Matthew Willis has written an excellent book on the most beautiful German aircraft ever flown, the Focke-Wulf Fw 200. We met him at an undisclosed location and plied him with Jägerbombs until he revealed the juiciest secrets of this classic design.

What was the Fw 200 and why was it significant to aviation and world history?

The Fw 200 was a late-1930s airliner that early in WW2 was hurriedly converted to a maritime patrol bomber. It was initially significant for being ridiculously modern at a time when aircraft like the Ju 52 were commonplace, and setting some much-publicised distance records. The war curtailed what would probably have been an illustrious civil career. Germany lacked a good long-range maritime patrol bomber at the outset of war and the Fw 200 was the only suitable type available. The straightforward military conversion was astonishingly successful in 1940-41 in attacks on Allied supply convoys, both in sinking ships in its own right and directing U-boats. For a single type with only a small number of airframes, it required an enormous effort by Allied forces to counter. It’s probably also worth mentioning that it was a popular VIP transport for high-ranking Nazis, and Hitler had his own personal version with a special escape system.

Why is it so much better looking than the Ju 52?

It’s tempting to say that this was purely a function of being a later generation of aeroplane, benefitting from better structural and aerodynamic knowledge, and better materials, not to mention wind-tunnel testing, which was still fairly rare at the time. But even for the late 1930s, it was among the best proportioned and most pleasingly lined airliners. Perhaps just luck, or perhaps the designers had an eye for art as well as function.

Not many were built were they?

Fewer than 300, in all variants.

What was its relationship with U-boats?

It was meant to be the U-boats’ ‘eye in the sky,’ reconnoitring for merchant ships and directing the submarines to their targets. And it did do this, and very effectively, but due to the power struggle between the Luftwaffe and Kriegsmarine, there was often too much focus on the Fw 200s attacking shipping directly, which was pleasing for Goering, but actually less effective overall than concentrating on reconnaissance.

Was it effective in World War 2?

Yes, in terms of sinking supply shipping, directing U-boats, and soaking up a huge expenditure of resources by the Allies to respond to it. It was also successful as a transport aircraft, making Rommel’s spring 1942 advance possible through petrol deliveries across the Mediterranean, and airlifting critical supplies to Axis troops in the Kuban pocket in 1944.

Was a long-range bomber version proposed?

It did actually act as a long range bomber early in the war, with some raids on a hydro-electric plant in Scotland, but it wasn’t particularly successful. The airframe wasn’t really suitable for development as a pure bomber as it had a very low strength factor. Focke-Wulf did start to develop a bigger aircraft with more powerful engines, the Fw 300, but even this was for essentially the same roles as the Fw 200.

Weirdest thing about the Fw 200 story?

British intelligence was contacted in 1941 by a man claiming to be the father in law of Hitler’s personal pilot, Hans Baur, who it was claimed wanted to use Hitler’s personal Fw 200 to kidnap the Fuehrer and deliver him to the Allies. The RAF made plans to receive the aircraft at Manston on the appointed date, but needless to say, Hitler never arrived. The alleged kidnapping was probably part of a convoluted plot to damage Baur’s influence with King Boris of Bulgaria.

Best and worst things about the 200?

Best – superb efficient design that gave it great range and made it the only available aircraft capable of carrying out a number of important roles.

Worst – its airframe was too lightly built for military use so it had to be manoeuvred with care.

Could it fly safely on two engines?

According to Focke-Wulf publicity when the aircraft was new, it could, though this capability was probably reduced somewhat by the significantly increased weight of military variants.

Wait – there was a BOAC 200?! What was the story?

One of the pre-war customers for the first airliner Fw 200s was the Danish airline DDL. One of its Fw 200s happened to be on a flight to the UK during the surprise invasion and occupation of Denmark in April 1940, and the aircraft was impounded and transferred to BOAC. It was stored for a while then refurbished by Cunliffe Owen from Spring 1941, but in July that year crashed on take-off and was written off. No Condor in ‘speedbird’ markings, sadly.

What was it comparable with?

As an airliner, it doesn’t seem to have an exact analogue – the French Bloch MB.160 is probably closest but I doubt many people even know what that is. I’d say it fits somewhere between the DH91 Albatross and the DC-4. As a maritime raider it isn’t like much else either – it had the same sort of role as the RAF’s Sunderland flying boats, and later on things like the Consolidated Liberator in Coastal Command service. All-in-all it was pretty unique.

What should I have asked you?

Where did the expression ‘Scourge of the Atlantic’ come from?

It is attributed to Churchill – a lot. The trouble is, despite a great deal of searching, I have not been able to find an actual source for it, just literally hundreds of ‘”the scourge of the Atlantic,” as Churchill called it’-type quotes. The closest I can get is this, from Churchill’s The Second World War: “To the U-boat scourge was added air attack far out on the ocean by long-range aircraft. Of these, the Focke-Wulf 200, known as the Condor, was most formidable though happily at the beginning there were few of them.” I suspect that the usual version is a misquote of the above, but it’s hard to confirm because the popular version is so very prevalent.

Where should people buy your book from?

It’s available from the publisher, Morton’s as well as Amazon. You might also find it at WHSmith, and it can be ordered from any regular bookshop.

“Willis’s Fw 200 book is meticulously researched, utterly readable and with extremely beautiful photography – an essential book for every aviation historian.” – Joe Coles, Hush-Kit Aviation Blog

If you like your aircraft small and characterful, then head to India. For your pleasure, we plucked the ten most beautiful, handsome or aesthetically arresting Indian flying machines and presented them below.

10. HAL HJT-16 Kiran

Not many military aircraft inspire protective instincts in the casual observer, but one cannot help it with the Kiran. Though totally bereft in badassery it wins points for cuteness, scraping it in at number 10.

9. HAL Ajeet

An Indian derivative or the British Gnat, the Ajeet was an appealing design but loses points for looking too much like the Gnat/Midge.

8. NAL Saras

Despite being the least attractive aircraft in the light transport pusher class (lacking the sleekness of the Avanti or Vector) the Saras is still a pretty machine. It loses points for an overly broad chord to the vertical stabiliser and too small wings protruding from a flabby underbody, but gains some for the t-tail, friendly windows and pusher PT6s.

7. HAL HF-73

An early 1970s Indian Aircraft requirement for a Deep Penetration Strike Aircraft (DPSA) required collaboration with the West German Messerschmitt-Bölkow-Blohm company. The resultant concept, with its wedge inlets and twin-tails looked like a tiny MiG-25 or perhaps a butch F-5E. Unsurprisingly considering MBB’s concurrent work on the MRCA, its forward fuselage and intakes were extremely Tornado-esque. Power would have come from the same engine type as the Torndao, though the smaller lighter Indo-German design would have enjoyed a far superior power-to-weight ratio. Studies featuring both single and double tails were produced but a lower risk option, the procurement of the Anglo-French Jaguar, replaced this extremely promising design. The HF-73, had it been actually built, may well have topped our list, but loses points for failing to happen. The extremely low canopy bow would have afforded an excellent downward view, a feature seen on the contemporary HAL HLFT-42 concept.

6. HAL Prachand

There is nothing wrong with a convex belly and thicker torso, with many people finding the ‘Dad bod‘ extremely attractive. Having said that, the Prachand looks best when concealing its stocky underside from the camera. Nose down and flying towards you, the Prachand (meaning ‘intense’ or ‘giant’ in Hindi) has a hungry predatorial look utterly appropriate for a light attack aircraft.

China’s Z-10 is sleeker and more futuristic, and the larger Apache and Ka-52 may cornered the market for the hideous-satanic-harvester-of-souls look, but the Prachand has a tall lumbering purposefulness all of its own as if British firm Avro still existed and decided to make a helo. The rather comical ‘grand piano’ style tail wheel adds a touch of humour so often sadly lacking in the world of military helicopters.

5. HAL HTT-40

Neither as freaky as an Orlik nor as exciting as a PC-21, the HTT40 is still undoubtably an attractive machine.

4. HAL HF-24 Marut

German Kurt Tank designed the exceptionally elegant Fw 200 airliner, the muscularly piscine Fw 190 fighter and the salaciously elongated Ta 152. Clearly Tank knew how to sculpt a beautiful aeroplane and his Marut was no exception. The first successful Asian jet aircraft did not, like the Spitfire for example, enjoy ‘all aspect’ beauty – and there are angles of looking at the design, where it seems incoherent or awkwardly proportioned. It would be rude to look at the Marut directly from above, where it becomes clear that the fuselage is far too thick and the wing too small. But the Marut, with its sleek sweeping fin and mass of exquisite natural metal design features is somewhat like a 1950s US Cadillac, it is kind of ridiculous – yet wonderful. These design features included a ravishingly space-age intake comprising a half-body and splitter plate, and the 1950s style split exhaust trough. Viewed directly from the front it looked uncannily like the later Mirage 2000 and 4000. Though not pretty from every angle, the Marut was the most charismatic of Indian aircraft.

Rival Willy Messerschmitt’s minute HA-300, a far more coherent-looking machine was more akin to a Fiat 850 Sport Spider.

3. HAL HT-2

Vishnu Madav Ghatage obtained his doctorate in Aeronautical Engineering at Gottingen in Germany under the famous Dr Ludwig Prandtl. A few years later he led the design of the the HT-2, a brilliantly pragmatic design with a rather lovely tailfin.

2. HAL HJT-36 Sitara

The curvaceously sexy canopy of the Sitara intermediate jet trainer is arguably the most appealing in production anywhere in the world, the simple tiny ‘ear’ intakes are rather cheeky and the petite dynamism of the Sitara is as refreshing an Italian ice cream next to Lake Como.

1. HAL Tejas ‘The Bangalore Matador’

“The moment had come,
I swallowed my gum,
We knew there’d be blood on the sand pretty soon.
The crowd held its breath,
Hoping that death
Would brighten an otherwise dull afternoon.”

– Tom Lehrer, In Old Mexico

Put aside the history, put aside a technical assessment and enjoy the Tejas from a purely aesthetic perspective. It’s not hard, as what could be more thrilling than a pocket-size Mirage 2000? Which is in many many ways what this tiny Indian fighter jet resembles. But as much as a Mirage 2000, the Tejas resembles the Spanish bullfighter, the matador. By ‘matador’ I do not mean the Spanish Harrier, but actual matadors, upholders of the Spanish tradition of the bullfight that rather too viscerally combines slaughter and spectacle. The epitome of the dainty deft killer, the Tejas is every inch the matador. Let’s start with the extremely pleasing taper of the fuselage from its widest point back to its neat little nozzle, reminiscent of the way the tight-fitting tights, or taleguilla, of a matador lead down to the zapatilla flat slippers. The extremely unusual LEVCONS are very much like the broad proud shoulders of the matador’s jacket (chaquetilla) and the stylish Viggen-like wing is like the matador’s cape, the capote de brega. Imagine an unfairly disadvantaged Su-30 (perhaps the pilot has been gored and denied missile usage) ‘fighting’ a Tejas in dissimilar air combat training gives you the closest aerial equivalent to the bullfight.

¡Ole! 

Return of the High-Level Bomber         

Stephen Liddle looks into the surprisingly long story that led to the first flight of the most advanced heavy bomber the world has ever seen.

The first flight of a completely new combat aircraft – especially the manned variety – doesn’t happen often these days. If we’re considering US heavy bombers, then the most recent prior to this month would have been the Northrop B-2A Spirit, in 1989. Before that, the B-1 in 1974 was preceded by the B-58 and B-52, both in the 1950s. It doesn’t happen often, which makes the stunningly lit baby steps of the new Northrop Grumman B-21A quite exciting.

The product of the Advanced Technology Bomber project and code-named Senior Ice, the B-2 was revealed not long after the F-117 and the whole concept of stealth was officially acknowledged. Attention was focussed inevitably on the seeming magic of the ‘invisibility’ to radar, but Low Observability is a suit of techniques and technologies that improve survivability. By limiting the opponent’s ability to detect and engage, the freedom to operate is vastly increased. In the 1980s, with the Cold War proper still in full swing, it had been two decades since the favoured method of penetrating the other side’s formidable air defence systems had become the Hi-Lo-Hi mission. The route into the target was only considered viable if low-level, terrain-following tactics were adopted. Aside from enemy action, these were dangerous for the crews of the existing heavy bombers adapted to the new the regime. As a USAF B-52G crew member once told me, “In the Gulf, we crossed the border at 250 feet. The minimum ejection height was 300 feet.” At least he had an ejector seat; as is well known, the three rear crew members on the RAF’s V-Bombers had to resort to unlikely manual escape.

A bomber that need not concern itself (overly) with what the enemy may try and do to it could avoid these pitfalls, but also take advantage of appropriate physics too. If it could fly at an optimum (high) altitude, then range would significantly benefit, supporting the idea of global reach and the USAF bomber’s raison d’etre. If outrunning defending fighters through speed too was deemed less relevant, then the aerodynamic efficiency of a subsonic jet pushed the range still further. However, whereas the B-52 and Vulcan conforming to this philosophy had been able to be aerodynamically dominated designs, the very technologies that might just allow high-flying subsonic bombers in the later Cold War exerted the strongest influence on external shape. Altitude – defeating visual detection from the ground as well as making both radar targeting and subsequent engagement more difficult – had to argue its priority in the LO toolkit.

Things should have moved on in the four decades since the B-2 was conceived, and indeed they have. The B-21 is familiar, but it clearly isn’t the same. As someone with a professional interest in aerodynamics, but from outside of the defence aerospace industry, I’ve been amusing myself by attempting to unpick some of what I’ve seen in the few available images. I claim no more than that.

The outstanding, fundamental difference in configuration between the new B-21 and the preceding B-2A Spirit, shown even in the early Northrop Grumman renders c.2015, is the simpler trailing edge shape. In fact, the ‘W’ of the new aircraft as opposed to the ‘Saw tooth’ of the old, would have been familiar to the designers in the early 1980s too. While the B-2 started life as a high-altitude bomber, the thinking behind ATB from both the USAF and ATB bounced between a pure optimisation in favour of 60,000ft penetration, and retention of the in-vogue low-level strike emphasis. Was the plan a stealthy FB-111, or B-52? The Request for Proposals (RFP) that stimulated the first design studies required quantification of the ‘fallout’ capability of the High-level design to perform a low-level mission if required, but without changes to the design to help this. That would change in April 1981 with a Modification Request to add significant low-altitude capability, as a ‘…prudent hedge against an ever-changing and maturing radar threat operational throughout the Soviet Union.’[i] In other words, with Stealth completely unproven operationally and even had it been, its longevity open to question, could the USAF afford put all of its chips on black?

Northrop conceptual design, c.1979 (Griffin et al)

The low-level penetration mission immediately added about 10,000lb to the expected structural weight of the ‘paper’ high-level design. It is worth noting in the light of what came after, that aircraft cost has been strongly correlated to weight.

While the airframe gained weight to meet new strength requirements, in terms of both fatigue and ride quality aeroelastic effects were more emphasised. Engineering work showed that much of the energy was absorbed with the first wing bending mode. On the baseline design, the node line ran over the planned outboard control surfaces. At the same time, ways were sought to improve the balance between carried at the front and rear of the wing carry-through box; 70% and 30% respectively. The final design introduced an IB control surface array, with the mode line running between them and the OB set. This meant the aeroelastic bending could be actively controlled by out-of-phase actuation of the two sets. The main gust alleviation work was in the hands of a powerful central control surface, which worked with sensor systems to pitch the aircraft into the local gust vector and minimise its effect, via a, “very aggressive flight control system which is designed to provide significant improvements in ride quality and load alleviation during low level contour flying.”[ii] The result was the familiar shape seen today, which exists only to adapt the high-level B-2 to the punishing low-level environment. On the other hand, it was noted during an investigation into the aircraft’s response to lateral gusts, that the flying wing shape, “…is sufficiently small in the vertical dimension that it can be considered planar, and the lack of vertical surfaces, nacelles, or external stores greatly reduces its sensitivity to lateral gusts.” So, it wasn’t all bad.

What does this tell us? It isn’t as simple as saying the B-21 is high level only. While the B-2 planform changes were driven by the low-level mission, there were other ways to skin the cat and in the intervening four decades, both structures and control have advanced. The B-2 was off the scale in terms of the proportion of composite structure it used for the time it was designed; it doesn’t necessarily follow that the structural modes of the B-21 follow the same pattern as its forebear.

B-2 Planform changes through both development and addition of low level requirements, c.1983 (Griffin et al)

The B-2 and B-21 obviously also share the overall stealth strategy of sharp parallel edges at oblique angles to the flight path, together with smoothly curved surfaces. From a cruise efficiency perspective, sharp leading edges were not a positive feature due to the loss in forward suction and hence a poor lift/drag ratio of the aerofoils. In the early 1980s, a new subsonic aircraft not considering LO would have inevitably used a supercritical aerofoil shape, with a relatively large radius leading edge, thick forward region and cusped trailing edge for aft loading. A compromise between the aerodynamicists and LO engineers was evolved, after the latter group were able to show that retaining sharp edges on the central region and tips should prove sufficient. This is a very obvious feature of the B-2, once one has noticed it anyway. Interestingly, it is much less clear from the images seen to date, that it has been incorporated on the B-21. It is certainly more subtle, but the need to align a sharper leading edge to the oncoming, upwashing flow at the nose has again resulted in the characteristic ‘beak’ shape. Potentially, an example of technology moving on and the aerodynamic restriction being lifted by advances in LO and the ability to model its effect.

A B-2A in flight. Note the open drag rudder surfaces, the outboard-most trailing edge controls. The leading edge appears to change sweep angle at the tip and near the centre; in fact, this is due to the change in leading-edge radius from an aerodynamically favoured relatively large section for the mid section, to the sharp LO-biased shape at root and tip.

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One thing that certainly isn’t evident on the B-2 is the level of leading-edge droop outboard on the B-21. Where have we seen that before though? Looking back to the 1950s and the similarly sized, high-altitude V-Bombers, it is well known that the Vulcan didn’t work aerodynamically in its initial incarnation. The natural tendency of the inboard, leading part of a swept wing to load the outboard part behind it, caused significant suction peaks to be developed there. Progressive LE droop was the answer, being made to work really well by an understanding of the ‘peaky’ mechanism and specific sectional shaping. The supersonic expansion followed by an initial compression using Mach wave reflections rather than a shock wave, resulted in a much more efficient flow at high subsonic speed. This is a fundamental characteristic of the supercritical aerofoils used on the B-2 as well. The rival Victor used a philosophy of ‘constant critical Mach’; the intention was the wing would aerodynamically adapt itself along the span. The OB was drooped, thinned and of reduced sweep. It may not be simple to build, but progressive full span LE droop can be a significant aid to transonic cruise efficiency. Are we seeing the ability to combine 202x design and simulation capability across the fields of LO and aerodynamics, vs. 198x era work on the B-2? This is further visible evidence of a quicker or better L/D bomber, less compromised by LO, as engineering has advanced.

We’ve discussed one reason for the outboard leading edge droop: transonic cruise efficiency. That’s definitely not the only reason one would see this though. For the vast majority of practical aircraft, a vertical fin and rudder provide the ability to account for the usual adverse yaw effect in a turn. In 1920, Prandtl and his Gottingen colleagues developed lifting line theory to analyse three dimensional wings. Constant downwash from an elliptical span load gave min induced drag. However, in 1933 this was extended to solve for given mass; a bell curve was superior. This 1933 shape implies a switch from downwash to upwash and hence thrust outboard. By deploying lateral control surfaces in this region, a local increase in load (down aileron) creates a yawing moment into the turn (Proverse Yaw), without requiring a rudder input. In 2016, Bowers and co-workers published a NASA report[iii] suggesting that this bell span load, proverse yaw inducing model applied to soaring bird flight. Birds don’t need a vertical tail for coordinated turns either. All of this leads us back to a place where the subsonic cruise efficiency (minimum induced drag) and lateral-directional control response in the absence of a fin (for stealth) are both served by a bell-shaped span load. Note that R T Jones and the Hortens all feature in this story, but are not necessary to the narrative. Please don’t write in and complain!

The B-2 users split drag rudders for directional control when not in stealth mode, while relying on differential thrust and the remaining control surfaces when LO is vital. The ability to mix these controls (together with a neutral to unstable configuration) was not available to Northrop in the 1940s, when such devices were used on the XB-35 flying wing bomber project. As well as increasing the aircraft’s general control authority, the strategy would specifically push the crosswind landing limits and hence allow missions to be launched in a wider range of conditions. The B-21 seems to have dispensed with the split surfaces entirely, which may be an indication of more confidence in the modelling of the aerodynamic derivatives and flight control system performance during the engineering phase. It might also hint at greater authority being available from the engines, with the combination now being able to meet all specified landing requirements. Of course, there are many more flight-validated data points available to the designers of a flying wing these days.

Another pillar of the LO shaping strategy for the B-2 was the shielding of engine inlets and exhausts from below, together with the highly reflective engine compressors themselves. The ideal of an S-shaped duct from the upper surface of the wing was far easier said than done. As Hans Grellmann, responsible for the aerodynamic design of the aircraft described the situation, “In essence, two supercritical airfoils had to be designed in series. The first being the wing surface where the flow expands to reach supersonic speed and then is recompressed to subsonic speed before it enters the inlet. The second “airfoil” is the nacelle between the inlet lip and the exhaust exit. In this region, flow accelerates over the inlet cowl to supersonic speed, while recompression becomes part of the compression region extending out to the outboard wing.”[iv] The impact of the upper surface nacelle configuration would make itself apparent towards the end of the flight test programme, as late as June 1994. Whilst expanding the Mach limit of the envelope at low altitude, a Residual Pitch Oscillation (RPO) was identified. The test involved checking the aircraft’s response to random small control surface inputs; the expectation was that any resulting oscillations would be damped and eliminated within a specified period. In this case, the oscillations continued at a low level, while the engineers were able to identify the trace of upper surface shock waves over the nacelles and inboard trailing edge notch, also oscillating with time. These had coupled with the structural modes and ultimately kept the vibration going. As the situation was outside of operational requirements, the solution was a Mach overspeed warning in order to give the pilots time to correct.[v]

Computational mesh from analysis work associated with correcting the RPO problem with the B-2. Note that the shock was located somewhere over the nacelle and affected the trailing edge notch region. Both of these features are avoided on the B-21. ( Jacobson et al)

The B-21’s nacelles are notably lower profile than the B-2 equivalent geometry, while the inlet plane is further forward. By reducing the pressure recovery demand over the top by these two geometry changes, the aircraft would likely be less susceptible to shock induced separation, in the manner that caused the B-2 RPO problem. The simpler trailing edge geometry has a strong part to play in this too, while the simulation challenges identified after the B-2’s problems came to light have been tacked with thirty years of transonic CFD tool development. The new bomber was starting from a much better place.

If the B-2 benefitted from moving the inlet rearwards and even then, required a boundary layer bleed duct underneath to remove the low total pressure flow, how has the B-21 team managed to move their inlet plane forwards? The answer, one suspects, is the work conducted in the intervening period on supersonic diverterless inlets, as featured on the F-35. These devices use careful shaping of the surface ahead of the inlet, usually via a bump, to control the local flow direction in the boundary layer itself by introducing a compression. While the B-21 itself is subsonic, the local flow on top of the wing leading edge will be marginally supersonic in the cruise. Images of this region are unclear at best, but the challenge of providing attached flow and maximum pressure recovery in the LO-compliant S-duct diffuser ahead of the engine is severe. It is inconceivable that attention has not been paid to adequate boundary layer control by some method such as this.

A few thoughts then on the B-21, as revealed so far.

• The fundamental planform and strategy are reminiscent of the initial B-2 proposals from Northrop, as accepted by the USAF for early development.
• Many of the planform differences between B-21 and B-2 can explained by the low altitude requirements introduced in the final Advanced Technology Bomber specification.
• Backing out of the Hi-Lo-Hi design certainly reduces weight (cost) and would have avoided a number of specific aerodynamic issues that were difficult to predict (time and cost).
• The B-21 geometry is consistent with advances in both predictive tools and confidence gained from related LO platforms. The elimination of the split rudders and potential exploitation of proverse yaw is an example.

Overall, there is a fascinating interplay between the conflicting aerodynamic and LO optimum solutions. As the ability of computational tools – particularly computational fluid dynamics (CFD) – to predict the physical phenomena associated with transonic flight regimes has advanced, then designers can have more confidence in pushing the shapes towards stealth-biased solutions. An example would the complex intake and exhaust geometries, which must retain healthy aerodynamic performance in terms of pressure recovery and minimal losses. Conversely, as analytical tools for the assessment of LO performance without the need for physical testing have matured, then the aerodynamic solution space widens. The clear variation in section shape and obvious rear loaded geometry of the B-21’s wing lower surfaces, looks to be a more geometrically refined and optimised transonic shape than the B-2, superficially at least. Things have indeed moved on, as much as the 1979 Northrop proposal may remind us of what has been recently revealed.

It would be remiss of me not to mention the great help in accessing background material given by David Lednicer – it was very much appreciated. All misinterpretations of the dataset are entirely my fault alone, however.

-Stephen Liddle is a must follow on X Twitter and is currently preparing a book on the aerodynamic development of the V-Bombers, that he hopes will be published Q2 2024.

You should reserve your copy of the fabulous Hush-Kit Book of Warplanes Vol 2 happen here

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[i] Griffin et al; B-2 Systems Engineering Case Study; Air Force Center for Systems Engineering; 2007

[ii] Crimaldi,  J.P., Britt R.T. and Rodden, W.P; Response of B-2 aircraft to nonuniform spanwise turbulence; AIAA Journal of Aircraft, Vol 30 No.5, Sept-Oct 1993

[iii] Bowers et al; On Wings of the Minimum Induced Drag: Spanload Implications for Aircraft and Birds; NASA-TP-2016-219072, 2016

[iv] Grellmann, H.W.; B-2 Aerodynamic Design; AIAA 90-1802, AIAA Aerospace Engineering Conference and Exhibit, Los Angeles, CA, February 13-15^th 1990.

[v] Jacobson, S.B., Britt, R.T., Dreim, D.R. and Kelly, P.D.; Residual pitch oscillation (RPO) flight test and analysis on the B-2 bomber; AIAA paper AIAA-98-1805, 1998.

From great wheezing imperial dinosaurs, via the drearily sensible to pleasingly mad speedsters, a ragtag bag of utterly appealing British airliners failed to enter service. Here are 11 of them.

11. Saunders-Roe Duchess ‘Pass the duchy on the port-hand side’

The Isle of Wight in the English Channel was the last place in England to convert to Christianity. Against the menacing onslaught of Christian Anglo-Saxons, the isle’s 7th century King Arwald was defeated after a spirited fight. Despite his plucky attempts to resist the imposition of a new popular idea, he lost. In much the same way, Saunders-Roe Limited, a British aero- and marine-engineering company, also based on the Isle of Wight, failed to defend their strong belief that airliners (and fighters for that matter) should take off from water.

Each British aircraft manufacturer embraced the new jet engine in their own style: Gloster fitted it to an unadventurous airframe, de Havilland made a fast tiny jet fighter and a fast radical airliner, while SARO, stayed in the happy niche of flying boats (aeroplanes that land on the water on their hulls). The very large airliner SARO wished to build required a lot of power; one de Havilland Ghost jet engine can power a Vampire fighter – four a Comet airliner – but the impressively large Saunders-Roe Duchess would need six.

The extravagant Duchess was the ripped trouser crotch of a nation straddling the past and the future. While its performance and propulsion pointed to the future, its basic concept of operating from the sea (and its name) were paddling in the past. Inheriting much from the Princess (see below) the Duchess would have offered 74 passengers an exciting and glamorous experience on routes of up to 2,600 miles. If as if this wasn’t already wild enough, US companies Convair and Martin both designed and considered nuclear-powered Princess derivatives. However, the Duchess was (probably quite sensibly) cancelled.

Even the grand Duchess would have had to curtsy when the Queen appeared on the jetty.

10. Saunders-Roe Queen ‘Size Queen’

There must be something wrong with the thrust figure I’m about to tell you. In fact, please correct me so I can sleep again. The Queen was intended to have 24 Rolls-Royce Conway jet engines giving it a mind-bending total of 444,000Ib* of thrust. That cannot be right. That’s more than the most powerful aircraft ever flown, the An-225, with its relatively puny 309,600lb of thrust. I’m not a fan of exclamation marks, but they are utterly appropriate for the other mad facts about the proposed Queen. Such as the intended 1000 passengers carried in the luxurious comfort levels of an ocean liner(!) Or the 3000-mile range (!) or the 40,000 feet ceiling! This barnacle-encrusted behemoth was intended for intercontinental flights, especially for the Britain-Australia route.

The Princess was started after SARO was approached by one J. Dundas Heenan, consulting engineer from the firm Heenan in the 1940s. If that name is familiar to readers – this is because this is the rather bizarre Major J. N. D. Heenan behind the futiristically terrible Planet Satellite. Acting on behalf of the P & O shipping company Heenan was interested in a vast flying ocean liner. If this seems odd, then so does so much of Heenan’s life. I’d recommend clicking on the link on his name above where you can find out a bit more about this mysterious man.

SARO’s Queen was breathtaking in its ambition and vision, and quite possibly insane. Neither P&O nor the British Government could have hoped to have funded such a massive project, and the Queen quietly died.

* Figures vary for the Queen’s Conway’s quoted thrust but we have seen 18,500Ibs.

9. TRAMP! ‘Super Tramp’

The Gotha bombing raids of 1917 caused comparatively little material damage but a psychological response bordering on hysteria, not least due to these seemingly unstoppable attacks being launched in daylight. Knee jerk reactions included rioting in the East End of London, the changing of the British Royal Family’s surname from Saxe-Coburg Gotha to Windsor, and the Air Board issuing a requirement for an aircraft able to bomb Berlin. The Handley-Page V/1500 resulted from this requirement as well as the altogether more obscure Bristol Braemar and ultimately the Tramp, a vast steam-powered airliner.

As conceived by Bristol’s chief designer Frank Barnwell (unusual amongst aircraft designers in being a qualified military pilot and at this point riding high on the massive success of his superlative F.2b fighter) the Braemar was to be powered by four engines in an ‘engine room’ within the fuselage driving two propellers on the wings by means of clutches and shafts. However, a more conventional layout of two engines mounted back to back between each wing had (sensibly) been adopted by the start of 1918. Not quite as radical a feature but still an unusual choice was the use of the triplane layout, adopted to give a large wing area whilst avoiding an overly long wingspan. Completed in August, the Braemar was intended to be powered by four 360hp Rolls-Royce Eagle engines but shortage of these units saw 230hp Sunbeam Pumas substituted instead. Despite a shortfall of over a third in power, the Puma engined Braemar delivered surprisingly good performance, achieving a speed of 106mph but was prone to vibration and strut failures. A Mk II Braemar with four 400hp Liberty engines proved highly satisfactory and was remarkably fast. Despite the built-in headwind of three wings and the profusion of struts and bracing wires holding them together, it attained 125mph, slightly faster than the F.2b fighter and a full 23mph quicker than its direct competitor the V/1500. Unfortunately for Bristol, the new Braemar only flew during 1919 by which time any hope of a production order had evaporated with the end of the war.

But, already contracted to build three prototypes, it was suggested by the Air Board that the third aircraft be completed with a new fuselage as a 14 seat airliner. This duly emerged as the Bristol Pullman and caused a sensation when it was exhibited at the Olympia Airshow in 1920 due to both its huge size and luxurious passenger accommodation. Unusually for its era, the Pullman boasted luxurious accommodation for the pilots as well, in a fully enclosed and prodigiously glazed cockpit – a feature predictably detested by the rugged pilots of the day as it compromised their view somewhat and they feared being trapped in the event of a crash. As a result, the Pullman test crew always brought axes aboard to hack their way out in the event of a mishap. Sadly, no airline orders were forthcoming but Barnwell had been in discussions with the Royal Mail Steam Packet shipping line about the possibility of using flying boats to transport passengers to and from ships at sea. With no experience of aircraft but a huge knowledge of steam turbine operations, the shipping company asked if Bristol could develop a 50 seat airliner powered by two closed cycle 1500hp Ljungström steam turbines. A Pullman development was proposed for the prototypes to develop the system to be followed by the definitive Tramp boats. Once again the power units were to be in the fuselage, driving propellers by shafts. Ultimately, the difficulties of creating a reliable high-pressure closed-loop steam system featuring boilers and condensers of a small enough size to fit in the aircraft proved insurmountable. Despite this, the two prototype Tramps were actually built but with four conventional Siddeley-Deasy Puma internal combustion engines in the engine room. All came to naught however as persistent problems with the clutch and gearbox system meant that flight was never attempted. This is a shame as had this aircraft proved successful, the enormous power and eerie smoothness of the steam turbine promised a level of speed, silence, and comfort in the mid-1920s unattainable by any aircraft until the advent of the turbojet.

8. BAC Three-Eleven ‘The Fat Troublemaker’

When I tweeted “Forget the bloody TSR-2, the BAC 3-111 was the biggest missed opportunity” there was a rather spicy reply from aviation journalist Bill Sweetman: “Bull (and I cannot emphasise too much) shite. I don’t know why this Three-Eleven mythology is emerging now. It was a BAC/RR spoiler after Airbus downsized the A300 (as in to 300 seats) to 250 and went with GE’s engines and HSA still doing the wing. With the rear engine weight penalty and RB.211-22, it would have far less growth potential than the A300B and certainly would have not developed into the A330/A340. Sure, Laker wanted it, but like the A300 it would have been too big for the charter biz.“

Depending on who you ask it was either the greatest lost opportunity of British aviation, or a wrong-headed deep-stall-cursed moneypit with the engines in the wrong place.

In the UK there were concerns that the Airbus A300 would not succeed, and a British wide-body with roots in the  One-Eleven was seen as a viable alternative. It would however, have required large amounts of government money, and with British airliners’ unenviable reputation for profitability and a new Conservative Government unenthusiastic about state-sponsorship – this was a big ask. There were serious concerns about the design’s potential for deep-stall, and valid doubts that the rear-engine configuration was the right choice for a wide body. To make matters even worse for the 3-11, Britain was about to join the European Economic Community and the thought of creating a competitor to the A300, a flagship of European cooperation, was politically and diplomatically stinky. Maybe Bill Sweetman is right after all.

6. Fairey Rotodyne ‘The Screaming Megabus of the Sky’

In 1976 The Who seized the record for World’s Loudest Band from Deep Purple. Richie Blackmore’s group had enjoyed this prestigious accolade since 1972 when, at a gig in London’s Rainbow Theatre, three members of the audience were said to have been rendered unconscious by the volume.  Measured at 126 dB 35m from a stage built at Charlton Athletic’s football ground, The Who’s new record stood for another eight years until broken by heavy metal band Manowar, after which the Guinness Book of Records abandoned the listing. Too likely to lead to hearing damage, they thought, depriving future generations of rock musicians this unholy race of eardrum destruction.  Sadly, years earlier this kind of ‘namby pamby, ‘elf and safety gone mad‘ attitude also did for an innovative British airliner that had looked set to change the way the world flew.

            ‘The Fairey Rotodyne,’ said the narrator of a promotional film produced by the manufacturer, ‘is the aircraft for fast, economical travel offering the advantages of air transport to everyone, everywhere.’  Following the first flight in 1957, the future had looked bright.  In flight-testing, the distinctive looking Rotodyne, resplendent in a smart blue and white livery, had set a world speed record and attracted the interest of airlines in Europe, North American and Japan.  The RAF wanted a dozen and there were rumours that the US Army was up for as many as 200. 

      A unique hybrid, the Rotodyne cruised like an aeroplane, carried by stub wings and a freewheeling main rotor mounted on top of the fuselage, but could land and take off like a helicopter by bleeding air from the two turboprop engines through jets on the tips of the rotor blades.  The merits of a fast, vertical take-off and landing, ‘flying bus’ capable of flying up to fifty passengers from city-centre to city centre were clear as Fairey’s advertising had claimed, but the failed to mention the noise.  That, though, was what everyone else was talking about.

      From over 150 metres away, the banshee scream of those four tip jets as loud as Baba O’Reilly from the mixing desk. Or a pneumatic drill from 15 metres.  If the sound of breathing is 10 dB, the noise of a Rotodyne arrival was a whole lot closer to the 194 dB level at which a noise can get no louder without simply becoming a shockwave. To be fair, a Eurofighter Typhoon departing in full afterburner is louder than a Rotodyne. But only by the equivalent of the sound of rustling leaves. And Typhoons don’t routinely operate from in and out of densely populated city centres, but from airbases deliberately located far from them. The whole point of the Rotodyne was that it would.

    Despite assurances from the project team that they could reduce it to acceptable levels, the siren scream of the Rotodyne became its defining characteristic. John Farley, the test pilot most closely associated with a British vertical take off success story, the Harrier, summed it up the general view: ”From two miles away it would stop a conversation. I mean, the noise of those little jets on the tips of the rotor was just indescribable. So what have we got? The noisiest hovering vehicle the world has yet come up with and you’re going to stick it in the middle of a city?“

        Airline interest melted away and early in 1962 the government pulled the plug.  By the end of the year the single prototype had been broken up for scrap.  As the Rotodyne was unceremoniously torn up in Hampshire, in West London Pete Townsend, Roger Daltrey and John Entwistle played together for the first time.

    Townsend now suffers from tinnitus and severe hearing loss. Similarly scarred by high volume, the UK’s aviation industry next attempt to build an airliner designed to fly in and out of urban airfields, prioritised reducing the noise footprint. 

So successful were they in doing so that they attracted glowing headlines and promoted the little BAe 146 as the ‘Whisperjet’.  Forty years on it remains in service with operators around the world, while all that remains of the spectacular, but unfortunate Rotodyne are a few sad bits and pieces in a museum in Weston-super-Mare.

• Rowland White, Author of this fabulous Mosquito book

5. MAYO! ‘Little & Large’

Potentially an exceptionally lucrative market, it was known that the Atlantic could be crossed by aeroplane since 1919 but remained tantalising just out of reach, in a practical sense at least, until the very last weeks of peace during 1939. The amount of fuel required to get an aircraft from London to New York (or vice versa) was simply so great that the aircraft could carry no passengers or cargo. To solve this seemingly insurmountable problem, Robert Mayo, Imperial Airways’ Technical General Manager proposed a system wherein a small, long-range seaplane on top of a larger carrier aircraft, used the combined power of both to bring the smaller aircraft to operational height, at which time the two aircraft would separate, the carrier aircraft returning to base while the other flew on to its destination. The upper component aircraft carried only mail so ultimately the description of the Mayo as an airliner is, frankly, pushing it a bit. Ah well.

The undeniably spectacular Mayo, consisted of a fairly heavily modified Short C-Class ‘Empire’ flying boat named ‘Maia’, and a totally new design, ‘Mercury’, the messenger of the Gods – though its not clear that the Romans had the delivery of air mail in mind for him originally. The connecting mechanism allowed for limited movement of both components relative to each other. When release was imminent, the flying trim of Mercury could be checked before the pilots released one lock each. The final lock holding the craft together was automatic, releasing Mercury when it achieved 3000 pounds-force (13 Kn). This meant that Mercury was effectively straining upwards and the effect was that on release Maia would tend to drop away whilst Mercury climbed sharply, minimising any chance of collision. The first separation was achieved in February 1938, followed by the first transatlantic flight on July 21st. After the Composite took off from Southampton, Mercury was released over Shannon in Ireland and continued alone to Boucherville, near Montreal in Canada, carrying half a ton of mail and newspapers. This represented the first commercial crossing of the Atlantic by a heavier-than-air aircraft. This was followed up by a record-breaking flight of 6,045 miles (9,728 km) from Dundee in Scotland to Alexander Bay in South Africa, between 6 and 8 October 1938. This remains the longest flight ever achieved by a seaplane. Ultimately aircraft development caught up with the Mayo composite. Although it achieved its design goal with considerable panache, it was an excessively complicated way to carry 1000 lbs of mail to America, not to mention colossally expensive. Economic calculations, hilariously carried out only after the construction of the Mayo composite showed that in order to turn even a minimal profit, it was necessary to prohibitively inflate postage costs. Thus, from the point of view of the Post Office the introduction of the Mayo made sense solely as a means to maintain the prestige of Great Britain as a credible aviation power: commercial success for the Mayo Composite was totally impossible.

• Ed Ward

4. Bristol Brabazon (1949) ‘The Village Slayer’

There was a lot going on in 1949, the Berlin Airlift ended, Churchill voiced his support for a European Union including Britain – and the results of a mass survey into the sexual behaviour of British people was deemed too spicy for publication. According to a BBC article on the survey, “One in four men admitted to having had sex with prostitutes, one in five women owned up to an extra-marital affair, while the same proportion of both sexes said they had had a homosexual experience.” When British people weren’t fucking they were designing lots of aeroplanes. Britain seemingly had more aircraft manufacturers than even extra-marital affairs.

Having recently studied a 100-ton bomber design in detail, in the mid 1940s the Bristol Aeroplane Company were in the best possible position to produce a massive transatlantic airliner. This was extremely ambitious for the time and Bristol would require the most powerful engines they could get their hands on, the seriously powerful Centaurus. Bristol had spent World War II making tough but relatively conservative or derivative designs, so this new venture was an extremely radical departure.

But technical problems, the high seat cost per mile from the luxurious low density configuration and the vast cost of the project all conspired to doom it to failure.

Plans to build a Mark II, with Proteus turboprops were scuppered by delays in the Proteus programme. The equivalent of £375 million was lost in the project – as was a village. But half of that figure paid for building work to the Filton plant that would aid many later aircraft projects.

Background

The history of post-war civil aircraft development in Britain is inextricably bound up with the deliberations of the Brabazon Committee. This was formed in December 1942, following a request from Winston Churchill, and was tasked with considering the development of civil air transport, in the context of British aircraft manufacture having been exclusively directed at the production of military aircraft. Any new aircraft would need to compete with American transport aircraft and their developments, with obvious examples including the Douglas DC-3, DC-4 and Lockheed Constellation, as well as subsequent US aircraft developments.

Although widely criticised, the Brabazon Committee proposed a series of specifications, from which successful and innovative aircraft designs were developed, funded through the UK Ministry of Supply. These included the ground-breaking de Havilland Comet and Vickers Viscount, the impressive Bristol Britannia, and the de Havilland Dove. Less successful designs included the Airspeed Ambassador and Miles Marathon, while the Bristol Brabazon, Armstrong-Whitworth Apollo, and (tangentially) the Saunders-Roe Princess can only be considered as failures.

3. Saunders-Roe Princess ‘The Salty Princess’

BOAC considered (in 1945) that there was still a market for long-range and luxurious flying boats, and the Princess was proposed by Saunders-Roe, and succeeded in attracting funding from the Ministry of Supply to meet a requirement to transport 100 passengers from London to New York, and on broader routes around the Empire to destinations that did not have large airports.

One aircraft only was flown, the largest all-metal flying boat ever to have been constructed. Powered by no less than 10 Proteus turboprops, with a ’double-bubble’ pressurised fuselage, it made only 46 flights, commencing in August 1952. Sadly, by this time, BOAC had ceased flying boat operations, having observed the widespread availability of airfields worldwide capable of operating the de Havilland Comet. As a result, the Princess project, which BOAC had itself initiated, was cancelled.

With no market for large civil flying boats, the three aircraft built were cocooned, and slowly corroded away until being scrapped in 1967. A fabulously impressive-looking aircraft, but a martyr to a failure to realise that the world had changed since the days of the Empire flying boat.

– Jim Smith

2. Armstrong Whitworth AW55 Apollo ‘Mamba Number 55’

From the majestically batshit, we turn to the elegantly sensible Apollo. The Brabazon IIB requirement was for a turboprop regional airliner of relatively short-range and modest capacity. Two aircraft were developed in response to this, the Vickers Viscount, powered by Rolls-Royce Dart engines, and the Apollo, powered by the Armstrong-Siddeley Mamba. British European Airways, the intended customer, was initially wary of the risks involved with these new turbo-prop engine designs, and ordered the Airspeed Ambassador instead, leaving the Ministry of Supply as the initial customer for both the Viscount and the Apollo.

Development of the Dart proceeded rapidly, with initial flight trials in 1947, and first flight of the Viscount prototype in July 1948. Further development led to series production of 445 Viscounts, with worldwide sales and a long service life.

Development of the Mamba, however proved more problematic. Flight tests of the engine began in October 1947, but the Apollo was not ready for flight until April 1949, and proved to have number of problems with both engine and airframe. Initial flights showed poor longitudinal and directional stability, and modifications were introduced to increase tailplane span and increase fin area. The second prototype, with more powerful engines, flew in December 1952, by which time further development of the Apollo had been cancelled, and BEA had ordered the stretched and more powerful Viscount 700.  

So, the Apollo missed the boat, and never benefitted from the increase in power and increase in fuselage length which turned the Viscount into a commercial success. However, the Apollo was a very attractive looking aircraft, and, but for the delays experienced in maturing the engine and airframe, might have been a worthy competitor to the Viscount.

Aircraft combining new airframes with new engines are always a risky proposition, and perhaps the Brabazon Committee over-reached itself in an attempt to differentiate future UK civil aircraft from war surplus US transports. In the event, the Brabazon, Princess, Apollo, Britannia and Comet all paid the price, encountering development delays and unanticipated problems which provided an opportunity for the US to outmatch and surpass all the Brabazon aircraft except the Viscount. Though the rather daft Princess thoroughly deserved its fate, in contrast, the attractive Apollo was unlucky and should have enjoyed a happier fate.

• Jim Smith

3. Avro 722 Atlantic (1952) ‘Vulcan-do’

Flying from London to New York in an airliner based on the Avro Vulcan in less than seven hours would have been a truly remarkable way to travel. Intended for up to 113 passengers, who presumably didn’t mind a bit of noise, the 200,000Ib 600mph Atlantic was not pursued. A bonkers idea from the perspective of economy of operation – but absolutely appealing in terms of delivering noise-loving aesthetes a lovely silver monster. We asked aircraft noise expert Michael Carley his view of the Atlantic and he noted, “If you’re comparing to conventional subsonic airliners, it would certainly be louder than any modern airliner. It would probably have been much louder than any contemporary as well. FAA data taken at Dulles for Concorde and wide- and narrow-body airliners in the seventies have Concorde 10-15dB louder than the other airliners.” Though without reheat, the Atlantic is probably most comparable to Concorde in noise terms.

2. Vickers VC.7 (Vickers V.1000) ‘

“I wish this evening to raise the question of what is to me one of the most disgraceful, most disheartening and most unfortunate decisions that has been taken in relation to the British aircraft industry in recent years. I refer, as I think the Parliamentary Secretary to the Ministry of Supply will know, to the question of the cancellation of the contract for the Vickers V-1000 aircraft. My first point is that it is vital to Britain in every sense, in aviation—in the field of industrial work and in the earning capacity of our industry—that we should be able to produce in our home industry a long-range pure jet aircraft which will be capable of coping with the first-class Trans-Atlantic passenger demand. It is, therefore, opportune to ask what are the likely developments in aviation over the next ten or fifteen years in the various aircraft groupings of which we know—the long-range turbo-prop, the long-range pure jet, the medium-range jet and the medium range turbo-prop aircraft? I would have thought that it was almost inevitable that the long-range turbo-prop, which, even today, everyone admits will be able to cope in a few years’ time only with the second-class traffic, will be swallowed up in the relatively near future by the pure jet aircraft. Therefore, the medium-range jet, because of its specialised type of construction and because of the very decided limits of its range, will be superseded in its turn by the long-range pure jet. Meanwhile, the medium-range turbo-prop aircraft which is at present produced and marketed solely in this country will survive, but against inevitably increasing United States competition. The conclusion I draw from these facts is that there is an urgent need for the British industry to be able to produce a long-range pure jet first-class trans-Atlantic aircraft. That can be produced by the British industry and, in fact, there is one potential aircraft available today. If my conclusion is right, that we shall see within the next ten to fifteen years developments to the point where the long-range pure jet aircraft scoops the pool, I would ask my hon. Friend what British aircraft is there which will be available in that period, other than the Vickers V-1000? The Minister of Supply, outside this House, has stated recently that the Vickers V-1000 exists only on paper. Can my hon. Friend tell me where else the D.C.8, for example, exists today except on paper? One reads in the newspapers that there are orders in the region of 200 plus for this aircraft, which exists only on paper. Perhaps, in parenthesis, it is worth saying that of the £2,300,000 that has thus far been invested in the Vickers V-1000 aircraft not one penny has been spent on the civil version except by the firm itself. For a few moments I want to deal with the criticisms which have been bandied about both in public and in private. The most obvious one, of which my hon. Friend will have heard so often, is the weight growth. I understand that the company concerned in making this aircraft originally estimated that the basic weight would be about 96,000 lb. That has subsequently grown to about 112,000 lb. That sounds a rather surprising increase, but in heavy aircraft construction this growth, of about 20 per cent. is nothing unusual. It is in the normal form of aircraft development. There are, however, two points which are highly relevant upon this question. The first is that the weight growth has been completely matched, through the years, by an equal growth in the engine power needed to get this aircraft into the air”

• Paul Williams (Sunderland, South) (Hansard) debated on Thursday 8 December 1955

Britain got extremely close to producing the first big transatlantic jet airliner in the world with the VC7. This would have been a civil spin-off of an RAF transport loosely based on the Valiant V-bomber. The military transport, the V.1000, would have supported the global deployment of V-bomber force, to fly in spare parts and crew at the same great speed and with convenient parts commonality with the Valiant. It would have incorporated the latest propulsion technology, the turbofan (a turbojet featuring a ducted fan) offering less noise than the turbojet, and greater efficiency at subsonic airspeeds. Turbofans have since become de rigueur for airliners – so Vickers were clearly backing a winner. Many have agreed that the cancellation of the V.1000 and so VC7 was a killer blow to large British airliners, but the later VC10 would show that the national predilection for unnecessary short field performance and Boeing-loving airlines were equally powerful forces acting against the success of a British ‘Jumbo’. British aircraft of this time often prioritised aerodynamic efficiency of maintainability and the VC7 with its sleekly buried engines, would likely have been another example, not to mention how difficult it would have made the retrofitting of later larger engines.

1. Hawker Siddeley Aviation Type 1011 ‘The Supersonic Sex Tiger’

An orgasm of sleek aerodynamics, the 1011 was one of the few aeroplanes so attractive that it could have gone to a bar with Concorde and not be overlooked as the plain plane friend. Designed to be barely supersonic (M1.15 at full tilt) to avoid the overland route limitations of sonic booms, it nevertheless employed an extremely bold form calling to mind the fictive Carreidas 160 from the Belgian comic book Tintin’s Flight 614.

A seductive blend of a delta t-tail, sumptuous curves, sword-like variable geometry wings and four high bypass ratio Rolls-Royce RB 178/1B turbofan engines pumping out a combined 100,000-Ibs of thrust would have created an utterly charismatic aeroplane. But it would have also have been extremely maintenance heavy while offering a marginal, rather than transformative, reduction in journey times. Still, one can dream.

“Geoff Richards worked on the aircraft and commented to Hush-Kit, “Brings back a few memories. I joined HSA’s Advanced Projects Group straight from college in 1966. At the time the 1011 was on the back burner and the main interest was the military 1034. It was around 1971, I think, that there was a bit of renewed interest in the 1011 and I was tasked with seeing if the wing design could be improved with Robin Lock’s new aerofoils, as indeed it could. That was the last hurrah for the project, as shortly afterwards APG lost the projects part of its remit and was reassigned to manage HSA’s research work. The basic idea of avoiding sonic boom was certainly OK, but the complexity associated with an area-ruled passenger cabin and the relatively small speed advantage were against it. The fact that no-one else has tried the idea speaks for itself.”

Further excellent reading on the 1101

You can boast/complain/rant about knowing types not on this list in the comments section though I may take some time to approve these as I’m working through a large backlog of comments.