'On Being Catapulted'

by: R G Worcester

Reproduced from :
THE AEROPLANE

No: 1753
DECEMBER 29, 1944

Some people will remember seeing a Fairy Swordfish catapulted from Gosport aerodrome during the afternoon of that last sweltering Empire Air Day. Even in those days the Fleet Air Arm had brought the catapult to a high degree of reliability, though to the general public it was a novelty. Now any Naval pilot may be called upon suddenly to carry out a duty involving a catapult launching, and so nearly all pilots are qualified to catapult in Walrus, Hurricane, Swordfish and other British and U.S. aircraft.

Quite recently I landed at the aerodrome of a well-known port and was reminded of the Swordfish at Gosport. Several people were looking and pointing excitedly; I followed their gaze and saw a Hawker Hurricane poised on a catapult with the motor racing. A second later, to our horror, the aeroplane was blotted out by a vivid sheet of flame. Before we had time to recover; the Hurricane appeared unscathed from the inferno. This was the rocket type of catapult.

Eventually, on a rather damp, gloomy day my name appeared, together with half a dozen others, on the notice board for the catapult instruction course on Swordfish. The course is very short, one morning in duration, and another six or seven were down for the afternoon.

We found the aerodrome and made our way to the scaffold, to be greeted by a sophisticated-looking Chief Petty Officer, who was to be our instructor. He explained that the procedure is always much the same. The senior pupil (which happened to be me) gets in the back seat and the instructor flies the aeroplane from the front and they are launched. After landing, the instructor gets out, the first pupil gets in the front, a second pupil gets in the back and they are launched a couple of times. After this the first pupil has finished, the second one gets into the front, and the third gets in the back seat, and so on until all the pupils have flown. No instruction is normally required to control the aeroplane while being catapulted; all the pupil requires is to sit once, or preferably twice, in the back to get the sensation before going off himself. The pupil should have four launches, two to get accustomed to the jerk, and two as a pilot.



(Above) A CRANING JOB A Fairey Swordfish is lowered by crane on to the catapult before practice launching by pupils.

From long experience the drill has been brought to a fine art and is very simple and foolproof. With the motor idling, the pilot and passenger climb into their respective cockpits and strap themselves in. At the same time a rating standing on the top mainplane guides the crane hook into a ring on the centre of gravity in the wing centre-section. The crane handles the aeroplane as carefully as a baby-the movements are smooth and almost imperceptible. The aeroplane is 10 ft. off the ground.

From long experience the drill has been brought to a fine art and is very simple and foolproof. With the motor idling, the pilot and passenger climb into their respective cockpits and strap themselves in. At the same time a rating standing on the top mainplane guides the crane hook into a ring on the centre of gravity in the wing centre-section. The crane handles the aeroplane as carefully as a baby-the movements are smooth and almost imperceptible. The aeroplane is 10 ft. off the ground.

Meanwhile, the ground crew help the crane driver by pulling the aeroplane with wing guide ropes until it is exactly over the catapult cradle. Then, literally, an inch at a time, it is lowered on to it's pick-up points and locked in position. By this time the control officer (usually the instructor) places himself on the pilot's starboard side, where he is easily visible, slightly ahead of the aeroplane, and lifts a small red flag. This is a signal for the pilot to run up the motor to full power, test the ignition and satisfy himself the motor is "clear." It has been idling for some minutes. This completed, the pilot throttles back and signals below O.K. with his thumb. The Control Officer then makes sure the catapult is facing into wind, and the sky and circuit clear of other aircraft. After signalling away the cradle chocks he raises a small blue flag, waving it in a circular motion above his head, which is the sign for the ratings to load the catapult with a cordite charge sufficient for the weight of the aeroplane (in the case of a normal Stringbag about 8 1b.) The air crew and ground crew know that so long as the blue flag is being waved aloft the catapult is "safe."

The pilot, when he sees the blue flag, should make sure the passenger is all set and then open the throttle slowly to maximum and pull the Overide lever to "take-off," making sure the trim is slightly nose forward and airlerons locked. When he has reached full throttle he must check the boost, then place the stick about an inch or two back from the central position and hold it rigid by digging his right elbow into the groin. His back should be comfortably supported and head against the head-rest. When ready, he should lift his left hand to the Control Officer (always watching the flag waving out of the corner of his eye). After giving the O.K. he should return his left hand, not to the throttle, but on the quadrant, so as to prevent the jerk pulling the throttle closed. When the Control Officer sees the pilot's final signal he should pause for a couple of seconds, listening carefully for any irregularity in the firing of the motor and then bring the flag down sharply. The charge, will then be fired and, in a second, the aeroplane will reach some 60 knots. Under reasonable conditions the pilot will find that a Swordfish climbs right away from the start; sometimes there is a slight sink, but, in some 30 launches, there was never enough to make the wheels touch the grass. Once clear and at a reasonable height the pilot should unlock the ailerons, adjust the trim to correct climb and continue the circuit normally.

That is the entire drill, which is easy to explain, but there were many little sidelights. The astonishing nonchalance of the instructor who, we gathered, had done a phenomenal number of launches without incident, was a slight consolation.

Like aerobatics and beam approach I class catapulting as among the "tricks of aviation," which somehow I have been slow to learn. I cannot say whether my apprehensive feelings before being launched were shared by others. I am inclined to think that (as they were all eager youths who seemed to look upon the experience in much the same way as one looks at the ghost train at a circus) it was all pretty small fry.

Another thing that struck me was how utterly human the Swordfish looked. It was ticking over very smokily, very slowly (the airscrew blades easily visible), and when it was hoisted off the ground it looked like a child being made a fuss of. The slow tick-over reminded me of the camel at the Zoo bending at the knees to let you climb on its back for a ride.

Safe as Houses

I was told the Swordfish's record of reliability even surpassed that of the C.P.O. instructor and had done over 1,000 launches. It was an ordinary Swordfish, except that the rear seat was built up into a similar cockpit to the pilot's and behind the second pilot was a huge head fairing. There was full dual control, but only a few instruments in the rear seat.


(Above) TAKING THE AIR Ground staff and two Fleet Air Arm pupils of a Catapult School watch a Fairey Swordfish, which has just been released..

What impressed me more than anything was the quiet efficiency of the ground crew - every one, from the lowest stooge to the Lieut. R.N.V.R. working the crane, seemed to know his job backwards, which imparted a lot of confidence, and even stimulation.

To describe the actual sensation of the jerk is not easy. It is generally considered to be rather worse from the back seat than the front; I don't know why; perhaps there is some medical reason. The sensation might be like one of those very tight turns in a fairly fast aeroplane, when every muscle in the body is straining merely to sit straight. The jerk makes the body want to collapse and cave in, and the stomach muscles seem to take the biggest strain, which, of course, gets worse the longer it is exerted. Each time, just as you feel the acceleration is too much for you and you cannot stand it any longer, you find the machine is free and it's all over and the machine is 100 yds away from the catapult.

Catapulting affects people differently-many are clearly quite unaffected by it, and others, possibly more nervous, are certainly keyed up to a high pitch, particularly if there is some last-minute delay. Undoubtedly the body gets used to it, and the first launch is usually the worst, which might explain why the jerk is felt more in the back seat, because the first launch is always from the back. It might be, on the other hand, because the pilot has more to distract him from the sensation.

Like everything else in flying, whether you are spinning a D.H. Tiger Moth under the hood, doing a belly landing, or just cruising straight and level over long distances, the best results are always obtained by keeping the body as relaxed as possible. While being catapulted the muscles must be braced, but there is no need to tense up unnecessarily, particularly before the launch while waiting. Sometimes people are full of vague fears, that their goggles will fly off, or that they will fail to see the blue flag come down, but nothing of that kind ever happens and everything seems to go quite smoothly. If there is an easterly wind the catapult cannot be aimed into wind, because a hangar or obstruction is in the way, but slight cross-wind launches (as mine were) are just as easy.

Pilots who have flown "Hurri-cats" say the sensation is much the same as in a Stringbag, and so, to a lesser degree, is the effect of the accelerator. Incidentally, the first accelerated take-off was carried out by Lieut.-Cdr. Atkinson and Lieut. Thompson in a Hart from the Courageous, and the undercarriage struck an obstruction on one side. That side was torn off and the whole undercarriage, two wheels, the axle and a free Oleo assembly were dangling down like a string of onions. The pilot did a crash landing on the deck with great success.