Centerline

I can date my grandmother’s earliest memory very precisely, to shortly before midnight on September 25, 1916. She was pulled from her bed and taken out into the streets of Waterfoot, England, where a crowd of people had gathered to look up into the starlit sky. A giant Zeppelin was overhead, and it was dropping bombs.

Recounting the story decades later, there was still a distinct note of horror in Grandma’s voice as she described the huge white airship, its throbbing engines, and the crash of exploding bombs all around town. This was one of several airship raids on England during World War I, and a total of 1,413 civilians were killed by the world’s first aerial bombing campaign.

In this way, and many others, the First World War was of profound importance to the development of flying. Between 1914 and 1918 the major industrial powers of the world invested gigantic amounts of time and money in aviation. More than 200,000 airplanes were built, and pilots trained in similar numbers. Aviation went from being an artisan, demonstration-type activity to something that was practical, useful, and industrialized.

Distinct echoes of World War I are still felt in the way we conduct flight training today. From 1914 to 1918 we discovered the fundamentals of how to do it well. But the lessons were learned the hard way.

The early days can best be described as “carnage.” In the British forces alone more than 8,000 young men lost their lives in flight training accidents, considerably more than the 6,000 killed on active duty. In the early years it was not unusual for there to be upwards of two dozen crashes per day at a military training airfield.

Two things turned this around. First, the airplanes got better. Some of the early aircraft designs were dangerous not just in flight characteristics, but also in basic construction. Many early fatalities were caused by basic structural failure of wing spars and the like. This is why two-seat training aircraft such as the Avro 504 and Curtiss Jenny acquired legendary status. They had pleasant and safe flying qualities, and could be relied upon not to fall apart.

Second, the training got better. Much of the credit for this can be placed on the shoulders of Maj. Robert Smith-Barry, who in December 1916 created the Gosport System, a standardized curriculum of classroom work and dual instruction that employed an unusual philosophy. Rather than avoiding dangerous maneuvers, as most courses of the time did, students were deliberately exposed to them in a controlled manner. The basic ideas behind the Gosport method were copied all around the world and are the predominant form of flight training today.

I once had a job doing oral history with World War I veterans, tape-recording their memories for posterity. Some of these interviews were truly harrowing, but it was always fun to speak to an aviator. The freedom of the air provided a stark contrast with the trenches of the Western Front. There’s something magical about hearing a 95-year-old man describe his first solo flight with perfect recall, and the sparkle of an 18-year-old youth in his eye.

The 100th anniversaries of the First World War are next year, and I hope they will stimulate renewed interest in the aviation legacy of those times. One way we do this is through the AOPA Foundation’s Hat in the Ring Society, which takes its name, logo, and inspiration from America’s most famous air combat unit of the First World War, the 94th Aero Squadron.

The Society supports initiatives to teach safety, preserve airports, grow the pilot population, and uphold the image of GA. As you consider year-end charitable giving, perhaps you’d be interested in the Society (www.aopafoundation.org).