LONG EXPERIENCE has taught me that if a pilot appears to know everything – then suspect that pilot. So I shall begin by saying I do not know the answer to this. In fact, I’m hoping someone can enlighten me.
Why does the Captain of a side-by-side aircraft sit on the left? On the face of it a simple question, but one which has niggled my flying brain for 45 years. At a glance, sitting on the left is perverse to the point of the ridiculous. It’s almost as if a politician might have thought it up.
Some 80 to 90 percent of the world’s population is right-handed. When Samuel Colt invented his epic revolvers he knew a thing or two. He produced nine-tenths of them with chambers breaking left, for a right-handed shooter to reload with his left hand, and one-tenth breaking right for left-handers.
Yet in fixed-wing aviation the Captain sits on the left, and therefore some 90 percent of pilots fly the machine with their “unnatural” hand, and waste their “best” hand on throttle(s) and switches on the central console. Okay, many side-by-side light aircraft cockpits – particularly actual or intended military trainers with proper sticks rather than yokes – are ambidextrous to the extent of having basic engine controls on the left cockpit wall as well as in the centre. And most – but not all – helicopters are t’other way round anyway – Captain on the right.
But the fact remains: in all normal fixedwing operations the Skipper sits on the left. The unnatural side, ‘cos it means he flies with his left hand. I have personally been lucky. I’m righthanded, and three-quarters of my flying has been in aerobatic single or tandem seaters which are all also right-handed. (Stick in the right hand, throttle on the left). And most of the other quarter was instructing, where I was sitting on the right and the throttle was on the left anyway. So I’ve done very little flying with my left hand. On the odd occasions when, purely out of interest, I’ve tried aerobating a Pitts or an Extra with my left hand, the results have proved woefully lacking in accuracy.
Normal operation, no problem. But precision flying? No – I’m right-handed. The mirror-image of this is, of course, a left-handed pilot in a right-handed cockpit. If the global average holds good this must mean about one in ten, and I’ve personally known two or three very good aerobatic pilots who were naturally lefties. One of them said he parked the throttle at full grunt and then flew with both hands on the stick.
The others said that so many things in life were cack-handed for a leftie that one more didn’t make a whole lot of difference. (I regard these folk with the sort of awe I normally reserve for people
who can fluently speak two languages). But none of that removes the basic question. Why does the Captain sit on the left so that nine-tenths of pilots fly with the “wrong” hand?
For Pete’s sake, why? HABIT
The normal explanations look exceeding specious. I’ll get to them, but first let’s
consider habit. The point about habit is that once it’s established it’s just that – established. The Skipper sits on the left. He therefore taxies in and parks with the loading bays – both animate and inanimate – on his left. So most transport aircraft load passengers on the left.
At one time, maybe, the Captain could stick his head out of the window and look back and spot some shifty geezer in a black cape embarking with a black ball with BOMB written on it. Not relevant now.
Half a century ago – and sometimes even now – the Captain would have a few more instruments and controls on his side than the co-pilot had. Those controls were for the left seat, so that was where the Captain sat. Okay.
But, in fact, these things are results, not causes. Once a tradition is set, why of course it makes absolute sense that everyone worldwide follow it so that standardisation comes into being. So that nobody parks disembarking stairs on the starboard side of the aircraft while passengers are getting off on the port side and plopping like Lemmings on to the concrete.
Once the practice is established, it’s just that – established. Not up for debate.
But still – why?
Why does the Skipper sit on the left? Why are nine-tenths of the fixed-wing pilots in the world – including you in your Cherokee or Cessna – called upon to fly with their “wrong” hand?
Well, you might say, it derives from the law that if you’re following a line feature you keep it on your left so you don’t bump head-on into some dreamy soul doing the same thing coming the other way with said feature on his right. And you might indeed quote several other of the Rules of the Air, all designed to give the left-seater the best vision of what’s going on. Yeah, well of course you’re correct. But the same argument still applies – that this is a result, not a cause. No legislator ever woke up one morning and said: “Ah – I know! We’ll so frame the law as to make all these cocky pilot people sit on the left and fly with their wrong hand! That’ll take the wind out of their moustaches…” No, no. Captains were sitting on the left
some time before there were any Air Laws. Heavy bombers in World War One – the Handley Page 0/400, the Vickers Vimy – seated the Skipper on the left. As did, most interestingly, the German bombers, the Gotha and the Zeppelin Staaken (a huge four and sometimes five engine biplane – nothing to do with the airships).
So the question remains. Why? Why the apparent illogic? Which means we
must look back further. Some theories are fascinating, but mostly contradictory. One states that it goes back to the days of four-horse coaches, when the coachman sat on the left with the reins in his left hand and the whip stowed in the centre ready for his right hand so that the whip-crack came between the horses. (Hence “the whip hand”).
A contrary theory comes from America. There it seems the good ‘ole farm boys and the stage-coaches normally sat the driver in the middle and he simply swapped hands as required, the right hand being dominant. This (it says here) led to the brake lever being mounted on the left, so that it became natural (it says here) for wagoners passing in opposite directions to stop left-to-left when they wished to chew the fat and swap whiskey bottles and generally pass the time of day. Which led (again, it says here) to America adopting right-side-of-the-road driving… Pretty theories, yes, but – well, you tell me. Myself, I prefer to look at the actualities connected with aviation. Except that they are equally contrarian. So these are personal guesses – nothing more. If you know better – I’d love to hear it.
The first is the legend that an oncoming bird will break up and right, and so the Boss sat on the left so he could see it better. This is complete twaddle. I can personally tell you that oncoming birds can break every which way often including exactly the wrong one. And that early aircraft were so slow in roll that there wasn’t much point in trying to do anything anyway. Bin that legend...... But bring on the fact that if you, an instructor, suddenly yell “Break!” or “Roll!” 90 percent of students will turn or roll to the left.
My theory is that because 90 percent of students are righthanded they find it more natural to push the stick sideways to the left rather than pull it to the right. But I don’t claim I’m right. Research confirms that the break-left syndrome is almost universal – but I’m only guessing why. Other research confirms that most formation pilots prefer flying on the right of Lead – so looking left – rather than on the left of Lead looking right. This again is fact, but nobody seems able to explain it. Me included. So let’s look back some more. In WWI a lot of Allied aeroplanes were powered by rotary engines, almost all of which were right-hand tractors. (Prop turning to the right when viewed from the cockpit). Because of that those aeroplanes turned
better to the left than to the right due to the gyroscopic effect of the whirling engine. If you can’t see why that is you have my sympathy. Historians tend to take it as a ‘given’, but, in fact, the physics are really quite complex. For the present just take it from me that it was perfectly true.
With about 6 000 Sopwith Camels, Pups, Nieuports, and other rotary-powered aircraft in service, all of which turned better left; the left-hand circuit on joining an airfield became the norm. And that meant that by the time side-by-side cockpits in bombers came along, left-hand circuits were already established. And so
Captains sat on the left, where they were better able to see what was going on. So conundrum solved, yes…? Er, well, ye-es. Or sort of yes-ish…
The fly in this theory is the Germans, because they made very little use of rotary engines. Rotaries powered the Fokker Eindekker, which was pensioned-off in 1916, and then later the Fokker Dr1 Triplane, which, although famous as the Red Baron’s mount, was in fact only produced in very small numbers. The rest of Germany’s aerial armada – more than 95 percent of it – were powered by in-line engines.
Which by and large are not fussy about which way you turn the aeroplane… And yet the German bombers also put the Captain in the lefthand seat. Why? Why, fer Pete’s sake…? I don’t know…
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