Over a century ago, the then young Western People’s Ukrainian Republic sent a Zeppelin Staaken aircraft on a secret mission. The plane was laden with valuables and carried two passengers apart from the crew. Mysteriously the aircraft crashed in Silesia in south-western Poland.
The Zeppelin crash has been described as the first air disaster to ever take place in Central Europe. The accident site remained shrouded in mystery until a group of explorers located the site of the crash near Racibórz.
This was a turbulent time in Central European history with Ukrainian nationalists fighting the Bolsheviks to create their own independent state, the Weimar Republic had grown from the German Reich, and Poland had declared its independence. This incited ethnic Polish separatists to begin agitating to have Silesia transferred from the Weimar Republic to Poland’s new nation.
On the 4th August 1919, the Zeppelin took off on its ill-fated flight from Breslau en route to Kamieniec Podolski in Ukraine.
This Zeppelin was an enormous biplane, rivalling the World War II Flying Fortresses in size. It was a wooden bomber built during World War I by the Germans and was powered by five engines. This doomed flight was carrying gold and silver coins and banknotes specially printed in Germany for the Western Ukrainian People’s Republic’s newly proclaimed state. This treasure was vital for the new state to continue its fight for independence.
News reports from the time are confusing. One report claimed that locals heard an explosion and saw a pilot leap out of the cockpit, but he died when he crashed to the earth as his parachute failed to open.
Other reports claim the crew threw the chests of coins and the banknotes overboard in a desperate bid to lighten the aircraft and keep it in the air. This was to no avail, and the plane came down, killing all on board.
The cause of the accident was a mystery as all the crew were experienced airmen that had flown on bombing raids over France during World War I. One of the passengers on the plane was a Ukrainian officer, Dmytro Witowski, a Ukrainian Uprising commander.
One report suggested that the plane had been shot down by Silesian insurgents, but this theory was not proven.
The newly printed Ukrainian banknotes would have been of little value to anyone. Still, the gold and silver coins would have been an attractive goal for anyone, especially insurgents that needed money to maintain their fight.
The plane crashed in, what was then German territory, so German officials arrived at the site and collected the bodies and parts of the aircraft that remained.
As the years went past, the forest slowly reclaimed the crash site, and its location faded from memory. Trees grew, and their roots broke up the last of the plane that lay on the ground.
It seemed that the crash would be relegated to a historical tale until a local historian Henryk Postawka published some articles in the local press stating that he was sure of the location of the crash.
These articles attracted the attention of the Silesian Exploration Group. In an interview with TFN, Piotr Konarski said that using the reports and other research narrowed the area down to about 70 hectares.
Undertaking a search, they slowly narrowed down the search area until they found some melted aluminum on the top of a small hill. This was the first indication that they were in the right place.
Next to turn up was a button with Cyrillic lettering on it. The searchers feel sure this belonged to one of the passengers. In short order after that, they found plates from an oil tank and a compass. On one of the plates, there was an inscription, “‘Zeppelin-Werke G.m.b.H. Staaken,” a definite pointer showing the group had found the crash site of the Zeppelin.
They may have found the crash site, but many of the original questions remain. Why did the plane crash? Where is the treasure that was on board?
It was just after sunup on the morning of October 14, 1947, and as I walked into the hangar at Muroc Army Air Base in the California high desert, the XS-1 team presented me with a big raw carrot, a pair of glasses and a length of rope. The gifts were a whimsical allusion to a disagreement I'd had the previous evening with a horse. The horse won. I broke two ribs. And now, as iridescent fingers of sunlight gripped the eastern mountain rims, we made ready to take a stab at cracking the sound barrier–up until that point aviation's biggest hurdle.
The Bell XS-1 No. 1 streaked past the speed of sound that morning without too much fanfare–broken ribs notwithstanding. And when the Mach indicator stuttered off the scale barely 5 minutes after the drop from our mother B-29, America entered the second great age of aviation development.
We'd fly higher and faster in the XS-1 No. 1 in later months and years. Its sister ships would acquit themselves ably as the newly formed U.S. Air Force continued to "investigate the effects of higher Mach numbers.' And Edwards Air Force Base, formerly known as Muroc Army Air Base, would witness remarkable strides in supersonic and even transatmospheric flight.
MUSEUM OF FLIGHT FOUNDATIONGETTY IMAGES
But with the XS-1, later shortened to X-1, we were flying through uncharted territory, the "ugh-known' as we liked to call it. And as ominous as it seemed to us then, that was the whole point.
America was at war with Germany and Japan in December 1943 when a conference was called at the fledgling National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA, NASA's forerunner) in Washington. The subject was how to provide aerospace companies with better information on high-speed flight in order to improve aircraft design. A full-scale, high-speed aircraft was proposed that would help investigate compressability and control problems, powerplant issues and the effects of higher Mach and Reynolds numbers. It was thought that a full-scale airplane with a trained pilot at the controls would yield more accurate data than could be obtained in a wind tunnel. And, following the English experience with early air-breathing jet propulsion, the notion of using a conventional jet powerplant was advanced.
Discussions continued through 1944, but winning the war was first on everyone's agenda. It wasn't until March of 1945, with the war drawing to a close, that the project picked up momentum. Researchers concluded, however, that jet engines of the period weren't powerful enough to achieve the required speeds.
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Rocket propulsion was explored–specifically, a turbo-pump-equipped rocket made by Reaction Motors Inc. Delivering 6,000 pounds of thrust, the acid-aniline-fueled engine was believed to be capable of boosting an airplane to the fringes of the known performance envelope. Ultimately, the Reaction Motors turbo pump became stalled in development, so another 4-chamber Reaction Motors engine, this one fueled by liquid oxygen and diluted ethyl alcohol, was slated for installation. A pressure system using nitrogen gas provided a basis for fuel delivery. This fallback meant the X-1 could carry only half the fuel originally anticipated, but at least the project could move ahead.
With an engine in place, Larry Bell of Bell Aircraft Corp. and chief design engineer Robert J. Woods could proceed on the design of the X-1. It was to be unlike any other airplane designed up to that day.
The Germans had experimented with rocket planes in the waning days of the war. The ME-163, with its HWK 509C engine, was credited with a top speed of around 600 mph. (The ME-262, with two jet engines, was clocked at 527 mph.) But the Bell X-1 would be far superior–with a clean, aerodynamic profile that whispered "power" even while dormant on the tarmac.
The nose was shaped like a .50-cal. bullet, and its high-strength-aluminum fuselage stood a mere 10.85 ft. high and 30.9 ft. long. Wingspan was 28 ft. and wing area was 130 sq. ft.
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You get the idea that designing, maintaining–and particularly flying–these research tools was not without hazard. But despite the risks, the first X-1 flew like a dream. Its smooth, precise flight characteristics defined the plane's personality. I remember pulling three slow rolls on the first unpowered flight in midsummer 1947. And as we embarked on the quest to explore aviation's potential, fear—albeit subsurface—supplied a businesslike edge to the work.
The 8-346: supersonic research aircraft PF 1 designed by D F S for speeds above 1000 mph (1609 kph).
This aircraft was to be built by Siebel. The aluminum semi-monocoque fuselage is of circular cross section and the pilot lies prone in the nose. Behind him is a pressurized compartment for...
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measuring and recording equipment and the tanks for T-S T O F F and C-S T O F F.*
The bi fuel rocket motors are mounted one above the other at the rear of the fuel supply.
The all metal wing has a 45 degree swept-back at the one-quarter chord line and the airfoil is of a symmetrical
228-6 High Altitude Reconnaissance Aircraft
8-346 Supersonic Research Aircraft
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shape. Each aileron is divided into two parts, the outer portion having no air dynamic balance and are made with a deep chord to insure effective operation at high Mach numbers. Outer and inner ailerons can be moved independently or simultaneously.
The nose, incorporates a pressure cabin that is connected by a system of explosive bolts to the main fuselage and can be blown off in an emergency. Allowing the pilot and recording equipment the opportunity to escape.
The fall of the nose section is braked by a parachute which is deployed after separation from the main aircraft. At the appropriate moment the pilot can be released from the cabin by means of an ejection catapult. Thus freed to then descend attached to their own parachute.
It is intended that the 8-346 should be carried aloft by a parent aircraft to an altitude of 33,000 feet (10058 meters). From this height it would climb under its own power to 66,000 feet (20117 meters), where it would attain a speed of 1250 mph (2012 kph).
meters) and wing swept back angle = 45 degrees at the quarter chord line.
The DFS 228 Pictured in Drawing F1, Was a High Altitude Reconnaissance Aircraft.
* Ref Wikipedia T-Stoff (80% concentrated hydrogen peroxide / 20% oxyquinoline) was the oxidizer part of a bipropellant rocket fuel combination used in Germany during World War II. It is a stabilized high test peroxide. One of its uses was to be combined, as the oxidizer, with C-Stoff (methanol-hydrazine mixture) as the fuel, in the Messerschmitt Me 163 and Messerschmitt Me 263, at a ratio of three parts C-Stoff fuel to one part T-stoff oxidizer. Because the two substances were so visibly similar, a complex testing system was developed to make sure that each propellant was put into the correct tanks of the Messerschmitt Me 163. This was because T-Stoff and C-stoff are hypergolic propellants: they spontaneously ignite when mixed. Even slight contamination between the T-Stoff oxidizer and the C-Stoff fuel was likely to cause an explosion.
T-Stoff was used to drive the turbopump in the German V2 rocket; ammonia-stabilized hydrogen peroxide was decomposed into hot steam and oxygen by adding Z-Stoff (aqueous solution of various...
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Left-The 8-346 supersonic research aircraft PDF 1 designed by D F S at Airing for speeds above 1000 mph
permanganates). The turbopump was used to transport fuel and oxidizer liquids to the rocket engine of the V2.
* Hydrogen peroxide (H2O2) HTP of ~95% concentration by weight
Because of its extreme oxidizing potential, T-stoff was a very dangerous chemical to handle, so special rubberized suits were required when working with it, as it would react with most cloth or other combustible material and cause it to spontaneously combust.
Before the outbreak of WWII, it became clear that the days of the dominant role of the huge Naval fleets of Destroyers and Battleships were numbered, and aircraft plus their carriers were about to take over their role as a new weapon, being more flexible in Naval Battles with way more speed, and more reach and punch with massive torpedo- bomber attacks and fighters.
In the early 1930s, a number of Naval aircraft/ Flying Boats were specifically designed for ultra-long Patrol flights over open oceans, demanding for a new sort of aircraft platform that could carry sufficient amounts of fuel for the long haul.
Both the British, the Japanese, and the Americans were working on such designs as they, with their Imperial ambitions and/or oceans surrounding them, felt the most urgent need in case of a war.
In this Dakota Hunter Blog, I will try to make a comparison between what arguably is considered as The best of WWII-operated US and Japanese Flying Boats:
In engine technology, major steps were made in the early 1930s, as the newly upgraded Radial engines from Pratt & Whitney and Wright arrived into the market with previously unseen HP/weight ratios, reducing the need for use of 3-4 engine setups (Similar to what we see now with the upgraded/ stretched 2-engine Wide Body Jet-airliners, pushing the 4-engine B-747/ A-380 Jetliners out of the market for pax flights).
The P & W R-1830 Twin Wasp 14 cylinder Radial engine cranked out some 1,000 hp and in later versions even 1,200 hp with extreme endurance and reliability. The engines could run/fly for well over 30 hours if only sufficient fuel was aboard. For the planned long overseas Flying Boat patrol and civil aircraft, that flight endurance/range became the new Holy Grail.
A wet dream for any Navy, to fly & spy over the oceans, with a swarm of mechanical Gulls, monitoring the endless seas with almost unlimited flight endurance and hopefully detecting one day the enemy fleet or a single Submarine, way before those vessels could launch an attack and inflict damage.
Not a contest for the “Most Exotic or Best Flying Boat“ but a brief comparison of the tech specs of both ‘boats, with their own Outstanding features, that earned them the title “Best flying boat of the Pacific”.
Kawanishi H8K2 Emily
In Japan, there was a similar development for Long-Range Flying boats that started in or before 1934. Could it be that around that year, they may have had a master plan for conquering the “Colonial” Pacific?
Kawanishi incorporated in their design the knowledge collected after they visited the Short Brothers factory in the UK, at that time one of the world’s leading producers of flying boats (Industrial espionage is nothing new).
The result was the Kawanishi H3K, a license-built, enlarged version of Short’s Old-School design, the model Rangoon. Based on that type, a larger, 4-engine monoplane with twin tails came out, and a hull suspended beneath the parasol wing by struts, quite closely resembling the PBY wing setup. The maiden flight was on 14 July 1936 (just over a year after the maiden flight of the PBY) and was originally designated Navy Type 97 Flying Boat, later H6K.
From there, a newly developed large-sized flying boat came out. The Kawanishi H8K was a larger, four-engine aircraft designed for long-range and extended endurance on patrols or bombing missions typically flown alone over the ocean, and used by the Imperial Japanese Navy in some very audacious assaults.
With the Allied code name “Emily”. it was a shoulder-winged design that has some distinct similarities with the Short Sunderland design: a robust flying boat that was also fitted with powerful defensive armament, for which Allied pilots had respect, wherever this aircraft was encountered in the Pacific theater.
The H8K entered production in 1941 and first saw operational use on the night of 4 March 1942. Only 3 months after the first surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, the Japanese launched a daring second raid on the Oahu, Hawaii US Naval Port.
Since the target laid out of range for the flying boats, this audacious plan involved a refueling by submarine at the abandoned French Frigate Shoals, some 900 km (560 mi) north-west of Hawaii.
Two Emilys attempted to bomb Pearl Harbor and believe it or not, they arrived there but, due to poor visibility, did not accomplish any significant damage. Six days after this second Pearl Harbor raid, yet another flight to Oahu was made! What? As if a Tokyo-Hawaii Express scheduled-flight slot was agreed upon, one of the Emilys was again sent out on a daylight photo-reconnaissance mission from the Midway Atoll.
But this time, their luck ran out, It was intercepted by radar-directed Brewster F2A Buffalo fighters of Marine Fighting Squadron 221 and shot down. All aboard were killed including Lt. Hashizume Hisao, the lead pilot of the second Pearl Harbor raid. (Source Wikipedia)
But the string of events as described with the “Emily”, gives an impression of how this aircraft was underestimated by the Allies. It turned out that also the Japanese had made major steps forward.
With a length of 28 m/ 92 ft and a wingspan of 38 m/ 124 ft, the ‘Emily’ was markedly larger than the PBY. Also, its Gross Weight of 24,5 tons/ 34,000 lbs and take-off weight of 32,5 tons/ 72,000 lbs indicate that this aircraft was made for the long haul, like a flying tanker and well-armed.
On top, its 4 Mitsubishi radial engines cranked out max 1,859 hp each, resulting in a high top speed of 467 km/h/ Cruise speed of 300 km/h (184 mph). The ferry range was 7,152 km (4,444 mi), Spectacular Specs for the time!
The Consolidated/ Convair/ Canso PBY Catalina. Length: 63 ft /19.5 m Wingspan: 104 ft (32 m) Max takeoff weight: 35,420 lb (16,000 kg) Powerplant: 2 × Pratt & Whitney R-1830-92 Twin Wasp 14-cylinder air-cooled radial piston engines, 1,200 hp (890 kW) Performance Maximum speed: 196 mph (315 km/h, 170 kn) Cruise speed: 125 mph (201 km/h, 109 kn) Range: 2,520 mi (4,060 km, 2,190 nmi) Service ceiling: 15,800 ft (4,800 m)
It is clear from all specs/data that we see from the ‘Emily’ under Photo 1, the design of the PBY Catalina comes from an earlier era. There is no doubt about that, the PBY was considered an obsolete design at the beginning of WW II. So, in a tech comparison, the Cat lacks speed, payload, and defensive capacity, but there was a huge edge. With its proven technology and old-school design features (underwing struts, no wing flaps, low top/ cruise speed, etc.), the type could be built in huge numbers, right in the time when they were needed in 1940-1941 and beyond.
With all those setbacks mentioned, there was one more thing, the flight range was fabulous and the aircraft’s endurance made her the champion of the long overseas patrol flights, needed over the Atlantic Ocean from early 1940 and over the Pacific Ocean from December 1941.
Soon engaged in Anti-Submarine Warfare (ASW) and in SAR flights (Search and Rescue) for tracking downed pilots, the Catalina had the capacity to fill the ship-convoy escort-gap over the Atlantic, as PBY flights were performed both from the UK and Canada.
During the War, the Catalina got big fangs for killing the Subs. Not only in the daytime, the Cats were among the first fighting aircraft that received Radar, the Mad Boom, Sonar and the Leigh Light, so they were able to attack the Subs also at night, the critical time that Subs had to come to the surface, in order to start their diesel engines and recharge their batteries, needed for the daytime underwater operations.
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It was January 20, 1943, when the people of Brussels saw the German occupying forces getting their due reward at the hands of a Hawker Typhoon.
The fighter plane, piloted by Jean de Selys Longchamps, flew unscathed above Brussels, entering the Avenue Louise after traversing the Avenue De Nation. Its target was a 12-story building on the Avenue Louise used by the Gestapo as their headquarters ever since the German army occupied Brussels in 1940.
De Selys flew very low over the city in a bid to evade German radar. As he approached the Gestapo headquarters, he turned his guns on the occupants of the building who’d rushed to the windows to see what was going on.
In a close attack, he opened up a stream of deadly cannon fire on the building, ripping apart its façade and sending uncountable pieces of concrete and glass into the air. The attack had been launched in a remarkably precise manner, so the neighboring buildings didn’t sustain any discernible damage.
But de Selys wasn’t finished yet. While pulling away, he opened his cockpit and dropped thousands of miniature Belgian and British flags over a number of villages, the Royal Palace at Laken, and the garden of his niece, Baroness De Villegas De Saint-Pierre.
Continuing at a low level, he once again evaded German radar and anti-aircraft guns as he made his way through the Flemish countryside, along the seashore, and, eventually, across the sea. In less than 30 minutes, he had landed safely at his home base at Manston in Kent, England.
De Selys’s deadly attack instantly killed four Germans and left dozens with grave injuries. The fatalities included a high-ranking Gestapo officer, Commander Müller, and the Chief of the SD, SS-Sturmbannführer Alfred Thomas.
The building was in shambles, having been damaged to such an extent that the Germans couldn’t use it for the next six weeks.
The word soon spread, and the Belgians rejoiced at what they saw as retribution for the evil acts of their occupiers. Hundreds of Brussels citizens came to see the damage but were driven away from the site by the German soldiers.
The annoyed troops arrested innocent denizens in retaliation, but the sight of the devastated building was enough to lift the spirits of the entire nation.
Herman Bodson, a member of the Belgian resistance during the Second World War, recalled: “The day of the attack was a day of joy. That week, while the news was told around the country, was a week of joy.”
Belgians all over the country secretly listened to the BBC that evening to find out who was behind the daring attack. They were both happy and amazed to learn that the pilot who had wreaked havoc on the Gestapo was de Selys – a member of the Belgian aristocracy.
Born to Baron Raymond Charles Michel Ghislain de Sélys-Longchamps in Brussels on May 31, 1912, Baron Jean Michel P.M.G. de Sélys-Longchamps was a grand-nephew of King Leopold III.
De Selys was a Belgian Cavalry Officer at the time of German invasion. He fought in the Battle of Belgium before leaving for Britain through Dunkirque.
Refusing to accept the Belgian capitulation, de Selys went to France with hopes of joining a newly raised Belgian army from there. But it couldn’t become a reality due to the armistice between France and Germany.
De Selys decided to return to Britain via Marseille and Gibraltar along with a group of Belgian pilots. Unfortunately, he was caught and imprisoned in Marseille as he tried to reach England through Morocco. He was apprehended as a POW for some time before he managed to escape and reach England through Spain.
Since de Selys was 28 years old at the time, he didn’t meet the required age to enable him to enlist as a volunteer. So he forged his papers in a bid to get trained by the RAFVR (Royal Airforce Volunteer Reserve) as a fighter pilot.
Shortly after he’d completed his training, de Selys became famous as one of the best pilot officers at the RAF.
De Selys kept himself aware of what was going on in his country through his Belgian contacts. He decided to raid the Gestapo after learning that his father was tortured to death by the security police (SIPO) which then shared its headquarters at 453 Avenue Louise along with the secret police (SD).
After making an ingenious plan to launch the attack, he sought permission from his superiors to execute it.
Although his proposal was supported by his colleagues, the RAF didn’t approve the venture because it was too risky. After trying for several weeks, he decided to carry out the daring enterprise on his own and continued planning it secretly.
The opportunity presented itself on Wednesday, January 20, 1943, when de Selys was ordered to strike a railway junction in the vicinity of Ghent, in Northern Belgium. He armed his Hawker Typhoon to its limit and took with him a bag full of miniature Belgian and British flags.
He left the airfield along with his comrade and wingman, Flight Sergeant André Bianco, to launch the assault in Flanders. After completing the mission, de Selys told Bianco to return to England and flew alone towards Brussels to execute the solo attack.
When de Selys returned to Manston after completing his “forbidden” mission, he received a hearty reception from his colleagues, but such ebullience wasn’t forthcoming from his superiors.
He was subsequently demoted to Pilot Officer and was transferred to No.3 squadron as punishment for disobeying orders. However, despite seeing his rank reduced, the young pilot was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross by the British on May 31, 1943.
Sadly, de Selys didn’t live long enough to enjoy his newfound fame and died just a few months after being decorated. He passed away on August 16, 1943, after his aircraft was severely damaged by German flak while he was flying a mission over Ostend.
He crashed as soon as he landed at the Manston base and was killed instantly.
De Selys’s daring attack on the Gestapo has been preserved forever in the form of a plaque on the façade of the building at 453 Avenue Louise as well as a statue of the heroic pilot which was erected nearby.