Ramming attack and loop

(Conclusion. For Part One, see previous issue, No. 27)

Petro Nesterov was already convinced, much more so than many other pilots in Russia, of the enormous technological potential of airplanes. While he was still a cadet at Gatchina, he once said that a skillfully-piloted plane could easily describe a complete geometric circle in midair. This maneuver was later named the “deadly loop” by a Russian aviator.

Very few of the Gatchina cadets took Nesterov’s words seriously. Some time later he found an epigram about himself in the officers’ hand-written journal, whose author, who clearly did not wish to disclose his identity, gently hinted that Nesterov had a shameless desire to glorify himself with this “head-down flight.”

Nesterov responded to the anonymous writer with a brilliant rhymed repartee in which he said he was not going to fly a “loop” for the sake of ambition but out of a burning desire to prove that “there is always a place to stand on in the air.” Approximately one year later, on Aug. 27, 1913, Nesterov arrived with a group of officers at Kyiv’s Syrets Airfield to take another bold step in the development of world aviation.

Some say that Nesterov did not reveal his plan to those who came with him to the airfield. However, there is reliable evidence that he disclosed his intention to fly a loop well in advance, but even here he could not escape the sneers of various skeptics, one of whom claimed that it was the well-known French aviator Adolphe Pegoud who had looped the loop before Nesterov. The Kyiv pilot rebutted correctly that the famous Pegoud had not performed a closed circle in mid-air but only a trajectory that resembled the letter “S.” Nesterov promised to show a true loop.

Nesterov’s plane ascended to approximately one kilometer and then, after descending a few hundred meters, flew a complete geometrical circle. The observers on the ground were exultant. Nesterov recalled later that he had experienced an unpleasant psychological sensation. When he was upside down, he waited impatiently for the earth to appear before his eyes (which would have meant that his plane was really flying in a circle). But the earth did not rise up, which meant that the flight could go out of control at any second. Another minute passed, and the pace-setting flier felt one of the greatest joys of his life when he saw ground below.

The news of Nesterov’s exploit flew around the world. Soon a French newspaper asked Nesterov to contribute an article on the loop that he had performed in Kyiv. Pegoud was one of those who read the article. One week later (Sept. 8, 1913), inspired by the example of his Russian colleague, Pegoud repeated Nesterov’s exploit in the skies over France.

It looked as though Nesterov was poised to become an in­stant national hero. Oddly enough, this did not happen. On the contrary, in tsarist Russia public opinion took mostly a dim view of “Nesterov’s loop,” which was regarded as a type of aerobatics, a new sporting record, and evidence of the flier’s unbounded ambitions – in other words, anything but that for which Nesterov had scrambled his airplane on that distant August day in 1913 and for which he had risked his life.

Colonel Naidenov, a prominent aviation figure, even suggested that Nesterov be placed under 30-day arrest as punishment for his “midair hooliganism.” Sadly, even Nesterov’s Gatchina schoolmates failed to understand the essence of his aviation breakthrough. In their letter they congratulated the loop’s performer on the new record, but strongly advised him not to tempt fate again. Other critics claimed that the loop was of no practical importance for the development of aviation.

Nevertheless, some people both in Russia and abroad were capable of appreciating the im­portance of Nesterov’s exploit. The Kyiv Aeronautics Society awarded him a gold medal depicting an overturned airplane. Meanwhile, Nesterov did not take the criticisms lying down and published a series of articles in the press, in which he revealed the true significance of what had occurred over Syrets Airfield in late August 1913. His articles markedly reduced the number of critics, but it took many more years before his exploit was fully accepted.

Complicating matters was the fact that, because Nesterov and Pegoud had flown their loops with one week of each other, many Europeans thought it was the French pilot who did it first. The noble Pegoud himself resolutely dispelled this popular myth. When the French ace was asked to give a detailed description of his loop at a celebration in Moscow, where Nesterov was also in attendance, Pegoud said he had no moral right to do this because the man who first performed this maneuver was present in the room.

In the spring and summer of 1914 (before the outbreak of World War I) Nesterov performed several more exploits, which nobody could possibly refute. In March 1914 Nesterov flew from Kyiv to Odesa, reaching “the seaside pearl” in record time. The famous pilot achieved an even greater success in June 1914, when he flew from Kyiv to St. Petersburg.

In fact, he was not the first flier in Russia to do this, but while it took Nesterov’s colleagues several days to complete their flight, he did it in one day, leaving Kyiv at dawn and landing at Gatchina airfield late in the evening. Dusk was already falling when the tired air officers clearly heard the distant hum of a plane engine. They looked at each other in surprise, because all the scheduled flights had been completed and they were not expecting anyone.

Then an unknown airplane appeared in the skies. Making a spectacular turn, it landed on the airfield. A few minutes later Nesterov came up to the amazed officers and introduced himself: “I am Staff Captain Nesterov from Kyiv.” The next day the Gatchina garrison threw a party in honor of Nesterov, where he spelled out his daring plan to ram enemy airplanes in the air. Nesterov’s declaration was very symbolic, as World War I soon broke out, and aviation was destined to play a significant role in this international conflict.

AERIAL RECONNAISSANCE AND BOMBARDMENT

A few days after the war began, the 11th Aviation Unit was ordered into action. Nesterov and his subordinates were ordered to fight the Austro-Hungarian troops on the South-Western Front Line. Nesterov’s life radically changed, and peaceful flights gave way to combat sorties. His main task was now aerial reconnaissance, which he began in the vicinity of Rava-Ruska.

One bright, sunny day, Nesterov flew for the first time over the Austro-Hungarian po­sitions. His plane was flying at medium altitude, and small white clouds kept appearing and disappearing around it: this meant that the airplane had drawn intensive enemy anti-aircraft fire. But owing to Nesterov’s consummate skill, his plane was not shot down, and he successfully collected valuable information about the enemy. After landing safely, he ordered the ground support personnel to examine the airplane, while he went to report to his superiors. Several bullet holes were clearly visible on the plane’s starboard wing.

Sometimes, while gathering valuable reconnaissance data, Nesterov had to fly literally over the heads of enemy troops. One very successful reconnaissance sortie helped him to dispel the myth being spread by the Austro-Hungarian secret services that Lviv was a well-fortified city. Another time, after learning that pilots were bombing enemy positions on the Ger­man western front line, Nes­terov decided to do the same on the Austro-Hungarian battlefield. A few three-inch grenades, which the staff captain took on board the plane, hit their targets precisely.

Nesterov’s fame spread far beyond the confines of the imperial Russian army. One time, a group of enemy prisoners-of-war revealed that the Austrians were aware of the 11th Aviation Unit commander. His airplane was instantly recognizable by its inimitable performance, and a generous reward had been offered for the pilot’s capture.

Nesterov once had to land on Austro-Hungarian territory be­cause of engine failure, but he managed to reach the friendly troops’ positions thanks to the local Ukrainian populace.

A BATTLE IN MIDAIR

Some time later Nesterov’s unit was ordered to relocate closer to Lviv, in the vicinity of Zhovkva, to be more exact, Zhovkva Castle. Naturally, neither Nesterov nor his men had a quiet life there. An enemy aircraft, called the Albatross, began flying regularly over the castle. One time it descended to an inadmissibly low altitude, overtly taunting the pilots, and another time it dropped a bomb that, luckily, failed to explode.

Neither Nesterov nor the fighters in his squadron were aware that the pilot of the Albatross was none other than Baron Rosenthal, the owner of the castle in Zhovkva, and that the Albatross had been built in Germany at his special request. By all accounts, the Austrian pilot was in pursuit of two goals: to carry out overall reconnaissance of Russian positions and to find out what was going on in his manor, which had been seized by the Russians.

The actions of this reconnaissance plane were quite dangerous, as the Russian troops were about to launch an offensive on the Austro-Hungarian front. When Staff Captain Nesterov saw the Albatross circling in the sky, he ordered his plane to be prepared for a sortie. When his fellow officers asked how he was going to destroy the Austro-Hungarian plane, Nesterov simply said that he would decide once he was in the air. Tellingly, he did not take any weapons, not even a regulation pistol, let alone a machine-gun, on what would be his last flight.

Nesterov’s airplane climbed steeply. The enemy pilot quickly saw the kind of adversary he was dealing with and tried to escape. But Nesterov’s much faster plane quickly caught up with the fleeing enemy and rammed into him from above. The powerful blow sent Rosenthal’s plane into a fast nose-dive, while Nesterov’s plane hovered in the air for a few minutes and then crashed. Nesterov’s body was later found near the site of the crash. The CO of the 11th Aviation Unit died almost instantly of spinal injuries that he sustained during the world’s first ramming attack.

The death of the heroic pilot plunged his comrades-in-arms into grief. Petro Nesterov, posthumously awarded the Or­der of St. George, was buried in Kyiv near Askold’s Grave.