Mark Piesing's Blog, page 5

My latest book review for The Spectator (USed): Beverly Hills Spy –Living in Infamy…

Beverly Hills Spy is the story of the espionage war with Japan, and the damaging rivalry between intelligence services that prevented them from working together.

It was published online and as a double-page spread in the March edition of The Spectator World magazine, the US edition of the UK’s Spectator magazine.

Read it in full below – or the original by clicking here.

War hero, bon viveur, Japanese spy: Frederick Rutland wore many masks.

It is early in the morning on the “day of infamy,” Sunday, December 7, 1941. Two hundred and fifty miles north of Hawaii, six Japanese aircraft carriers are preparing to launch more than 350 aircraft in a surprise attack on the United States Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor…

The fleet’s commander-in-chief, Admiral Husband E. Kimmel, had told a reporter the day before that the Japanese would be “damned fools” to attack the United States, ignoring the warnings that war was imminent. Around 7:30 a.m., the lead Japanese pilot fires a single flare, giving the pilots the “final go” signal. “Within an hour… the US Pacific Fleet was in ruins.” The American public, writes espionage historian Ronald Drabkin in Beverly Hills Spy, quite rightly demanded: “Whose fault was it?”

Admiral Kimmel and Army General Walter Short were quickly held responsible for the disaster. Then it was “unnamed higher-ups” in Washington, and President Roosevelt himself, who were blamed. As the author notes, “there wasn’t much public evidence that would have pointed any blame at the FBI.” But Drabkin uses newly released FBI files and overlooked Japanese documents to challenge the official account.

He tells the story of a Japanese spy known as Agent Sinkawa, who was neither Japanese nor American; who was known to be a spy by the FBI but never arrested; who was a skilled naval aviator and engineer who had “personally helped redesign” the Japanese aircraft carriers used in the attack and whose spying enabled the Japanese to update the aircraft vital to its success. And he was also a British war hero, dubbed “Rutland of Jutland.”

It’s even worse for the FBI’s reputation that Frederick Rutland had lived for over half a decade in a Beverly Hills mansion paid for by Japanese Naval Intelligence. He had been under surveillance by the FBI, the US Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) and MI5. The failure to take the threat from Japan seriously, along with their rivalry, organizational chaos, fear of national humiliation and even a murky deal with Naval Intelligence, stopped the evidence from being shared that would have led to his arrest.

Rutland’s glamorous Beverly Hills parties, with Hollywood A-listers such as Charlie Chaplin and Boris Karloff, together with his membership in Hollywood clubs like the British United Services Club, were the perfect cover for the Great War hero, who had distinguished himself in early air reconnaissance at Jutland, to chat to senior American military figures about the accuracy of their dive-bombers, the range of their fighters and Lockheed’s new top-secret fighter — and made him difficult to arrest.

But as America’s relationship with Japan deteriorated, there were FBI agents parked outside Rutland’s house, and his A-list friends were asking question about his ties to Japan. Guilt-ridden over his work, or just out of options, Rutland offered to warn the Americans and British when Japan was going to attack. But could he be trusted?

This is a “story of high ambition, daring greatness and world-changing events — but mostly, it’s a story of missed chances,” according to Drabkin, and he is right. Beverly Hills Spy is the story of the espionage war with Japan, and the damaging rivalry between intelligence services that prevented them from working together. It asks the same question asked today of researchers, business leaders and former air force pilots keen to work in China: how far can you go before you commit treason?

It was supposed to be “impossible” for the undernourished son of a Dorset day-laborer to become an officer, a gentleman and a pilot in the Royal Navy — but no one told Frederick Rutland that. He was born in extreme poverty but had “natural charisma,” along with the determination and intuitive technical skills to succeed. Even the higher-class naval officers and pilots admitted that Rutland had “undisputed guts.”

It was the afternoon of May 31, 1916, that changed Rutland’s life forever. The greatest naval battle of World War One — the Battle of Jutland —had begun in the North Sea off the Danish coast, and both sides believed the outcome would decide who won the war. It was already going badly for the British.

The Royal Navy didn’t know where the German fleet was, or how many ships it had, and the pilot chosen for what was “clearly the most important air mission in British naval history” was Frederick Rutland. In ugly weather that would have grounded most missions, Rutland managed to get his flimsy seaplane up into the stormy sky. Within ten minutes he found what he was looking for: the German fleet.

Then the German gunners located their targets, and first one and then a second huge British battle cruiser exploded below him, killing around 2,500 sailors, and soon after a third — HMS Warrior — was on fire and sinking.

Rutland’s courage stood out in an otherwise grim day for the British. He was invited to Buckingham Palace to receive the Albert Medal from King George V. It was a medal for “cases of extreme and heroic daring,” and usually awarded posthumously.

The publicity brought Rutland and his skills as a pilot and engineer “to the attention of many of the top admirals, [who] started to contact him directly for suggestions on how to operate the Royal Navy’s aircraft.” Soon, Rutland was advising them on the design of their future aircraft and aircraft carriers. But then it was all taken away from him.

He could become a pilot and an officer, but — it was made clear — not a gentleman. When in April 1918 the Royal Air Force was formed, Rutland went from being seen as a “capable and zealous officer, who with more experience could do well in higher ranks” to, Drabkin explains, “a talented officer of a lower social class, and who acted as such — unfit for higher rank.” That he kept his key role in the development of British naval aviation was no longer enough for him.

Luckily for Rutland, a new opportunity arose. Britain had at last become aware of the threat that Japan posed to its empire and in 1921 it broke off its decades-old military alliance with its former ally. “The Japanese depended on British technology, and it was no longer for sale. The only real option… was to steal it.”

Now an embittered Rutland knew what he needed to do. When he walked into the Imperial Japanese Naval Office in Westminster in late 1922, “their jaws dropped… the most accomplished British aviator in the field had simply dropped into their lap.” To confuse British intelligence, he told the RAF that he was working for Mitsubishi in Japan, lived far away from the main Japanese naval base at Yokohama — and when he was visited weekly by the Navy’s head pilot, Torao Kuwabara, and other officers, they dressed in civilian clothes.

Rutland coached Kuwabara and his staff on how to update the new Akagi and Kaga aircraft carriers — which would be used in the attack on Pearl Harbor — for the new “faster and heavier” aircraft whose all-important landing gear he was helping to design. Kuwabara wrote in his memoirs that “Rutland’s help was invaluable.”

At a private geisha party, Drabkin recounts, Captain Isoroku Yamamoto — who as admiral would lead the attack on Pearl Harbor — toasted Rutland and Kuwabara, thanking them for their help and stating that “the future of the Japanese Navy was now clear. The next war would not be fought by battleships but by aircraft flying from ships.”

Back in Britain, Rutland had a comfortable life, but he was again “deeply” missing “the public’s adulation and… the admiration of the Japanese Admiralty he once regularly impressed.” In November 1932, one year after the Japanese invasion of Manchuria, Rutland was tempted back onto the “tightrope,” this time by Japanese Naval Intelligence. This time his destination was not Japan but the United States — “somewhere like Hollywood” — because if there were a war between America and Japan, “we would need to know what is happening on the West Coast.” He was told, “You are the obvious choice. Actually, you are the only choice. Are you interested?”

It is hard to know just how significant Rutland was as a spy when there remain FBI files to be declassified, and many documents were burned by the Japanese when they surrendered in 1945. Perhaps we will never be certain. In the end, the FBI and ONI turned down Rutland’s offer to warn them because they didn’t trust him and had their own sources of intelligence. Indeed, it’s unlikely that Admiral Kimmel would have listened even so. Instead, Rutland agreed to return on a VIP flight to London to discuss his offer further. He thought it was a trap, and it was. He was questioned by intelligence officer Ian Fleming, creator of James Bond. He never saw Beverly Hills again — but he never confessed.

The outbreak of war with Japan meant that on December 8, 1941, Rutland was interned without trial under wartime powers as he represented “an imminent danger to the realm.” Winston Churchill refused to intervene on behalf of Rutland’s “powerful friends,” who believed the war hero was innocent, as some people still do today. He was released two years later, angry and determined to cause trouble for MI5 and likely still under MI5 surveillance. Rutland was found dead in January 1949. The official report called it suicide, but some think he could have been murdered. The mystery of his end is a fitting conclusion to this gripping, perplexing book.

This article was originally published in  The Spectator ’s March 2024 World edition.

My latest book review for The Spectator! Beverly Hills Spy –Living in Infamy…

Beverly Hills Spy is the story of the espionage war with Japan, and the damaging rivalry between intelligence services that prevented them from working together.

It was published online and as a double-page spread in the March edition of The Spectator World magazine, the US edition of the UK’s Spectator magazine.

Read it in full below – or the original by clicking here.

War hero, bon viveur, Japanese spy: Frederick Rutland wore many masks.

It is early in the morning on the “day of infamy,” Sunday, December 7, 1941. Two hundred and fifty miles north of Hawaii, six Japanese aircraft carriers are preparing to launch more than 350 aircraft in a surprise attack on the United States Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor…

The fleet’s commander-in-chief, Admiral Husband E. Kimmel, had told a reporter the day before that the Japanese would be “damned fools” to attack the United States, ignoring the warnings that war was imminent. Around 7:30 a.m., the lead Japanese pilot fires a single flare, giving the pilots the “final go” signal. “Within an hour… the US Pacific Fleet was in ruins.” The American public, writes espionage historian Ronald Drabkin in Beverly Hills Spy, quite rightly demanded: “Whose fault was it?”

Admiral Kimmel and Army General Walter Short were quickly held responsible for the disaster. Then it was “unnamed higher-ups” in Washington, and President Roosevelt himself, who were blamed. As the author notes, “there wasn’t much public evidence that would have pointed any blame at the FBI.” But Drabkin uses newly released FBI files and overlooked Japanese documents to challenge the official account.

He tells the story of a Japanese spy known as Agent Sinkawa, who was neither Japanese nor American; who was known to be a spy by the FBI but never arrested; who was a skilled naval aviator and engineer who had “personally helped redesign” the Japanese aircraft carriers used in the attack and whose spying enabled the Japanese to update the aircraft vital to its success. And he was also a British war hero, dubbed “Rutland of Jutland.”

It’s even worse for the FBI’s reputation that Frederick Rutland had lived for over half a decade in a Beverly Hills mansion paid for by Japanese Naval Intelligence. He had been under surveillance by the FBI, the US Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) and MI5. The failure to take the threat from Japan seriously, along with their rivalry, organizational chaos, fear of national humiliation and even a murky deal with Naval Intelligence, stopped the evidence from being shared that would have led to his arrest.

Rutland’s glamorous Beverly Hills parties, with Hollywood A-listers such as Charlie Chaplin and Boris Karloff, together with his membership in Hollywood clubs like the British United Services Club, were the perfect cover for the Great War hero, who had distinguished himself in early air reconnaissance at Jutland, to chat to senior American military figures about the accuracy of their dive-bombers, the range of their fighters and Lockheed’s new top-secret fighter — and made him difficult to arrest.

But as America’s relationship with Japan deteriorated, there were FBI agents parked outside Rutland’s house, and his A-list friends were asking question about his ties to Japan. Guilt-ridden over his work, or just out of options, Rutland offered to warn the Americans and British when Japan was going to attack. But could he be trusted?

This is a “story of high ambition, daring greatness and world-changing events — but mostly, it’s a story of missed chances,” according to Drabkin, and he is right. Beverly Hills Spy is the story of the espionage war with Japan, and the damaging rivalry between intelligence services that prevented them from working together. It asks the same question asked today of researchers, business leaders and former air force pilots keen to work in China: how far can you go before you commit treason?

It was supposed to be “impossible” for the undernourished son of a Dorset day-laborer to become an officer, a gentleman and a pilot in the Royal Navy — but no one told Frederick Rutland that. He was born in extreme poverty but had “natural charisma,” along with the determination and intuitive technical skills to succeed. Even the higher-class naval officers and pilots admitted that Rutland had “undisputed guts.”

It was the afternoon of May 31, 1916, that changed Rutland’s life forever. The greatest naval battle of World War One — the Battle of Jutland —had begun in the North Sea off the Danish coast, and both sides believed the outcome would decide who won the war. It was already going badly for the British.

The Royal Navy didn’t know where the German fleet was, or how many ships it had, and the pilot chosen for what was “clearly the most important air mission in British naval history” was Frederick Rutland. In ugly weather that would have grounded most missions, Rutland managed to get his flimsy seaplane up into the stormy sky. Within ten minutes he found what he was looking for: the German fleet.

Then the German gunners located their targets, and first one and then a second huge British battle cruiser exploded below him, killing around 2,500 sailors, and soon after a third — HMS Warrior — was on fire and sinking.

Rutland’s courage stood out in an otherwise grim day for the British. He was invited to Buckingham Palace to receive the Albert Medal from King George V. It was a medal for “cases of extreme and heroic daring,” and usually awarded posthumously.

The publicity brought Rutland and his skills as a pilot and engineer “to the attention of many of the top admirals, [who] started to contact him directly for suggestions on how to operate the Royal Navy’s aircraft.” Soon, Rutland was advising them on the design of their future aircraft and aircraft carriers. But then it was all taken away from him.

He could become a pilot and an officer, but — it was made clear — not a gentleman. When in April 1918 the Royal Air Force was formed, Rutland went from being seen as a “capable and zealous officer, who with more experience could do well in higher ranks” to, Drabkin explains, “a talented officer of a lower social class, and who acted as such — unfit for higher rank.” That he kept his key role in the development of British naval aviation was no longer enough for him.

Luckily for Rutland, a new opportunity arose. Britain had at last become aware of the threat that Japan posed to its empire and in 1921 it broke off its decades-old military alliance with its former ally. “The Japanese depended on British technology, and it was no longer for sale. The only real option… was to steal it.”

Now an embittered Rutland knew what he needed to do. When he walked into the Imperial Japanese Naval Office in Westminster in late 1922, “their jaws dropped… the most accomplished British aviator in the field had simply dropped into their lap.” To confuse British intelligence, he told the RAF that he was working for Mitsubishi in Japan, lived far away from the main Japanese naval base at Yokohama — and when he was visited weekly by the Navy’s head pilot, Torao Kuwabara, and other officers, they dressed in civilian clothes.

Rutland coached Kuwabara and his staff on how to update the new Akagi and Kaga aircraft carriers — which would be used in the attack on Pearl Harbor — for the new “faster and heavier” aircraft whose all-important landing gear he was helping to design. Kuwabara wrote in his memoirs that “Rutland’s help was invaluable.”

At a private geisha party, Drabkin recounts, Captain Isoroku Yamamoto — who as admiral would lead the attack on Pearl Harbor — toasted Rutland and Kuwabara, thanking them for their help and stating that “the future of the Japanese Navy was now clear. The next war would not be fought by battleships but by aircraft flying from ships.”

Back in Britain, Rutland had a comfortable life, but he was again “deeply” missing “the public’s adulation and… the admiration of the Japanese Admiralty he once regularly impressed.” In November 1932, one year after the Japanese invasion of Manchuria, Rutland was tempted back onto the “tightrope,” this time by Japanese Naval Intelligence. This time his destination was not Japan but the United States — “somewhere like Hollywood” — because if there were a war between America and Japan, “we would need to know what is happening on the West Coast.” He was told, “You are the obvious choice. Actually, you are the only choice. Are you interested?”

It is hard to know just how significant Rutland was as a spy when there remain FBI files to be declassified, and many documents were burned by the Japanese when they surrendered in 1945. Perhaps we will never be certain. In the end, the FBI and ONI turned down Rutland’s offer to warn them because they didn’t trust him and had their own sources of intelligence. Indeed, it’s unlikely that Admiral Kimmel would have listened even so. Instead, Rutland agreed to return on a VIP flight to London to discuss his offer further. He thought it was a trap, and it was. He was questioned by intelligence officer Ian Fleming, creator of James Bond. He never saw Beverly Hills again — but he never confessed.

The outbreak of war with Japan meant that on December 8, 1941, Rutland was interned without trial under wartime powers as he represented “an imminent danger to the realm.” Winston Churchill refused to intervene on behalf of Rutland’s “powerful friends,” who believed the war hero was innocent, as some people still do today. He was released two years later, angry and determined to cause trouble for MI5 and likely still under MI5 surveillance. Rutland was found dead in January 1949. The official report called it suicide, but some think he could have been murdered. The mystery of his end is a fitting conclusion to this gripping, perplexing book.

This article was originally published in  The Spectator ’s March 2024 World edition.

My latest for BBC Future: Why the hovercraft’s time might have finally arrived?

Hovercraft were a quick way to zip across the world’s waterways but were noisy and expensive to operate. Could they be about to enjoy a second wind?

Read my hit feature article for BBC Future in full below – or by clicking on this link.

The 12.30pm midweek hovercraft departure from Portsmouth is already respectably half-full when we step on board. Marketed as the world’s only year-round scheduled passenger hovercraft service, the Union Jack-emblazoned machine flies for a thrilling 10 minutes, hovering just inches above the water’s surface. It is the fastest way to reach Ryde on the Isle of Wight, a Detroit-sized island off the south coast of England. A rival vehicle, the FastCat ferry, takes more than twice as long, around 22 minutes.

The hovercraft’s engines roar (no louder than an airliner on take-off) as its beefy cushion inflates, lifting the vehicle gently five feet (1.6m) into the air. Then, it turns and slides seamlessly into the sea on its dash to Ryde. The 78-seater craft’s unique ability to fly over sand and mud without damaging the fragile ecosystems underneath means that passengers may board even at low tide.

Hovertravel, which runs this service, is the sister company of Griffon Hoverwork, a British manufacturer that traces its roots back to Sir Christopher Cockerell’s invention of the hovercraft in the 1950s.

This mode of transport may be more than 70 years old but it could be about to enjoy a second wind. The global rise in sea levels, and the blurring of the boundary between land and sea that will result, is set to grow its niche further.

“It makes you feel very free,” says Griffon’s chief pilot Ben Avery. “You can climb straight out of the sea onto the sand, and it’s one of the few machines that doesn’t have anything in the way of automatic control, so you drive it by the seat of your pants. It’s all done by feel and reaction.

Griffon Hoverwork has made new hovercraft for the Japanese city of Oita which will ferry passengers to its airport (Credit: Griffon Hoverwork)

“The older models, you have got to grab by the scruff of the neck and drive because they have mechanical controls.”

Hovertravel likes to bill this as a unique service but in October 2024, a second year-round scheduled passenger hovercraft service will launch in Japan.

“There are more passenger hovercraft services around the world than people realise,” says Avery. “There’s quite a lot of passenger services that operate between China and Russia. We’ve got a customer out in Canada, who operates a year-round service. It’s also not scheduled, but it is year-round.”

Fifty-sixty years ago, the hovercraft was the future of transportation. We were promised hoverscooters, hovercars, hovertrains and hoverships. The Ford Motor Car Company unveiled the Ford Mach I hovercar concept and Popular Science, a US magazine, heralded a future of “Cars Without Wheels”. But when a massive and popular hovercraft that transported people and their cars between England and France retired in 2000, many felt the final curtain had fallen on a technology that hadn’t really delivered on all the hype. With the humble hover mower the only mainstream bit of hovercraft technology in existence, it seemed to have become just another dead-end technology.

Inside the gates of “the world’s only hovercraft museum” I find a cornucopia of hovercrafts, large and small

“Hovercraft were noisy as hell and expensive to operate but there were some advantages to the technology,” says John Geoghegan, author of White Elephant Technology, a book about failed technologies. “They were fast and could operate on land and sea. They were also as cool as heck.”

Just down the coast from Portsmouth lies The Hovercraft Museum, overlooked by giant propellers that rise above a new housing estate nearby like an executioner’s axe. Adjacent is the massive concrete ramp or apron that runs down to the Solent from the hangars of the old Royal Naval Air Service Lee-on-Solent base.

Inside the gates of “the world’s only hovercraft museum” I find a cornucopia of hovercraft, large and small, military and civilian, in various stages of restoration, as well as two machines from the James Bond movie Die Another Day.

By the 1960s, there were British hovercraft large enough to carry cars across the English Channel (Credit: Hovercraft Museum Archive)

The blue and white Princess Anne is a hefty beast. Nearly as long as a Boeing 747’s wingspan and as wide as two large sea containers, it is the only surviving example of the SRN.4 (Saunders-Roe Nautical 4), the largest commercial hovercraft ever built. Its air-screw propellers, powered by Rolls-Royce turboprop engines, are the largest in the world at a massive 21ft (6.3m) in diameter.

But all the excitement seemed to fizzle out in the year 2000.

“They were only ever designed to last 10 to 20 years but they ended up lasting 30,” says Alex Walker of The Hovercraft Museum. “The SRN.4s were using aircraft engines. There was asbestos. The electrical systems. Compliance with the regulations – or mitigation – was getting more and more onerous and then there was the abolition of duty free [tax breaks for travellers].

“By then, [hovercraft] were also competing with the Channel Tunnel, and new ferries, which were easier to use and operate. So, there was no one thing they could do to fix the problem.”

In nearby Trafalgar Wharf, Portchester, a huge metal hangar-like structure known as the Hovercraft Shed because of the machines built there in the past, is the home of Griffon Hoverwork. The company has delivered around 200 hovercrafts in the last 50 years to 41 countries including Canada, New Zealand, Colombia and Japan. The majority of these vehicles have been ordered by militaries. The first thing I see when I step into the shed’s cavernous interior is a large, brand new hovercraft surrounded by scaffolding and engineers busy prepping it for its next sea trial.

Everybody seems to think that hovercrafts died when the cross-Channel service stopped, but they didn’t – Ben Avery

The machine is the last of an order worth more than $32m (£25m) for three hovercrafts to link the city of Oita in northern Japan to its airport across the bay. It is like a stretched version of the HoverTravel craft. Close to half the length of The Princess Anne, it’s Griffon’s latest example of a new generation of quieter, more fuel-efficient hovercrafts under construction. It uses lightweight materials and two industrial diesel engines to make it competitive with rival high-speed craft such as catamarans.

In this case, it is to deliver passengers straight to the doors of the airport terminal across the Oita Bay without the need for a quay or even a connecting bus.

Opposite is the jig for the next hovercraft to be built. This will be the first of two smaller machines for the Polish border guard, a repeat customer.

“Everybody seems to think that hovercraft died when the cross-Channel service stopped, but they didn’t,” says Ben Avery. “The problem was that hovercraft were quite badly mis-sold in the early days, and we still suffer from that legacy today. So we have worked very, very hard to bring the third generation of craft along that aren’t the gas guzzlers they used to be, and nor do they leave your ears bleeding.”

Small hovercraft can be used to rescue people in difficult environments such as frozen ponds (Credit: Neotrich)

Griffon isn’t the only company in the world building hovercraft. The Textron shipyard in New Orleans in the US is busy constructing an initial order of 24 (expected to grow to 73) next-generation Ship-to-Shore Connector (SSC) craft for the US Navy and Marine Corps. The vessels have the ability to land on 80% of the world’s shorelines and will have an expected service life of 30 years.

They are designed to replace a fleet of 91 vessels evolved from an earlier American design from the 1960s. That hovercraft, the Hydroskimmer, was the largest air-cushion vehicle ever built in the United States.

Russian and Chinese companies continue to build hovercraft largely for their own markets. The heavily armed Russian Zubr class of air-cushioned landing craft is currently holds the title of largest hovercraft in the world.

The concept of the hovercraft is older than you might think

The Iranians have also been busy building their own, which may be based on British hovercraft designs sold to Iran before the 1978 revolution.

Then there are the manufacturers of small or light hovercraft. They often employ one or two people, and don’t tend to stay around for long, but some of these start-ups have grown into established businesses.

Since 1976, the Indiana-based Neoteric Hovercraft has produced more than 1,000 different hovercrafts of 20 different designs. They are intended for personal use, such as racing, as well as tasks such as search and rescue, environmental studies and – equipped with magnetometers – detecting unexploded ordnance, as well as military training. The company’s unique selling point is that it manufactures “the only light hovercraft with the ability to brake and reverse”.

Hovercraft racing is a niche pursuit; the first event took place in Australia in 1964 (Credit: Guy Roberts)

The concept of the hovercraft is older than you might think. Hundreds of years ago, boat builders realised that ships could travel much faster if they were able to lift their hull, or part of it, out of the water. The first mention of an air cushion vehicle was in 1716. In the 1870s, British shipbuilder John Thornycroft came up with the idea of injecting air underneath his boats to reduce the amount of friction. He was able to prove that his air-lubricated hulls were effective with small models, but the technology wasn’t developed sufficiently to work on full-size vessels.

In the 1930s, Soviet engineer Vladimir Levkov assembled about 20 experimental “air-cushion boats” that he envisaged as fast attack or torpedo boats, including the long, shark-like L-5, which achieved an impressive 81mph (130km/h) in sea trials.

In the early 1950s, British engineer Christopher Cockerell decided to channel the air into a narrow jet around the edge of the craft’s perimeter, forming a curtain of moving air that would limit leakage. By 1955, he had built a working model of his “hovercraft” from balsa wood. He came up with the name, which was later trademarked, meaning that there are certain sensitivities around its use today.

The era of the eccentric hovercraft inventor isn’t over yet

Four years after his invention, with the support of the government-backed National Research Development Corporation, Cockerell built the SRN.1, which resembled a flying saucer with a huge air intake in the middle. On 25 July 1959, the 50th anniversary of the first aeroplane flight over the Channel, he crossed the same body of water – albeit at a much lower altitude. The SRN.1 struggled to overcome waves, so his solution was a rubber skirt around the rim of the craft to boost its height. 

Only 10 years later, much larger hovercrafts were in service, ferrying cars across the Channel.

The British inventor wasn’t alone in seeing the potential of air-cushion vehicles. American engineers also realised their usefulness, but the craft they designed, built, and sold were largely overshadowed by rival British models.

Hovercraft were seen as a technology of the future, but early designs were loud anbd expensive to operate (Credit: Hovercraft Museum Archive)

“I was sitting at home watching television when I was quite young in 1959, and I saw the SRN.1 crossing the Channel – and that’s what got me interested in hovercraft,” says Chris Fitzgerald, president of Neoteric Hovercraft. “But there were many other people finding similar solutions to the same problem. There were people playing with this concept for a long time.”

The era of the eccentric hovercraft inventor isn’t over yet. The first hovercraft race was in Canberra, Australia in 1964 but racing – and cruising – hovercrafts continues to be popular. Competitors are often innovators who work on their vehicles in their garden sheds and garages.

“Racing is how my parents met – and I’ve been going since I was born,” says Hannah Deacon, marketing director of the Hovercraft Club of Great Britain (HCGB), and runner-up in the 2022 Formula 50 World Hovercraft Championship in Sweden. “At races you don’t talk about what you do outside of racing. You just focus on fixing the craft, making it better, making it go faster, getting back out there and trying it out.

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“We are worried about the carbon emissions from racing,” adds Deacon. “So it’s great to see that electric hovercraft are now being developed. But this kind of innovation is horribly expensive for individuals.”

The future of the hovercraft is clear. It is unlikely there will ever be another huge machine like The Princess Anne. “But climate change is happening and we’re getting more intertidal zones,” says Avery. “So there will be more rescue craft, more survey vessels; and more craft will be needed that have this amphibious ability. We have built one hybrid craft already, and we will see hovercrafts that are fully electric and even hydrogen powered. 

 “The niche hovercraft operate in is only going to grow.”

Why the hovercraft’s time might have finally arrived?

Hovercraft were a quick way to zip across the world’s waterways but were noisy and expensive to operate. Could they be about to enjoy a second wind?

Read my hit feature article for BBC Future in full below – or by clicking on this link.

The 12.30pm midweek hovercraft departure from Portsmouth is already respectably half-full when we step on board. Marketed as the world’s only year-round scheduled passenger hovercraft service, the Union Jack-emblazoned machine flies for a thrilling 10 minutes, hovering just inches above the water’s surface. It is the fastest way to reach Ryde on the Isle of Wight, a Detroit-sized island off the south coast of England. A rival vehicle, the FastCat ferry, takes more than twice as long, around 22 minutes.

The hovercraft’s engines roar (no louder than an airliner on take-off) as its beefy cushion inflates, lifting the vehicle gently five feet (1.6m) into the air. Then, it turns and slides seamlessly into the sea on its dash to Ryde. The 78-seater craft’s unique ability to fly over sand and mud without damaging the fragile ecosystems underneath means that passengers may board even at low tide.

Hovertravel, which runs this service, is the sister company of Griffon Hoverwork, a British manufacturer that traces its roots back to Sir Christopher Cockerell’s invention of the hovercraft in the 1950s.

This mode of transport may be more than 70 years old but it could be about to enjoy a second wind. The global rise in sea levels, and the blurring of the boundary between land and sea that will result, is set to grow its niche further.

“It makes you feel very free,” says Griffon’s chief pilot Ben Avery. “You can climb straight out of the sea onto the sand, and it’s one of the few machines that doesn’t have anything in the way of automatic control, so you drive it by the seat of your pants. It’s all done by feel and reaction.

Griffon Hoverwork has made new hovercraft for the Japanese city of Oita which will ferry passengers to its airport (Credit: Griffon Hoverwork)

“The older models, you have got to grab by the scruff of the neck and drive because they have mechanical controls.”

Hovertravel likes to bill this as a unique service but in October 2024, a second year-round scheduled passenger hovercraft service will launch in Japan.

“There are more passenger hovercraft services around the world than people realise,” says Avery. “There’s quite a lot of passenger services that operate between China and Russia. We’ve got a customer out in Canada, who operates a year-round service. It’s also not scheduled, but it is year-round.”

Fifty-sixty years ago, the hovercraft was the future of transportation. We were promised hoverscooters, hovercars, hovertrains and hoverships. The Ford Motor Car Company unveiled the Ford Mach I hovercar concept and Popular Science, a US magazine, heralded a future of “Cars Without Wheels”. But when a massive and popular hovercraft that transported people and their cars between England and France retired in 2000, many felt the final curtain had fallen on a technology that hadn’t really delivered on all the hype. With the humble hover mower the only mainstream bit of hovercraft technology in existence, it seemed to have become just another dead-end technology.

Inside the gates of “the world’s only hovercraft museum” I find a cornucopia of hovercrafts, large and small

“Hovercraft were noisy as hell and expensive to operate but there were some advantages to the technology,” says John Geoghegan, author of White Elephant Technology, a book about failed technologies. “They were fast and could operate on land and sea. They were also as cool as heck.”

Just down the coast from Portsmouth lies The Hovercraft Museum, overlooked by giant propellers that rise above a new housing estate nearby like an executioner’s axe. Adjacent is the massive concrete ramp or apron that runs down to the Solent from the hangars of the old Royal Naval Air Service Lee-on-Solent base.

Inside the gates of “the world’s only hovercraft museum” I find a cornucopia of hovercraft, large and small, military and civilian, in various stages of restoration, as well as two machines from the James Bond movie Die Another Day.

By the 1960s, there were British hovercraft large enough to carry cars across the English Channel (Credit: Hovercraft Museum Archive)

The blue and white Princess Anne is a hefty beast. Nearly as long as a Boeing 747’s wingspan and as wide as two large sea containers, it is the only surviving example of the SRN.4 (Saunders-Roe Nautical 4), the largest commercial hovercraft ever built. Its air-screw propellers, powered by Rolls-Royce turboprop engines, are the largest in the world at a massive 21ft (6.3m) in diameter.

But all the excitement seemed to fizzle out in the year 2000.

“They were only ever designed to last 10 to 20 years but they ended up lasting 30,” says Alex Walker of The Hovercraft Museum. “The SRN.4s were using aircraft engines. There was asbestos. The electrical systems. Compliance with the regulations – or mitigation – was getting more and more onerous and then there was the abolition of duty free [tax breaks for travellers].

“By then, [hovercraft] were also competing with the Channel Tunnel, and new ferries, which were easier to use and operate. So, there was no one thing they could do to fix the problem.”

In nearby Trafalgar Wharf, Portchester, a huge metal hangar-like structure known as the Hovercraft Shed because of the machines built there in the past, is the home of Griffon Hoverwork. The company has delivered around 200 hovercrafts in the last 50 years to 41 countries including Canada, New Zealand, Colombia and Japan. The majority of these vehicles have been ordered by militaries. The first thing I see when I step into the shed’s cavernous interior is a large, brand new hovercraft surrounded by scaffolding and engineers busy prepping it for its next sea trial.

Everybody seems to think that hovercrafts died when the cross-Channel service stopped, but they didn’t – Ben Avery

The machine is the last of an order worth more than $32m (£25m) for three hovercrafts to link the city of Oita in northern Japan to its airport across the bay. It is like a stretched version of the HoverTravel craft. Close to half the length of The Princess Anne, it’s Griffon’s latest example of a new generation of quieter, more fuel-efficient hovercrafts under construction. It uses lightweight materials and two industrial diesel engines to make it competitive with rival high-speed craft such as catamarans.

In this case, it is to deliver passengers straight to the doors of the airport terminal across the Oita Bay without the need for a quay or even a connecting bus.

Opposite is the jig for the next hovercraft to be built. This will be the first of two smaller machines for the Polish border guard, a repeat customer.

“Everybody seems to think that hovercraft died when the cross-Channel service stopped, but they didn’t,” says Ben Avery. “The problem was that hovercraft were quite badly mis-sold in the early days, and we still suffer from that legacy today. So we have worked very, very hard to bring the third generation of craft along that aren’t the gas guzzlers they used to be, and nor do they leave your ears bleeding.”

Small hovercraft can be used to rescue people in difficult environments such as frozen ponds (Credit: Neotrich)

Griffon isn’t the only company in the world building hovercraft. The Textron shipyard in New Orleans in the US is busy constructing an initial order of 24 (expected to grow to 73) next-generation Ship-to-Shore Connector (SSC) craft for the US Navy and Marine Corps. The vessels have the ability to land on 80% of the world’s shorelines and will have an expected service life of 30 years.

They are designed to replace a fleet of 91 vessels evolved from an earlier American design from the 1960s. That hovercraft, the Hydroskimmer, was the largest air-cushion vehicle ever built in the United States.

Russian and Chinese companies continue to build hovercraft largely for their own markets. The heavily armed Russian Zubr class of air-cushioned landing craft is currently holds the title of largest hovercraft in the world.

The concept of the hovercraft is older than you might think

The Iranians have also been busy building their own, which may be based on British hovercraft designs sold to Iran before the 1978 revolution.

Then there are the manufacturers of small or light hovercraft. They often employ one or two people, and don’t tend to stay around for long, but some of these start-ups have grown into established businesses.

Since 1976, the Indiana-based Neoteric Hovercraft has produced more than 1,000 different hovercrafts of 20 different designs. They are intended for personal use, such as racing, as well as tasks such as search and rescue, environmental studies and – equipped with magnetometers – detecting unexploded ordnance, as well as military training. The company’s unique selling point is that it manufactures “the only light hovercraft with the ability to brake and reverse”.

Hovercraft racing is a niche pursuit; the first event took place in Australia in 1964 (Credit: Guy Roberts)

The concept of the hovercraft is older than you might think. Hundreds of years ago, boat builders realised that ships could travel much faster if they were able to lift their hull, or part of it, out of the water. The first mention of an air cushion vehicle was in 1716. In the 1870s, British shipbuilder John Thornycroft came up with the idea of injecting air underneath his boats to reduce the amount of friction. He was able to prove that his air-lubricated hulls were effective with small models, but the technology wasn’t developed sufficiently to work on full-size vessels.

In the 1930s, Soviet engineer Vladimir Levkov assembled about 20 experimental “air-cushion boats” that he envisaged as fast attack or torpedo boats, including the long, shark-like L-5, which achieved an impressive 81mph (130km/h) in sea trials.

In the early 1950s, British engineer Christopher Cockerell decided to channel the air into a narrow jet around the edge of the craft’s perimeter, forming a curtain of moving air that would limit leakage. By 1955, he had built a working model of his “hovercraft” from balsa wood. He came up with the name, which was later trademarked, meaning that there are certain sensitivities around its use today.

The era of the eccentric hovercraft inventor isn’t over yet

Four years after his invention, with the support of the government-backed National Research Development Corporation, Cockerell built the SRN.1, which resembled a flying saucer with a huge air intake in the middle. On 25 July 1959, the 50th anniversary of the first aeroplane flight over the Channel, he crossed the same body of water – albeit at a much lower altitude. The SRN.1 struggled to overcome waves, so his solution was a rubber skirt around the rim of the craft to boost its height. 

Only 10 years later, much larger hovercrafts were in service, ferrying cars across the Channel.

The British inventor wasn’t alone in seeing the potential of air-cushion vehicles. American engineers also realised their usefulness, but the craft they designed, built, and sold were largely overshadowed by rival British models.

Hovercraft were seen as a technology of the future, but early designs were loud anbd expensive to operate (Credit: Hovercraft Museum Archive)

“I was sitting at home watching television when I was quite young in 1959, and I saw the SRN.1 crossing the Channel – and that’s what got me interested in hovercraft,” says Chris Fitzgerald, president of Neoteric Hovercraft. “But there were many other people finding similar solutions to the same problem. There were people playing with this concept for a long time.”

The era of the eccentric hovercraft inventor isn’t over yet. The first hovercraft race was in Canberra, Australia in 1964 but racing – and cruising – hovercrafts continues to be popular. Competitors are often innovators who work on their vehicles in their garden sheds and garages.

“Racing is how my parents met – and I’ve been going since I was born,” says Hannah Deacon, marketing director of the Hovercraft Club of Great Britain (HCGB), and runner-up in the 2022 Formula 50 World Hovercraft Championship in Sweden. “At races you don’t talk about what you do outside of racing. You just focus on fixing the craft, making it better, making it go faster, getting back out there and trying it out.

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“We are worried about the carbon emissions from racing,” adds Deacon. “So it’s great to see that electric hovercraft are now being developed. But this kind of innovation is horribly expensive for individuals.”

The future of the hovercraft is clear. It is unlikely there will ever be another huge machine like The Princess Anne. “But climate change is happening and we’re getting more intertidal zones,” says Avery. “So there will be more rescue craft, more survey vessels; and more craft will be needed that have this amphibious ability. We have built one hybrid craft already, and we will see hovercrafts that are fully electric and even hydrogen powered. 

 “The niche hovercraft operate in is only going to grow.”

New title, new cover – the Polish edition of N-4 DOWN is published today + WATCH the brand new trailer!

I very excited to announce that my book N-4 DOWN: the hunt for the Arctic airship has now been published in Polish by Wydawnictwo Astra –and with a great new title and new trailer. It is amazing to see your words translated into another language

Now watch the amazing new trailer – and then listen to me talking about my book!!

I spoke at a Meet The Author event at Headington Public Library earlier this year!

I was invited to speak at a Meet The Author event at Headington Public Library in June, in the wonderful surroundings of Bury Knowle House and Park that dates back to 1800.

There were around 8-10 people there – a number of whom had read N-4 DOWN for the hunt for the Artic airship Italia in advance, and after I read some passages from the book they proceeded to ask me some very hard questions, including one that began, “I have read your book and I didn’t like it, but what do you think…,” and which led to a great – informed, friendly and good humoured – discussion about the picture I painted of Amundsen in my book. 

I loved speaking at Headington Public Library, and would recommend it to any author.

I missed this review of N-4 DOWN in the United States Army’s Aviation Digest from 2022 – and I love it!

Somehow, I missed this excellent review of N-4 DOWN by COL Jayson A. Altieri (Ret.)from 2022 in Aviation Digest United States Army, which is frustrating as the reviewer really “gets” the book and its lessons.

I love the whole review, but this is my favourite section…

“For readers who enjoy a compelling story of man against the elements and himself, and for those who want insights about the limits of any new technology when pushed to the edge, N-4 Down provides both. The author does a masterful job of weaving a story that combines the race to be the first man to successfully fly and land on the North Pole, 1920s aviation technologies, and the geopolitical situation in Europe following the First World War. Drawing from a number of primary resources and previously unpublished documents, Mr. Piesing’s story of innovation, daring, hubris, and betrayal provides a detailed account of one of the biggest news stories of the age prior to the 1929 stock market crash. For many military readers, N-4 Down also provides a useful insight into the complexities and challenges of international or “coalition” type operations, highlighting factors like interoperability and how politics play in such endeavors.

N-4 Down is both insightful, timely, and highly recommended to a diverse group of readers. As the dawn of a new interplanetary race begins with competitors like SpaceX and Virgin Galactic attempting to open the high ground of space to private enterprise, the technological limitations of commercial manned-space travel to low Earth orbit, the Moon, and Mars may see a similar crisis unfold in the future. The lessons learned from N-4 Down may provide important insights for another generation of men and women pushing the boundaries of new technology in
an unforgiving environment.”

My next piece for The Smithsonian’s Air and Space magazine has been accepted for publication!

A clue!

My next piece for The Smithsonian’s Air and Space magazine has been accepted for publication, but I can’t tell you what it is about other than it has something to do with space!

I will post more news here when I have it.

I was a guest on the HistoryHack podcast talking about N-4 DOWN!

Just before Christmas, I had the privilege of being a guest on the fantastic HistoryHack podcast talking about – you guessed it – my book N-4 DOWN the hunt for the Arctic airship Italia.

Listen to it now by clicking on these links

Listen on Spotify

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Acast

My book N-4 DOWN was picked by best-selling historian Giles Milton for the 2023 Summer Reads from Aspects of History!

Giles Milton is “the internationally best-selling author of twelve works of narrative history, including Nathaniel’s Nutmeg and Churchill’s Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare” – and one of my favourite authors – so my imagine my delight when I find that my book N-4 DOWN: the hunt for the Arctic airship Italia is Giles Milton’s No. 1 recommendation in the 2023 Summer Reads from Auspects of History.

“THE BEST THING about finishing writing a book is having the time to read again. I’ve recently been immersed in a rollicking historical adventure. Mark Piesing’s N-4 Down: The Hunt for the Airship Italia tells the true story of arguably the greatest polar rescue mission in history. In the spring of 1928, the gigantic airship Italia was struck by a ferocious Arctic storm as it returned from a voyage to the North Pole. The ensuing crash triggered a massive search and rescue mission, which led to further disasters. Among the would-be rescuers was the world-famous explorer, Roald Amundsen, who disappeared and was never seen again. N-4 Down is a gripping Boy’s Own adventure. If you like your books splashed with derring-do, Arctic blizzards, gigantic egos and Italian fascists, then it will tick all the right boxes.”