FLYING IN NEW “BOMBER”

Greymouth Evening Star, 9 April 1932, Page 11

FLYING IN NEW “BOMBER”

SPEED WIZARDRY IN CLOUDS. The Hawker “Hart” Day-Bomber, or Two-Seat Fighter, (according to fittings), stood proudly near the hangar, the mirror-like polish of its long, pointed engine-cowling seeming contemptuous of the dull, misty February day and grey sky. The propeller was spinning leisurely (writes Major C. C. Turner, the “Daily Telegraph’s” aviation expert). Major Bulman, that wonderful test pilot, and I approached it. His eyes and ears took everything in as he exchanged remarks with the chief mechanic. He made sure that my parachute was in order, and I got into the rear seat of the “Hart,” while he explained how I could move the seat and stand or sit at will. Two, three short bursts on the throttle, and we were jolting along to a good take-off point. “All right?” he asked; and the next moment we were away, simply leap*

ing off the ground with a run. I firmly believe, of less than twenty yards. And almost vertically up to 1,500 ft in one swift, roaring climb. But this was flying in all its glory and grandeur. It was what poets have written about without as a rule, drawing on actual experience. I have never before felt such complete mastery of the air as during this almost vertical ascent. The aeroplane seemed a living creature, rejoicing in its strength. There was none of-the “labouring” of some ill-designed or under-powered aeroplanes. The voice of the engine suddenly loosened, and I looked over the pilot’s shpulder. We could converse quite easily. We were flying at about forty miles per hour, just hanging on “stalling” point, and so far as I could fiee without losing height. Bulman then uttered a word of warning, and I held on as he opened out to full throttle. In five seconds we were doing 200 in level flight, and the needle steadily advanced to 210 and nearly to 220 m.p.h , That almost violent acceleration (was something I had never before ex- . ... —

perienced in flight. And in fact until ,the last two years or so it has not been, even in a dive in anyone’s experience. A speed range of about 5 to 1! And as we went from 40 to 200 miles per hour the orchestra of engine and struts and wires came into play. It was as if in the hollow, crystal globe in which we were flying a great master swept with one wide gesture crescendo. Yet there was strangely little vibration; We climbed again, steadily now, through 3,000 ft of cloud, and, emerged into a different world, difficult to believe. Here the sky was unclouded and of deepest blue. The sun shone, purely and warmly, and a crescent daylight moon added to the unreality of the scene. I agreed with Bulman it was nd> longer necessary to go many miles from London for sunshine and' holiday.