Bail Out! Bail Out! (Mar 2018)
A reference to Chris Staniland, racing driver and test pilot, who ‘had been the only test pilot to bail out of the same aeroplane twice’, was too intriguing not to follow up. The internet and the SVAS library confirmed only that Chris Staniland had worked for Fairey and died in a Firefly in 1942. The search got no further and lay fallow for months. It was only when looking for a speaker for our December lecture that I remembered that Ken Ellis, once editor of Flypast magazine, had written a book about test pilots. He solved two problems. We have booked an excellent speaker and he knew about the ‘double bail out’.
It was in 1930 when the Air Ministry produced a specification for a torpedo-bomber and spotter-reconnaissance aeroplane for the Fleet Air Arm. At the time, Fairey was building the TSR 1 as a private venture, hoping to sell it to the Greek Navy as a replacement for its Fairey IIIfs. It was a conventional biplane, powered by a 525 hp RR Kestrel.
The TSR1 was finished first and started its test flights. The handling was not satisfactory. The rudder was very heavy, the elevator and ailerons light and sensitive and the CG too far aft. Nevertheless, testing progressed to spinning.
On 11 September, 1933 Chris Staniland entered a spin. The requirement was that the aircraft should be stabilised in the spin for eight turns and recover after no more than three turns. The eight turns went well. After that, Staniland found it impossible to recover.
On 11 September, 1933 Chris Staniland entered a spin. The requirement was that the aircraft should be stabilised in the spin for eight turns and recover after no more than three turns. The eight turns went well. After that, Staniland found it impossible to recover.
The normal recovery technique had no effect. He tried everything, including opening up the engine to increase the airflow over the rudder and elevators but the TSR1 carried on spinning. With the altitude diminishing rapidly, he decided to abandon the aeroplane, undid his straps and jumped out. He got out of the front cockpit but was flung into the rear cockpit. Pinned in by the centrifugal force he struggled to free himself. This time, he climbed out over the other side of the cockpit and fell free to open his chute. Thus he established a reputation as the test pilot who bailed out of the same aeroplane twice. He survived – the aeroplane didn’t.
(The Greeks’ interest faded, the TRS1 was redesigned with a more powerful Pegasus and a lengthened rear fuselage to give more power to its controls and it emerged as the TSR2 or Swordfish, test flown, of course, by Chris Staniland).
Anyone who has been a pilot will have encountered – and even enjoyed – spinning. Without that experience, a brief explanation would be helpful. (I write these words with some trepidation because this Newsletter is read by AVM Alan Merriman. At the ETPS he sorted out the effective spin recovery for the Meteor 7 after all previous spins had ended in crashes).
A spin can follow a stall which occurs when the wing’s angle to the airflow is increased to the point where the airflow becomes turbulent and breaks down. The lift collapses and the aeroplane falls, nose first if the CG is in the right place. The dropping nose and the resulting dive automatically unstall the wing. However, if at the point of stall the pilot applies rudder, he can make the aeroplane spin.
The rudder yaws the nose, say, to the left, which reduces the speed of the left wing, causing it to lose lift, stall and drop. At the same time, the yaw speeds up the right wing increasing its lift and causing it to rise. So the aeroplane which is already yawing to the left, also rolls to the left and, when the nose drops too, it’s spinning. Then gyroscopic forces kick in. This involves precession. If a force is applied at one point of the spinning gyro the result is as though the force had been applied 90° later in the spin. Thus the rising wing actually causes the nose to rise helping to keep the aeroplane stalled and in the spin.
As well as the aerodynamic and gyroscopic forces the aeroplane is subject to centrifugal force. And so is the pilot. He is a rather like the daring child who hangs onto the outer rail of a spinning playground roundabout. It is this factor which has such an effect when he tries to leave the aeroplane. If he climbs out of the wrong side of the cockpit, the centrifugal force could throw him into the path of the spinning aeroplane.
This had happened in 1926 to Eugene Barksdale, an experienced pilot with a record of recovery from many fraught situations. At the McCook Flight Test Section in Dayton, Ohio, he wrote the official manual ‘Flight Testing of Aircraft’ and had a reputation for meticulous observation and analysis. He had already bailed out successfully from an experimental aircraft when its tail plane broke off.
(The Greeks’ interest faded, the TRS1 was redesigned with a more powerful Pegasus and a lengthened rear fuselage to give more power to its controls and it emerged as the TSR2 or Swordfish, test flown, of course, by Chris Staniland).
Anyone who has been a pilot will have encountered – and even enjoyed – spinning. Without that experience, a brief explanation would be helpful. (I write these words with some trepidation because this Newsletter is read by AVM Alan Merriman. At the ETPS he sorted out the effective spin recovery for the Meteor 7 after all previous spins had ended in crashes).
A spin can follow a stall which occurs when the wing’s angle to the airflow is increased to the point where the airflow becomes turbulent and breaks down. The lift collapses and the aeroplane falls, nose first if the CG is in the right place. The dropping nose and the resulting dive automatically unstall the wing. However, if at the point of stall the pilot applies rudder, he can make the aeroplane spin.
The rudder yaws the nose, say, to the left, which reduces the speed of the left wing, causing it to lose lift, stall and drop. At the same time, the yaw speeds up the right wing increasing its lift and causing it to rise. So the aeroplane which is already yawing to the left, also rolls to the left and, when the nose drops too, it’s spinning. Then gyroscopic forces kick in. This involves precession. If a force is applied at one point of the spinning gyro the result is as though the force had been applied 90° later in the spin. Thus the rising wing actually causes the nose to rise helping to keep the aeroplane stalled and in the spin.
As well as the aerodynamic and gyroscopic forces the aeroplane is subject to centrifugal force. And so is the pilot. He is a rather like the daring child who hangs onto the outer rail of a spinning playground roundabout. It is this factor which has such an effect when he tries to leave the aeroplane. If he climbs out of the wrong side of the cockpit, the centrifugal force could throw him into the path of the spinning aeroplane.
This had happened in 1926 to Eugene Barksdale, an experienced pilot with a record of recovery from many fraught situations. At the McCook Flight Test Section in Dayton, Ohio, he wrote the official manual ‘Flight Testing of Aircraft’ and had a reputation for meticulous observation and analysis. He had already bailed out successfully from an experimental aircraft when its tail plane broke off.
So the spin-prone early version of the Douglas O-2 was just another assignment for him. He entered a spin to the left which echoed Staniland’s experience in the TSR-1. When he finally decided to bail out he climbed out of the cockpit and was flung against the fuselage with such force that his parachute harness was severed and failed to open properly. The shocking death of such an experienced and competent pilot had a marked effect. An extensive investigation was started, not just into spinning but also into safe escape techniques for the pilot.
The first tests were made by dropping models from the roof of an airship shed. Later, the Langley Research Center built a 5-feet diameter vertical wing tunnel. 21 models of fighter, bomber and trainer aeroplanes (including biplanes, low, and mid wing monoplanes) were tested simulating both flat and steep spins. Models of the pilot were released from the inboard and outboard sides of the cockpit. The conclusions were that it was better to bail out of the outboard side of the cockpit (right side in a left-hand spin). The position of the cockpit also had an effect. The chances of getting clear were poorer from a cockpit forward of the wing.
Over the years the analysis of spinning has continued across the world. The RAE’s first ‘vertical’ wind tunnel, built in 1931, was only 2 feet in diameter and was intended as a demonstrator at lectures rather than a research tool. The full size 30 ft high, 12 ft diameter tunnel which followed produced valuable data and film for many years. It could give a complete understanding of the spinning characteristics of any aeroplane including the unusual tailless Westland-Hill Pterodactyl.
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Of course, an aeroplane can confound the theorists when weight distribution is altered by moving a piece of equipment, adding extra fuel, heavy passengers or loads. One prototype was thoroughly tested and considered to be easy to recover from any spin. Then another pilot took it up and didn’t retract the undercarriage. He inadvertently spun and it became impossible to recover. Although he bailed out successfully the prototype was destroyed. And huge increases in aircraft performance seem to have negated Langley’s carefully considered 1930s advice on bailing out towards the outside of a spin. The Pilot’s Notes of the P-51 Mustang state just the opposite – ‘Bail out to the inside of a spin’.
In the stress and disorientation of a madly spinning aeroplane which is rapidly running out of height it seems highly unlikely that everyone got it right, even if they had thought about it beforehand. So Chris Staniland’s record is questionable. There must have been others with a similar experience. Well, yes. In all the information collected for a recent article on Slingsby Sailplanes there is an interesting tale of a multiple bail out.
In the stress and disorientation of a madly spinning aeroplane which is rapidly running out of height it seems highly unlikely that everyone got it right, even if they had thought about it beforehand. So Chris Staniland’s record is questionable. There must have been others with a similar experience. Well, yes. In all the information collected for a recent article on Slingsby Sailplanes there is an interesting tale of a multiple bail out.
In 1937, the Germans hosted the first international sailplane contest. Fred Slingsby thought he just had time to design and build a new glider for the British team. Soaring had progressed from sitting in hill lift and was learning to exploit thermal lift under clouds to fly long distances across country. The best gliders could fly fast to the next thermal without losing too much height. To match the latest German sailplanes Slingsby’s designer chose one of the new NACA wing profiles being developed in the USA. He enlarged the existing Kite design to take the new wing and the King Kite emerged. Flaps were fitted, not just for landing but also to fine tune the high speed gliding performance.
There was no time to test a prototype so all three gliders were built together. The first to fly certainly showed an impressive soaring performance. Slingsby asked Philip Wills – at the time the best British glider pilot – to come to Yorkshire to fly the King Kite and do the spin testing. Gliders can be quite difficult to hold in a spin. Their stalling speed is so low that when the nose drops and the speed increases the wing quickly unstalls. The glider is in a spiral dive and the controls work for immediate recovery. Wills expected no trouble.
He released from the tug at 4,500 ft enjoying a few minutes of peaceful steady glide. Then he raised the nose gently. Just below 40 knots he felt the first shudders of the stall, kicked on full left rudder and the King Kite rolled into a spin. There was no requirement to hold the spin for eight turns. He probably couldn’t anyway, for the speed was rising quickly so he applied right rudder and centralised the stick. The glider immediately recovered.
Still at 4000ft, he tried a spin to the right. The entry was the same and he held the pro-spin controls a little longer. The speed was increasing – time to recover. Nothing happened. The spin went on. He tried recovery again and again, adjusting the flaps in different positions, yet the roaring spin persisted. With the altitude rapidly diminishing Wills realised he would have to make his first ever parachute jump. He released the cockpit cover and it whirled away, taking his glasses with it. He undid the safety straps and dived over the left side of the cockpit (the outside of the spin).
The nose seemed to swing back at him, struck him across the chest and flung him back into the cockpit. He tried again, with the same result. For the third time he tried to get out, this time clambering forwards, pulling at the nose to get free. There was a bang, a violent blow and he was back in his seat for the third time. But the world had stopped spinning. It seemed to be upside down and he was held in his seat only by centrifugal force. The glider was performing a loop.
With the controls were biting again he pulled back on the elevator and completed the loop. The glider was a bare three hundred feet above the ground, right over the airfield. He lowered the flaps, did a half turn and landed. The barograph showed that the glider had lost 3,700 feet in the spin in just one minute.
He released from the tug at 4,500 ft enjoying a few minutes of peaceful steady glide. Then he raised the nose gently. Just below 40 knots he felt the first shudders of the stall, kicked on full left rudder and the King Kite rolled into a spin. There was no requirement to hold the spin for eight turns. He probably couldn’t anyway, for the speed was rising quickly so he applied right rudder and centralised the stick. The glider immediately recovered.
Still at 4000ft, he tried a spin to the right. The entry was the same and he held the pro-spin controls a little longer. The speed was increasing – time to recover. Nothing happened. The spin went on. He tried recovery again and again, adjusting the flaps in different positions, yet the roaring spin persisted. With the altitude rapidly diminishing Wills realised he would have to make his first ever parachute jump. He released the cockpit cover and it whirled away, taking his glasses with it. He undid the safety straps and dived over the left side of the cockpit (the outside of the spin).
The nose seemed to swing back at him, struck him across the chest and flung him back into the cockpit. He tried again, with the same result. For the third time he tried to get out, this time clambering forwards, pulling at the nose to get free. There was a bang, a violent blow and he was back in his seat for the third time. But the world had stopped spinning. It seemed to be upside down and he was held in his seat only by centrifugal force. The glider was performing a loop.
With the controls were biting again he pulled back on the elevator and completed the loop. The glider was a bare three hundred feet above the ground, right over the airfield. He lowered the flaps, did a half turn and landed. The barograph showed that the glider had lost 3,700 feet in the spin in just one minute.
His wife had been horrified watching the whole performance and rushed to help him to clamber out of the cockpit. He felt a violent pain in his chest and was convinced that he’d strained his heart. He was taken to the clubhouse and lay there, hoping to recover. Every move resulted in another wave of chest pain. He thought a soothing cigarette might help. It did. When he reached into his pocket for his cigarette case he found it bent into an ‘L’ shape, digging painfully into his bruised chest.
Later, ‘experts’ told him that, with the cockpit forward of the wing he should have bailed out of the inside of the spin.
The King Kites were fitted with an enlarged rudder to aid recovery.
Wills might not have realised that he had set a record for the number of times to have bailed out of the same aeroplane (and he saved the aeroplane, too). In any case, Chris Staniland’s record was still intact because Philip Wills not really a ‘proper’ test pilot.
Later, ‘experts’ told him that, with the cockpit forward of the wing he should have bailed out of the inside of the spin.
The King Kites were fitted with an enlarged rudder to aid recovery.
Wills might not have realised that he had set a record for the number of times to have bailed out of the same aeroplane (and he saved the aeroplane, too). In any case, Chris Staniland’s record was still intact because Philip Wills not really a ‘proper’ test pilot.