Even setting aside the danger of war suddenly arising, and assuming that a waiting policy has no immediate risks, the negative programme has another fatal drawback. Even if, at the last moment, large sums of money were expended upon an air-fleet, and there was time to provide both machines and men, the nation which had neglected aviation would still be lacking in the one essential for success.
That essential is experience. No money, however lavishly spent, can buy the experience which France and Germany are obtaining, day by day, in their pioneer work in handling war aeroplanes.
Any form of aerial work is new to man; and at first, when he attempts it, he is a fumbler. He has no confidence in himself, and so he makes mistakes. But, if he is given an opportunity of being in the air a good deal, and has a chance of handling aircraft, not once or twice, but practically all day long, for months on end, he becomes, gradually, quite accustomed to his work.
Instead of being anxious, and inclined to get into trouble through an excess of caution, he acquires a cool, firm judgment, and soon astonishes even himself by his feeling of security when in the air.
This is the opinion of all skilled airmen; an ounce of practice is worth a ton of theory. How was it that the quiet, unassuming French naval officer, Lieutenant Conneau, was able to win all the great flying prizes during the season of 1911? There is only one answer: he was more experienced than his rivals.
With absolute thoroughness, this man began at the very beginning. He studied the laws of the air first of all; then he made himself acquainted with the construction of machines, and of motors. Afterwards he began to fly. He progressed from stage to stage, with no impatience, or haste.
He undertook cross-country flights to note exactly what climatic conditions prevailed. He studied maps very closely, and tested compasses. He grew accustomed to being in the air; and he learned how to combat adverse winds. He acquired the skill necessary to steer a straight course across country, and to make landings upon all sorts of ground.
And then, so equipped, he entered for the principal long-distance races. Because he was absolutely competent in every way, he astonished everyone by the perfection of his flying. He made no mistakes. He flew correctly from one control to another. He did not fear gusty winds. He did not damage his machine. And so he won.
There are, in the air service of France, many such men as this. Neither France nor Germany, for the matter of that, are content with buying and building machines. These they regard as being experimental, and likely to be superseded by faster, stronger aircraft. What they do consider of vital importance is the steady, irresistible growth in the number of their airmen, and the fact that, every day, these men are becoming more expert in the handling of their machines, and in the carrying out of their duties as pilots and observers.
The lead which France and Germany have obtained in military airmanship should not, indeed, be reckoned so much in machines, as in men; and England’s backwardness should be gauged in a similar way.