Hod Carrier

You may be interested to know that "The Badger", as the loco is affectionately known, still exists. I drove past it just today at Crewe. Your model is a very good likeness and immediately recognisable. Just one small observation, if I may. The pantograph is facing the wrong way and needs flipping around so that the elbow points towards the centre of the loco.

I'd just like to add my own thanks and appreciation for your time, effort and devotion. I wish you every success with whatever direction you take next.

I always think that if you're building a model of something real it would be good to include at least some of the more obvious markings and other decorations. How far down this particular "rabbit hole" you want to fall is entirely up to you, but I do think that a loco should have it's number and the railway's identifying crest/logo. Printing onto bricks is the Rolls Royce solution for getting logos, numbers and other decoration onto parts, but it is permanent and a bit pricey. May I recommend a couple of alternatives...? An option that I've made use of is printing my own graphics at home and then applying them to the finished model. Design and scale them on your computer and then print them onto self-adhesive inkjet vinyl (available in A4 sheets of white or transparent from retailers such as this one). Just a couple of tips with this technique. Leave the sheets for a few minutes after printing to dry before handling and then seal the print with some spray-on craft sealer before cutting and sticking. As well as the sealer you should also get a selection of Sharpies in different colours, as the white edge of the stickers will still be visible and may need to be coloured-in before applying them to the model. If you want to try to match your stickers to the colour of LEGO bricks, Rebrickable has this useful guide giving you the RGB code for each colour, although bear in mind that there can be quite a bit of colour variation between individual parts of the same colour and that your printer may not necessarily replicate the desired colour perfectly. The other option is to use waterslide transfers. Most LEGO train models are tolerably close to UK 7mm scale/O-gauge (a scale of 1:43.5) and you can buy sheets of crests, numbers, markings and lining that you can apply directly to your model. For British models, like your Ivatt 2MT, a retailer like Fox Transfers should be able to provide all your needs. Hope this helps.

I've done something along similar lines, although not exactly the same thing. Being primarily a builder of trains, I started off using luminous parts to replicate interior and exterior lighting, which has worked out quite well. With the basics covered, I moved on to using them to try and provide realistic lighting for enclosed spaces, much as as you might do for modulars and other similar builds. In my case, I applied the technique to underground and subway stations. One small innovation was to combine luminous parts with custom graphics to provide stencils to replicate illuminated signs. The closest that I have come to using luminous parts out-of-shot to provide a sort of lighting rig was when I fell down a bit of a 2001: A Space Odyssey rabbit-hole and created some artwork pastiches. Replicating some of the lighting effects from the original film poster (the lighting of the space station and the reflections on the helmet visor) required luminous parts in various configurations. As well as the original film poster pastiche, I recreated a couple of artworks released to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the release of the film that required the use of luminous parts. These included an alternative poster featuring the famous corridor scene in which the lighting is provided by luminous parts in-shot, and my version of the Dave O'Flanaghan Monolith scene on the lunar surface. One thing that I have struggled with is just how shiny the surface of regular parts are when rendered, forcing me to make heavy use of the rubber colours palette to create matt surfaces that wouldn't simply reflect everything like a mirror. Part of this might have been due to how close the parts were to the light source (e.g. in the London Underground scene) and also because I was trying to light a scene rather than a single MOC. Whatever the case, it looks as though you've not been hindered by any such problems enabling you to get some great results using this technique. Your renders certainly look a lot richer as a consequence of the interplay of light and shade that you've been able to achieve compared to the slightly less interesting results the standard lighting creates. I will certainly be looking into this a bit more as a result of your ideas. Thanks so much for sharing.

I investigated this issue a few years ago and there is quite a long thread detailing the process. I don't necessarily recommend you read the whole thing (unless it particularly interests you), but you can read my summary here.

Thanks folks. I'm not sure how buildable this design would be, as it uses a whole hill of SNOT (and I really doubt it would be strong enough to support a pot plant). I've spent a lot of time looking at it and fiddling with it and I'm still unsure about it. I had an idea about powering it, but that also is still just an unproven idea. I don't release instructions or files but am happy to share techniques. The track has sleepers/ties and ballasting using conventional methods with an added 3rd and 4th rail using clip tiles and flex tube.

Interesting. Not sure how many people are sticking to the part limit, but might be worth a tickle.

BBCode has been disabled, but you can still embed Flickr content by following the instructions in this post. Click Nice "Chopper", by the way. Good to see some triple grey.

Oops!! My bad. I have flagged the post and asked if it can be moved. In my defence, the descriptor for this board on the forum index does still mention "military" and probably was what stopped me scrolling any further down to find a better home for this thread. Thanks, Dave. Wikipedia are pretty good at listing surviving aircraft, so they may have a better list than me. The only two I am aware of are a complete Mk.X at the RAF Museum in Hendon (free entry) and an Australian Beau that has been under restoration to flying condition for more years than I can recall at the Imperial War Museum in Duxford (admission charges apply).

I’ve been a big fan of the Bristol Beaufighter since boyhood and have made several attempts down the years to build one in LEGO. The big Bristol fighter was a compromised design from the beginning and for a long time lived in the shadow of the faster de Havilland Mosquito, but it still managed to carve out its own niche as a potent strike fighter, which endears it to me enormously. In my opinion, the Beaufighter is one of the great unsung heroes of WW2. It was not a fast or pretty aircraft, and most of its exploits were carried out away from the public’s gaze, either in the night skies over Britain, far out over the sea in the North Atlantic or over the dense jungles of the Far East. However, its ruggedness and its ability to land a mighty punch made it an indispensable weapon. Its design may have been compromised from the beginning, but it more than made up for its shortcomings with its abilities. Annoyingly, the Beaufighter is a difficult shape full of LEGO-unfriendly curves and every design I came up with looked wrong or out of proportion, in particular around the nose. In the end I decided to shrink the design down to approximately Microfig scale which seems to have worked relatively well, although I have had to use one or two illegal techniques. It requires a couple of tabs of double-sided tape and some modified parts, in particular around the landing gear and the obvious 2x6 wedge tile on the rear fuselage sides to allow for stickers which would be difficult to apply to a 2x6 wedge plate. So here is my design for the Bristol Beaufighter. I have done some test builds to prove that it is buildable but I am presenting it here as a digital design. I have gone a bit mad and varied the design to depict not only the first prototype but also all five major production marks, although colour availability would mean that only four of these models are actually possible to build. The origins of the Beaufighter go back to the Munich Crisis of 1938 which highlighted the RAF’s need for a heavy long-range fighter. Development of the Westland Whirlwind was delayed, and so Bristol submitted a proposal for a twin-engined cannon fighter based on the Beaufort torpedo bomber that would use some of the same assemblies to speed the production of the type. The result was the Bristol Type 156 “Beaufort Fighter”, a name that was shortened to Beaufighter. The unarmed, unpainted first prototype flew in July 1939 and achieved 335mph, although this came down to 309mph with the second prototype which had operational equipment fitted. Changes were made to help improve aerodynamic efficiency, but concerns remained about performance due to the engines used. The intention had been to use Bristol Hercules VI 14-cylinder radial engines rated at around 1,500hp, but these were still being developed and priority for them was given to the Short Stirling heavy bomber. The model design depicts the first prototype, R2052, in its original configuration with the oil coolers under the engine nacelles (later moved to the wing leading edge) and short landing gear doors that did not fully enclose the main wheels when retracted. The Beaufighter Mk.I went into production using a less powerful version of the Hercules engine than originally intended, but it still packed a mighty punch. Armed with four 20mm cannon in the fuselage and six 0.303in machine guns in the wings, the Beaufighter had the heaviest fixed armament of any aircraft of the time. It was originally intended to be used by RAF Fighter Command as a day fighter, but it’s large size and low speed made it less than ideal in the role. Combined with airborne interception (AI) Mk.III radar the Beaufighter was an ideal night fighter, having the speed to intercept enemy aircraft and the weight of armament to deal a lethal blow. Night fighter squadrons who had been saddled with less effective aircraft, such as the Bristol Blenheim, and were frustrated at being on the sidelines of the Battle of Britain eagerly took to the Beaufighter. Very soon, a number of night fighter pilots had become aces flying the type, including John “Cats Eyes” Cunningham, and night fighter squadrons were soon accounting for more enemy raiders destroyed than ground defences. In addition to its success as a night fighter, the Beaufighter (or “Beau” as it became known to its crews) continued to operate by day against air and ground targets, particularly in the Mediterranean and North Africa where it was used to provide air support to ground troops. Beaufighters were also supplied to RAF Coastal Command for use as long-range strike fighters. Mk.I aircraft were initially built to a common standard and then adapted, but the differing requirements of the two commands meant that they eventually had to be built separately. Coastal Command’s Mk.1C differed from Fighter Command’s Mk.1F by trading the wing-mounted machine guns for additional fuel capacity for increased range, different radio and radio-navigation equipment and no radar. These aircraft performed a variety of operations including long-range fighter patrols as well as strikes against enemy shipping and ground targets. Patrols over the Bay of Biscay and success in destroying long-range bombers operating against allied shipping, such as the Focke-Wulf FW 200 Condor, effectively removed the aerial threat from the Battle of the Atlantic. A single Coastal Command Beaufighter Mk.IC, flown by Flt Lt Ken Gatward and his observer/navigator Sgt George Fern, took part in a daring one aircraft daylight raid on Paris. Codenamed Operation Squabble, Gatward and Fern flew at extremely low level to cross occupied France unopposed. They overflew the Arc de Triomphe and dropped a French Tricolour, continued at rooftop height along the Champs Elysee to strafe the Kreigsmarine headquarters on the Place de la Concorde and drop another Tricolour before escaping again. It was later described as “perhaps the most impudent raid of the war”. Although the Mk.I wore a multitude of different colours, including day fighter and desert camouflage, I have modelled a Mk.IF night fighter in matt black camouflage. I have attempted to include the AI Mk.III radar antennae on the nose and wings of the aircraft. Following the slightly disappointing performance of the Mk.I, the quest to unlock the potential of the Beaufighter continued. The original specification stated that the aircraft should be capable of using either the air-cooled Bristol Hercules radial engine or the liquid-cooled Rolls Royce Griffon vee engine interchangeably. Although a Griffon-engined prototype was flown, this engine, like the Hercules VI, was prioritised for another aircraft and so was unavailable for the Beaufighter. A potential solution came in the form of the Rolls Royce Merlin XX which was being offered in a self-contained “power plant” installation that would be seen again later in the war on the Avro Lancaster. The result was the Beaufighter Mk.IIF. The Beaufighter Mk.IIF was used primarily by Fighter Command as a night fighter. A small number were also delivered to the Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm for use in a variety of secondary roles such as operational training and convoy escort. Although the change in engine did give the Mk.IIF slightly better performance at high altitude compared to the Hercules-powered Mk.I, the Merlins were still insufficiently powerful to improve the overall performance. As well as a lack of power, something about the installation and characteristics of the Merlin XXs on the Mk.IIF exacerbated a problem inherent in the Beaufighter design. Right from the start it was observed that the Beaufighter had a directional instability at low airspeeds. The Mk.IIF in particular could swing violently to port (left) during take-off runs, potentially causing the aircraft to ground loop. This made the Mk.IIF unpopular with crews. Wing Commander Pearson, commanding 600 Squadron, who were one of the first to receive the type, observed that it was “an unnatural and dangerous aeroplane … No matter how the aircraft is trimmed, it will not fly straight and level hands off”, concluding that “the Beaufighter is a great aeroplane; the Merlin a great engine. Together they are a great disaster”. Various solutions were tried, including a taller tail fin and a dorsal fillet, but the designers settled on enlarged tailplanes set at 12 degrees of dihedral for all marks, but only the last Mk.IIFs built received this design of tailplane. Of around 450 Mk.IIFs built, around one third would be lost in accidents, and by mid-1942 the Mk.IIF was withdrawn from frontline service and relegated to secondary duties. My model of the Mk.IIF is in night fighter matt black, which is the role that the majority of these aircraft undertook. The big difference is in the shape of the engine nacelles. A change by RAF Bomber Command in aircraft procurement meant that the Short Stirling was no longer in demand and the Hercules VI engine could now be made available. At last, the Beaufighter would receive the power that it was always intended to have. The Beaufighter Mk.VI was, like the Mk.I, built to two different specifications as the Mk.VIF for Fighter Command and Mk.VIC for Coastal Command. As before, Fighter Command would initially use the Mk.VIF as a night fighter, although they would eventually transition to the de Havilland Mosquito for home defence. However, it would continue in the role in other theatres of operation, including with the USAAF in the Mediterranean and Italy. Once again, it would be Coastal Command who would put the Mk.VIC to best use. The additional power meant that the aircraft could now lift external weapons including bombs, rockets and even air-dropped torpedoes. Squadrons would be formed into Wings operating out of strategically located airfields so that they could operate in large formations of rocket or torpedo armed aircraft to harass enemy shipping from the Bay of Biscay to the Norwegian Fjords. I have adapted the design to show a Coastal Command Mk.VIC in the short-lived white and grey scheme with rocket rails under each wing. The tailplanes have the now standard 12 degrees of dihedral. Eventually, with Fighter Command’s interest in the Beaufighter waning, Bristol would offer Coastal Command a bespoke low-altitude strike fighter specifically suited for low-level attacks on shipping and land targets, the TF Mk.X. With the Hercules engines now producing 1,750hp each at 500 feet, the TF Mk.X was equipped with ASV radar to search for shipping and could carry an air-dropped torpedo. The “Torbeau”, as it became known, also provided rear defence in the shape of a Vickers K gun at the observer’s position. Initial versions looked similar to the preceding Mk.VI, but the TF Mk.X was later equipped with updated ASV radar in a thimble radome and the dorsal fillet first trialled on the Mk.IIF to aid directional stability. Alongside the TF Mk.X, Coastal Command received the Mk.XIC, which was identical to the TF Mk.X but was armed with rockets instead of a torpedo, which became known as “Rockbeaus”. These would be the definitive versions of the Beaufighter. This model shows the final iteration of the TF Mk.X with thimble radome, dorsal fillet and Vickers K gun for the observer. Air-dropped torpedoes had a plywood aerodynamic tail to ensure that they entered the water in the correct attitude. This would break off when they hit the surface of the water. The abilities of the Beaufighter as a strike fighter meant that, as well as serving in the war against Germany and Italy, it also served in the Far East and Pacific against the Japanese. The RAF were using the type over the jungles of Burma and South-East Asia while the Australian RAAF were operating Beaufighters in defence of New Guinea and other territories adjacent to their northern borders. One of the most notable actions in this theatre of operation was the Battle of the Bismark Sea, in which Australian Beaufighters flew in support of Australian and American bombers and torpedo bombers against a large Japanese troop convoy. The RAAF received British-built Beaufighters of various marks (all of which appear to have been confusingly classified as Mk.IC irrespective of their specification) but soon the type was being built under licence in Australia. This version was classified as Mk.21 and was broadly equivalent to the Mk.VIC, although local operating conditions meant that the precise nature of the equipment and armaments carried could vary. These Australian-built aircraft became known as DAP Beaufighters, after the Department of Aircraft Production in Melbourne that built them. This model of a Mk.21 DAP Beaufighter is in overall dark green as used by the RAAF with SEAC roundels to aid identification of friendly and hostile aircraft.

Thank you, gentlemen. That's most kind.

<-- Supermarine S.6B (Calshot 1931) The most successful designs throughout the history of the Schneider Trophy were of conventional design, and the Macchi designs, penned by Mario Castoldi, exemplified this approach. Given how far aviation technology was being pushed, simplicity in design allied with sound engineering was how races were won. That said, it is likely that no nation involved with the contest innovated more than Italy, especially during the latter half of the 1920s. Piaggio-Pegna P.7 Giovanni Pegna was a designer who was clearly in a hurry for the future to arrive. He seemed to be completely unconstrained by convention and willing to push technology beyond its capabilities at the time, such as his 1917 idea for an aircraft capable of stratospheric flight. The Schneider Trophy exercised a huge degree of fascination for Pegna who penned quite a few designs for racers that never made it off the page. What was clear from all of them was that he had a good understanding of the principles of streamlining and its importance for high-speed flight, but what made them so challenging was the degree of impracticality they exhibited. The only one of his Schneider Trophy designs to be constructed was the Piaggio-Pegna P.7. In essence, the Piaggio-Pegna P.7 was a new take on the flying boat. The aircraft had a fully watertight hull and would sit up to its wings on the water. Where it differed from other seaplanes is that it was much more streamlined than either a conventional flying boat, with its separate hull and engine nacelle, or a floatplane. Instead, the P.7 made use of hydrofoils. Looking more like something from last week rather than the 1920’s, the P.7 had a slender fuselage and comparatively small elliptical wings. Three hydrofoils were provided, one under the tail ahead of a boat rudder, and two on outriggers. Power for the P.7 was provided by an Isotta-Fraschini 12-cylinder vee engine producing 970hp mounted amidships. This engine drove both the conventional aircraft propellor at the front of the aircraft and a high-speed boat propellor under the tail through a series of clutches that would be engaged and disengaged by the pilot. As there would not be enough clearance for the aircraft propellor when the P.7 was at rest on the water, this would be held horizontally by a shaft brake while disengaged from the engine. The idea was that the P.7 would start and be accelerated through the water using the boat propellor until it had reached the speed where it had been lifted clear of the water on its hydrofoils. Once there was enough clearance to divert drive, the pilot would operate a series of levers in the cockpit to engage the propellor, allowing the aircraft to continue to accelerate to take-off speed. Only a single P.7 was completed and was delivered to Desenzano on Lake Garda for evaluation, where the only pilot willing to try it was W.O. Tommaso Dal Molin. One disadvantage of the design immediately became clear, as the aircraft sat very low in the water. This may have been fine on a fairly smooth lake but it may have been more of a problem on the open sea where the Schneider Trophy trials usually took place. Waterproofing the P.7 would have been crucial to prevent it being swamped in a swell. A somewhat larger issue is that the P.7 never achieved flight. Part of the reason is that the mechanism for diverting the drive was too complicated. Operating the clutches correctly in a coordinated manner to manage the engine revolutions while controlling the aircraft would have required the pilot to have had three hands. This was probably for the best, as alighting the P.7 is likely to have been hazardous in the extreme as it probably could only have been achieved with the engine stopped to prevent the propellor striking the water. Image from Piaggio P.7 / Piaggio-Pegna Pc 7 Schneider Racer | Old Machine Press Savoia S.65 Designed by Alessandro Marchetti, the Savoia S.65 was a somewhat unconventional twin-engine aircraft. Like the Piaggio-Pegna P.7, it was intended that the S.65 would compete for the Schneider Trophy in 1929, but technical problems prevented it from coming to the start line. However, the Italian team still brought the S.65 with them to Calshot where it was displayed to give the British something to think about. The Savoia S.65 was distinctive in that both engines were contained in a central nacelle in a “push-pull” configuration, with the pilot sandwiched between them. The tailplane and rudder were supported on booms and strut-braced to the very long slender floats. The engines were a pair of Isotta-Fraschini Asso 12-cylinder vee engines rated at 1,050hp each. Confidence in the design was high and it was believed that it would be faster than the Supermarine S.6. The location of the cockpit of the S.65 and its position between the two engines meant that it was incredibly cramped and not suitable for every pilot. Indeed, the only pilot on the Italian team small enough to fit was W.O. Tommaso Dal Molin. Some accounts record that he had to dispense with a parachute to make sure that he would fit, although attempting to bail out of the S.65 would have been highly risky given the hazard posed by the rear propellor. The S.65 was dogged by problems with fuel starvation and overheating, especially for the rear engine. It was also found that the cockpit would fill with exhaust fumes, but this was cured by moving the exhaust ports from the top of the engine to the sides. However, by the time these issues had been rectified the window had closed on its participation. The S.65 was also fitted with an enlarged tail fin and rudder to try and remedy longitudinal control issues. Development work continued until early 1930 when the S.65 crashed on a test flight. The aircraft pitched up steeply after take-off, stalled and crashed into the lake, killing Dal Molin. The aircraft sank immediately and it was more than a week before it, and the body of Dal Molin, could be recovered. Image from Savoia-Marchetti S.65 Schneider Racer | Old Machine Press Macchi-Castoldi MC.72 At the conclusion of the of the 1929 Schneider Trophy race at Calshot, Italian Air Minister, Gen. Italo Balbo, declared “We have obtained the results we expected, but we have now finished playing our part as sportsmen. Tomorrow our work as competitors will begin.” Italy had suffered two defeats but clearly considered themselves capable of beating Britain and were determined to get back to winning ways. Rather than trying to develop multiple types as before, all energy would be focused on one all-conquering design. This design would be the Macchi-Castoldi MC.72, the ultimate expression of Mario Castoldi’s seaplane racer design. The heart of the MC.72 was the monstrous FIAT AS.6 engine, a huge 24-cylinder vee engine producing 2,500hp which measured 11 feet in length. It was essentially a pair of AS.5 12-cylinder engines mounted back-to-back on a shared crankcase, each driving one half of a counter-rotating propellor through co-axial driveshafts. The use of a counter-rotating propellor was primarily to aid take-off by cancelling out the problem of torque reaction, something that had plagued the high-powered seaplanes entered into the Schneider Trophy for years. The inertia of the engine and propellor as it was spun in one direction would result in the rest of the aircraft attempting to spin in the opposite direction, in accordance with Newton’s Third Law of Motion. This afflicted floatplanes in particular, because this interaction of forces could result in one float being driven under the water during take-off, causing a huge amount of hydrodynamic drag. It was not uncommon for Schneider Trophy racers to make uncontrollable arcs on the water and fail to “unstick”. The most common solutions were to address the buoyancy of the aircraft by making one float slightly larger than the other or by rebalancing the fuel load to lighten whichever float was prone to submersion. Other techniques included taking-off at an angle to the wind until enough speed had been gained to start hydroplaning, by which time the aircraft would have turned itself into the wind. However, the configuration of the FIAT AS.6 cancelled out torque reaction at source making take-offs much safer. The prodigious power and clever configuration of the FIAT AS.6 would be the MC.72’s greatest strengths, but it would also be its Achilles Heel. One of the disadvantages of such a massive engine was how to dissipate the huge amount of heat it generated. As well as the usual wing surface radiators, the requirements for engine cooling meant that the MC.72 was also provided with radiators on the fuselage flanks, the floats and the float struts. It was also a difficult engine to set-up and was a constant source of trouble to the Italian team. The first of a total of five aircraft was built and delivered to the Italian team at Desenzano for testing, but problems with the engine immediately became evident. The two halves of the AS.6 engine were not linked and, with the rear 12-cylinders also driving the supercharger for the whole engine, the two propellors did not always rotate at the same speed. In addition to this, the engine suffered with carburettor issues and would backfire violently in flight, which cut short the first flight of the MC.72 in the hands of Lt. Giovanni Monti. This would be an enduring problem with the FIAT AS.6 engine. On a later test flight, Monti overflew the engineers on the ground so that they could hear its irregular firing. As they listened and watched, the aircraft suddenly pitched upwards before diving into the lake, causing Monti’s death. An investigation concluded that a bearing had failed in the co-axial driveshafts causing the two propellors to touch. Similar engine-related problems were encountered with the second MC.72, raising doubts as to whether it would be ready to compete for the 1931 Schneider Trophy. In the end the decision to withdraw from the contest had to be taken but, despite this, Italy was not going to give up and allow the British to have everything their own way. The potential of the MC.72 was already evident and so, two days before Britain would win the Schneider Trophy, an attempt would be made on the world air speed record. Sadly, the attempt ended in tragedy. While making a high-speed run, the aircraft flew into rising ground without any attempt to deviate and was destroyed. The official investigation found that the engine had back-fired violently into the carburettor air intake setting fire to the gravity fuel tank just behind it and incapacitating its pilot, Lt. Stanislao Bellini. With the conclusion of the Schneider Trophy series, Italy invited British petrochemical engineer Rod Banks to help solve the problems afflicting the FIAT AS.6. Banks had been involved with the development of the Rolls-Royce R engine that had powered the Supermarine S.6 series and had been responsible for formulating the special fuels that they ran on. He was surprised to find that ground testing of the engine had not been done in a way that replicated flight conditions, as Rolls-Royce had. He persuaded FIAT to install a wind tunnel and then formulated a special fuel for the engine and set about dealing with the big engine’s carburetion problems. With the fuelling problems fixed and the engine now producing 3,000hp, the MC.72 could finally show its full potential. In April 1933, with W.O. Francesco Agello at the controls, the MC.72 set a world air speed record of 423.82mph. This was raised to 440.68mph by Agello in the MC.72 in October of the following year, a record that still stands today for the fastest piston-engine seaplane. Image from Wikimedia

<-- Supermarine S.6 (Calshot 1929) Britain was now in a position to take permanent ownership of the Schneider Trophy, but it’s defence of the title nearly didn’t happen. Official reluctance from the RAF to further involvement in the contest, as well as the cost of staging the event in the economic aftermath of the Wall Street Crash, meant that the British Government decided it would not meet the costs of fielding a team, preferring to leave any entry to private enterprise. Even when three entries each were received from France and Italy, all of which were backed by their Governments, the British Government would not change its position, making clear that it would not release the specially trained RAF pilots from the recently disbanded High Speed Flight nor take steps to police the Solent over which the contest would take place. Matters were finally brought to a conclusion by Lady Lucy Houston, reputedly the wealthiest woman in Britain. She offered to sponsor the event up to £100,000 provided that the RAF pilots needed could be released. The Government assented to this, and the contest was saved. All of this delay meant that Britain’s aircraft manufacturers only had nine months to build and prepare an entry for the next meeting at Calshot in 1931. Supermarine and Rolls-Royce had already been in discussion but, without funding, no substantive work had taken place. In the end, their efforts would be limited to improving their existing designs, as there was not enough time to develop an entirely new aircraft. What came out of this process was the Supermarine S.6B, a refinement of the previous S.6. Rolls-Royce had tuned the R engine to produce 2,300hp while Supermarine had updated and refined the airframe to improve aerodynamic efficiency and heat dissipation from the engine. Two new aircraft were built and the S.6s from 1929 were modified and brought up to the same standard and classified S.6A. These considerations had not affected the French or Italians, who had been busy getting on with developing their designs in time for the contest. France continued to develop the designs that they had intended to enter for the 1929 event, but a series of accidents and technical setbacks meant that, once again, none of their entries were ready for the contest and they were forced to withdraw. Meanwhile, in Italy, work had continued with some of the experimental types that had debuted at the previous Schneider Trophy meeting, but none of these were going to be entered for 1931. Instead, all hope had been pinned on a new design from Mario Castoldi’s Macchi concern. This was an ambitious design but one that would also not be ready in time due to difficulties with the engine, and so Italy also withdrew. A request for a postponement was received but, due to the nature of the private sponsorship, it was not possible to grant one. Therefore, in order to claim the Schneider Trophy in perpetuity, all the British team needed to do was to fly the course. There had been no intention for the British team to race each other over the course, but rather to run one aircraft at a time and hold the others in reserve in case of failure. Should the last reserve aircraft not be needed it would be used to make an attempt on the world air speed record. As it turned out, the reserves were not required. Without any competition, Flt Lt. John Boothman could make a careful and measured attempt in the first Supermarine S.6B, ensuring that the engine was not over-stressed, and completed the course to win the Schneider Trophy for Britain for the final time. Later that afternoon, Flt Lt. G. H. Stainforth used the second of the S.6Bs to set a world air speed record of 379.05mph. Image from Wikimedia. Postscript: The Italian Triplets -->

<-- Supermarine S.5 (Venice 1927) The amount of time needed for research and development required to design a high-speed racing aircraft and their engines was now so great that staging the Schneider Trophy annually was no longer realistic. Therefore, it was agreed unanimously that the competition would run every two years, with the winner being the nation that won three out of five successive events. This meant that it was 1929 before Britain could mount its defence of the title. Once again, the contest would be held over the waters of the Solent, but this time the event would be based at Calshot using the facilities of the RAF’s seaplane base. After an absence of several years, France decided it was time to stage a return. Sadly, none of its contenders were ready in time, mostly due to engine development difficulties, and so they withdrew. The USA once again was relying on private enterprise and the wit of Lt. Alford J. Williams, but his Williams Mercury monoplane proved reluctant to take to the air and, when it did, the engine overheated almost immediately forcing it back down again. They also were compelled to withdraw. In Italy, Mario Castoldi had been busy further refining his racing monoplane design. The biggest change was a switch from FIAT power to the Isotta-Fraschini Asso 18-cylinder “broad arrow” engine producing 1,800hp. The Italian team struggled to make these engines run smoothly at full throttle in flight and eventually opted simply to reduce the maximum revolutions, even though this would also reduce performance. Three Asso powered Macchi M.67s were built for the contest and delivered to the new Italian high-speed centre at Desenzano on Lake Garda, but one was lost, along with its pilot, Capt. Guiseppe Motta, in a practice flight. The cause of the crash was attributed to exhaust fumes entering the cockpit. Its place in the team would be taken by a Macchi M.52R, an improved version of the aircraft previously entered at Venice two years before. The Italians had not been idle, as it was not just Macchi who had been building racing seaplanes. A number of different designs were brought to Calshot, including the tiny FIAT C.29. This diminutive racer was powered by a 1,000hp FIAT AS.5 engine and should have been fast, but a series of testing mishaps meant that it was not ready. Also at Calshot was the Savoia S.65, an unconventional twin-engine design that was also not quite ready for competition. The British had also been busy working on different designs. The Gloster VI was a very streamlined monoplane powered by the venerable Napier Lion, now producing 1,320hp, but the Glosters were withdrawn as the engine could not be made to run reliably in flight. Supermarine, on the other hand, had decided that the Napier unit was reaching the end of its developmental life and turned instead to Rolls-Royce, who had been working on a 12-cylinder vee racing engine. This engine promised more power and reduced fuel and oil consumption from a lightweight design with a small frontal area and, when it was ready for installation, produced 1,850hp. Testing of the engines had been done in a wind tunnel to replicate the conditions during high-speed flight and included running the engine at full power for an hour to ensure reliability. As the Rolls-Royce R engine was larger than the Napier Lion, the resulting aircraft, the Supermarine S.6, was also larger than the preceding S.5 but shared a lot of the same design features. Two aircraft were built and delivered to the RAF High Speed Flight for testing. The race teams were Lt. Giovanni Monti and Lt. Remo Cadringher in the Macchi M.67s, with W.O. Tommaso Dal Molin in the Macchi M.52R, against Flg Off. H. R. D. Waghorn and Flg Off. R. L. R. Atcherley in the Supermarine S.6s, and Flt Lt. D. D’Arcy Greig in a Supermarine S.5. With the race underway, it became clear that the cockpits of the Macchi M.67s were still filling with exhaust fumes despite the additional ventilation provided following Motta’s fatal crash in testing. Cadringher lasted only two laps before being overcome and could not even overtake Dal Molin in the slower M.52R, so opted to retire. Monti in the second of the M.67s showed better pace and was challenging the Supermarine S.6s, but he was also suffering the effects of exhaust fumes and only lasted two laps before the cooling system failed, badly scalding him with steam and boiling water and forcing him out of the race. Misfortune of a slightly less dramatic nature struck the British team, as Atcherley, in an attempt to clear his goggles, lost them in the slipstream and was unable to put on his spare set. Unsighted, he turned inside a marker and was disqualified. This left the battle between the two old warhorses, Dal Molin in the Macchi M.52R and D’Arcy Greig in the Supermarine S.5. Although both aircraft were slower than the others it became imperative to stay ahead in case the other S.6 of Waghorn failed to finish. It looked as though this might be possible, as Waghorn’s S.6 started to lose power and misfire. He climbed in the hope of being able to glide to the finish line, but the engine finally cut out as he rounded the final turn and he was forced to alight. He was initially distraught, but a motor launch came alongside to give him the news that he had won. Like Webster in 1927, he had miscounted his laps and flown an additional lap, running out of fuel as he did. Waghorn’s victory very nearly did not happen, and it was only thanks to an attentive Rolls-Royce engineer that it did. During routine maintenance of the engine on the night before the race, a fleck of metal was found on a spark plug as it was removed, which warned the engineer of an impending problem. As changing the whole engine was not permitted in the rules, the only solution was to change the cylinder block. This was not a simple job, but luckily there were several hundred Rolls-Royce engineers who had come down to watch the race, billeted in hotels and boarding-houses across Southampton. A team was quickly assembled and the cylinder block was changed and the engine test run by 8am on the morning of the contest. (A piece of trivia that I particularly like also relates to Rolls-Royce. Because the run-time between overhauls for the R engine was only 5 hours, it was necessary to shuttle the engines between Calshot on the south coast and the Rolls-Royce factory in Derby in the industrial Midlands. To do this, Rolls-Royce converted a Phantom I motorcar into a lorry, and the engines would be ferried overnight. Clearly the competitive spirit of the Schneider Trophy had rubbed off on the transport crews, as each vied to complete the journey in the fastest time. On one night, the Police caught the Phantom as it sped through a sleepy Hampshire village at around 80mph.) Image from Wikimedia. Supermarine S.6B (Calshot 1931) -->

<-- Macchi M.39 (Hampton Roads 1926) After coming so close to winning the Schneider Trophy outright, interest in the contest in the United States had begun to wane. The US Navy had already stated that it no longer wished to participate and the Army had yet to declare its intentions. It appeared that there would be no official entry sent to Venice to defend the Trophy. American interest came only in the form of a private entry from Navy Lt. Alford J. Williams with an aircraft designed by Charles Kirkham. Looking like an enlarged Curtiss R3C, the Kirkham-Williams was to be powered by the 1,250hp Packard X-2775 engine, a 24-cylinder X configuration engine basically comprising the cylinder banks from two Packard V-1500 12-cylinder vee engines stacked one on top of the other on a shared crankcase. Problems with the engine and doubts over its performance relative to the competition meant that the aircraft was withdrawn. In the meantime, Britain was starting to take the contest much more seriously and had understood that specially trained pilots would be required to get the best out of high-speed aircraft such as those required to win the Schneider Trophy. In the period following the 1925 contest, the Air Ministry had contracted Gloster, Short and Supermarine to produce racing seaplanes and, in 1926, the RAF High Speed Flight was established to provide the pilots who would fly these designs. The result of these efforts was ten new racing aircraft to three different designs, the most that Britain had ever assembled to contest the Schneider Trophy. Gloster had built three Gloster IV biplanes to individual and slightly different specifications, all using versions of the Napier Lion VII engine. Supermarine had built a similar number of S.5 monoplanes using the same powerplants, while the Short-Bristow Crusader (nicknamed “Curious Ada” by the pilots of the High Speed Flight) ploughed a slightly different furrow in that it used an 860hp Bristol Mercury 9-cylinder radial engine. With the Kirkham-Williams racer already out of the contest and the Italian team set, the British took as many as six of their potential entries to Venice for final evaluation; two Gloster IVs (IVA and IVB), the Crusader and two or possibly three of the Supermarine S.5s. The Crusader had been troublesome from the start and the selection of a radial engine had resulted in an aircraft with a huge frontal area which made streamlining difficult. In the end, it was withdrawn following a crash on a test flight caused by the aileron control wires having been reversed. In the end, the decision was made to enter two of the S.5s and the Gloster IVB, which would become the last biplane ever to contest the Schneider Trophy. The design of the Supermarine S.5 incorporated some of the lessons learned the hard way with the S.4. There would be no unbraced cantilever wings and the general layout of the aircraft was changed to improve visibility for the pilot. The Napier Lion VII engine now lived under a very close-fitting cowling to reduce drag and use was made of wing surface radiators for cooling. Engine oil was cooled in corrugations that ran down the fuselage sides. Given the success of the Macchi M.39, Italy decided to take a slightly more conservative, evolutionary approach. The result would be the Macchi M.52, powered by the 1,000hp FIAT AS.3, the most powerful engine used in the contest at the time. Problems during testing meant that some concerns remained about the reliability of the engine so, to act as an insurance policy, one of the Macchi M.52s would fly with the older 800hp AS.2 powerplant. Caution regarding engine reliability was clearly well-placed. Just as he crossed the start line, the AS.3 in Capt. Arturo Ferrarin’s M.52 expired and he was out of the race immediately. Maj. Mario de Bernardi, flying the other AS.3 powered M.52, lasted only until the second lap when a connecting rod failed and punched a hole in the crankcase. The hopes of Italy retaining the Schneider Trophy rested on the shoulders of Capt. Frederico Gauzetti in the third of the Macchis, but the technique favoured by the Italian team for taking the almost 180 degree turns on the course was not as efficient as the British technique and he started to fall behind. In the end, his race was ended prematurely when a fuel line broke and sprayed fuel around and into the cockpit forcing his retirement. Also forced into retiring was Flt Lt. S. Kinkead in the Gloster IVB, which had appeared to lose performance as the race went on. When the aircraft was inspected it was found that the splined propellor shaft had cracked three quarters of the way around its circumference. This just left the two Supermarine S.5s to complete the race, with Flt Lt. S. Webster coming in ahead of Flt Lt. O. Worsley. Webster, who had lost track of how many laps he had flown, flew one additional lap just to make sure of the victory. An unsuccessful world speed record attempt was made using an S.5 flown by Flt Lt. Kinkead. Diving into the run to gain speed, Kinkead failed to level out and flew the S.5 into the sea, causing his death. It is likely that the conditions (flat calm sea and light mist) meant that he failed to see the horizon and that he could not correctly judge his height and the attitude of the aircraft in order to pull up. Image from Wikimedia. Supermarine S.6 (Calshot 1929) -->