I’ve been fascinated for years by old propellor driven planes, and the terrifying, daring history of early aviators.
Technology advanced quickly, from the awkward, boxy biplanes and triplanes of the 1910s and ’20s to the sleek, streamlined monoplanes of the 1930s and ’40s. Much of it came from the world of airplane racing.
British aicraft builder Supermarine started designing in the early days of aviation.
Some of their early creations have the characteristic look of an era in which the principles of flight and aerodynamics were works in progress. The ungainly Nighthawk had four wings and a gun turret, and was designed to fight the Zeppelin bombers during the First World War.
But in the late 1920s and early 1930s, they began designing aircraft to compete for the prestigious Schneider Trophy, an annual race for seaplanes.
These planes were not biplanes or triplanes, strung up with wires. They were sleek monoplanes, with bulging engine cowlings.
Supermarine’s designer R.J. Mitchell was instrumental in these new planes, starting with the S.4 and continuing through the S.5, S.6, and S.6A and B.
Three of them won the Schneider Trophy, and 1931’s S.6B held the title of the world’s fastest aicraft for a time, reaching speeds of over 655 km/h.
Yet when Supermarine designed a fighter plane for the Royal Air Force in the mid-1930s, their S6-inspired design lost out to the Gloster Gladiator – a lumbering biplane, and one of the last of its kind in military service.
Mitchell went back to his drawing board. The British government was impressed enough to give the company some money to keep working, but did not commit to a contract. Designing and building an entirely new fighter prototype was a risk.
Mitchell’s final design of the Spitfire was so beautifully built for flying that it was difficult to fit machine guns and ammunition into its super-thin wings at all.
In 1936, the prototype went for its first flight. “Don’t touch anything,” the test pilot said as he climbed out.
The Spitfire saw numerous modifications and new models during the war, but Mitchell was not there to see it. He died of cancer in 1937, at the age of just 42.
The de Havilland Mosquito fighter-bomber had a similar origin, based on the experimental racing plane the DH.88 Comet, which was put to the test as three of the planes raced from England to Australia in 1934. The Italian Machi M.39 also raced for – and won – a Schneider Trophy victory, before its builders went on to construct fighters for Mussolini’s fascist air force.
I’ve always been sad that after all that genius and daring, the fastest prop-driven planes ever made had guns and bombs strapped to them. Their time in the spotlight was brief, backeted by fabric-winged biplanes on one side, jets on the other. If fascism hadn’t needed to be defeated, these planes would have continued on as brightly-painted toys for daredevils.
It’s a small thing, but it’s sad these beautiful machines had to be put to use for warfare.