field, and bearing down straight towards them. The machine passed, indeed, unpleasantly close above their heads, and then vanished as dramatically as it had appeared. Its pilot, as may be guessed, was the pupil who had disobeyed orders, and was now on a wild and erratic flight. Presently, after swerves and wanderings over the surrounding country, he was discerned making his way back towards the aerodrome, still flying unreasonably low. Some trees bordered one end of the aerodrome; and towards these, as though he meant to finish his exploit by charging into them, the novice was seen to be steering an undeviating course. Nearer he came to them, and still he did not turn either right or left. The instructor, and those gathered with him, made up their minds that nothing could avert an accident. But it happened that there was, between two of the trees, a space only large enough for an aeroplane to pass through. A skilled pilot, a man of experience, would not have cared to risk his machine in an endeavour to creep between those trees. But this pupil, a complete novice, steered boldly towards the opening and slipped through it with a precision that would have aroused the envy of an accomplished pilot. Then he landed on the aerodrome and climbed in leisurely fashion from his machine—"not having turned a hair," as the saying goes. The remarks of the instructor when he neared the machine, and began to unburden himself, do not appear to be on record, and no doubt this is as well.

Having shown his ability to make a succession of straight flights, taking his machine into the air with precision and landing without awkwardness, the pupil finds himself faced next with the problem of turning while in the air. On this stage, however, he is not allowed to embark alone. The instructor takes his place again in the passenger's seat, so as to be ready to help the novice should he become confused, or find himself in any difficulty. Turns to the left are attempted first; and the reason is that, the propeller of the aeroplane revolving to the left—and the motor too if it is a rotary one—the machine has a tendency which is natural to turn in this direction. Half turns only are tried at first, the pupil landing before he has completed the movement. In making these first turns a pupil finds that, apart from his action with the rudder-bar, it is necessary to employ the ailerons slightly, so as to prevent the biplane from tilting sideways. The outer plane-ends of the machine have indeed, when a turn is being made, a natural tendency to "bank" as it is called, or tilt upward; the reason being that, as the machine swings round, these outer plane-ends, moving faster for the moment than the wing-tips on the inside of the turn, exercise a greater lift, and have an inclination to rise. An experienced aviator, having learned what is a safe "banking" angle, makes a deliberate use of this tendency when he is turning, and may on occasion even exaggerate it, to facilitate the swing of his machine on a very rapid turn, and to prevent it skidding outwards. But with the novice, engrossed completely as he is with the mere problem of getting his machine round in the air, "banking" is an art that must be deferred for awhile. It is perilously easy, for a beginner, to overstep the danger-line between a safe "bank" and a side-slip.

PUPIL AND INSTRUCTOR IN FLIGHT (1).
Photo by Topical Press Agency.
A school biplane is seen just after it has left the ground, with the pupil at the control levers, and the instructor seated behind him—ready, if necessary, to correct any error the novice may make.

It is not long before the pupil can make a full left-hand turn; and then he goes on to perfect himself in this movement, flying alone now, and repeating the turn till he feels he can make it with confidence, and at a fair height.

And now he comes to his final evolutions. Having mastered the left-hand turn, he proceeds to make one to the right. It used to be the contention—a contention that is now disputed—that in this movement, if the pupil employed his rudder-bar only, he would find the biplane showed an inclination to rise; a tendency due to the gyroscopic influence of the engine and propeller which—assuming a rotary engine is used—are now revolving in the opposite direction to that on which the machine is turned. What the pupil was recommended to do, in order to counteract this rising movement, was to tilt down his elevator a little, as he would in making a descent.

When right-hand turns can be made with the same facility as those to the left, the pupil begins to combine the two without descending, making left turns and right turns, and so achieving in the air a series of figures of eight. He learns also to fly a little higher, thus preparing himself for one of his certificate tests.