Storms, squalls, gales, and, in winter,
blizzards, spring up with magical suddenness, and are so severe
that no aircraft could hope to live in them. But such
visitations are more to be dreaded by the lighter-than-air than
by the heavier-than-air machines. The former offers a
considerable area of resistance to the tempest and is caught up
by the whirlwind before the pilot fully grasps the significant
chance of the natural phenomenon. Once a dirigible is swept out
of the hands of its pilot its doom is sealed.
On the other hand, the speed attainable by the aeroplane
constitutes its safety. It can run before the wind, and meantime
can climb steadily and rapidly to a higher altitude, until at
last it enters a contrary wind or even a tolerably quiescent
atmosphere. Even if it encounters the tempest head on there is
no immediate danger if the aviator keep cool. This fact has been
established times out of number and the airman has been
sufficiently skilful and quick-witted to succeed in frustrating
the destructive tactics of his natural enemy.
Only a short while ago in France, British airmen who went aloft
in a gale found the latter too strong for them.
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295