"It's a bloody silly rule."
Joseph Smith, Chief Designer of Supermarine, was on the 'phone to some jobsworth at the Air Ministry, trying to get them to agree on the service name for the bomber. The rule in question was that RAF bombers were named after British towns, preferably those with historical significance.
Smith didn't want the Type 317 to be given some stodgy name like Somerton or Stourbridge. In his opinion, the only sensible choice was to name it the Mitchell, after his predecessor. 'R.J.' had drawn up the original designs for the B.12/36 bomber, before his death from cancer three years ago; he had been annoyed at the Air Ministry's choice of name for his fighter, and Smith saw this as a chance to right that wrong.
The bureaucrat on the other end of the line felt otherwise, though, and was still wittering at him. "Look, I don't care if the Yanks are already using the name," Smith snapped back. "It's not like we're going to buy B-25s for the RAF, no-one's going to get confused."
"Well?" one of the draughtsmen, Crawford, quirked an eyebrow at him as he came through the door. Everyone in the drawing-office had heard Smith raise his voice, then slam the receiver down on its cradle.
"They'll come round to it," said the aircraft designer, leaning heavily on a drawing-board, "'soon as they can think of a way to back down without looking beaten. Maybe that would happen quicker if I hadn't gone off on one just now, but hey ho."
"Anyway," Smith continued "the name's the least of our worries. Are we still having trouble with those oil coolers?"
"'Fraid so," Rogers, another engineer, chimed in, "these Bristol fittings are a pain in the neck." The firm's last experience, on the Spitfire, had been with the Rolls-Royce Merlin engine, neatly packaged into a compact unit that you could practically just bolt to the airframe and be ready to go. The Hercules, however, had proved much harder to 'plumb in', and new problems kept cropping up. The latest snag had resulted from some overheating problems another aircraft had experienced with the Hercules. Bristol had concluded that the oil coolers were too small for an engine of this power, and had designed an enlarged version, of which samples had just arrived at Woolston. But they couldn't be fitted to the inboard engines on the Type 317, because part of the structure supporting the undercarriage was in the way.
"Well, we can't redesign the spar, there's no way we'd get the stressing worked out in time," said Smith. "Two things we can do. Stick with the smaller coolers, maybe just on the inners, and try to improve overall engine cooling. Maybe adjust the cowling, something like that. Or, we stick the new cooler on the end of a bent bit of pipe, and fit it in that way."
"It'd stick out, then," Crawford pointed out, "wing's not thick enough to bury it. You'd need a fairing over it, and we'd have to re-do the airflow past the engine."
"That idea's a bust, then," said Smith, "can't get time in Farnborough's wind tunnel for love nor money right now. And Vickers are busy using theirs for some new gewgaw for the Wimpy."
"But doesn't that scupper the cowling idea too?" asked Crawford.
"Sure, but the cowling's easier to change later," Rogers noted. "So if we use the smaller cooler inboard, and just limit the engine revs for now, then when the wind tunnel frees up we can sort it out."
"Sounds like a plan," Smith agreed, and marked out the changes on the master drawings. "Now, about the rudder cables…"
Sometimes it felt like aircraft design was an endless task.
The works chief, an energetic young man by the name of Gooch, cast an appraising glance at the big bomber. The prototypes were both coming together nicely, he thought, and apart from a few rough edges around the engines, they almost looked ready to fly. They weren't, of course — plenty of equipment still had to be installed, and there was a list of change orders from the designers as long as your arm — but the airframe was all in one piece now, even sitting on its own wheels rather than jacked up on oversized trestles.
Still, the boss had promised the Air Ministry a first flight before Christmas, and that didn't look on the cards right now. Everyone was already working as much overtime as the company could afford, and there just weren't the resources to get everything done. Besides the Type 317, and the quantity production of the Spitfire I, there was the quick-release canopy mod, Hispano cannon conversions, parts for Spitfire IIs — the shadow factory wanted new jigs for the wings — and there was the Spitfire V development to worry about. Someone in the RAF had gotten panicked about the high-altitude Junkers, and now Supermarine were sticking an Merlin 45 on the front of a Spitfire to make a fighter that could catch it.
Breathing a weary sigh, Gooch ambled over to the Spitfire V area, where a fitter was wrestling with some sheet metal. "Peter, you can put that down. I want you, John and Gerald to work on the 317."
The new Spit would just have to be delayed a little bit more, and maybe the bomber would be ready on time after all. Gooch went looking for someone else to transfer; the 317 shop needed another riveter as well.
Diary of Station Commander, A&AEE, RAF Boscombe Down, entry for 31 Oct.
Contractors arrived today to extend the main runway, ready for testing the
new four-engined bombers. Making a lot of noise. Hopefully they'll be
done by the time Supermarine and Handley Page send us their prototypes.
Bomber Command organisational note dated 31/10/1940.
No 207 Sqn to form at WADDINGTON, effective tomorrow, for introduction of
AVRO MANCHESTER into service. First batch of aircraft to be delivered on
05/11 with full spares and equipment.