The above drawing (click to enlarge), which appeared in the 3 May 1934 issue of Flight, depicts an ingenious bombing simulator manufactured by Vickers-Armstrongs — the Vickers-Bygrave Bombing Teacher. The basic idea is that an image of the area around a bomb target (which is printed on a glass plate) is projected onto the floor, scrolling along to represent the flight of the simulated aeroplane at 8000 or 9000 ft. The bomb aimer peers down at the image through a bomb sight, and sends course corrections to the pilot, who alters the flight path in response. An electro-mechanical linkage then moves the glass plate accordingly.
When the pupil has calculated the direction and force of the wind and has sighted on the target, he throws a switch which represents the bomb release. A device times an interval, equal to the time taken by the bomb to reach the ground, and at the end of this period the movement of the “ground” is stopped. Painted on the floor is a fixed “trail point,” which marks the point on which a correctly aimed bomb should drop. Any error may be seen by the difference in the position of the “target” and this fixed trail point.1
Something very similiar seems to have been used by RAF Operational Training Units during the Second World War, though they were then called Air Ministry Bombing Teachers. (Presumably the Air Ministry’s in-house version, perhaps improved over the Vickers-Bygrave.) Many former wartime airfields still have their distinctive two-story bombing teacher buildings, for example this one at Waltham. But I don’t know how widely such devices were used before the war — though 601 (Bomber) Squadron of the Auxiliary Air Force, at least, had one in early 1934, according to the article. Given the poor performance of Bomber Command in the early years of the war, one would think that the RAF could certainly have used a few more bombing teachers!
I was thinking that a few bells and whistles could have increased the realism of the Vickers-Bygrave dramatically. For example, dry ice could be used to simulate clouds over the target. You could use a negative, with most of the features painted over, to imitate night bombing. Hydraulics (or manpower!) could be used to buffet the airframe, as in turbulence or anti-aircraft fire (a few firecrackers could help with that too). Not surprisingly, I wasn’t the first to have this idea. This interesting site on the history of flight simulation has a page on the Celestial Navigation Trainer (CNT), developed at the RAF’s request by the makers of the Link Trainer. Though no mention is made of the Vickers-Bygrave, it’s clearly a very similar concept, with the addition of what is effectively a planetarium above, so that the navigator could practice celestial navigation. According to the RAAF (which had one at East Sale), ‘The CNT instructor could introduce bumpy flying conditions, changes of wind, create daylight or nightfall, scurry clouds across the sky, or arrange static to worry the wireless operator’. But development of the CNT was initiated as late as 1939, and the first one didn’t come into operation until 1941 or later. (The RAAF’s remained in operation until the late 1950s, so it must have been very useful.)
Perhaps it’s because, as a Gen Xer, I grew up with simulations in a way that previous generations did not, but it seems incredible to me that it took five years or more to take the basic concept of the Vickers-Bygrave and add substantial degrees of realism to it. (Well, I can’t completely exclude the possible that this happened sooner, but I have no evidence for that as yet.) Then again, one of the dangers of simulation is that it can reinforce preconceptions, rather than challenge them: to a large degree simulations simulate what is thought will happen, rather than what will actually happen. In other words, garbage in, garbage out. So, maybe the failure to develop a Celestial Navigation Trainer before 1939 is of a piece with the failure to practice bombing runs under warlike conditions in the same period, and the failure to set up a Bombing Development Unit before the start of the war. If bombing is thought to be easy, then there’s no need to train too hard for it. Wartime experience was, of course, the ultimate bombing teacher.
See also: this American bombing teacher from 1940, with that wondrous war-winning Norden bombsight fortunately shrouded from public view.

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6 June 2008 at 2:20 pm
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1 March 2007 at 2:31 am
Gavin Robinson
I live just a few miles from Waltham and I had no idea about the bombing teacher building! I assume it must be on the other side away from the main road. I think the runway’s still there, and you can see a hangar from the road but I’m not sure whether it’s original. They used to fly crop dusters from there in the 80s, but now it’s just people walking dogs or practising driving.
There could be a whole other PhD thesis waiting to be written about the origins and development of simulation. It probably does have a lot to do with institutional culture as you said, but maybe it’s also because it wasn’t until the mid-20th century that there was any technology which needed to be simulated in order to learn how to use it effectively.
1 March 2007 at 5:25 am
Kurt Niehaus
Gavin, Good point about the technology not needing simulation until recently.
I know there are “combat simulators” in the martial arts– a wood pole with paddles.
What about the models the Japanese drew up for bombing Pearl Harbor?
(http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/events/wwii-pac/pearlhbr/ph-ja5.htm at the bottom)
Generally, were the plates supposed to be theoretical targets (like Berlin) or just random practice?
1 March 2007 at 6:21 am
Chris's monkeys
The Link Trainer was a 1930s innovation., wasn’t it?
A simulator is just a control room with an artificial set of inputs. I really need to get cracking on the history of the control room before some bright young thing beats me to it.
Another data point: by the early 1940s, the RN was using a two-storey building to simulate submarine control rooms for officers doing the ‘perisher’. Periscope at the bottom, tracking table on the top, with sillhouettes, etc. Ref is Edward Young _One of Our Submarines_, I think.
1 March 2007 at 4:09 pm
Brett Holman
I’m glad that I can continue to help you learn about your own area, Gavin! You’re probably right about the lack of technologies needing to be simulated. I can think of things which could have been simulated, like a ship’s bridge, or a powerplant control room, or naval gunnery, etc, but I don’t know that they were, probably learning on the job and maybe some classroom instruction was deemed sufficient. I guess there’s not much point in simulation unless it’s easier or safer than the real thing. As Kurt says there were military analogues, and of course a military exercise or a wargame is just a simulation on a larger scale. (Eg, taking Chris’s point, a RAF sector ops room in an air defence exercise is receiving inputs which mimic the real thing very closely, so it’s essentially the same thing as a simulated ops room. But were there also mock ops rooms for training purposes?)
Yes, you should write that history, Chris :) Link Trainers date to 1930, though there were precursors going back to ca. 1910, as the site I linked to shows. But it’s also interesting that the Link Trainer was not originally intended as a simulator, but as a fairground amusement! So it wasn’t created to solve a perceived problem in flight training.
Kurt: I don’t have any information on whether real or generic targets were used for the plates. Would be interesting to know (I suppose generic in peacetime!)
1 March 2007 at 9:30 pm
Chris Williams
Ashmore was using simulated inputs and practice interceptions to develop LADA in 1918. I think that he used simulated inputs on their own as well, but I’m not sure and I can’t find my notes right now.
I haven’t got any evidence of the railways simulating inputs or doing dry runs when they introduced central control. But what about gunners practising indirect fire? I think that yet again we’re being let down by the lack of a decent technical history of the Royal Artillery. Dan?
PS - sorry about the obsolete Monkey gag above. I left my facetiousness button down by mistake.
1 March 2007 at 10:18 pm
Brett Holman
Yes, I wondered about railways too … when was central control introduced? My father used to work as a train controller and I well remember the boards showing the lines, trains and signals. (And the manual plotting of the data on graph paper!) Even though the technology being controlled and used for control was not that sophisticated, the system/network as a whole was. And lives (and profits) depended upon it working. So simulation might have been useful for train control, which of course doesn’t mean anyone thought to do it. But once you’ve abstracted the real world into the switches and dials of a control room (or a cockpit, for that matter), it does seem a natural step to remove the real world and introduce artificial inputs for training, as well as testing.
One thought I had about gunnery is that perhaps it is too mechanical to benefit from simulation much? You get orders to fire on a certain map location, so you do the number-crunching — simple ballistic trajectory, correct for air resistance, wind speed, barrel warp, projectile spin, whatever — and spit out the required altitude and azimuth for the gun. Load, fire. There’s not much room for judgement and so playing out scenarios in a simulator might not be very useful. Or am I just showing my total ignorance of how artillery fire actually works in practice?
1 March 2007 at 11:55 pm
Chris Williams
Central control in the UK - which I think was a significantly speeded-up version of the US dispatching system - came in in 1909, midwifed by Cecil Paget of the Midland Railway. In April 1915, Major Paget was appointed to head the BEF’s Railway Operating Division. But don’t forget, children, that British generals in WW1 were REALLY STUPID and never learned anything.
For artillery, what we need is a war and society expert who knows WW1 technical stuff and used to be a gunner. Hang on:
http://www.imperialservices.org.uk/
2 March 2007 at 8:36 pm
Alex
I’ve always thought the RAF’s sector control system was essentially a big computer, not to mention a significant example of decentral decision making - yeah, there was 11 Group HQ, and even Dowding’s own FCHQ, but the really important bit was the sector level.
I recall reading, when Network Rail was set up, an interview with Ian McAllister, the Ford executive who was hired to act as chairman, in which he mentioned that he wanted to automate the timetabling process which currently relied on “two PhDs in mathematics”. This was in 2002!
2 March 2007 at 10:51 pm
Gavin Robinson
I think timetabling is one of those intractable “salesman’s problems” that has no perfect solution which can be arrived at by algorithms.
I was thinking about simulation yesterday as I sat in the British Library waiting for my manuscripts to appear, and railways did cross my mind, but I hadn’t thought about signalling or timetabling. I was just wondering how engine drivers were trained in the 19th or early 20th century. Steam trains might have been an early example of technology which needed to be simulated and could be simulated, but I don’t know whether they actually were simulated.
On reflection my earlier point was an oversimplification: simulation does depend on having systems complex enough to need simulating, but also depends on the systems being simple enough that they can be accurately simulated, and on the machinery being fragile and/or valuable enough to make training mistakes too costly, or mistakes being too dangerous to the trainee and instructor. Horses might meet some of those criteria, but there’s still no adequate way of simulating riding a horse. In practice the only way to minimise the costs and risks is to start on more docile and less valuable horses where mistakes don’t matter so much, and then gradually work up.
3 March 2007 at 2:46 am
Chris Williams
yr engine driver in late C19th UK practice began as a locomotive cleaner, then a fireman, then a shunter (driver), only then was he let out on the main line, and he had an inspector with him each time he drove a route for the first time. Inspectors were senior drivers. Lots of rail crew training was done via mutual improvement classes.
Source for most of the above is Adrian Vaughan’s _Grit, Grime, and Glory_
3 March 2007 at 3:50 am
Dan Todman
Sorry gang, I’ve joined this party a bit late. Seems to me that we’ve distinguished between training men and testing systems - so I’d be interested to learn at what stage in training the bomb trainer was used - but we perhaps need to go a bit further. A simulation used as training might usefully be simplified for all sorts of reasons to begin with - not least because making it as complex as reality might completely demoralise the poor trainee. But perhaps (and here I bow to Chris’ expertise and that of his monkeys) when you’re testing a system, you want to find out whether it works or not, as well as improve it.
As far as British artillery goes - I think that Jonathan Bailey has written that book, but perhaps you want something _really technical_, in which case I’m definitely not your man. But my impression is that whilst systems for controlling gunnery got a lot better in WWI, there wasn’t that much time to test those systems out of the line, for the reason that gunners were in action for longer: so developments were I suspect more organic. Probably worth looking at what happens over the winter of 1917-18 however: for all that our presumption is that modern armies didn’t move into barracks after the campaigning system, that seemed to be when GHQ underwent the biggest changes in structure.
To go back to some earlier comments - I’m rather wistful for that moment that didn’t happen in the 1930s when the RAF, realising its need to combine with the RN, and the RN, realising its need to cooperate with the RAF, practised bombing German battleships and sinking them with submarines, all in the same 3 storey building (I know, I know, scale etc. Whatever - that _would_ have been a landmark to British defence planning between the wars).
7 March 2007 at 10:44 pm
Brett Holman
What about after WWI, though — how were artillerymen trained for indirect fire after the dust had settled? I suppose firing ranges were common enough.
That would indeed have been very impressive, had they done that! For that matter, both ASDIC and RDF would be examples of things which could have been simulated, but probably weren’t. As far as I can tell, it wasn’t done for RDF, at least by the early war period. It may well have been misleading to use simulation, anyway, given that there wasn’t yet a thorough understanding of all the ins and outs of radio propagation and reflection.
9 March 2007 at 12:56 am
Chris Williams
I’m just reading John Bushby’s _Air Defence of Great Britain_ . As well as knocking my thesis about Ashmore’s centrality into a cocked hat (bugger) it also mentions that in the early 1940s. Ground Control Approach fighter controllers were trained in Wemby Stadium, using two ice-cream tricycles, each with a radio, and the ‘controller’ sat in the press box. The pitch did duty as a PPI. Metronomes ‘governed’ the speeds of the trikes.
I’ve read elsewhere that CAMship fighter controllers and pilots were also trained in the same way, but the location was less auspicious: a croquest lawn in a country house somewhere.
11 March 2007 at 10:32 pm
Brett Holman
LOL. Reminds me of that scene from Dark Blue World where all the Czech pilots are on their bicycles learning how to intercept Nazis.
I must confess I’m not familiar with Bushby. Any good?
12 March 2007 at 3:37 am
Chris's monkeys
Hard to say, cos none of it is sodding referenced. Bushby was a fighter controller in the 1950s, so there’s a lot of RAF backroom tacit knowledge in there, though, and he’s good on the technical side. The question is, which bits are reliable?
13 March 2007 at 3:52 am
Alex
Chris, that Wembley thing is ridiculously cool.
13 March 2007 at 7:11 am
Chris Williams
p. 146.
Not only that, but according to the story, the trikes still had ‘Stop me and buy one’ painted on them, which might be a gag too far. A little bit of pink and yellow paint could have given them a far more apposite slogan for the duration: ‘Stop me or buy one’.
14 March 2007 at 9:29 pm
Alex
I like the retro-modernist tang of it - very J.B. Priestley.