Then they started the fan and the model Arrow was pushed back by the wind. The technician took measurements: lift at nose, lift at tail, drag-each measurement taken several times, once for each air speed. The process was repeated with smoke and more notes were taken, when the smoke started swirling and where on the wing. Then the fan was turned off and the flaps were adjusted, and the process started again. After they were done, they had the Reynolds number by working backwards from the point of non-laminar flow.
That, and a whole lot more data that could be fed into a computer spreadsheet program to give solid estimates of lift and drag over a range of speeds and angles of attack. They added weights to different points on the model, adjusting its center of gravity to include the weight of things like engine and pilot. Maneuverability, carrying capacity, takeoff speed, and more, were provided by the wind tunnel tests of the model in combination with the knowledge bought by thousands of lives over a hundred years in that other timeline. It seemed to Willem complete, and offered a level of confidence that surpassed that even of shipwrights. And compared to what the Wright boys, Curtis, Sikorsky, or even Douglas had had to work with, it was complete.
****
It took a few days to process the data. Well, it took a few days to get around to processing the data. It took a couple of hours to input the data and the computer took microseconds to do the calculations. And it didn't take Hal Smith much longer to interpret the results.
The faster the plane was going, the greater the lift. As was standard but, like the weight, the lift was centered well back on the plane. In fact, even at fairly low speed, the center of lift was farther back than the center of gravity, which meant that in flight the Arrow was going to be nose heavy. Because of ground effect, that was even more of a problem on takeoff and landing. Because the ailerons were actually elevons, combining the function of both elevators and ailerons in one control surface. And because it was a tailless delta, you couldn't go flaps down for takeoff and landing. Not without shoving its nose into the ground. So they would need to shift as much of the heavy bits as they could toward the back of the aircraft.
****
He discussed his changed designs with the boy Darius because he had been the researcher for the whole project. "Herr Smith doesn't much care for the delta-wing design," Willem told Darius with another of his half-grins. He had just returned from a very expensive half-hour consultation with the only aeronautical engineer on earth. When not working for the State of Thuringia-Franconia Air Force, Hal Smith-for a piddling five hundred American dollars an hour-did consultations with prospective aircraft designers. And to spend that five hundred dollars an hour, you made an appointment and waited your turn.
"Well, he's probably right, sir," the youngster admitted. "I know they look cooler, but that doesn't necessarily mean they're better."
"I know, Darius, but 'cooler'-did you say?-looking airplanes may have a higher sales price because they look better, faster, or more dangerous," Willem said. "We aren’t the only ones building aircraft and it's generally better to stand out from the crowd at least a little."
****
Armed with the information from the wind tunnel tests and analysis, Willem didn't abandon the delta, but did adjust his design. He did several things to move weight toward the rear of the aircraft. The gas tank, storage and armaments were moved back, but he wanted the pilot as far forward as he could manage. That just left the engine, the heaviest single part of the aircraft. He considered the idea of a center-mounted engine and a long drive shaft, which might have worked, except that the drive shaft would then go right through the small of the pilot's back. And that left a pusher, a plane with the propeller in back. Well . . . why not? They were supposed to be quieter, anyway, not that Krause had ever been in a pusher, but that's what the books said. Besides, the Dart, even if its engines had been spread throughout the body if the plane, the thrust at least had gone out the back. The Krause Arrow would be a pusher. That simplified things greatly. The engine and prop would be right at the back, with the gas tank just in front of the engine. The cargo and/or weapons would be between the gas tank and the pilot. The pilot would be as far forward as he could be and still have room for the control runs. Then it was off to the carpenter's shop to turn the designs into an airplane.
****
"Plywood?" Willem asked.
"That's what the up-timers call it. Take a thin sheet of wood, not a lot thicker than a sheet of paper, then a thin layer of glue. Another thin sheet of wood laid out crosswise to the grain of the first sheet, more glue, another sheet, still more glue, still another sheet, constantly changing the direction of the grain. Then compress it all and let it dry. The up-timers call it plywood; we call it laminated wood and it's what the up-timers call a composite material. Whatever you call it, it gives you wood that won't split along the grain because the grain isn't all going one way. Wood that spreads the stresses placed upon it in ways that normal oak or ash can't."
"What about spruce?" Willem asked. "The books mention aircraft spruce."
"Yes, but what is aircraft spruce?" Giuseppe Bonono asked. "All I know is that the books talk about spruce in the Americas. I know there is spruce in Europe. It's light and fairly strong, easy to work. But I don't know if it is this airplane spruce that they are talking about. It's pretty clear that not all spruce is airplane spruce. But I know about laminated wood. I know things I can do to make sure that it's strong and light."
"All right. The Convair Delta Dart was made out of aluminum, after all, and we aren't going to get that."
They went on to talk about the structure of the wings and the internal supports of the fuselage. Where the control runs would go and how they would be attached. What kinds of glues would be used where.
"What about the skin? Laminated wood . . . even very thin it’s going to be heavy," Giuseppe warned.
"Doped canvas," Willem told him. "I have Pierre Trovler working on finding the right canvas and doping agent. The book, Aviation 101, second edition, suggests that the frame be lacquered before the canvas is applied. Apparently raw wood and canvas aren't a good combination."
****
The Arrow wasn't the only work of the carpenters, nor of Pierre Trovler. They had chairs and desks to make and portraits and landscapes to paint, respectively, and Willem Krause wanted to see and understand everything that went into the construction and maintenance of his aircraft. To Giuseppe and Pierre, this seemed simply a reflection of Willem's obsession with aviation.
In part it was that, but Willem, having determined that he would find his home among the lords of France and Austria not the peasants of the USE, intended that he would know all that was needed to see to any repair or even rebuild the Arrow. He noted the interest that Gemma showed in him, and in other circumstances he would have taken advantage of it. But not here. Not now. Not among peasants who thought themselves his equal. It was too risky. The girl would have to make do with a clumsy farm boy to lose her innocence.
Still, gradually, amid impatient letters from Saxony, the Arrow did come together and became an aircraft. In all considerations save one. It had no engine. Engines, even the heavy engines of pickup trucks and vans, could not be had for love or money. Half a dozen companies were making down-time produced engines and each and everyone was sold before it was built.
A rich peasant could get an engine. A rich burgher from the Netherlands could arrange the creation of a company to make them for his airplanes. But a noble of Germany had to wait his turn. Money wasn't enough. You had to have connections.
The plane was finished. The months dragged on. No engine came to Willem Krause.
****
"Where is my airplane?" John George of Saxony demanded in the fall of 1634. "Krause has had over a year. There are dozens of airplanes by now and I don’t have even one."
Karl Gottlieb knew better than to point out that he had harbored doubts about the project from the beginning. John George didn't care for "I told you sos." Instead he simpl
y said, "I don't know. I could send someone to check up on Willem Krause."
"Send someone?" John George asked. "No! Go yourself. I want to know where my money is going. Gustav Adolph and that jumped-up peasant Stearns are pushing things in the CPE and I won't have the Swede as overlord of the Germanies."
Karl wasn't John George's spymaster, but he also wasn't a field agent. He was the assistant spymaster for Saxony and really too well-known to be sent to Grantville. But that was now beside the point. He had his orders and the Elector had a whim of iron.
****
"Where, Willem Krause, is the Elector's airplane?" Karl asked as Willem opened the door.
"What are you doing here?" Krause whispered harshly. Then with almost no pause, "Come inside, quickly."
Once Karl was inside and the door closed, he asked again, "Where is the Elector's airplane?"
"It's sitting in a hanger at the Grantville airport, waiting for an engine," Krause said. "Just as I wrote in my last report. Do you want the airplane seized by the up-timers while they decide whether building a plane for John George is abetting treason against the USE? If I understand the laws correctly, I will be exonerated and the plane turned over but not, I am sure, before Gustav Adolph has the Elector's head on a pike. Is that what you want?"
"What I want, Krause, is for you to deliver the aircraft that you promised over a year ago and stop being a drain on the Elector's finances."
With some difficulty, Willem kept his temper. The fact that he and Karl Gottlieb had never cared for each other was beside the point. It was a safe bet that Gottlieb wasn't here because he wanted to be. "Then we are in accord. I also want the airplane finished. It is finished, so far as any parts that might be obtained or reasonably fabricated. The issue is engines. I have begged and bribed, but so far have been unable to obtain one."
"By this time you could have had one made by hand."
"Yes, I could have," Willem Krause acknowledged. "But that would have cost twice as much as the whole rest of the airplane. No. As I think about it, it would be closer to ten times the cost of the rest of the aircraft. Steel is not soft and its shaping is no mean endeavor. To get engines light enough in comparison to their power to allow them true utility in powering an airplane needs careful and skilled shaping so that the loss of weight does not also produce a loss of strength." Willem shook his head. "These things are not easily done. Every syllable in each report represents hours or days of labor and, yes, considerable outlay of silver. But look around you. Am I living in luxury?"
Willem waved and then watched without concern as Karl Gottlieb went through his room. For it was true. Willem had spent every pfennig-even every American cent-that was designated for the airplane on the airplane. His room was decent but not large, and located outside the Ring of Fire where the rents were cheaper. That his clothing was clean and of good quality was more a function of washing machines and sewing machines than of extravagance. Nor was the room filled with gewgaws and objects d' art. Instead, there were plans and the wind-tunnel model. Notes and requests for engines and letters of polite refusal, all of which assured him that he was on their list and they would get to him as soon as they possibly could.
It was a clearly irritated Karl Gottlieb who waved him back to his seat on the bed. "Oh, sit down. When can I see the plane?"
"Whenever you like," Willem said, then added with a certain malice in his tone, "And while I am sure that Stearns' Jew spymaster has agents at the airport, who knows? They may fail to recognize you . . . or fail to care."
****
Karl Gottlieb's lot, over the next couple of weeks wasn't a happy one. He had had hopes on his trip from Dresden that he might find Willem Krause engaged in fraud. But the evidence was to the contrary, and while he was still convinced in his heart of hearts that Krause was somehow cheating the duke, there was no evidence to support that belief.
The one good thing about the trip was sitting in the cockpit of the Arrow. It was a tight fit, but comfortable and as Karl moved the stick he could look out the windows and see the way his actions moved the control surfaces. Finally, he was convinced. Given a power-plant, this would fly and fly well. There was too much care in every detail, too much skill in every piece to allow any other outcome.
****
Regretting the necessity, Karl returned to Dresden with a completely favorable report. "If an engine can be procured, the plane will fly. Nor is Krause the only one who is having his plans delayed by this bottleneck. Engines are needed by everyone from the army and navy to every industry. Every engine produced by every manufacturer, no matter how poor its quality, has a dozens buyers," Karl Gottlieb explained to the Elector. But he couldn't explain the why of it, because he didn't understand himself. The world had changed and with it the rules of commerce and needs of production. Those changes were apparent but unnatural to a man born and raised in a world without engines. "I see no way for us to acquire an engine and without one the Arrow is a useless shell."
"But I see a way to acquire an engine," John George informed him. "In fact, one is already in our city. One of our wealthy merchants bought a steam engine and several other machine tools in Magdeburg, then had them sent here over the last few months. He is now trying to put every craft hall in Dresden out of their livelihoods by underselling them. I have received complaints, but he has stayed barely within the law and he has friends." Then John George smiled, thrilled with his cleverness. "The emergency of military necessity will require the loan of his steam engine. Which, just by chance, will give my friends time to acquire their own engines and compete with him on a better footing.
"You, in the meantime, will see to the transport of the engine from Dresden to Grantville by secret means, so that it can be installed in my Arrow-so that a surprise for that arrogant Swede may come from my quiver-all unknown to him."
****
Arriving back in Grantville with a three-cylinder steam engine and several hundred pounds of boilers and condensers, Karl Gottlieb was subjected to complaints from Willem Krause.
"It's too heavy and not powerful enough. It has only twelve horsepower. I need at least fifty for the Arrow and a hundred would be better."
"Tell the Elector," Karl returned. "I want to watch. It's his idea and our task to make it work, or at the very least make a good faith effort to make it work."
"But . . ."
"So who can you talk to about steam?"
"I have no idea. The notion of using steam engines in aircraft has come up a few times, to the ever lasting amusement of every up-timer in the Ring of Fire. But we can find out." It wasn't that easy. It seemed that every steam expert in the Ring of Fire had found lucrative employment elsewhere. Willem applied to Darius and Darius directed them to Vince Masaniello of the Steam Engine Corporation. They didn't, as it happened, talk to Vince.
***
Charles Anthony Masaniello looked at the engine and said, "That's one of the Schmidt boy's engines. Pretty good engines, well-enough made, too, if not up to our standards. Pretty good tolerances, too. What are you fellows after?"
"We wish to increase its horsepower, Herr Masaniello."
This wasn't the first time Charlie had heard that. "Call me Charlie. Why do you want to up its horsepower?" Then he held up his hand. "I'm not trying to get into your business, but most of the time when folks want to up the horsepower it's because they think a steam engine is the same as an internal combustion engine. And they ain't." Charlie spoke Amideutch fluently, but with a pronounced West Virginia accent, something he made no effort at all to curb. In fact, he emphasized it, because it made him seem even more up-timer and therefore more expert on steam engines. He was expert. He would have been considered an expert up-time; down-time he was the "pro from Dover" and knew it.
The guy who had introduced himself as Willem Krause was a little taken aback by the question and Charlie waited for him to decide if he was going to answer it.
Eventually, almost twenty seconds later, Herr Krause did answer his question
. "We wish to use the engine as the power plant for an airplane."
Charlie grinned and almost laughed. He didn't because it was safe bet that they would misinterpret the laughter. Instead he said, "Dad would love this. He's been working on steam tugs for years. Look, it's not the horsepower. It's the torque. The . . . well, a big difference between steam and internal combustion is that steam has full torque at zero rpm. An internal combustion engine needs to wind up to get its full torque. Another difference is simply that by upping the pressure you can up the hp, though in this case you may not need to. Just gearing the engine right might get you there. Your real issue is going to be the boiler and condenser, keeping their weight down enough to let you get off the ground. I can, for an agreed-on fee, draw up some specs that can let a good down-time smith take one of Adolf Schmidt's condensers and adapt it to an airplane. It's going to be heavy and it's going to cause some extra drag, and you’re going to have to figure out how to feed and exhaust the boiler burner, but it should work. The fee for that will be considerable, but it will give you a power plant."
"Could we run without the condenser to test the airframe? Just to see if the airframe flies?"
"You could. At a guess, this engine would use about a quart of water a second. How many gallons do you think you can carry before the condenser is lighter? Figure six hundred pounds of water for a five minute take off and landing loop."
There was more negotiation but they paid. By now the pressure from John George would have turned coal into diamonds in hours not centuries. They really didn't have any choice.
****
Karl Gottlieb thought that he had figured out Willem's plan. Krause intended to steal the Elector's airplane. And Karl intended to stop him. He would watch. And once the airplane was ready, he would take it back to the Elector. Pursuant to that goal, he started taking flying lessons while Krause and his smiths reworked the condenser. It was slow hand work, using the machine-made pipes, but hand welding them together. It took weeks.
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