After several unsuccessful attempts to develop an effective long range flying boat for the maritime patrol role, in 1916 the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) bought 50 twin-engined H.8 flying boats from the Curtiss Aeroplanes and Motors Corporation in the United States. Unfortunately, the H.8 was seriously underpowered until its two 160 HP Curtiss VXX engines were replaced with 250 HP Rolls-Royce Eagles.

The H.12 – as the re-engined H.8 was designated – proved much more satisfactory and entered RNAS service in 1917. However, the RNAS’s Seaplane Experimental Flight at Felixstowe, under the direction of Commander John Porte, was still dissatisfied with the H.12s performance on take-off and landing. Cdr Porte realised that the hull was main cause of the trouble so he and his team tried replacing it with a completely new one, which was stronger, more hydrodynamically efficient and also easier to build.

This is a page from “Report on experimental flying boat hulls, 1915-1916” issued by Seaplane Experimental Flight at Felixstowe, which is held by the Museum’s Archives collection. It summarises the important features of the F.2A hull design which replaced the original Curtiss version on the H.12 resulting in a significant improvement in performance. (RAFM reference B433)

With its revised hull and Rolls-Royce Eagle engines, the improved version of the H.12 was ready to go into production in the UK, where it was known as the Felixstowe F.2A. A practically identical aircraft, designated the H.16, was built in the United States and many H.16s saw service in the RAF alongside the Felixstowe flying boats. Cmr Porte and his team went on to improve the F.2A design still further resulting in the F.3 and F.5, both of which were in full production in the UK when the First World War ended. In RNAS and RAF service all of the Curtiss and the Felixstowe flying boats from the H.12 to the F.5 were known as Large Americas.

This general arrangement drawing of a Felixstowe F.3 was published in the January 29 1919 issue of “Aeronautics” in an article entitled “Large America Class Flying Boats (F.2A and F.3)” (RAFM reference PR01805). The War had been over for less than three months when this article was published and it was the first time detailed construction details and performance data for these aircraft appeared in print.

Such were the demands upon British aircraft manufacturers in 1917 that contracts for Felixstowe flying boats were awarded not only to experienced seaplane builders like Short Brothers and S.E. Saunders, but also to companies like Dick, Kerr and Company and the Phoenix Dynamo Company, which were building marine aircraft for the first time.

This advertisement for Short Brothers of Rochester appeared shortly after the First World War in “The British Aircraft Standard Catalogue, 1920-21” (RAFM reference 010061). It shows several Felixstowe F.5 hulls in the huge erecting shops at the Rochester works. Short Brothers were awarded contracts for two batches of 50 Felixstowe flying boats and completed a total of 35 F.3s and 25 F.5s before the remainder were cancelled at the end of the War. Hulls were built in a boatyard at Strood and final aircraft assembly carried out in the main works at Rochester.

Thanks to the simplified hull design incorporated in the Felixstowe flying boats, all of the manufacturers who were awarded contracts were soon delivering airworthy aircraft on schedule.

However, Phoenix in Bradford and Dick, Kerr in Preston had no convenient access to open water where their newly-built aircraft could be test-flown. Broken down into their major components their aircraft were transported by road from the factories to assembly and flight-testing outstations at Brough on the river Humber, South Shields on the Tyne and Lytham on the Ribble. In 1918 the company outstations at Brough and South Shields became Marine Aeroplane Depots under RAF control.

Here Felixstowe F.3 N4401, built by the Phoenix Dynamo Company in Bradford, is about to take to the water in 1918. The presence of a civilian handling party suggests that the photograph was taken while the aircraft was undergoing flight testing, probably at Brough. (RAFM reference X003-2602/6804)

Felixstowe flying boats were one of the most expensive aircraft types used by the RAF during the First World War. An F.2A airframe alone cost £6,738 and the two Roll-Royce Eagle VIII engines added another £3,245. Together this is equivalent to £430,000 at today’s prices. Although large numbers of flying boats were urgently needed, output was limited by the rate at which their Rolls-Royce Eagle engines could be produced.

Felixstowe F.3 hulls under construction at the Phoenix Dynamo Company’s Thornbury Works in Bradford, 1918 are seen here. 24 F.3s and 15 F.5s were built by Phoenix during 1918 but an order for 30 more was cancelled when the War ended. During the Royal visit to Yorkshire in May 1918, King George V inspected the F.3 production line at the works. One of the aircraft’s systems demonstrated to him was the wireless and he listened to a message sent from an airborne aircraft picked up by a wireless receiver at the factory. (RAFM reference X003-2602/6753).
The numbers of all types of Large America flying boats delivered to the RNAS/RAF as follows: 84 H.12s; 24 H.12 Converts; 173 F.2As; 2 F.2Cs; 176 F.3s; 100 (approx.) F.5s; and 75 H.16s. When the First World War ended several orders were cancelled before completion and the numbers delivered from some production batches of F.5s is uncertain. By the end of the First World War the RAF had 53 F.2As, 96 F.3s and 69 H.16s on strength.

Here we see the interior of the Dick, Kerr factory at Preston, where F.3 N4259 is shown fully assembled, complete with bombs beneath the wings. Many of the hulls for Dick, Kerr’s aircraft were built by the Boulton Paul Company in Norwich and most of the assembly and testing was carried out at South Shields, a three-day journey from Preston by steam lorry. Out of the 150 aircraft ordered from Dick, Kerr a total of 61 F.3s and 2 F.5s were delivered. The remainder were cancelled when the War ended. (RAF Museum reference X003-2602/6795)

Here a Boulton and Paul built F.3 fuselage is seen on its side, covered in a tarpaulin probably being transported from Norwich to the Phoenix Dynamo works in Preston some time in 1918.

In this photograph N4510, the first F.2A delivered by May, Harden & May, sits on its cradle outside the company’s Hythe works in early 1918. May, Harden & May built 71 F.2A hulls for aircraft ordered from the Aircraft Manufacturing Co. (AIRCO) based at Hendon. (RAF Museum reference X003-2602/6613)

S.E. Saunders Ltd in the Isle of Wight built 100 F.2As and had a been given a further contract for 50 F.5s when the war ended. This photograph showing F.2As nearing completion was taken in the company’s works at East Cowes in 1918.

Other manufacturers involved in the production of Large America flying boats included Aldous & Co, Dixon Brothers & Hutchinson, Summers & Payne, Camper & Nicholson, Norman Thompson/Williams & Co, the US Naval Aircraft Factory, Canadian Aeroplanes Ltd and the Dockyard Construction Unit on Malta.

The Museum’s First World War in the Air programme of events and blogs are supported by BAE Systems and the Heritage Lottery Fund.

This story explains the background to a situation where, by the end of April 1945, the people of Western Holland were on the edge of a human catastrophe, almost completely without food, and how Allied Air Forces in England responded with Operations “Manna” and “Chowhound”, the dropping of food from the air by bomber aeroplanes.

I suppose the story begins in May 1940, when Holland was invaded by Germany. For 5 years, Dutch citizens lived in an occupied country, directed, sometimes imprisoned or worse, by their captors and hoping for liberation. Resistance organisations were formed, information passed to the Allies and strong communications maintained with the exiled Government in England and with the Dutch Royal Family in Canada.

Growing Allied strength in the air was a powerful influence on the population. They listened to the roar of RAF bombers flying over Holland to attack German targets and many Dutch people say that this was the sound that convinced them they would one day be liberated. Unfortunately, the Germans were also aware of these routes and the population saw many combats in the night sky with bombers and crews falling to nightfighters, many of them stationed on Dutch airfields.
Great courage was shown by many Dutch people, not only helping and hiding crews who survived the loss of their aircraft, but also in tending the graves of fallen crewmen. This was equally true for the crews of the United States 8th Air Force, sending hundreds of daylight bombers at high altitude on their way to Germany.

For much of the War, Holland could just about feed itself, although the Germans removed large numbers of livestock, especially cattle, and requisitioned many other foodstuffs. There may not have been the pre-War variety, but food distribution systems worked and rationing, plus some black market for those who could afford it, ensured an adequate diet. This began to change soon after the Allied invasion of Normandy in June 1944. German priorities moved from being an Occupying to a Defending Army, with effects on the distribution system; the railways, waterways and Agriculture.

Over 500,000 acres were flooded or otherwise taken out of use by the Germans during 1944, many barges had been seized and there was no fuel for transport by lorry. These measures made distribution of food very difficult, particularly to the Western Provinces, which are less agricultural and contain the biggest cities.

Although the Allied Armies advanced relatively quickly through France and Belgium to capture the port of Antwerp, there were areas on the left flank that were left in German hands whilst the British 21st Army Group pushed towards Germany. Thus some of Holland was liberated, but much remained occupied. The British did try Operation Market Garden in September 1944. This was an attempt using paratroops to seize bridges across a number of major river obstacles. You will all have heard of ‘The Bridge Too Far”, at Arnhem, where the attempt stalled.

In anticipation of success at Arnhem, the Dutch Government in Exile called on the railway workers to strike, which they did. After the Germans defeated the airborne troops, they took revenge against the civilian population still in their hands. Men were rounded up for slave labour, electricity and gas supplies were severely restricted, partly through lack of fuel, and the transportation of food was forbidden for seven weeks, just as winter was approaching. Railway rolling stock was seized and taken to Germany. The workers maintained their strike, many going into hiding.

These measures and the unusually severe weather conditions of winter 44/45 brought the ‘Hongerwinter’. Canals and rivers froze, denying transport of food. This was especially difficult in the so-called ‘B-2’ area of the Western Provinces, containing some 3.5 Million people and the major population centres of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague and Utrecht.

Despite a system of food distribution and rationing which was well administered by Dutch civil servants, Food supplies were completely inadequate, particularly in these major cities. Some people cycled to the country to exchange valuables for food, some found black market food but most, particularly the old and children, were slowly starving to death. Lois de Jong, one of the most prominent Dutch writers on this time, estimates that about 20,000 civilians died of cold, malnutrition and associated disease before sufficient food became available. He also calculated that about 800,000 souls suffered some lasting effects from the hunger.
The Dutch government in exile was informed of these circumstances and in January 1945 Queen Wilhelmina wrote a letter to King George and President Roosevelt.

“It is the duty of the Dutch government to strongly plead for military action with the aim to drive the Germans out of The Netherlands. She feels that this request is reasonable and necessary and she will be grateful for the assurance that nothing will be left undone to reach this goal.
If, which the Dutch government hopes will not happen, immediate military aid will not be possible, than immediate aid in the shape of massive evacuation or in the shape of food supplies, clothing, fuel and medicine is necessary.”

A Dutch “Committee of Confidence” negotiated with the German Reichskomissar for Holland, Seyss-Inquart, for limited shipments of Flour, Fats and other food by Switzerland and Sweden under Red Cross arrangements. These began in late January and February 1945, but did not come anywhere near to solving the problem.

Although they started to stockpile rations in Europe, against the day when Holland could be liberated, Eisenhower and Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF) high command were concerned. German forces in Holland, had been ordered to fight to the end by Hitler, and might cause complete devastation by flooding the rest of the Western Provinces, if they were attacked.

The Dutch Committee of Confidence then reported in early April that Seyss-Inquart might be open to negotiate a truce, which could allow the supply of much more food to avert an imminent humanitarian catastrophe. This led the Allies to an imaginative plan. Perhaps safe passage for airdrops of food from England, only 130 or so miles away, could be arranged?

Allied transport aircraft fleets were badly stretched by the demands of the War and delivering food quickly to Holland by ship was beset by difficulty through mines and the damage the Germans had done to ports, docks and cranes. However, there was a huge lifting capacity within the RAF’s Bomber Command and the United States Eighth Army Air Force, based in the United Kingdom. By this time in the War, there was a real sense that the Bombers were running out of worthwhile targets.

Air Commodore Andrew Geddes, whose job was Operations and Plans at 2nd Tactical Air Force, was summoned to Eisenhower’s Headquarters on 17th April to be told that he must plan for feeding 3,500,000 Dutch souls from the air, commencing in 10 days’ time. There were no parachutes available for dropping supplies, therefore Geddes should plan for low-level free drops and assume that the German troops on the ground would grant safe conduct for the flights.

RAF Bomber Command would provide No 1 and No 3 Group operating Lancasters, together with appropriate Pathfinder Mosquito and Lancaster support; altogether 33 Squadrons. The Americans would provide the B17 Flying Fortresses of 3rd Air Division of 10 Bombardment Groups. Whilst Geddes and his small staff were planning, Engineers in the Air Forces were working out how to pack the food and then drop it, with some changes to the bomb bay of the B17 aeroplanes. Material for the modifications, cargo nets, sacks and of course the food was being transported to the airfields in England.

At the same time, details of the plan were communicated to Holland, in order that arrangements for collecting, safeguarding, transporting and distributing the food could be made. The planners even specified the provision of medical services at the Drop Zones, in case hungry people invaded them and were hit by the tins and bags from the air.

Crews from the nominated Squadrons were practicing flying and drops at low level, in daylight, mostly with sandbags. Not everything went perfectly. At one demonstration; cascading tins of meat, sugar and other food were very close to hitting the senior officer spectators! Early on in the practice drops it was discovered that two sacks, one inside the other, were needed to avoid cargo being ruined or dispersed on landing.

Geddes also turned his plan into a sort of “Heads of Agreement” to be signed by Allied, Dutch and German Representatives. Neither Geddes, nor his seniors were interested in protracted negotiations or horse-trading. His document simply set out arrangements for the Air Supply of food to the population of the occupied Netherlands through flights to 10 specified drop zones.
Meanwhile, the Germans had flooded more land and the meagre remaining food was fast running out completely.

The first meeting with German Representatives was planned for the 28th April, in a School House at Achterveld. However, on the 27th, Resistance representatives, in touch with the Dutch Civilian Food Distribution organisation, reported to His Royal Highness Prince Bernhard that supplies and distribution had broken down and that they stood at the edge of catastrophe.
Seyss-Inquart had indicated that he would agree to 4 drop zones. Despite this, the German Representatives at Achterveld on the 28th said they were only there to hear what the Allies proposed and report back. The Allies then stated that food drops would begin next day at 5 locations, this would be announced on Radio Oranj, for the Dutch population and Radio Luxembourg, which at that time was a SHAEF station broadcasting to German Forces as Nachtsender 1212. The Germans were not to interfere with the drops and were to return to Achterveld as soon as possible with authorised Representatives.

On the next day, 29th April, 239 RAF Lancasters dropped 535 tons of food at 5 locations, followed by 1021 tons on the 30th. This was the day that Hitler committed suicide in Berlin and the day that Seyss-Inquart agreed to the arrangements at a second meeting at Achterveld

RAF aircrew were suspicious of German intentions when flying the first sorties of Operation Manna, which was the name for the RAF element of this plan. The crews knew how vulnerable they would be, flying low and slow at the height where light flak and even rifle fire would be very effective against them. However, apart from a few rifle calibre holes in a very few aeroplanes, the Germans carried out their part in the plan throughout. And aircrew confidence rapidly grew.

In sorties from the 1st May until 8th May, the RAF dropped a further 5586 tons of food. I say ‘RAF’. But the crews comprised airmen from around the world. 300 Squadron, your own Polish bombers, flew many sorties, as did Australians, Canadians and New Zealanders. There was even a Dutchman, Heukensfeld-Jansen, flying a Lancaster of 90 Squadron, to drop food at Rotterdam.

The American operation, ”Chowhound”, ran from 1st to 7th May and delivered 3770 tons of food By B17 onto 10 Drop Zones in 2189 sorties. In total, almost 11, 000 tons of food was dropped in 5,391 successful sorties, for the loss of 3 B17s and 1 Lancaster in accidents, which caused the death of 12 American crewmen.

Des Hawkins DFC, an RAF Navigator on Operation Manna has told how he normally stayed behind his curtain in the aeroplane but, on his Manna trips, he came out to see amazing sights on the ground; from German soldiers looking up at them to Dutch civilians in their thousands, around and on the Drop Zones, on roof tops, in the streets, waving flags and sheets or just their hands. Similar stories have been told by many of the aircrew.

Some tell stories of ‘finding’ and keeping a box or a sack, but that had its dangers as well. Some sacks might just have pepper in them, and there were dangers in eating too much high calorie food, too quickly, after so long on a very poor diet.

Despite the general hunger, discipline and organisation on the ground mostly worked very well. German soldiers and Dutch Policemen kept order and escorted the food as it was collected and carried off. Barges, wagons and manpower were all used for distribution, which started up very quickly, as did the kitchens to provide meals.

This was all bolstered from 3rd May by another Operation, “Faust”, which was Canadian Army transport, with the agreement of the Germans, crossing through the lines and delivered food, coal and medicines into the Western Provinces. 200 or more lorries were quickly given to the Dutch to help with the onward distribution.

After the German capitulation in Holland on 6th May 1945, Chowhound ended on the next day and Operation Manna on the 8th. As Dutch Government was re-established, reinstating Mayors and a civil administration, the supply of food by land continued, but the airdrops were over.
They only lasted just a few days but the Manna and Chowhound drops have had a massive impact on many levels. They made a real difference to the survival and future health of millions of people. Secondly, the people of Holland have not forgotten and have regularly honoured both the Veterans and the event itself. Prince Bernhard decorated Geddes after the War and they remained friends since meeting during the planning and at Achterveld.
There is a formal memorial to Manna and Chowhound in Holland and many households still cherish an old food sack, or a ration tin from those days. Many contacts have been established and maintained between the aircrew and the Dutch citizens involved. There are Memorials across the world from stamps in Holland, a tile mosaic in Canada to paintings and commemorative coins.
Also, these Operations showed the world a new use for Air Power, in the service of humanity, if you like. Ironically, one of the first and major recipients was the German nation, or at least those in Berlin. Commonwealth and American Air Forces found themselves running a massive airlift, Operation Plainfare and Operation Vittles, when the Soviets closed the access corridors to Berlin. This lasted almost a year and delivered over 2 Million tons of supplies.
Since then we have seen many other examples of this humanitarian use of Air Power; the delivery of aid from Ethiopia to Grenada and many places in between. This combination of Strategic Reach and the ability to plan, organise and implement effectively and quickly is a hallmark of the best Air Forces and will be needed around the World, again and again, in the future.

If you want to find out more about Manna and Chowhound, there is research material within the Archive and Library at the RAF Museum, Hendon, which can be inspected by appointment at the Reading Room. York and Dakota aeroplanes, of the type used on the Berlin Airlift are on display at Cosford Museum. There is also much material available on the internet. Finally a Dutch author, Hans Onderwater, has worked for many years to document both the operations themselves and the situation on the ground at the time. One of his books ‘Operation Manna/Chowhound: The Allied Food Dropping April/May 1945’ is also in English. Although it was published in 1985, it is still possible to find a copy even if, as I did, you have to secure it from a Dutch second hand book seller.

One very wet day in June 2008 I was asked if I would be interested in looking at the Wartime pilots’ log books and photographs of a visitor who had just arrived with his family.

The gentleman concerned was 88 year old Oswald Morris, and he had driven up from the South Coast to take a look at our Avro York, a type which he used to fly during the Second World War.

Ossie and his family went off to look round the Museum leaving me to browse his log books. Their contents were fascinating and revealed that Ossie flew Lancaster bombers with 44 Squadron, completing a gruelling tour of operations which included the low level daylight attack on the Schneider munitions works at Le Creusot in Eastern France.

Ossie was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross on completion of his tour, the citation reading: “This officer has completed many successful sorties against targets in enemy-occupied territory during which he has displayed coolness and efficiency and a great determination to press home his attacks”.

After this he flew transport aircraft including the Albemarle, Dakota and finally the York. With the Metropolitan Communications Squadron Ossie captained VIP Yorks and transported Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden to the Yalta Conference in Russia in February 1945. For safely conveying his VIP passengers Ossie was awarded the Air Force Cross in 1946.

When Ossie returned from his tour of the Museum I asked him what he went on to do after leaving the RAF and he said he worked in the film industry as a cinematographer. “Any films I might have heard of?” I asked. Very modestly Ossie said “Oh a few perhaps” and then he and his family departed on their long wet drive back south.

An internet search revealed that Ossie had actually won an Academy Award in 1972 for his cinematography on the film “Fiddler on the Roof”, and BAFTAs for “The Hill” and “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold”. In a career spanning 40 years Ossie worked on Bond films, musicals and war films and with actors such as Richard Burton, Donald Pleasence, Michael Caine, Christopher Lee, Roger Moore and Gregory Peck.

Donald Pleasence himself served as an RAF wireless operator during World War Two. He became a prisoner of war in August 1944 following the crash of his Lancaster in France during a bombing operation, an experience he drew on to portray RAF forger Colin Blythe in the film “The Great Escape”. Richard Burton and Christopher Lee also saw wartime service in the RAF.

Ossie later gave us an interview about his RAF service, giving us detailed accounts of pilot training, bombing operations and his VIP transport flights. In this extract, he describes the Russian hospitality he received during his trip to Yalta.

• Listen to Ossie’s Yalta extract

It was very humbling to see Ossie’s Oscar alongside his DFC and AFC – a man who excelled in two careers and yet remained modest about them both.

The Jack Bruce Collection includes over 600 images of Nieuport aircraft. While conducting research on this famous company, an idea for a blog emerged, detailing the many differences, both major and minor, which distinguish the famous Nieuport fighters of 1914 – 1918.

The Nieuport design team was led by Gustave Delage from January 1914 and, under his direction, produced the long line of Nieuports described in this blog. The chief characteristic of his designs, until the Type 28, was the sesquiplane, or one and a half wing, layout, which afforded a fine downward view at the expense of the aircraft’s structural strength.

The lower wing was built around a single spar while the interplane struts terminated in a single point, dispensing with the strength resulting from a box-structure, one of the conventional biplane’s principal assets. The two-seat Nieuport 10 of 1914 was originally intended to have a variable incidence lower wing, acting around a sleeve located on a part of the lower spar that was circular in section. The variable incidence concept was abandoned after the Type 10 but the circular section joint remained, compromising the structure’s torsional rigidity. Violent manoeuvres or age could lead to the lower wing weakening, particularly at the root or at the spar to interplane strut junction, resulting in a catastrophic in-flight structural failure.

As is well-known, the Albatros “vee-strutters”, using a Nieuport-inspired sesquiplane layout, suffered from a similar structural weakness.

The Nieuport 11 “bébé”

Delage designed this diminutive aircraft in 1915 and it was quickly ordered into production for the French Air Force. It entered service in time to see combat during the Battle of Verdun and, with the Royal Flying Corps’ Airco D.H.2 and Royal Aircraft Factory F.E.2b, was instrumental in ending the air supremacy previously enjoyed by the Fokker E-series.

The aircraft can be readily distinguished from later Nieuports by the absence of a headrest. The flying wires converge from the wings to the fuselage.

The Nieuport 16

As 1916 progressed, pilots began to discover that the bébé was inferior in speed and climb in comparison to enemy aircraft. The obvious solution was more power and a 110hp Le Rhone engine was fitted in place of the 80hp version in the Type 11. However, although performance was marginally increased, the Type 16 was disliked by many pilots due to the effect of the heavier engine on the aircraft’s balance.

The Type 16 can often be distinguished from its predecessor by the presence of a headrest.

The Nieuport 17

Perhaps the most significant Nieuport type, the Type 17 was introduced into French service in late 1916. To resolve the defects of the Type 16, Delage lengthened the fuselage, increased the wing area, and changed the shape of the upper wing ailerons. The Type 17 was very successful, serving with the air forces of France, Britain, Belgium, Italy and Russia. However, the Albatros D.III and D.V were superior in most respects and the Type 17 was gradually withdrawn from combat service during 1917.
The Nieuport 17 featured a larger engine cowling and, as noted above, increased wing area.

The Nieuport 17bis

This development of the Type 17 was a temporary measure, featuring refinements which provided a marginal increase in performance.

The Type 17bis featured a circular-section fuselage, a Clerget engine and a narrow chord engine cowling.

The Nieuport 21

This aircraft was something of a hybrid, featuring the fuselage of the bébé and the wings of the Type 17. The aircraft was produced in small numbers and, as such, was comparatively rare. Most were issued to training units although a few did enter combat service, notably with the famous Escadrille N124 (later the Escadrille Lafayette).

The Type 21 was superficially similar to the Type 11 but can easily be distinguished from the latter by the use of parallel flying wires.

The Nieuport 23

This aircraft was another development of the Type 17 and was virtually identical in appearance.
In French service, the Type 23 featured an offset Vickers gun, distinguishing it from the Type 17. In British service, both the Type 17 and Type 23 were equipped with an over-wing Lewis gun. A change to the structure of the Type 23’s upper wing necessitated a revision to the fitting of the Lewis gun mounting plate. This small difference, in the absence of a visible serial number, is the only visual clue.

The Nieuport 23bis

This very rare sub-type was only used by British units. The aircraft featured a circular-section fuselage and was similar in appearance to the Nieuport 17bis.
The key features which distinguished the Type 23bis from the Type 17bis were the front centre section, or cabane, struts, which were angled forwards, due to a revised wing structure. The carburettor intake pipes were located above the thrust line on both sides.

The Nieuport 24

The Nieuports 17 and 23 began to be superseded by the SPAD VII in 1917. Both lacked the performance of the SPAD and were more difficult to fly. In an attempt to prolong the competitiveness of the sesquiplane design, Nieuport produced the Type 24.

The aircraft featured a 130hp Le Rhone engine, a circular-section fuselage, a new aerofoil section to improve lift and, in a departure from previous Nieuport practice, an elegantly-shaped, plywood-covered tail unit.

The aircraft entered service after the Type 24bis and was withdrawn by early 1918.

The Nieuport 24bis

Before the Type 24 entered production, Nieuport tested one of the latter with the tail unit of a Type 17. Although preceding the Type 24, this version was labelled the Type 24bis. It was manufactured in small numbers and entered service in early 1917.

The aircraft was externally similar to the Nieuport 17bis. Notable differences included the 130hp Le Rhone engine and the revised aerofoil section of the Type 24.

The Nieuport 25

It is possible that the Nieuport 25 used by Charles Nungesser was the only one of its kind to be built. As with the Type 24, it was an attempt to extend the life of the sesquiplane design.

The Type 25 was externally similar to the Type 24: the main feature of distinction being the fairing of the undercarriage legs.

The Nieuport 27

The Type 27 represented the final attempt to improve upon a basic design which had stood Nieuport in good stead since 1915. The Type 27 followed the Type 24 on the production line at Issy-les-Moulineaux and was supplied to the remaining Nieuport Escadrilles in 1918 in lieu of the SPAD XIII.

Like the Type 25, the Nieuport 27 was externally very similar to the Type 24. Small revisions to the Type 24’s design were a divided axle undercarriage and an internally-mounted tailskid. The ailerons of the Type 27 featured curved trailing edges, a departure from the straight-edged versions of earlier models.

The Nieuport 28

In response to the dominance of the SPADs VII and XIII, Gustave Delage abandoned the sesquiplane layout and designed a new fighter, the Type 28. A more powerful, 160hp Gnome-Monosoupape engine and an increased wing area were intended to solve the traditional respective Nieuport shortcomings of a low top speed and a poor rate of climb. The weakness of the sesquiplane would be addressed by providing a double-spar lower wing and parallel interplane struts.

In the event, these solutions were only partially successful. The aircraft did not meet with approval when tested, mainly due to the continued weakness of the wings and it was not selected for French Air Force service. However, due to continuing problems with SPAD XIII production, a reprieve for the design came with a demand to equip the new American Pursuit squadrons, then in the process of formation.

The aircraft eventually entered service with the USAAS in 1918 but, although graceful in appearance, it was not popular; structural problems during high-g manoeuvres continued and performance was markedly inferior to that of the superb Fokker D.VII.

The Nieuports became an important part of the Allied Air Forces and in particular to the French Air Force and the RFC and RNAS, due to their sparkling performance in 1915 and 1916. The availability of the Types 11 and 17 for the RFC and RNAS was especially well-received, as the UK was struggling to supply competitive fighter designs in sufficient numbers.

However, the pace of change was such that it was not long before it began to be outclassed by rival designs, both Allied and German and, while a series of incremental revisions was made, by mid-1918 the basic design, as shown by the Type 28, had become obsolete.

The Nieuport 29 made use of a monocoque fuselage, conventional interplane struts and a 300hp Hispano-Suiza V8 engine, which endowed it with a superlative performance. It entered service too late to see action in the First World War but became the standard fighter of the French Air Force during the 1920s.

Gustave Delage left the company in 1933 and joined the instruments and watch makers Jaeger. He died in 1946.

With over 50,000 items from the permanent collection stored at the Museum’s Reserve Collection, it’s little wonder that it can take a while for the staff to revisit some of the objects first recorded when they moved to the Stafford store 15 years ago. Back then the priority was to enter and locate the objects onto the Museum’s Computer Management System using the, sometimes scant, information recorded in old hand written registers.

For the past few years, Martin Ward of the Curatorial Division has been filling in some of the details missed during the initial inventory task. On 25 November he took a P-51D canopy off of the racks and started to clean away some of the grime that had been present when it came into the collection back in 1971.

Slowly a line of seven German crosses and the name Lt. H. E. Wiggins started to appear on the canopy rail revealing a history which had remained hidden for all these years.

Howard E ‘Pete’ Wiggins was a United States Army Air Force pilot serving with the 361st Fighter Squadron of the 356th Fighter Group from May 1944 to January 1945.

Based at RAF Martlesham Heath he under took 75 combat mission during which he gained four confirmed aerial victories and one enemy aircraft destroyed on the ground. He was also credited with two half shares confirming his “Ace” status according to the criteria used by the USAAF.

This canopy came from Wiggins third aircraft a P-51D-15-NA Mustang, 44-15094 named Angel Eyes III. His two previous two aircraft, P-47s, had been destroyed while being flown by other pilots, both of whom survived. The ‘tingle down the spine’ moment came when Martin was reviewing the dates of Wiggins victories. His first claim using Angel Eyes III had been on 25 November 1944. 71 years to the day that the history of this Mustang canopy had been rediscovered.

I have conducted further research online and I have managed to locate gun camera footage from Lt Wiggins P-47 Thunderbolt in August 1944, a combat report written by Lt Wiggins on the day following his first combat victory in Angel Eyes III, claiming a Focke Wulf Fw 190. From the same online source is a combat report by his wingman on that day 2Lt Rex Burden. Burden would become Angel Eyes III’s pilot when Wiggins left the squadron renaming the aircraft “The Strat O Liner”.

A post on the Martlesham Heath Aviation society guest book from 2003 by his daughter tells us that sadly Howard Wiggins died at the young age of 38, two months before his daughter was born. I am currently endeavouring to contact his son who had supplied the Little Friends website with many images of his father and his aircraft.

With the arrival of Halloween it falls upon me to make the obligatory tenuous link between the festivities and the RAF. Following on from the introductory questions on RAF unit badges I thought we’d take a look at those badges with suitably spooky imagery, and why those symbols were chosen.

Spiders and their webs feature quite frequently amongst unit badges. Spiders themselves are predators and thanks to their, sometimes venomous, bites have a reputation for being deadly. 58 Squadron RAF Regiment use a Black Widow for this reason whilst 127 Squadron, who were reformed at Habbaniya, Iraq, use a Tarantula which are common to the region.
Spider webs can be found on the badges of 30 Group HQ and 4 Balloon Centre where they represent the role of trapping the enemy with balloon barrages. Alternatively 3508 and 3509 Fighter Controller units use spider webs to represent the networks to which they belong.
4 Air Observers School also used a spider for a reason unique to themselves. They were based at West Freugh in Scotland, supposedly near the cave in which Robert the Bruce hid when he was inspired by the persistence of a spider trying to complete its web.

Bats are another common feature of RAF badges most frequently being used to denote nocturnal activity such as with 9 and 153 Squadrons who operated bombers and fighters respectively. 724 Signals Unit was a Ground Controlled Interception unit that controlled both day and night fighters and so featured both a sun and a bat on its badge.
Some units used the bat to symbolise the concept of tracking targets with sound waves, such as 162 Squadron which investigated enemy radar and 966 Signals Unit.
The badges of 25 Group HQ and 203 Advanced Flying School are officially described as displaying a vampire; unfortunately this is not a fanged gentleman in opera dress, although it would be apt for Halloween. In both cases this is actually a bat but specifically referring to the use of the De Havilland Vampire by both units.

The raven, so beloved of Edgar Allan Poe hasn’t always been linked with spookiness, in fact quite the opposite. Biblically the raven was symbol of providence and it is in this role that it features on the badges of Maintenance Command and its associated units.
Another use of the raven is on the badge of 254 Squadron who operated over northern waters, they used the raven as a symbol of the Vikings who also plied the same waters.

The hour glass is often found in the skeletal hands of the Grim Reaper himself and features on the badge of 218 Squadron. In this case the sand has almost run out, representing the fact the squadron was originally formed in April 1918, near the end of the First World War.

No witch would be complete without her broomstick, a seemingly mundane item that forms the badge of 40 Squadron. One of the squadrons First World War alumni was “Mick” Mannock who was always telling his men to “sweep the Hun from the sky”.

We shall conclude with what may be the most macabre of all badges. 100 Squadron proudly display a skull in front of two crossed bones on their badge, officially this is put down as “a device previously used”. It is likely that the earlier use of the badge was an allusion to the “Jolly Roger” flags displayed on the ships of pirates.

Unfortunately we’ve run out space for Owls which are probably the commonly found Halloween related badge device, how about another instalment on RAF badges featuring birds?

One subject that generates some interesting questions is that of unit badges. This is not surprising, considering that there are so few publications dealing with the subject and none that are currently in print. Hopefully in this blog,l I shall answer some frequently asked questions and dispel a few myths.

When did unit badges start?

You could say that they started during the First World War when many squadrons of the Royal Flying Corps and Royal Naval Air Service designed a bewildering array of distinguishing emblems and aircraft markings. Some RFC squadrons even painted a “shield” with the appropriate markings to hang in their mess. However the RAF badges we know today were introduced when, in March 1935 the Chester Herald, Mr J. D. Heaton-Armstrong, was appointed the first Inspector of RAF Badges. His role was to advise the Air Ministry on heraldic matters, and the first thing he did was to produce a standard frame for all badges to ensure uniformity.

What was the process for a unit to be granted a badge?

In order to get a badge approved units sent their prospective design to the Inspector of RAF Badges with a note on the origin of and reasons for the design. The Inspector would then inform the unit whether the badge was suitable and help them design a different badge if it was not. Once the design had been sorted it had to be registered and the unit paid 10 guineas for this (about £630 today); however the money could not come from public funds. The artwork depicting the badge is then reviewed by the Sovereign who signs it before it is returned to the squadron. Before 1950 there were no other requirements a unit had to meet in order to request a badge, but this has changed over time so that today a unit has to have existed for 5 years and be expected to continue for at least another 5 years. As of 1992 the caveat that the fee be paid from non-public funds was dropped.

Which unit was granted the first official badge?

The first badges were approved by King Edward VIII in May 1936; they were Nos. 2, 4, 15, 18, 19, 22, 33, 201, 207, 216 and 604 Squadrons.

Did every unit have a badge?

No, not all units had a badge, some did not qualify for a badge and some did not apply for one. These units were allowed to use the badge of the command to which they belonged with the wording in the frame changed. Sometimes a different solution is found, for example RAF Swinderby was never granted a badge and instead the station was often represented by the badge of the RAF School of Recruit Training which had been resident at Swinderby since the late 1960s.

Did the Allied and Commonwealth squadrons have badges?

The squadrons of the Canadian, Australian, New Zealand and Indian air forces were all eligible to apply for badges of the same layout as RAF badges. They had their respective air force titles replace Royal Air Force in the bottom half of the frame; they also had their own national plants replacing the laurel leaves of the RAF badges.

Allied squadrons that formed part of the RAF within the 300 series of numbers were also eligible to apply for their own badges and many did. The Polish squadrons had their own badges as they were part of the independent Polish Air Force despite being numbered in the RAF sequence.

Were the mottoes always in Latin?

No, the different units used a wide range of languages for their mottoes. The most common were certainly English and Latin but there were many more including but not limited to French, Dutch, Greek, Malay, Gaelic, Czech, and even ancient Cuneiform.

Can you identify a badge for me?

We are happy to do our best, however the title of the unit is normally contained in the frame. If the frame is absent, or if you only have a verbal/written description or motto, again we shall do our best.

Can I have a copy of the badge relative would have used?

Unfortunately it’s not possible for us to supply copies of badges; these are obtainable from the RAF Air Historical Branch. Please bear in mind that some units existed for a number of years before they applied for a badge; a good example is Bomber Command who weren’t granted their badge until May 1947; nearly 11 years after they formed.

Badges reproduced with permission of the Ministry of Defence.

‘The advent of World War I found the Austro-Hungarian Empire poorly equipped to fight a war of attrition. The industrial base of the Dual Monarchy, barely equal to the insatiable demands of technological warfare, was never able to attain the high level of mobilization of its powerful German ally.’

Austro-Hungarian Army Aircraft of World War One by Peter Grosz, George Haddow and Peter Schiemer.

Adding to these concerns was the faltering start in the field made from the outset by the Austro-Hungarian army, which was characterized by “a posture of watchful neglect on behalf of the War Ministry, abetted by an unimaginative, ultra-conservative officer corps.” Nevertheless, military ballooning had begun in 1890 and by 1911 the service was known as the Luftschifferabteilung, (airship section or LA). However, it was soon realised that the expense of maintaining and operating even a small fleet of airships would swallow up the entire budget of the fledgling service and they were abandoned in favour of aeroplanes that same year. In 1910, a competition was held to choose the air service’s aircraft and the German Etrich Taube monoplane was judged to be the outstanding winner.

Yet, expenditure on the air service remained meagre and it was not until the arrival of the energetic Major Emil Uzelac as the service’s first commander in 1912 that the situation began to improve. With the encouragement of the Army’s Chief of Staff, Conrad von Hötzendorf, the service planned an ambitious programme of expansion to 40 Fliegerkompagnien (Fliks or squadrons), totalling 240 aircraft by 1916.

Unfortunately, the Austrian War Ministry failed to foster competition between the different Austrian and Hungarian aircraft companies in the immediate pre-war years and chose to rely exclusively on products built by Lohner, a company owned by Austrian businessman Camilio Castiglioni. Competing companies, faced by a lack of orders, were forced into bankruptcy and large numbers of talented Austro-Hungarian designers and engineers left to find employment in Germany.

With the beginning of hostilities in July 1914 and the subsequent escalation into a general European war, the War Ministry had no choice but to permit German companies to establish subsidiaries in Austria to address the shortfall in both numbers and quality of aircraft. The German firms of Albatros, (trading in Austria as Phönix) and Aviatik built factories in Vienna, Deutsche Flugzeug Werke, (DFW), established Lloyd in Aszód, near Budapest, while Castiglioni purchased the German Brandenburg company from Etrich. Castiglioni later gained control of Phönix and the Ungarische Flugzeug Werke, (UFAG), adding them to his already sizeable empire. Meanwhile, following Italy’s declaration of war in 1915, the LA’s name was changed to Luftfahrtruppen, (aviation troops or LFT).

During 1915 and early 1916, Austro-Hungarian aircraft found themselves increasingly engaged in air combat with their Italian counterparts over the Alpine territory of northern Italy and the pressing need for an effective fighter aircraft soon became apparent. A small consignment of Fokker E.IIIs was somewhat reluctantly despatched from Germany but these were already nearing obsolescence. The German refusal to provide more modern fighter aircraft, added to the increasing numbers of Italian Nieuport 10s and 11s, made matters worse. Accordingly, the War Ministry had no choice but to turn to the Empire’s domestic aircraft industry for help.

The Brandenburg D.I

By fortunate, (or, perhaps, unfortunate), chance, the Brandenburg company was designing a new fighter aircraft in the spring of 1916. This aircraft employed Professor Knoller’s pyramidal design of interplane bracing, supposed to impart great strength and, owing to the lack of bracing wires, low drag, although this claim appears dubious. This arrangement gave the aircraft its distinctive appearance and the familiar nickname of “star-strutter”.

The first prototype, known as the Kampfdoppeldekker, or KD, flew during the spring of 1916 and a refined second prototype was ordered by the LFT in April the same year. It was while this aircraft was undergoing trials with Flik 26 that Uzelac ordered the production of 122 aircraft, now to be known as the Brandenburg D.I. Fifty would be produced by Brandenburg in Germany and the rest under licence by Phönix, at Stadlau in Vienna.

Brandenburg’s first series of twenty aircraft, (serials 65.50 to 65.69), was fitted with the 160hp Daimler engine, while the second series, (serials 65.70 to 65.99), was fitted with the 150hp Daimler. Aircraft from this second series were structurally lightened but, due to the lower engine power output, demonstrated only marginally improved performance over the first series in manoeuvrability and climb. The engine on all versions of the aircraft was completely enclosed in a bulky cowling which partially impaired the pilot’s view forwards. In consequence, the gun sight was fitted to the fuselage side. The gun itself was housed inside a Type II VK gun canister weighing 82 lb, which further reduced the aircraft’s performance and, with the Brandenburg becoming known as the “Flying Coffin”, was nicknamed the “Baby Coffin”.

The version built by Phönix was lighter and fitted with the 185hp Daimler engine, improving performance slightly. The seat was raised, allowing the pilot to sight the single machine gun without leaning out of the cockpit. Unsurprisingly, the Phönix-built Brandenburgs were “vastly preferred” to their German counterparts and would score the majority of the type’s victories.

The first Brandenburg-built D.Is began to arrive at the Front in November 1916 and the first Phönix-built versions in February 1917. Unfortunately, initial combat experience was universally discouraging. Adolf Heyrowsky, the commander of Flik 19, regarded the D.I as obsolete upon arrival and was particularly critical not only of its low ceiling, (9,840 feet) but also its poor handling. In November 1916, Uzelac, on learning that Flik 19 had grounded the Brandenburg D.I, visited the unit and, in Heyrowsky’s absence, demanded to fly one of the aircraft. When Heyrowsky returned he found that Uzelac had crashed the aircraft and was in hospital with concussion, an incident which can have done little to enhance the fighter’s reputation. A formal report produced in February 1917 further condemned the D.I for its poor climb and reiterated concerns over the aircraft’s dangerous flying characteristics. In desperation, tailfins were manufactured by Brandenburg and sent out to the Fliks to provide a measure of stability but, at best, this was only a stopgap measure.

On 20 May 1917, Flik 23 reported:

In the pilots’ unanimous opinion, they cannot give full attention to the combat at hand if they are so totally occupied with controlling the aircraft. In addition, the climb is so slow that the fighter must take off well before our observation aircraft in order to reach escort altitude. The KD’s ceiling is much inferior to that of enemy Nieuports, which generally operate between 4 and 5000 metres.

While Flik 41/J stated:

The KD is absolutely useless…the best pilots (and only they can fly the type) are shackled, ruin their nerves and perish in crashes over the airfield, without their expert skill achieving anything.

On 26 May, Uzelac wrote a letter to units operating the D.I, in which he acknowledged the aircraft’s faults but stated that, faute de mieux, pilots would have to persevere until better aircraft became available. It is interesting to note, however, that, despite the Hansa-Brandenburg’s poor reputation, it was flown with success by the five highest-scoring Austrian aces, as shown in the table which follows this article.

A few units converted the aircraft to the photo-reconnaissance role but, as new fighters were introduced, so the Brandenburgs were gradually withdrawn. The LFT ordered all Brandenburg D.Is to be removed from the Front in January 1918.

Ironically, a few D.Is found a new lease of life at training units, where the aircraft’s notoriously difficult flying characteristics can scarcely have endeared it to pupils.

The Aviatik D.I

Help was at hand however. On 16 October 1916, Aviatik tested a new fighter, designated the 30.14. This could not have ended more disastrously however, for the aircraft, after making a few hops along the ground, rose into the air, described a “wobbly” flight path and then, during a turn, crashed sufficiently violently to kill its pilot, Ferdinand Konschel. A revised version was built, (the 30.14 “improved”) and this aircraft so impressed the LFT that an order for another prototype was given, incorporating some 40 improvements. Flars, (Fliegerarsenal, Aviation arsenal, the organisation responsible for testing, production and acceptance of LFT equipment), test pilot Oskar Fekete was enthusiastic about 30.19, reporting on its “fabulous climb and enormous manoeuvrability.” The aircraft was despatched to the Italian Front on 15 May 1917 where, eight days later, it scored the type’s first success, when it shot down a Caproni bomber. By now, the Brandenburg D.I’s shortcomings were well-known and the LFT lost no time in ordering the new fighter, christened Aviatik D.I, in quantity. Indeed, so impressive was the Aviatik, and so urgent was the LFT’s need for a new fighter, that large orders were placed for production with the parent company and five other manufacturers. By the end of the war, Aviatik D.Is had been produced by the following companies:

Aviatik: 336
Lohner: 110
Thöne & Fiala: 34
MAG: 121
WKF: 45
Lloyd: 31

Initially, like so many new aircraft, the Aviatik D.I suffered from teething troubles. Early production was slowed as Aviatik had to strengthen the aircraft’s wing. The first examples, (the series 38), which saw service from the late summer of 1917 were not equipped with a gun synchronisation system. The wing-mounted machine gun was instead set at an angle of fifteen degrees to avoid the propeller’s arc and was reported by pilots to be “utterly ineffective.” From December 1917, twin synchronised machine guns were fitted but these were out of reach in the event of a stoppage. It was not until June/July 1918 that D.Is were delivered with accessible machine guns. As with the Brandenburg, the height of the engine cowling restricted forward visibility and the gun sight was fitted to the side of the fuselage. In consequence, much time and effort was devoted to improving visibility for the pilot; a range of different radiator shapes were tested but none was truly satisfactory. In 1918, fresh concerns were raised over fatigue weakness in the upper wing. Flik 74/J, for example, reported three incidents involving the failure of the upper wing. In response, Aviatik produced a strengthened wing which, however, only gradually entered production, probably due to the necessity of using up stocks made to the original design.

Aviatik would eventually produce the D.I in four series, differing in terms of engine power output. Pressure for better performance from the LFT resulted in 200hp (series 138) and then 225hp (series 338) Daimler engines being fitted. However, the parlous state of the engine industry forced the use of reconditioned 160hp engines being used in the series 238. These aircraft were, naturally, considered underpowered and generally disliked by the front-line Fliks. Indeed, many resorted to bartering more powerful engines from depots or even recovering them from other wrecked D.Is.

Lohner began producing the Aviatik D.I in late 1917 in two series, one with the 200hp engine, the other with the 225hp engine. However, the Lohner aircraft are best remembered for a series of catastrophic upper wing failures stemming from a failure to follow Aviatik’s manufacturing specifications. Although the problem was identified and solved, the Lohner-built aircraft acquired an evil reputation, especially following the death of leading ace Frank Linke-Crawford. On 30th July 1918, Linke-Crawford, flying a Lohner-built D.I, entered a dive while in combat with Italian Hanriots, and was seen to be “throwing papers overboard”. In fact, the “papers” were pieces of wing fabric. As Linke-Crawford pulled out of the dive and throttled back in an attempt to nurse his aircraft home, he was attacked and shot down. Ironically, Linke-Crawford is credited with the only confirmed kill for a Lohner-built Aviatik D.I.

Aircraft built by Thöne & Viala, (a small Viennese firm building other company’s products), were produced with reconditioned engines and originally assigned to training units. However, a number of aircraft served with Flik 31/P as photo-reconnaissance aircraft and that unit scored the only known success for a Thöne & Viala-built D.I, destroying an Italian Hanriot on 4 October 1918.

MAG, (Ungarische Allgemeine Maschinenfabrik AG, a company partially owned by Fokker), produced 121 aircraft between April and October 1918, many of which were unarmed and without engines. The wings of these aircraft were manufactured according to the original Aviatik design and suffered from structural weakness. This, in combination with “defective and slipshod” workmanship, doomed the aircraft’s reputation, in spite of remedial work undertaken to cure the problem. A strengthened aircraft was tested in 1918 but both wings vibrated so badly that a subsequent report stated that “one cannot develop trust in the aircraft.” Nevertheless, a few MAG-built examples served in the Balkans and Tyrol.

Orders for 98 Aviatik D.Is were placed with WKF, (Wiener Karosserie und Flugzeugfabrik, a car body and furniture manufacturer), but no more than 45 are known to have been delivered, about half of which were accepted without engines; just six had machine guns fitted. Although ordered in the summer of 1917, it was a year before the first acceptances began and only a tiny number of WKF-built Aviatik D.Is saw service before the war ended.

Lloyd began production of the Aviatik D.I in 1918 but only a few were delivered with engines and all were unarmed, being finished as photo-reconnaissance aircraft. All appear to have been placed in storage before the war’s end.

The Aviatik D.I cannot be regarded as the most successful of the Dual Monarchy’s fighters, due in large part to the structural weakness which plagued the design during its lifetime. Added to this were dire engine shortages, which crippled production of the aircraft.

Of the Empire’s leading aces, Julius Arigi and Frank Linke-Crawford are each known to have scored seven victories on the type.

The Phönix D.I-III

At the time that Phönix began licence production of the Brandenburg D.I, the company started to explore the potential of the so-called “Nieuport wing”, or sesquiplane. Although known to be weaker than a conventional lower wing, the sesquiplane design appeared to offer a number of compensating benefits, not least of which was an excellent field of view downwards for the pilot. Tests were made with a prototype aircraft adapted from a Brandenburg D.I. The forward fuselage was raised to the level of the upper wing, which was increased in area. Although this aircraft was soon crashed, it was rebuilt, as serial 20.14, and incorporated a redesigned fuselage.

A second prototype, (serial 20.15), was constructed in parallel, fitted with a conventional lower wing and a 185hp engine, while a third, (serial 20.16), was fitted with a revised form of sesquiplane wing and a 200hp engine. All three were tested during June 1917 and it was quickly established that, while the second prototype was superior in rate of climb to the first aircraft, the third “did not demonstrate suitable flight characteristics.” There appeared to be concerns regarding the strength of the sesquiplane lower wing on the first and third prototypes, an unsurprising criticism in the light of problems encountered by Nieuport and Albatros.

However, it was not considered that the second aircraft possessed the performance required. More power was the solution and the third prototype was returned to the Phönix works, where the wings were replaced with revised versions of those tested on the second prototype. This aircraft was tested and officially inspected in August 1917, when Flars pronounced it “ripe for production.” It was this aircraft which provided the basis for the Phönix D.I.

The Phönix D.I entered service in October 1917 and immediately found favour thanks to its docile handling characteristics. However, some pilots complained about the aircraft’s lack of speed and poor rate of climb against “Nieuport, SPAD and Sopwith fighters” and felt that the D.I was “almost too stable for quick combat manoeuvres.”

In response to these criticisms, Phönix produced aircraft serial 20.18, which featured high-aspect ailerons, no wing dihedral, a revised tailplane, balanced elevators and a lighter airframe, all of which was designed to improve the aircraft’s manoeuvrability. A comparative trial on 19 December 1917 proved that, while the production D.I took 28 minutes to reach 16,405 feet, the new aircraft took only 19 minutes. Flars immediately ordered the aircraft into production as the Phönix D.II.

In March 1918, Phönix further improved the D.II by fitting the 230hp Hiero engine. Although 48 of this mark, the D.IIa, were ordered, supply shortages forced Phönix to fit 200hp Hiero engines to approximately a fifth of the D.IIa airframes produced.

Further modifications were made to the design and five prototypes were built for the July 1918 Fighter Evaluation held at Aspern, Vienna. The first three, (serials 20.22, 20.23 and 422.23), were revised versions of the D.II/D.IIa. The aim was to improve visibility for the pilot, the accessibility of the machine guns and the aircraft’s performance and poor manoeuvrability, a lack of which was the type’s Achilles heel.

As far as can be ascertained, the changes made were:
Serial 20.22: 230hp Hiero engine, ailerons fitted to both wings, seat raised and machine guns moved to within reach of pilot.
Serial 20.23: 225hp Daimler engine, upper wing “raised slightly” and machine guns moved to within reach of pilot.
Serial 422.23: ailerons fitted to both wings.

Among the test pilots present at Aspern was Frank Linke-Crawford, who wrote approvingly:

For my squadron I desire a Phönix single-seater with the pilot’s view and machine guns located as in the 20.23; ailerons on both wings (20.22 and 422.23) and, if possible, the Gebauer motor machine gun. The bead sight should be replaced by an aiming telescope (English type with large field of view or the new electrical sight.

The final variant, the D.III, was designed with the test results in mind and incorporated ailerons on both lower and upper wings. However, by the time deliveries of the D.III were being made, the war was drawing to a close and none saw service with the Dual Monarchy. Nevertheless, the LFT’s unfulfilled decision, made in mid-1918, to concentrate production on two types of fighter in 1919, one being the famous Fokker D.VII, the other the Phönix D.III, speaks volumes for the latter’s reputation.

Of the leading Austro-Hungarian aces, Frank Linke-Crawford scored seven victories while flying a Phönix D.I, while Kurt Gruber scored six.

The fourth and fifth aircraft at the Competition, serials 20.24 and 20.25, were completely different to the Phönix scouts, as the photograph of the former shows. The streamlined, veneer-covered fuselage recalled Albatros practice, while the narrow lower wing gave the pilot an excellent downward field of view. Neither aircraft was ready when inspected at the Competition, nor were any production contracts placed before the war ended.

Mention must be made of the Oesterreichische Daimler Motoren (Oeffag) Albatros D.III, flown by many Austro-Hungarian fighter pilots. Oeffag, owned by Skoda, was awarded the contract to build the new fighter over Phönix, the obvious candidate. This decision, which at first sight seems anomalous, was motivated by two factors: first, the Phönix works was concentrating on the development of its own fighter and secondly, the War Ministry was eager to foster competition, in particular against the monopoly of Castiglioni’s Brandenburg-Phönix-UFAG empire.

The Oeffag factory corrected the structural deficiencies inherent in the original Albatros design and produced an excellent fighter aircraft. The absence of a spinner, a characteristic of the later Oeffag D.IIIs, improved the efficiency of the propeller and raised the maximum speed by nine miles per hour. Moreover, due to the strength of the design and the quality of the construction, the airframe was able, without serious detriment, to take a series of increasingly powerful engines.

The aircraft was well-received by the Fliks; indeed, all nine of the leading Austro-Hungarian aces scored victories while flying the Oeffag Albatros D.III.

Aircraft flown by the leading Austro-Hungarian Aces:

Godwin Brumowski (35 victories): Hansa-Brandenburg D.I, Albatros D.III
Julius Arigi (32 victories): Hansa-Brandenburg D.I, Albatros D.III, Aviatik D.I
Benno Fiala von Fernbrugg (28 victories): Hansa-Brandenburg D.I, Albatros D.III
Frank Linke-Crawford (27 victories): Hansa-Brandenburg D.I, Albatros D.III, Phönix D.I, Aviatik D.I
Jozsef Kiss (19 victories): Hansa-Brandenburg D.I, Albatros D.III
Ferenc Gräser (18 victories): Albatros D.III
Eugen Bönsch (16 victories): Albatros D.III
István Fejes (16 victories): Albatros D.III
Ernst Strohschneider (15 victories): Albatros D.III
Adolf Heyrowsky (12 victories): Hansa-Brandenburg C.I (two-seat aircraft)
Kurt Gruber (11 victories): Phönix D.I

When I digitise a collection, I am attempting to freeze it in time and capture it in its present condition, ‘warts and all’. Wear and tear, creases from folds, even inappropriately placed annotation, all add to the story of an object.

However, there are times when an object will require a clean-up and restoration. In the Museum’s First World War in the Air exhibition, historical photographs were to be featured heavily in small and large scale display graphics.

Many of these photographs are 100 years old or more. The chemical development processes which create a photograph make them inherently self-destructive, which can cause an array of issues such as tarnishing, fading and flaking.

Quite a few of the photographs selected which appeared to be tarnished were photographed by the Museum Photographer. Having full control of the lighting, he was able to bring the best out of the photographs, which would otherwise be unattainable if using a flatbed scanner for image capture.

Historical wear such as creases and scratches affected the majority of selected photographs, some of which took the focus away from the subject, while others had detail missing all together.

Subject to time as well as the designer’s preference for greyscale images, I carried out only a superficial restoration. However, when comparing the before and after, it made quite a difference.

The First World War in the Air Exhibition was made possible through funding and support from the Heritage Lottery Fund and BAE Systems.

The Department of Research handles in excess of 6,000 enquiries a year and some enquiries are not always as simple as they should be, often a little bit of supplied information, can be misleading. We have been assisting a reader who has been researching the life of Air Commodore Whitney Straight. Amongst the images he made copies of was this one which he later emailed us to identify the aircraft.

We were told that he believed it was taken in Italy, somewhere along the Adriatic coast, in March 1944 (using the American dating convention) due to the other photographs on that album page. Whilst sceptical about the date I saw no reason to doubt the rest of the information so with the aid of a colleague I set about checking aircraft types in use in Italy at the time. After a few minutes without anything jumping out as being correct I wondered whether we going in the right direction and decided to go back to the beginning and start again using only the information we were certain of.

The photograph depicted an unidentified aircraft in an unknown location that may or may not be in Italy. Now, we aren’t expected to be able to immediately recognise every aircraft flown, but once I had put aside the Italian connection and looked again at the subject I had the nagging feeling it was an American design. Rather than an Italian aircraft what we were looking at was a Northrop model 8-A, known to the Americans as the A-17 and the British as the Nomad.

With the type of aircraft established the location could be narrowed down by figuring out the operator. The relatively few operators of the type, coupled with the rare use of triangular shaped national markings, made this an easy task – although it helps that it was an area I have researched in the past. This particular Nomad belonged to the Royal Iraqi Air Force and bore their triangular markings.

Not content to let it rest there we even made an attempt to identify the exact location of the photograph. The bridge had distinctive supports and balustrade, so taking Baghdad as the most likely place I made a quick check of the bridges spanning the river Tigris. One suspect stood out as a possible match, the Al Shahuda Bridge built in 1940. Unfortunately, we have not yet found any period material telling us what the stunt was in aid of or the pilot’s identity, although I presume the lack of any media meant he was successful in passing under the bridge.

Whilst researching objects for a display on aviators’ lucky charms I was introduced to a little toy penguin called Percy, who has been in the Museum collection since 1980. Percy is 22cm tall with a velour fabric body, and only one foot. By himself Percy is an unremarkable cuddly toy, but after reading about Percy’s history, I think he is a remarkable survivor.

Percy was the mascot of Flight Lieutenant Stanley Ernest Chapman, a bomb aimer with 158 Squadron RAF based at Lissett, Yorkshire in 1943. 158 Squadron flew Handley Page Halifax bombers, and Stanley’s crew of seven usually flew in Halifax serial HX333, coded NP-J, and nicknamed “Jane”. Stanley carried Percy with him as the crew’s lucky mascot, and by January 1944 they had completed 14 operations.

On 28th January 1944 Stanley and his crew boarded “Jane” for that night’s operation, to the German capital Berlin. Whilst over the target the tail section was hit by anti-aircraft fire and “Jane” became difficult to control. Eventually the captain ordered the crew to bale out.

Stanley recalls how “…I stuffed Percy the mascot inside my flying jacket, put on my parachute, opened the escape hatch…and lowered myself until the slipstream took over and whisked me smartly away…I recollect the snap as my chute opened, it felt as though my neck had broken.”

Stanley landed unhurt in an orchard, only to be captured a few minutes later by German soldiers, and spent the rest of the War as a prisoner. Percy also became a prisoner of war and was retained by his prison guards until eventually being returned. All of Stanley’s crew became prisoners but survived the War.

You could say that the crew were unlucky to have to bale out and become prisoners of war, but Stanley’s view was quite the reverse. He believed Percy had brought the crew good luck “…Like many others on active service a mascot answered some unexplained need. The word ‘lucky’ is always associated with such items and it can, perhaps be born out on our surviving the night of January 28/29th 1944. Our losses were 44 aircraft that night, the vast majority of these crews did not witness the dull dismal dawn of the 29th which looked pretty good to me”.

Percy is on display at Cosford alongside other surviving mascots and lucky charms, each with their own unique stories.

While researching Percy the Penguin I was quite amazed to find ten photographs online of Halifax HX333, after its forced landing which are held by the Resistance Museum, Friesland. These images can be viewed by running a search for HX333 on the Dutch World War 2 image bank.

When the RAF took over the responsibility for military and civil control in Iraq, Palestine, and Trans-Jordan in 1922, they did so equipped with Rolls Royce armoured cars of Great War vintage. Whilst the open desert was ideal for the Rolls Royce, there were also large expanses of rocky broken ground which were difficult for the armoured cars to negotiate.

The solution to the problem was an ingenious one; tanks had shown a remarkable ability to cross terrain impassable to other vehicles, but they were both expensive, and the domain of the Army. Instead the Air Ministry approached the Royal Ordnance Factory, in 1923, to produce a tracked vehicle based on the Dragon artillery tractor used by the Royal Artillery. This version would have an armoured drivers cab and in place of the benches on the rear, the RAF version would require an open space; when the situation demanded, the body and turret from a Rolls Royce could be fitted onto the rear of the Dragon to form a light tank.

The two vehicles were shipped to Iraq for evaluation and presumably were found unsatisfactory, or at least they did not offer enough of an advantage over the Rolls Royce, as no more were ordered. At some stage, one of the Dragons became an armoured personnel carrier, fitted with armoured side panels complete with ports for firing rifles from; the other retained the Rolls Royce style body and turret. It would appear that they languished in a corner, being dragged out occasionally, but mostly serving as a backdrop for various airmen’s photographs.

But their story didn’t end there for they were to have one last hurrah as late as 1941, 18 years after they were ordered. Following the overthrow of the pro-British Iraqi government by the German backed Golden Square movement headed by Rashid Ali al Gaylani’s in April 1941; Iraqi forces surrounded the RAF station at Habbaniya with a force of about 9,000 soldiers and 28 artillery pieces. On the first day of the Battle of Habbaniya, the two Dragons, by now bearing the names HMT Walrus and HMT Seal, were stationed outside the gate on the road to Baghdad. During that day they were to exchange rifle and machine gun fire with Iraqi rebels probing the British defences.

After this brief spell of action, the two old warriors once again faded into obscurity, their final fate is at present not known, presumably they, like the Rolls Royce cars they served alongside, eventually fell to the cutters torch.