``Crash, Bang, Rattle----!----!----!'' and worse than
that, yells the Exhaust, and the Aeroplane, who is a gentleman
and not a box kite,[[13]] remonstrates with the severity
of a Senior Officer. ``See the Medical Officer, you young
Hun. Go and see a doctor. Vocal diarrhoea, that's your
complaint, and a very nasty one too. Bad form, bad for
discipline, and a nuisance in the Mess. What's your Regiment?
Special Reserve, you say? Humph! Sounds like
Secondhand Bicycle Trade to me!''
[[13]] Box-kite. The first crude form of biplane.
Now the Pilot decides to change the straight gliding
descent to a spiral one, and, obedient to the Rudder, the
Aeroplane turns to the left. But the Momentum (two tons
at 100 miles per hour is no small affair) heavily resents this
change of direction, and tries its level best to prevent it
and to pull the machine sideways and outwards from its
spiral course--that is, to make it ``side-skid'' outwards.
But the Pilot deflects the Ailerons and ``banks'' up the planes
to the correct angle, and, the Aeroplane skidding sideways
and outwards, the lowest surfaces of the planes press up against
the air until the pressure equals the centrifugal force of
the Momentum, and the Aeroplane spirals steadily downwards.
Down, down, down, and the air grows denser, and the
Pilot gulps largely, filling his lungs with the heavier air to
counteract the increasing pressure from without. Down
through a gap in the clouds, and the Aerodrome springs
into view, appearing no larger than a saucer, and the Pilot,
having by now got the ``feel'' of the Controls, proceeds
to put the Aeroplane through its paces.
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