Flying The Old Planes - Part 5: Sopwith Camel

[Pips 5]

Extract from the book "Flying The Old Planes" by Frank Tallman, 1973.

 

 

My Sopwith Camel is, as far as I’m aware, the only original World War 1 Camel ever brought back to flying condition. It was originally owned by Colonel Jarrett of the Jarrett War Museum located on the old Steel Pier in Atlantic City; who in the 1930’s had the best museum of WWI equipment ever assembled, including the Belgian War Museum in Brussels. The Jarrett Museum fell on hard times following WWII and, with time and money on my side after my service period, and a lifelong ambition of owning a WWI aircraft, I purchased for a small sum (by today’s standards) several antique aircraft including the Camel, a Nieuport 28, a Pfalz D.XII, a Fokker D.VII and a SPAD VII.

 

The Camel was the first WWI aircraft I brought back to flying condition and required some major rebuilding, which took several years, many thousands of dollars and a whole host of experts including Paul Poberzney of the Experimental Aircraft Association, the gifted master craftsman Ned Kensinger, the Hawker Siddeley Group and a number of very dedicated volunteer’s.

 

(NB: There is quite a bit on the rebuilding process in the Chapter but I have left it out of this extract for the sake of space).

 

When the day finally came to fly the air was filled with great anticipation. On arrival at the airport though I was dismayed to hear from my team that they had been trying to get the temperamental 110 h.p. Le Rhone started since 8.00am that morning, without success. The lack of knowledge amongst us regarding the Le Rhone was appalling. Did we have spark? Yes. Was the mag set? Yes. Had the commutator ring been wiped off? Yes. Had we primed it? Only every other cylinder.

 

With only a vague notion of what I was doing I clambered into the cockpit (a very tight fit) and reviewed the cord-wrapped Spade stick, the Block tube, carburettors next to one’s knees, the flexible air intake to the outside air scoops, the wood wire brace longerons, the instrument panel with it’s clutter and the duel control cables to the wooden rudder bar. At my request, the crew forced open the intake valves as the engine was pushed through (switch off) and shot a charge of fuel in each cylinder, as the cylinder came in front of the hole in the cowling. By accident, rather than by knowledge, I advanced the long lever controlling the air, and in pushing the manet (a small wheel knob on the miniature control quadrant) forward and then returning it, I had hit on the correct starting procedure. Wonder of wonders, as I flipped the porcelain-mounted switch up and called for contact, the Le Rhone started with a full-throated bellow, scaring both me and the crew!

 

By shoving the fuel-controlling lever forward and using the coupe (cut-out) button on the stick, I was able to keep the engine running. Soon the never-to-be-forgotten smell of castor oil infused our area, and the sight of oil splattering the leading edge of the low wings indicated that the engine was lubricating properly. Taxiing practice ended ignominiously a hundred feet from the starting point, when my newfound knowledge wasn’t equal to the delicate adjustment of fuel and air, and the Le Rhone quit.

 

The revitalised ground crew hauled the 900 pound airplane over the grass and faced me into the wind. For safety sake we changed the plugs, and the Le Rhone started first try. I headed down the field with the throttle wide open. The tail came up almost instantly, and visibility was good, except for the Aldis sight and the twin Vickers. Not having planned on flight it came as something of a shock to find the Camel airborne at about 35 mph after a ground run of just 150 feet. Being afraid of jockeying with my ticklish fuel and air controls I stayed low and just got used to the Camel’s sensitive ailerons, elevators and rudder.

 

I circled the field once, got into position for landing, shut fuel air and switch off, and made a light forward slip, touching down gently on three points. Total landing couldn’t have been much longer than the initial take-off run.

 

So much for my first (unintentional) flight in the Camel.

 

Since then I’ve spent more time flying the Camel than any of the other historical aircraft in our collection. I’ve also had more forced landings in it than all the rest of the WWI aircraft combined. It’s that temperamental Le Rhone. Cylinders have blown, magneto’s have failed, even fouled spark plugs have brought me down unceremoniously, with sweating hands and my heart in my mouth, desperately seeking a patch of open ground on which to land. Yet for all that it’s the one I turn to first for any show or exhibition, as the Camel gets my blood going like no other. This is an aircraft that is a joy to fly.

 

With the Le Rhone 9J, you cannot adjust either the fuel or air intake without running the risk of a dead-stick landing. You must leave them alone and use you Coupe (cut-out) button for all fight handling.

 

The take-off run is easy. In a wind of 10 to 15 knots you are airborne in a couple of plane lengths at 35 mph and climbing out at 60 mph, with a rate of climb of almost 1,000 feet a minute. The elevators are sensitive, as is the rudder. Consequently, when fling for any distance I often put the heels of my shoes on the floor tie wires, because the vibration of the Le Rhone through the rudder bar exaggerates the rudder movements.

 

In level flight at 100 mph indicated, the Camel is delightful, with just a hint of rudder being required for straight flight. The structure is rugged enough to feel comfortable in loops, and being slightly tail-heavy it goes up and over in an incredibly small circle in the sky, and faster than any other WWI aircraft I have flown. Sneeze and your halfway through a loop before your aware of what’s happened. 110 mph is enough to carry you through, and as you slow down over the top you must feed in rudder against the torque.

 

In military shows I have ground strafed, and as soon as the airspeed reaches 130 to 140 mph the nose begins to hunt up and down, and the elevator becomes extremely sensitive. I feel this action is due largely to the square windshield between the two Vickers guns, causing a substantial burble over the tail surfaces.

 

Turns are what the Camel is all about. Turning to the right with the torque requires the top rudder to hold the nose up, and the speed with which you can complete a 360-degree turn is breathtaking. Left turns are slower, with the nose wanting to rise during the turn. But small rudder input easily keeps the nose level with the horizon. In stalls at 35 to 40 mph the nose drops frighteningly fast and hard to the right, but you also get control back quickly, although a surprising amount of altitude has been lost. I have had the pleasure of limited dog fighting with other WWI fighters, and there are none that can stay with a Camel in a turn.

 

With the Le Rhone being temperamental as it is, flying the Camel is best done at times when there are few other aircraft in the sky, leaving easy access to the airport in cases of emergency. The Camel touches down easily but runs out of rudder control almost instantly, and if you bounce your landing at all, you are likely to find yourself in a hairy ground loop looking at a rapidly bending aileron dragging in the grass.

 

For a wide variety of reasons, the Camel is a fascinating airplane, flight-wise as well as historically. But don’t think I ever got out of the Camel after being airborne even in the coldest weather without buckets of perspiration and considerable gratitude that I had gotten the little girl home again without breaking her into splinters!

 

=======================================================================

 

 

STATS: From “British Aeroplanes 1914 - 18” by J. M. Bruce.

 

 

130 hp Clerget

Empty Weight: 929 lb (421 kg)

Loaded Weight: 1,453 lb (659 kg)

Max Speed:

115 mph (185 km/h) @ 6,500 feet (1981m);

113 mph (181 km/h) @ 10,000 feet (3352m);

106 mph (170 km/h) @ 15,000 feet (4572m).

Climb:

6 minutes 0 seconds to 6,500 feet (1981m)

13 minutes 35 seconds to 10,000 feet (3048m)

20 minutes 40 seconds to 15,000 feet (4572m)

Ceiling: 19,000 feet (5791m)

Endurance: 2 hours 30 minutes

Armament: Two fixed .303 Vickers mg

No’s Built:

5,490; of which 1,325 were built in 1917 and 4,165 in 1918. Of the 4,188 machines distributed to the RFC/RAF, 2,116 went to Squadrons with the B.E.F. in France

 

 

150 hp B.R.1, standard induction, compression 5.5 to 1

Empty Weight: 931lb (422 kg)

Loaded Weight: 1,471 lb (667 kg)

Max Speed:

121 mph (195 km/h) @ 6,500 feet (1981m);

117.5 mph (189 km/h) @ 10,000 feet (3352m);

111.5 mph (179 km/h) @ 15,000 feet (4572m).

Climb:

5 minutes 05 seconds to 6,500 feet (1981m)

8 minutes 50 seconds to 10,000 feet (3048m)

16 minutes 30 seconds to 15,000 feet (4572m)

Ceiling: 22,000 feet (6705m)

Endurance: 2 hours 30 minutes

Armament: Two fixed .303 Vickers mg

No’s Built:

5,490; of which 1,325 were built in 1917 and 4,165 in 1918. Of the 4,188 machines distributed to the RFC/RAF, 2,116 went to Squadrons with the B.E.F. in France

[Check Six 2]

Pips,

 

A very enjoyable and informative read...the whole series has been so far.

 

PLEASE keep them coming.

[Dej 17]

Pips,

 

Does it say anything in the restoration notes about rigging for level flight?

 

Because when I fly the Camel in OFF I need a darn bit more than a 'hint of rudder' for level flight! Like... constant forward pressure on the stick if I don't want to be nose up all the time, which is a PITA in combat because I find it hard to judge the amount of release of forward pressure vs. actual pull back and end up jerking upwards, missing my shot.

 

I'm fine in combat if I autotrim but that seems to lose some of the turn capability even after I turn it off, so I prefer not to. But combat at the end of a long flight means my arm's tired and my accuracy is way off. Maybe that's realistic.... oh, well.

[Jimko 0]

Pips,

 

I must get that book!

 

Interesting comments about flying the Camel, and more so when I look back at the following which I posted in the old SOH OFF 3 forum.

Once again, I quote myself:

 

Quote:

Victor Yeates, the author of "Winged Victory" gave some good impressions of what flying the Camel was like. It is generally accepted that although his book is fiction, not only did he choose to write a fictionalized account of WW1 flying experience rather than a biography but he also drew heavily upon his personal experiences as a Camel pilot. So I take what he has said about flying it to be a valid, honest description. Many of us have read his book, but I'll quote a few of his comments here about flying the Camel:

 

Re training:

 

"Camels were wonderful fliers when you had got used to them, which took about three months of hard flying. At the end of that time you were either dead, a nervous wreck, or the hell of a pilot and a terror to Huns…"

 

Re turns:

 

"And in the more legitimate matter of vertical turns, nothing in the skies could follow in so tight a circle..."

 

Re the half-roll (Split S):

 

"The same with the half-roll. Nothing would half-roll like a Camel. A twitch of the stick and flick of the rudder and you were on your back. The nose dropped at once and you pulled out having made a complete reversal of direction in the least possible time.

 

Thomson, the squadron stunt expert told him that it (half-roll) was just the first half of a roll followed by the second half of a loop; the only stunt useful in fighting. If you were going the wrong way, it was the quickest known method of returning in your slipstream."

 

Re the loop (he didn't like looping a Camel):

 

"But a Camel had to be flown carefully round with exactly the right amount of left rudder, or else it would rear and buck and hang upside down and flop and spin."

 

Re general flight:

 

"…a Camel had to be held in flying position all the time, and was out of it in a flash. It was nose light, having a rotary engine weighing next to nothing per horse power, and was rigged tail heavy so that you had to be holding her down all the time. Take your hand off the stick and it would rear right up with a terrific jerk and stand on its tail."

 

Re ground strafing (which he hated due to ground anti-ac machine gun fire):

 

"Unfortunately, they were good machines for ground-strafing. They could dive straight down on anything, and when a few feet off the ground, go straight up again."

 

Re speed:"…a Camel was a wonderful machine in a scrap. If only it had been fifty per cent faster! There was the rub. A Camel could neither catch anything except by surprise, nor hurry away from an awkward situation, and seldom had the option of accepting or declining combat…You couldn't have everything."

 

In his book he has a few observations about German planes such as the DR1 being able to suddenly climb like a "lift".

Unquote.

 

All in all, I think that the Camels's flight model is very well done in OFF 3! Perhaps it could use a slightly faster roll rate based on the above.

 

Still my favourite 'bird'!

Edited July 9, 2009 by Jimko

[SirMike1983 3]

Do you have any reports about V-strut Nieuports?

[Pips 5]

Sadly SirMike, no. The Nieuport 28 was the only Nieuport that Frank Tallman had in his stable.

 

The next three installments will cover his German aircraft, namely the Fokker Dr.1, the Fokker D.VII and the Pfalz D.XII.

 

Dej, the only reference Frank makes regarding the Camels 'tail heaviness' is that according to the rigging plans it had to be rigged that way as a counter to the heavy nose of the aeroplane: engine, guns, ammo, fuel and pilot all crammed up forward within the first seven feet of a nineteen foot fuselage!

 

Seems the early prototype Camel exhibited a strong tendancy to nose over on take-off or nose dive once power was reduced in gliding and landing and air flow over the wings eased. The only way to counteract that was to increase the effectiveness of the elevators, and tail rigging was the simpliest method of doing so. Frank does make the comment that although only slight forward pressure was required to maintain level flight, it would make the Camel tiring to fly for any length of time.