The Dutch resumed their aviation activities after the dark WW2 days with a vengeance. Their S.14 Machtrainer was, in fact, the first purpose-built jet trainer to see the light. The origins of this sadly quite forgotten aircraft was in fact in Britain. The Rolls-Royce wanted to take a piece of the lucrative postwar jets aircraft market, and specially they wanted something where to put their engines to compete with the then flourishing de Havilland jet engines. After trying in the UK they approached the Fokker company with a possible RR Derwent-powered jet trainer concept. The Fokker found the idea agreeable and their S.14 became just that. First flown in 1951, this superb aircraft was aggressively marketed, but proved to be just too big and, above all, way too expensive for its role. Only 21 in total were produced and those saw service mainly with the Dutch AF.
Superb photo of the original prototype, long “spear” pitot tube included. Gladly, the K-1 (PH-XIV) is among the three surviving S-14’s. It resides nowadays at a museum in the Lelystad Airport.
This unbelievable “thing” was the fruit of an idea patented by Giuseppe P. Ottino and George A. Wyllie in 1909. They called it a “direct lift device” and was exhibited at the Olympia in March 1910. No more data available, but a non-flyer a first sight. Anyway, they were not alone in such a quest.
Superb action photo of a Fokker Triplane of the Jasta 27 taken at Halluin-Ost near Flanders, May 1918. The Dr.I was already an obsolescent design by then, yet still very useful in good hands. Those ground crewmen aided in guiding the fighter during its cumbersome ground running prior to take-off.
By the way, at that time the Jasta 27 Staffelführer was a guy called Hermann Göring.
The famous and controversial story lived by the then 2nd Lt. Robert S. Johnson (a 27 victories Ace) of the 56th FG on June 26, 1943. Johnson’s unit (61th Sqn) was caught that day “dreaming” and bounced by approximately the same number of Fw 190’s. In the process Johnson’s “Jug” was shot up so badly that it took fire (he was also wounded) and went into a wild spin. Thanks that spin, gladly, the engine fire went out. During his lonely and sobering trip back (he was trapped in the cockpit) he said he encountered another “190” which, according to him, after he’d emptied his remaining rounds flew alongside him escorting him to the English Channel, saluted him and then turned away.
The author of this magnificent painting has chosen to represented the scene as claimed by, among others, noted aviation author Barrett Tillman. This historian identified the German pilot as the III./JG 2 Kommandeur Egon Mayer, a superb 102 victories ace. Anyway, it seem quite unlikely, Mayer’s unit III./JG 2 was stationed to far away for this action that day, and the story could possibly be -as some thought then- just a product of Bob Johnson shock and excitement. Who knows…
Artist: Jim Laurier (“Not my turn to die”).
Splendid portrait of a Swiss “Emil” pilot. Our hero wears a mix of local and German flight gear. German are his LKp W 100 flight helmet with that nicely strapped 10-69 oxygen mask helmet and what seems to be “Auer” type goggles, or something similar. Of note the lack of canopy rearward armour and, barely seen, one peculiarity of the Swiss “Emils”: they’re equipped with a KG 11 spade grip instead of the usual pistol grip of that model.
All in all a very neatly dressed guy.
The Polish Żubr (Bison) is one of the -if not “THE”- ugliest conventional aircraft ever built. Conceived in the early 1930’s as a passenger aircraft for the national LOT company, this design was soon redirected to more warlike roles after that company decided to acquire the Douglas DC-2 – smart guys. The Polish AF was not totally sure about their very advanced Łoś and saw in the pedestrian Żubr a sort of safety net. First flown in 1936 as the PZL.30, these bombers were in fact produced by a state concern: the LWS of Lublin. About his service life…well, ugliness was not his main defect: obsolete, painfully slow, almost worthless bomb load, poorly defended, structurally dubious, with puerile system defects…, the least said the better. Only 17 in total were built, thankfully, and they saw service mainly as a trainers.
This photo was taken after the end of the Poland defeat. A conqueror wondering why the Polish did build something as horrible as that. The Germans captured several LWS-6 and curiously gave them a second opportunity also as trainers, the Russian also used their captured LWS-6. The wheels are bathed in engine oil…., maybe those 700hp Bristol Pegasus VIII’s were crying; such a waste of good engines.
50 years since that horrible day at the Cape. In Memoriam.
Grissom, White and Chaffee in happier times modelling their sleek David Clark A1-C suits near a CM training simulator.
The early 1970’s SVL (High-speed Laboratory Railcar) was the Soviet counterpart of the New York Central’s M-497. The Russians like the Americans employed a regular rail-car (an ER22 electric one) powered in this case by a pair of Ivchenko AI-25’s taken from a Yakovlev Yak-40 jet airliner. The SLV was a little bit slower, yet with its 250km/h (160 mph) not a plodder by any means.
This is the sad state of the SLV nowadays, derelict on a forgotten siding. A monument of it can be seen at the rail-car factory in Tver…, a pity they didn’t choose to restore the real thing instead.
Yep, it’s still freezing outside.
The stunning Ju 49 was conceived in the 1930’s by Junkers to investigate high-altitude flight in general and cabin pressurization techniques in particular. With its all-metal construction and corrugated surfaces, the Ju 49 was a “Junkers” though and though. Junkers was also its engine -in its definitive form- a 800hp two-staged (with intercooler) Junkers L88a. The more startling feature of the Ju 49 was its multiple porthole-equipped pressure cabin. So poor was its outside view a periscope was provided for landings.
Originally conceived to be operated at around 6,000m (20,000ft), the Ju 49 in its definitive form, soon doubled that altitude routinely. All in all, a very profitable investment to Junkers that showed the way to the wartime Ju 86P/R.
As we can see in this superb photo this Junkers was an utterly imposing beast. Here with interim unsupercharged L88 engine installation. That lanky undercarriage was needed to allow the necessarily huge wooden prop.
This charming “Le Jaune” depiction was card number 3 of 50 in the Brook Bond Tea History of Aviation series. Those collectives defined the way of doing things in an era long gone.