Learning to fly in the U.S. Army

In Short

This book is a technical primer written for novice pilots during the First World War. It distills the principles of aerodynamics, structural maintenance, and cross-country navigation into a portable handbook. By focusing on the "how" rather than the "why," it allows a student to quickly master the fundamental concepts—such as wing curvature, propeller pitch, and wire tension—necessary to keep a biplane in the air. Its enduring value lies in its snapshot of a transformative moment in history when aviation transitioned from a perilous experiment into a standardized industrial craft.

The Story

The narrative of this book begins with a clear, urgent purpose: to prepare a new generation of aviators for the realities of military flight. It opens by grounding the reader in the historical context of the Wright brothers’ experiments, emphasizing how their rigorous use of wind tunnels and their focus on control changed the trajectory of human flight. From this foundation, the book moves systematically through the physical forces acting upon an aircraft. It explains the "reaction" that supports a wing, the importance of vacuum over the upper surface in generating lift, and the intricate, delicate dance of lateral and directional stability.

The journey continues into the nuts and bolts of the machine itself. The reader is walked through the various types of airplanes—from the monoplane to the triplane—and learns why specific designs were adopted for military use. A significant portion of the text functions as an instructional guide for the "truing up" of an aircraft. It details the precise, almost surgical, process of assembling panels, installing struts, and adjusting turnbuckles to ensure that the fuselage is square and the wings are balanced. The author treats the airplane not as a machine of magic, but as a rigid, interconnected system of wood, linen, and steel wire, where a loose bolt or an improperly tensioned wire could spell disaster.

As the text progresses, the scope shifts from the hangar to the horizon. The reader is introduced to the challenges of cross-country flight, including the use of specialized maps, the necessity of accurate compass readings, and the interpretation of visual landmarks. The book addresses the psychological and physical demands placed upon a pilot, such as the loss of auditory sensitivity during long flights and the disorientation caused by fog or clouds. It provides specific instructions for night landings, the use of landing signals, and even the mundane but critical task of "pegging down" an aircraft in the field to protect it from the elements.

The story concludes with a rigorous set of inspection standards. It teaches the reader how to look for flaws in linen, wood, and metal fittings, reinforcing the idea that a pilot’s life depends on his ability to notice a single frayed wire or a warped spar. By the time the reader reaches the final pages, the book has successfully demystified the airplane, transforming it from a terrifying mystery into a manageable, albeit unforgiving, tool. The arc is one of steady professionalization: moving from the abstract principles of flight to the gritty, disciplined labor required to master the skies.

How It Unfolds

The historical foundation The book opens with the early experiments of the Wrights, using their methodical approach to design as a template for modern aviation. It establishes that control is the primary problem of flight, solved through the careful application of balanced forces.

The physics of flight The text moves into the mechanics of lift and resistance, explaining how wings function through both upward pressure and a "vacuum" on the top surface. It defines key terms like aspect ratio and gliding angle, providing the vocabulary needed for technical mastery.

The structural manual The core of the book acts as a set of assembly instructions, detailing how to rig, align, and tension an airplane’s structure. It emphasizes that constant vigilance and proper alignment are the only ways to prevent the aircraft from becoming unstable.

The pilot’s navigation The final sections shift to the practicalities of the pilot’s life, covering instruments, maps, and the dangers of weather. It concludes with an exhaustive inspection checklist, ensuring that the aviator remains responsible for every inch of their craft.

The People

The central figure is the "student aviator," a person drafted from non-technical civilian life who must rapidly acquire the skills of an engineer and a pilot. This student is characterized by a need for efficiency; they are under pressure to learn the "tabloid" version of aviation, omitting theoretical fluff in favor of survival skills. Standing in their way are the inherent dangers of the craft—a warped wing, a faulty turnbuckle, or the disorienting "haze" of a river valley.

In addition to the pilot, the author, E. N. Fales, acts as a stern but knowledgeable mentor. He is joined by his co-authors—Holbrook, Beyer, and Hebbert—who bring specialized expertise in engineering and mechanics. Together, they represent the collective, practical wisdom of the University of Illinois and the broader industrial community of 1917. The people in this book are not characters in a drama, but students and instructors engaged in the serious, collective project of adapting humanity to the machine age. Their goal is to turn the student from a novice into a disciplined operator who understands that "no rush jobs can be done in airplane rigging."

In Its Own Voice

The desired essentials are here given without sacrificing accuracy to brevity.

The author explains the primary goal of the manual, which is to provide maximum information for the student aviator in the shortest possible time.

He found that there was a vacuum sucking the top part of the wing upward twice as hard as the pressure underneath was pushing; so that two-thirds of the total lift on this wing was due to vacuum above it.

This passage clarifies a major shift in early aerodynamic thought, moving the understanding of flight beyond simple upward pressure to the complex suction created by wing curvature.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is about the domestication of a radical new technology through discipline and standardization. It argues that aviation is no longer an act of daring or experimental whim, but an extension of industrial manufacturing and engineering. The underlying question is how to bridge the gap between human intuition and the unforgiving laws of physics. By focusing on the "truing up" of the fuselage and the minute inspection of wire terminals, the book makes a broader argument that safety is not an accident but a product of meticulous, repetitive labor. It treats the sky as a domain that can be conquered only by those who treat their machine with the same mechanical respect one would accord to a bridge or a motorboat.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of technology or the mechanics of flight will find this manual fascinating. It offers a rare, ground-level view of how aviation was taught when it was still a frontier. The prose is clean, direct, and remarkably utilitarian, free from the romanticism that often characterizes later writing about flight. There is a palpable sense of the era’s "can-do" industrial spirit, where the challenge of a new medium was met with drafting tables, wind tunnels, and standard operating procedures.

The book is also a challenge to the modern reader. Its instructional focus—the exhaustive lists of wire types and turnbuckle safetying—is dry, and it assumes a level of mechanical literacy that is rarely expected of the general public today. It does not contain the sweeping, heroic narratives of the "Great War" pilots; instead, it is full of the gritty, unglamorous details of maintenance and assembly. However, for those who want to understand the physical reality of a 1917 airplane—what it felt like to sit prone on a wing, to navigate by landmarks, and to rely on a simple compass—it provides an experience that no modern history book can replicate. It preserves the voice of a time when the pilot’s most vital tool was a wrench and a steady eye for alignment.