Weight and balance, 100 years ago

[pmccarthy]

The next day but one I flew back to Kirkuk to collect my kit, and, if possible, my motorbike. This presented a bit of a problem but eventually we solved it by removing the wheels and stowing them in the rear seat, then we roped the frame of the machine to the Scarff gun mounting above the seat. I was about to rope my roll of camp kit plus one suitcase to the bomb racks, when I was asked to fly back as escort to Cordingley, who was returning an aircraft to Baghdad for a change of engine. The engine of Cordingley’s aircraft was slowly leaking water from a defective cylinder water jacket, so would in consequence need careful ‘nursing’ on the flight, so I offered to take his kit in order to minimise the weight in his Bristol. As my rear seat was full of motor bike, Cordingley’s kit had to go on my third bomb rack.

When eventually ready for flight, my Bristol Fighter seemed festooned like a Christmas tree. Most of the bike was ‘outboard’ above the fuselage, a large suitcase under the bottom centre section and two valises containing camp beds, blankets, etc, beneath the bottom planes. Such was my profound faith in the flying qualities of the Brisfit, that I did not really anticipate any serious difficulty in flying to Baghdad with this untidily disposed load. I should have known better. That take-off was a shattering experience. I had taken the precaution of taxying well beyond the normal boundary of the airfield before turning into wind, but when I opened her up the machine ran on and on, without gaining speed, and showing no immediate inclination to leave mother earth. I eventually reached the end of the take-off area, well clear of the further boundary when, in desperation I yanked back fairly sharply on the stick. The machine responded valiantly and staggered into the air, the turbulence caused by the dangling baggage setting up violent buffeting around the tail.

Well, it was one thing to get airborne but quite another to gain some altitude. It seemed quickly evident that the 275 hp of the Rolls-Royce Falcon engine would be severely overtaxed in attaining either speed or height. I finally managed a very wide gradual turn to the south not daring to throttle back, and decided that any attempt at landing back at Kirkuk would risk a serious crash. There was nothing for it but to head for Baghdad, with my airspeed indicator registering between 50 and 60 mph. Every time I eased the stick forward to gain a bit more speed, we just went down hill.

The aircraft just scraped over the Gebil Hamrin and two and a half hours later, still flying at full throttle, I found myself at 1,000 feet over Baquba, thirty miles north of Baghdad. As the fuel was practically exhausted and with a wide expanse of level desert below, I made a fast approach with plenty of engine and returned to earth without further trouble. I contacted Baghdad and a supply of fuel arrived late in the evening. Thus ended a rather stupid episode. When I got back to base the following morning, I found that Cordingley had had an uneventful flight back but could not understand why he had seen nothing of his escort.

— My Golden Flying Years: From 1918 over France, Through Iraq in the 1920s, to the Schneider Trophy: From 1918 over France, Through Iraq in the 1920s, to the Schneider Trophy Race of 1927 by D'Arcy Greig,

[Possum1]

I do recall in some old photos of the Bristol Fighter, some stencilled instructions on the side of the rear gunner's position, underneath the above-mentioned Scarff Ring(the mount for the Lewis gun). The factory left some instructions about the weight of sandbags to be put in the rear-gunner's position, in the event of a flight with no-one in the back seat.

 

The pilot did appear to pay some attention to the weight and balance instruction by putting his kit and motor bike in the back seat.

 

The problem seems to have been an overweight condition coupled with the excessive drag of the other pilot's kit in the bomb racks rather than the more streamlined bombs that the aircraft might otherwise carry.