The manufacturer gives orders to the steel mill to make certain steel ingots. The inspectorial eye watches the billets. They must be of sufficient length so that the frothy part of the ingot at the top will not form a vital part of the forging. Generally speaking, the intelligence of the steel man prevents this from happening so that the inspector merely gives this a little attention.
The steel is then forged into what eventually will be tubes, breech rings, and jackets. You see a gun is generally made in at least two parts unless it is a very small one. They are shrunk together. The inspector ignores these forgings until they have been "heat-treated." It is sufficient to say that the forgings are placed in the hands of the gentleman in charge of the treatment department. After treatment, a portion of the steel is cut off. This portion enters the laboratory and here it is placed in a machine which pulls it apart. The machine displays a sort of tug of war and the inspectors watch. The steel has got to stand a certain strain. At a certain strain it should stretch; this is called the elastic limit. At a greater strain it should break, this is called the ultimate limit. If the steel fails to pass, the gentleman in charge of the treatment department has failed us all, and a feeling of exhaustion creeps over the man in charge of production, for he knows that he must worry the life out of the fellow until he gets it through again. In these times of stress when all munition factories in America are endeavouring to work above their capacity the man in charge of production has a rotten time of it.
However, the steel sometimes gets through and finally reaches a machine shop. Generally speaking, the foreign inspector doesn't worry very much about the actual gun until it has been proof-fired. If the manufacturer has been clever he will have caused his own inspection staff to watch closely every inch of the steel as the machine work gradually exposes the metal. If he is wise he will immediately condemn the whole thing if it is very bad. If the fault is trifling he will have several arguments and a heated discussion including an appeal to the production man, who will sympathize but do very little. Perhaps the inspector will decide to let the work go on. Inspectors are sometimes bad at deciding. They ponder and ponder and ponder until the production man decides that they are fools and the manufacturer's man decides that they are villainous and officious, and possess any amount of damnable qualities. It is all very difficult. I seem to be wandering on and on about inspectors, but it is interesting when you think that in a comparatively simple gun and carriage there are at least three thousand parts, and every part contains the possibility of an argument.
Why doesn't this wonderful country give titles to its kings of manufacture? It would simplify matters considerably. You see Mr. Jones in the position of an inspector, or even Lieutenant Jones, or possibly Major Jones of the Terriers regards himself as much superior to any "damned Yankee," and takes a vastly superior attitude. This can be displayed in an argument. Now if Mr. Beetles, president of the Jerusalem Steel Company, could only be Lord Rekamnug or the Duke of Baws, believe me, our national snobbishness would prevent Mr. Jones in the position of an inspector, or even Lieutenant Jones, or possibly Major Jones of the Terriers minus a sense of humour, from taking the futile attitude of superiority which could only be displayed by the wives and daughters of the more elegant clergy and smaller country gentlemen in "Blighty."
Of course, as a production man, it is my duty to regard inspectors as effete. Still I will be a traitor and say that a certain inspector who was at one time the manager of a large ordnance factory not many miles from Leamington did a great deal for our country over here during this time of trouble. I wish I could mention his name, but I fear the censor. He was the "koirnal who could condemn any amount of work without making a single enemy." He had personality—that colonel.
An inspector obviously should be a specialist. He must know his job thoroughly. He must know as much about manufacture and metallurgy as the average officer in a mounted regiment thinks he knows about horses. As I said before, the whole matter was perfectly simple in the days of peace. Now it is different. It is impossible to get sufficient men in these days for the job, so we have got to take what we can get. The most dangerous form of inspector is the fellow that knows just a little and pretends that he knows an awful lot. His very ignorance allied to his sense of duty will make it impossible for him to decide when a part is serviceable, although not absolutely up to specifications. This man causes delays and trouble.
Then there is the chap who knows quite a lot, but alas, possesses no sense of humour! This type is called an obstructionist. He is very difficult, well nigh impossible. He has much fighting spirit and thoroughly enjoys a dispute with the manufacturer. He also enjoys his autocratic position. Quite often he gives in all right, but he lacks "sweet reasonableness." The longer one lives, the more one sees the value of personality in every branch of life.
An essential quality in a good inspector is personality. This never exists minus a sense of humour. An inspector has to condemn masses of work—work that has had hours and hours of patient machining and fitting. If he could only do it nicely! Quite often, he uses a large axe when a fine surgical instrument would save a lot of trouble. In America it ought not to be difficult, for in my humble opinion the American manufacturer is generally "sweetly reasonable." It always seems to me a good thing if you honestly disapprove of a man or a nation, moreover, in dealing with that man or nation to hide your thoughts, or forget them, if possible. Take the "wisest fool" in Christendom's advice to the Presbyterians at the Hampton Court conference—"Pray, gentlemen, consider that perhaps you may be wrong."
In every organization there is always a definite procedure which has got to be adhered to. The big man and the fool will take a short cut sometimes and they often get away with it. Of course, they do not always and there is trouble, but the big man takes his punishment. The mediocre man will always stick to the beaten tracks, with the crowd.
It has always seemed to me that during these distressful times all short cuts should be taken. The guns have got to get to France and that is all about it. If they are thoroughly serviceable that is all that matters.