Holes on botom of cowl? Can I do them?
New photos sent by Kraxus:
Got 6 more pics, they look great! You have a talent for composition with your screenshots!
1. any shots of the prop. not spinning. get up close!
2. look all around the cowl, is there a horizontal
line from front to back. See the reference photo on
gallery10c that shows this line and I'd like to fix
that if you don't mind.
3. also, i need to shift the cowl around so the
highlights are on top and a bit darker on bottom. this
seam will help adjust my orientation.
4. i need to move the starboard 5 down a few pixels.
5. I'd like to try out a couple of large holes on the
bottom of the cowl.
6. any longitudinal shine on the exhaust pipe?
The shine on the prop may be way off, but little by little, I'd like to get it looking as nice as the Spad's.
I've listed a few photos on the FURBALL website, so if anyone seeing this page wants to make comments about this plane, please go here.
Holes in the bottom of the cowling… sounds good to me; they were a real necessity actually. When the magneto was turned off so that the propeller could be cycled before starting the engine, the turning of the shaft forced fuel into the cylinders. When the rotation pulled the pistols through more than one full cycle, the fuel was dumped down inside the cowling where it tended to pool. Then, when the switch was turned ON and the prop was spun to start the engine, that pooled fuel had a nasty tendency to burst into flames! If the engine was switched off in flight to permit silent flying, the propeller continued to turn due to the force of the wind. Then, when it was switched back on to restart the engine, there was a strong likelihood of fire from pooled fuel. More than one plane was lost to that particular problem. The obvious solution was to put one or two drain holes in the bottom of the cowling to prevent fuel pooling.
Kraxus, I agree about the cowl holes. They have to be put in! Small problem, you have to help me out by getting me more screenshots. I'm putting some registration numbers and marks on the cowl so I can calibrate some exact locations. I'm posting the images of the cowl markings so you can see my process:
Send me images of the cowl left, right, top and bottom and from those images, using the red markings, I should be able to position the 3 holes pretty well (see the b/w reference photo above)
| go to Nieuport 17 "Ferio"
Project ---> gallery10a, gallery10b, gallery10c, gallery10d
"I just enjoy a 'total immersion' sort of approach to whatever I do, so I decided to create an ongoing journal in the form of a diary for a fictitious flier. I use what I learn in my historical research, and what I experience in my game play, combine them with a very (VERY!) vivid imagination... and put it all into words."
Excerpts as follows:
March 16th 1918, [Saturday]
Rain and fog. We did not fly today; the skies opened shortly after midnight and the entire area of our aerodrome is soaked. The field bears the long drag marks made by the tail skids on our machines and the parallel depressions made by our wheels, and all are now filled with water reflecting the dull light of the overcast skies. Thick fog blanketed the entire region during a brief respite from the rain which lasted for roughly two hours shortly after dawn. It was then washed away by a second downpour which degraded to a monotonous, steady rainfall lasting through the entire afternoon.
The infantry troops encamped along the perimeter of our field and billeted in canvas tents set upon wooden pallets are awash in mud and misery. There was a brief row just before lunch which I witnessed as I made my way from the mechanic sheds to the squadron mess. A grizzled Army sergeant had half a dozen doughboys braced up in the pouring rain, berating them for using their bayonets to dig the thick, viscous mud from their boots. His argument looked to be falling upon deaf ears, and I could well sympathize with the men as I looked at the thick clods adhering to their feet. It was impossible to see their boots for the massive pack of sticky clay lumped at the base of their legs. I continued on to the mess, glad that I was not subject to the wrath of the towering and intimidating sergeant. When I returned to my quarters a short time later, two of the men were sitting on the running board of a lorry and using metal tent stakes to dig the clay from their feet. The other two were engaged in stacking crates of ammunition atop wooden pallets to keep them out of the pooling water. A tarpaulin lay nearby, ready to be used to cover the stacked crates.
We’ve heard that the French and British made a push today, somewhere north of Rheims, but we’ve not yet heard any details. The mechanics are working to repair my bus, but the lacquer does not dry particularly well in a humid atmosphere. Still, I am told that I may expect my faithful #5 to be ready to take the air again when the weather clears.
April 12th 1918, [Friday]
Shortly after midday we received an alert call, informing us that an unknown Boche machine had been sighted south of Toul, heading in our direction along the Meuse valley. Lieutenant Jerry Falkenhan and I were standing on alert status when the notice came in, and we got off the field within minutes. Although the cloud layer was rather low over the valley, we immediately climbed for a bit of altitude and settled in at just over 2,000 feet as we followed the river northward.
Within less than ten minutes we spotted two machines circling one another several miles ahead and adjusted our heading to intercept them. Having been sent after one Boche machine, and now anticipating the possibility of engaging two opponents, both Falkenhan and I tugged at the charging handles of our Vickers guns. However, within seconds we could see tracers flashing between the machines, and it quickly became apparent that the two were engaged in a fight.
Moments later one of the two began trailing a plume of gray smoke and fell into a tight vrille whilst the other machine circled slowly above it. The falling machine disappeared into a densely wooded section of forest quite near the river, and although the trees prevented us witnessing the actual impact, the velocity with which it fell was certainly enough to dash it to splinters. We saw no flames or smoke to indicate that it had burned.
As we arrived over the place where it had fallen, we saw that the remaining machine was a Nieuport N28 wearing the new hat-in-the-ring emblem of the 94th Squadron. As I drew parallel with the N28 I threw my little bus over onto its right wing, raising the left wing momentarily so that the pilot might see the US red-blue-white roundel on the underside and know us for friends. As I leveled again, the pilot of the N28 raised his right hand to the corner of his brow in salute, wagged his wings briefly, and then made a virage to the left and flew due north toward Toul.
I returned his salute, banked away to the right, and fell upon a course to the south with Lieutenant Falkenhan off my left wing tip. We found the flags whipping along the bluff edge of the field at Epiez, but managed to land with only minor buffeting.