by Phil Delnon
By the late 1920's the essentials of aerodynamics were well enough understood: it was merely a question of bringing the technology up to standard. So now the first low-wing monoplane fighters were being constructed, and Westland -like many other competing firms- was building a tri-motor transport.
The advantage of the tailless aircraft in reducing drag was already understood, and in Germany Alexander Lippisch was designing tailless gliders: Westland went one better with a powered swept-wing tailless biplane named the Pterodactyl, which combined its unusual airframe with a single-wheel undercarriage; and it was in this beast that Penrose had his next close shave. Flying as passenger to Paget he found himself biting mud again when the undercarriage collapsed on landing and the plane dug its nose in.
Meanwhile Penrose married. Characteristically he says less about this than about the cottage he then rented. More flying with the RAFO eventually brought him up to 300 hours, at which point Westland let him fly solo in their tri-motor Westland IV.
1930 arrived, and German enthusiasts brought more advanced gliders and techniques to Britain. The standard aircraft of the day were sufficiently light for Penrose, suitably inspired, to spot the gulls soaring over a ridge, throttle-down his Westland Widgeon to 42 mph and ride the thermals over White Sheet Hill.
By now the Wall Street Crash had happened and the only certainty was uncertainty: shares were falling, backers and buyers failing, Governments nervously counting their pennies. Westland's answer was to push for growth, and so Penrose was soon piloting more new aircraft, including a more powerful Wapiti which even had the novelty of brakes on the undercarriage. Having been bought by the Air Ministry, it was necessary to make something useful out of the Wapiti: Penrose spend many hours flying it with varying modifications.
The tragedy of the R101 spelt the end of airships in Britain; from here on, aeroplanes were the only option. The future seemed to lie in craft such as Germany's Dornier Do-X, a seaplane with six tandem engines on its monoplane 160ft wingspan, which made it the biggest aeroplane in the world. Westland's management went down to see it when it visited Calshot near Southampton - and so did Penrose. In those days a pilot could simply take off and fly wherever he wanted: Penrose did just that, took a good look at the Do-X and then continued on a pleasure jaunt which brought him to the Needles - and to the realisations that (a) sunset was approaching, and (b) he was rather a long way from home.
Flying along the coastline in the dark, it took an eternal twelve minutes before he came to the lights of Yarmouth; here he turned North, had another eternal twelve minutes until he saw the lights of Yeovil, and found that Westland's staff had lit the flare-path for him.
Penrose expected a rocket, and he got one - from the foreman. Westland's management dealt with him rather differently: they sent him to South America. With the Wapiti. As sole pilot-demonstrator.
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