by Phil Delnon
Penrose's main job remained the test flying of experimental aircraft, but of course he was also expected to help out with the test-flying of production aircraft before they were sent to RAF squadron service - making himself unpopular when he turned down several Spitfires because of optical faults in the windscreen.
Life was certainly exciting. Penrose had one narrow squeak when his Spitfire started to lose its oil: not only did he have to land quickly before the engine seized up, but the oil was being sprayed all over the cockpit, making the landing somewhat tricky. Sailing his dinghy on a precious holiday he was buzzed by a Messerschmitt - but instead of a hail of bullets and cannon, Penrose received only a wave.
Less risky but more spectacular was a new undercarriage with wheels mounted like castors, able to swivel in any direction. This made it possible to land with the aircraft facing into the wind even if the runway didn't, scooting crablike along the tarmac. It looked hairy, and although Penrose was enthusiastic, nothing came of it.
Meanwhile he was able to cadge flights in new RAF service aircraft such as the ill-fated Manchester and the not terribly successful Stirling. Chuck Yeager's antipathy for civilian test pilots was perhaps shared by RAF types, for they lent him a Stirling with a stiff overload of dummy bombs. It nearly backfired on them, for as Penrose took off the undercarriage refused to rise and so did the plane: they were lumbering along at 100ft with the engines starting to overheat. While the crew pumped the emergency hydraulics, Penrose headed for somewhere safe to ditch the bombs…..
Later he flew the American B25 Mitchell bomber, the prototype Fairey Barracuda torpedo bomber and even a captured Me-109.
Westland's next venture was a spin-off from the Whirlwind: a much larger monoplane with twin Merlin engines and a pressurised cabin, later named the Welkin. At that time the world's largest single-seater, it was intended to reach 45,000 feet but had several problems, not least of which was excess heat in the cockpit: combined with chill Winter winds at Yeovil, it was hardly surprising when Penrose went down with pneumonia - in those days a common enough killer.
New drugs saved his life, and during his convalescence the Welkin was improved, but after a number of additional test flights he had to agree with RAF test pilots and declare the plane a failure.
There was a constant flow of new developments. A new single-seat fighter for the Navy was to have a huge wingspan of 45 feet and a huge engine of 3500hp driving twin, contra-rotating propellers. These were originally to be mounted at the rear -more efficient but more vulnerable- but were later sited more conventionally in the nose.
Meanwhile the jet engine had arrived. Westland drew up plans for a prototype twin-engined bomber - which later became the Canberra, built by English Electric - and Penrose was allowed to fly a Gloster Meteor, which he found delightful until it came to landing, when the indicator lights showed that one wheel was still up. Penrose followed another Meteor in, prepared for a prang. It didn't happen: the wheel was in fact down, and the fault had been in the electrics.
The end of the War was in sight, and Westland was already looking to the future - civilian aviation. A demonstration of Sikorsky helicopters convinced Penrose that this was the way forwards.
Peace arrived, and staff started leaving. Penrose stayed on, his salary raised to £2,000 a year. War production was wound down, and orders for the Welkin had been cancelled.
Westland did not give up on the Welkin without a struggle: with the photo-reconnaissance role firmly won by the superior Mosquito, the next opening was in height: liquid oxygen injection took Penrose above 50,000 feet and up to 400 mph. The hazardous fuel gave him plenty to think about.
Penrose was now 42, had a wife and two children and a not entirely certain future. As a registered naval architect (he neglects to mention just how and when he managed this) he started a small company to build small pleasure-craft.
Westland's immediate future depended upon the new Navy fighter, now named the Wyvern. Penrose went on a deck-landing course using Fairey Fireflies: and found it difficult to abandon his own judgement and follow the instructions of the signaller on deck.
The aircraft had its problems - not the least of which was the loss of its engine when production was halted. A more immediate loss of engine had Penrose making an emergency landing from 16,000 ft when the motor simply cut out. The propellers stopped turning and started acting as a huge brake: Penrose had just one chance of a landing, and managed it at a disused and overgrown grass airstrip. Only when the rescue team arrived and ran their car into a concrete bollard hidden in the long grass did they all realise that the entire airstrip had been planted with the things as an anti-invasion measure during the war. Penrose had gone right through the lot.
A colleague was not so lucky: under very similar conditions he made a crash landing and burnt to death when the 'plane caught fire. It was Westland's first fatality in twenty years.
Engine troubles continued. At the hinge of the Jet Age, development of piston engines was a lower priority. So there is the photograph of Harald Penrose on the wing of the new fighter: about as far as the old technology could go, a ten-ton machine with contra-rotating four-bladed propellers, the pilot in leather flying suit and helmet: yet he has an oxygen mask, and there is the forerunner of an ejector-seat in his fully-enclosed cockpit.
Penrose also has something else: an OBE, awarded in 1946 for his wartime test-flying. Somehow he forgets to mention it.
The Wyvern gave plenty of trouble. Testing it in a spin, Penrose found himself upside-down and still spinning. Ejecting was impossible, but his luck held: Penrose pulled back on the stick and was quickly in a normal dive with enough room to pull out of it.
The Wyvern charged a heavy price: in the next few years there were to be another five fatal accidents, and engine problems persisted. Eventually it went into RAF service, but lasted only a few years before being superseded by faster and better jet aircraft.
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