who then scrambled his fighters in time to intercept them—just as he
would do with radar and the Luftwaffe bombers in the summer of 1940. But the
umpires in the 1930s saw this as cheating. They stopped the exercises and told
him to play by the rules like a gentleman, and they started over again.
Dowding saw no point in arguing with them,
especially since he had another idea—an extraordinarily simple idea, which no
one had ever thought of before. Airplanes did not carry radios, but, he
thought, why shouldn’t they? Way back in the First World War, he himself had
conducted experiments in air-to-ground radio communication, and it had worked.
The trials had never been followed up, since the Air Ministry in its wisdom had
decided that air-to-ground communication was of no use. But Dowding thought he
might as well pursue his own ideas rather than those of the Air Ministry. He
installed a radio set in one of his fighters and had the airplane follow the
bombers back to their base and inform him by radio when they landed. As soon as
they did, Dowding sent his fighters to attack them on the ground. He caught
them napping, wiped them out, and would have won the exercise if the umpires
hadn’t been so confused that they decided to cancel the whole business and go
home.
Now, with Wimperis before him, he thought how
wonderful it was that someone else was thinking about new ideas. But he had to be
sure it worked. So he said no to the immediate expenditure of research funds,
but not to the idea. He wanted a demonstration.
Wimperis said he didn’t know how he could
demonstrate the effect without funds to build the equipment. Dowding replied
that there were lots of radio sets around the country; surely something could
be found. Wimperis said yes, of course, he’d have a demonstration set up within
two weeks.
He left Dowding’s office without a clue in the
world as to how this was to be done, but he knew whom to pass the buck to. He
sent for Watson-Watt and asked him to set up a demonstration. Watson-Watt said
certainly, and he left Wimperis’s office without a clue in the world . . . but
he too knew whom to pass the buck to.
He sent for Wilkins and told him to set up the
proper equipment for a demonstration. Wilkins had no one to pass the buck to,
so he told “W-W” the facts: “To modify a transmitter to operate suitably short
pulses of high enough power to enable an aircraft echo to be displayed on a
receiver was quite impossible in the time suggested.”
Watson-Watt was devastated, but Wilkins was
not. It was simply a question of figuring something out. There was always an
answer, he thought, if one tried hard enough. And very quickly he came up with
it.
The problem was to send out “suitably short
pulses of high enough power.” All radio wavelengths were not expected to be
equally effective. Upon first working out the details for Watson-Watt, he had
calculated that the equipment should use pulsed wavelengths of the same size as
the wingspan of the aircraft they wanted to detect: “suitably short pulses.” He
now remembered that there was a rather powerful British Broadcasting Company
(BBC) station that broadcast at shortwave and was located at Daventry; the
station’s wavelength was twice what was needed, but Wilkins thought this might
be good enough, at least for a rough demonstration.
The test would be simple. They arranged for an
RAF bomber to fly up and down a prearranged course south of Daventry, in the
path of the BBC’s broadcasts, and Wilkins would set up the equipment to find
the radio echoes it sent back. Dowding arranged for Mr. Rowe to be the official
RAF observer, and on the day before the scheduled test, Wilkins took an
assistant in a van loaded with the equipment to find a good spot to set up.
He found an open field that gave a clear view
in the right direction, and the two of them got to work. While they were
setting up the aerials, an ominous black cloud began drifting in their
direction. With a
would do with radar and the Luftwaffe bombers in the summer of 1940. But the
umpires in the 1930s saw this as cheating. They stopped the exercises and told
him to play by the rules like a gentleman, and they started over again.
Dowding saw no point in arguing with them,
especially since he had another idea—an extraordinarily simple idea, which no
one had ever thought of before. Airplanes did not carry radios, but, he
thought, why shouldn’t they? Way back in the First World War, he himself had
conducted experiments in air-to-ground radio communication, and it had worked.
The trials had never been followed up, since the Air Ministry in its wisdom had
decided that air-to-ground communication was of no use. But Dowding thought he
might as well pursue his own ideas rather than those of the Air Ministry. He
installed a radio set in one of his fighters and had the airplane follow the
bombers back to their base and inform him by radio when they landed. As soon as
they did, Dowding sent his fighters to attack them on the ground. He caught
them napping, wiped them out, and would have won the exercise if the umpires
hadn’t been so confused that they decided to cancel the whole business and go
home.
Now, with Wimperis before him, he thought how
wonderful it was that someone else was thinking about new ideas. But he had to be
sure it worked. So he said no to the immediate expenditure of research funds,
but not to the idea. He wanted a demonstration.
Wimperis said he didn’t know how he could
demonstrate the effect without funds to build the equipment. Dowding replied
that there were lots of radio sets around the country; surely something could
be found. Wimperis said yes, of course, he’d have a demonstration set up within
two weeks.
He left Dowding’s office without a clue in the
world as to how this was to be done, but he knew whom to pass the buck to. He
sent for Watson-Watt and asked him to set up a demonstration. Watson-Watt said
certainly, and he left Wimperis’s office without a clue in the world . . . but
he too knew whom to pass the buck to.
He sent for Wilkins and told him to set up the
proper equipment for a demonstration. Wilkins had no one to pass the buck to,
so he told “W-W” the facts: “To modify a transmitter to operate suitably short
pulses of high enough power to enable an aircraft echo to be displayed on a
receiver was quite impossible in the time suggested.”
Watson-Watt was devastated, but Wilkins was
not. It was simply a question of figuring something out. There was always an
answer, he thought, if one tried hard enough. And very quickly he came up with
it.
The problem was to send out “suitably short
pulses of high enough power.” All radio wavelengths were not expected to be
equally effective. Upon first working out the details for Watson-Watt, he had
calculated that the equipment should use pulsed wavelengths of the same size as
the wingspan of the aircraft they wanted to detect: “suitably short pulses.” He
now remembered that there was a rather powerful British Broadcasting Company
(BBC) station that broadcast at shortwave and was located at Daventry; the
station’s wavelength was twice what was needed, but Wilkins thought this might
be good enough, at least for a rough demonstration.
The test would be simple. They arranged for an
RAF bomber to fly up and down a prearranged course south of Daventry, in the
path of the BBC’s broadcasts, and Wilkins would set up the equipment to find
the radio echoes it sent back. Dowding arranged for Mr. Rowe to be the official
RAF observer, and on the day before the scheduled test, Wilkins took an
assistant in a van loaded with the equipment to find a good spot to set up.
He found an open field that gave a clear view
in the right direction, and the two of them got to work. While they were
setting up the aerials, an ominous black cloud began drifting in their
direction. With a
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