First steps. When one thinks of a child, or indeed any baby animal, the idea of first steps usually causes us to well up with emotion. It’s a mix of hope and fear, a mix of pride and a bit of dread for how fast things will start to change going forward. And, sometimes (if you’re a bit of a sarcastic arse like me) you can even find the first, faltering steps cutely funny in a “comedy of errors” or “fail army” kind of way. Let’s face it, trying hard at something new and failing has its own cute funniness built right in, doesn’t it?
Well, maybe if you’re a toddler falling butt-first back to the carpet, or a deer ending up cross-legged and dazed on the forest floor, sure. However, things get less cute and funny when those same faltering steps and near-abject failures are military aircraft. In these cases, national security and prestige, not to mention the lives of the test pilots and millions of taxpayer dollars are at risk. Yet, even taking all that into account, you can’t help but gaze bemusedly upon some of aviation’s first steps into the jet age, and snicker. With the aid of hindsight, asking “What were they thinking?” isn’t even fair; you can’t judge early jets with the knowledge it takes to create 5thGen fighters!
Of course, if you have that same sarcastic streak I mentioned earlier, then you don’t worry about fairness. Failure is its own dark comedy, and if you’re looking for aviation-based laughs, then there’s lots to giggle at in the immediate post-WWII era. I always find it odd that both the Germans and the British had fully-fledged jets in combat or in prototype form at the end of the war, and the Americans had caught up with the P-80, yet the next few years seem to offer a plethora of aircraft that are WORSE in both concept and execution than their WWII forebears!
(It’d be like making cars that were crappier in the mid-‘70s than in the early ‘70s! Oh… wait… I see what you did there… okay, bad example…)
In the rush to jump headlong into the jet age, the major powers all fielded fighters that were absolutely terrible. In Britain, the Supermarine Attacker was the lamest of the UK’s reaction-powered lame ducks, and Russia had the glorious MiG-9 and the Yak Tadpole family. However, the US had a couple of stinkers too, and perhaps one of the best examples is a plane that many have forgotten; the Vought F6U1 Pirate.
It’s hard to understand how Supermarine, the creators of the legendary Spitfire, could drop the ball and spew forth aeronautical flotsam like the Attacker. Equally mystifying is how Vought, the makers of the equally legendary (and longer-lived) F4U Corsair could vomit-up a plane so utterly pedestrian as the F6U1 Pirate. To be fair, the Pirate’s specification was issued in late 1944, but really, when you consider that the Me-262 was already in action then, the Pirate’s design shows just how far ahead Germany’s aeronautical engineers really were.
The Pirate was both utterly conventional and bizarrely unconventional. It had straight, short wings, and was a tubby blob of a plane. However, it was also made of “Metalite”, a new material Vought pioneered. This was two thin sheets of aluminum sandwiching a sheet of Balsa Wood. Yes, Balsa… like those Guillow’s gliders you flew as a kid. Sure, it was light and strong (and was also used on the XF5U “flying flapjack”, I believe) but for a jet, it did have a problem; it wasn’t all that heat-resistant.
Now, I know what you’re thinking – “Why would they use non-heat-resistant materials in a JET? Jets run HOT, right?” Technically, you’re right, BUT, and it’s a big but (Stop your snickering and grow up!) the Pirate’s engine really didn’t put out that much heat. That’s because it used a Westinghouse engine, and any student of aviation history knows that Westinghouse made terrible, terrible engines, by and large. They were the reason for the failure of many early US jets, so much so that if you look up early jets that suck, you can almost bet a Westinghouse will be the powerplant! D, the early J-34 engine only made 3000lbs of thrust, so the heating wasn’t as profound as you might expect.
Interestingly, the Pirate’s engine was fed air from two tiny little intakes under the wing root. This is why they are often missed on first glance; they’re so small and in the shadows! That the engine needed such tiny amounts of airflow to run should have raised red flags, but that went unnoticed. Not only did it lack power, the range was so poor that large wingtip tanks were designed and fitted. Adding drag and weight, these also didn’t help the portly fighter’s aesthetic much.
The problem was that the engine could barely power the plane, and the first test flights showed that more power was needed. This resulted in the aircraft being fitted with the first afterburner designed in the US. Of course, this meant more weight, and the F6U-1s also had a large, bare-metal section that was the lower half of the rear fuselage. This was necessary to deal with the heat from the afterburner, but it only served to slow the Pirate down in the end.
After only 30 machines of the F6U-1 series were produced, the program was shelved. The Navy test pilots considered the plane “unfit for combat” and basically called it out for being utterly useless. Those already built only served for limited testing purposes, and the type can hardly be called an operational fighter. They did some work for landing barrier research and acted as transitional trainers, but that was all. Other than leaving a black mark on Vought’s otherwise excellent record of design and manufacturing potent warplanes, the Pirate did nothing of value.
Since this thing is an abject failure and an esoteric footnote in the history of aviation, not to mention a black mark on the company that made it, it should come as no surprise that I was very excited to find the Admiral 1/72 kit at Wheels and Wings in Toronto a few years ago. I didn’t even know the kit existed, but once I saw it, I couldn’t let it go!
So, let’s take a look at this little guy, and see if the kit is any better than the subject matter, shall we?
The Box:
The Admiral brand is made by AZ model, as it says right on the side of the box. In fact, I AZ offers the same kit in a number of different boxings. Why there’s a sub-brand like Admiral I don’t really get, but it seems like they offer mostly naval subjects. The point of this is that like AZ kits, the boxes on Admiral kits are end opening affairs (Boo!!!) of moderate structural rigidity.
The Pirate’s box is very eye-catching thanks to the yellow band up the left side and the black band along the bottom. These colours immediately bring your eyes to the box, and once there, you can focus on all the heart-stopping action on display. Yes, the box for this kit shows an F6U-1 performing the heroic feat of… sedately managing to hoist it’s anemically bloated airframe off a runway. If you think just taking off isn’t that exciting, then you either haven’t seen the Matchbox Provost’s art or you didn’t read my description of just how much the Pirate sucked.
Because just getting off the ground really would be heart-pounding excitement for the pilot of this barely airworthy spud, it is an acceptable phase of flight to depict if you want to generate enthusiasm. The box art is very nicely painted, not CG rendered, and that in itself gets a giant thumbs-up from me! Sure, the pirate is just off the ground (as the shadow shows) and sure, it doesn’t look like it’s moving all that fast (because it likely isn’t), but the artist has done what was doable to make the Pirate look at least like it COULD be a lethal fighting machine. There are little wingtip vortices to give the impression of speed, but the fact that the background isn’t really blurry does help to solidify that this is not a neck-snappingly fast take off.
The drawing is simple but effective; you see the general shape of the Pirate and the lack of obvious air intake is immediately apparent. What I find confusing is that they label this to be an early F6U-1, but the drawing doesn’t look quite right. There are no mid-span “finlets” on the tailplane, and as far as I can tell, these are on every F6U-1, but not the prototypes. It does have the large, bare metal afterburner extension, and I thought the finlets were added to help correct stability issues due, in part, to this addition. Granted, the type doesn’t sport the tip tanks usually associated with the type, so you could say that’s “early”, but I do question the validity of the general arrangement presented. This is something of a regular occurrence with AZ and RM kits, though; there’s often a lot of disagreement on the box and instructions about options like this.
The one side of the box is just information in Japanese and English, but the other is a cross-sell for other Admiral kits. One of these is an F6U-1 “Late” version, which is also buildable in this kit, and a TBD-1 Devastator, something I’d love to get my hands on. (Actually, I have the old Airfix – I want the one on pontoons!)
The back of the box shows a full-colour painting plan for both early and late versions, since both can be built in this kit. There are two side, top and bottom views of the two variants, but unlike old Matchbox kits that really give you a variety, the two schemes here are almost identical. Indeed, that’s not Admiral’s fault, as the plane only existed during the “dark blue” period of naval aviation. However, if you want to do this as a What-If, check out the other AZ boxings for some ideas! The big differences are in the finlets and drop tanks, but as I said, I’m not sure that the lack of finlets really qualifies this as an “early” type, since I think only the XF6U-1s didn’t have them, but they had a shorter fuselage and totally different exhaust without the massive afterburner can.
The Kit:
The Kit is completely typical of AZ/RS/Admiral offerings. It is moulded in a medium grey plastic, and there are two such racks that make up the bulk of the kit. There’s also a single clear piece for the canopy. However, since this is an AZ (essentially) there’s also a bit of photoetch, the small fret having pieces for the instrument panel, tail-mounted pitot and a couple of other small aerials.
The plastic is a nice material that is not too hard, yet not as soft as some of the newer Airfix kits, which means that it’s not going to be laborious to sand or rescribe wherever necessary, but that it also will be strong enough to withstand handling. An additional bonus is that the landing gear are short and sturdy, so they aren’t likely to give under the weight of the small airframe.
The detail on the kit is good, and unlike many of the other chestnuts I have, it’s all recessed lines. These seem quite fine, but if my experience tells me anything, it’s that there’s going to be some sanding and re-etching needed upon assembly. I was surprised to see that the lines all look uniform in their depth, something that Sword’s Twogar could have really used some work on, so kudos to Admiral for that! In addition, the bubble canopy looks good. It’s not super-thin, but it’s not as thick as older kits’ canopies tend to be. The frames look well-defined but aren’t going to be easy to mask without doing a bit of re-etching first, I don’t think. Always fun…
One thing that’s weird to me is that the canopy is only moulded closed. I would have thought an open option would be given. Why? Because unlike many other kits this scale that have minimal cockpit detail, this one comes with a full resin seat and cockpit tub, right in the box! This is a decent looking unit, although it’s cast as one piece, so painting will be a bit more difficult than it could have been with a separate seat. Still, with all that in there, you might well want to consider cutting the canopy open; since it was a rear-sliding hood-type on the real airplane, this won’t be too hard.
One thing that does look to be tricky, though, is positioning the gun bulges. The Pirate carried 4x M3 20mm cannons. This is a considerable warload, and far superior to the initial armament of most USAF jets, including the vaunted F-86! However, each cannon had a bulge in the nose, and each of these is a separate piece! WTF?? WHY? I’m not sure whether Admiral did this as a test of skill, laziness or because they want to make a clean-nosed prototype (which would be wrong, since the short-tailed, non-afterburning planes also had bulges), but whatever the reason, this is going to suck. Thanks for nothing, Admiral…
To end on a positive, though, the parts are all in a bag, but it’s one of those “post-it”-type resealable bags that some of the Eastern European companies like to use. I LOVE these, since you can get our your kit, but still seal it back up to ensure no parts escape. EVERYONE should do this. Take the hint, Tamiya, Hasegawa, Trumpeter and the rest of you! AZ has your number on this one.
Instructions and Decals:
The instructions are a typical one-sheet-folded-in-half to give you four pages. The first is a brief history and a layout of the parts racks. This is useful, especially if you buy the kit second-hand, and want to make sure it’s all there. There are only six numbered steps, and a seventh that’s really about 6 separate steps combined. The instructions make things look easy, but careful review shows some reasons for concern.
Firstly, since this is kind of a short-run kit, “location” is a matter of opinion, not design. This means that you’ll likely have to create your own alignment tabs (like on the Sword Twogar or the Heller Mirage IV) from sheet styrene for the fuselage. Not a big deal. However, I can almost guarantee that the fit of the wing to the fuselage will be dodgy, and require a goodly amount of filling and sanding Make sure to include alignment tabs for this assembly as well!
I’ve already mentioned the gun bulges, but the horizontal and vertical tails are going to be trouble too. They aren’t tabbed or pinned, so getting them to stay on will be an issue, let alone making sure they are at the right angles. Drilling and pinning with wire is something I’d consider here, and it could save you a lot of heartache later on. The landing gear bays don’t look overly detailed, and while this isn’t an issue on the main bays (which are mostly closed on the ground), there’s a bit to be wary of for the nose gear bay. The roof of that bay is made from the bottom of the resin cockpit tub, so you’ll have to use CA on the nose gear; normal, glues won’t work. This is an issue since CA is terrible in shear and the nosewheel is often a bit of a fulcrum.
Also, the instructions show that a certain amount of weight is needed in the nose, but they don’t say HOW MUCH. There’s just a tiny icon of a weight with “kg” on it, and that’s it. I’m sure that you aren’t being asked to put in 1kg (2.2 lbs) of nose weight, but you’ll have to figure out the right number yourself. The instructions are also great at calling out measurements for both angles and distances. The guns are shown being 1mm apart, and the blocker for the engine exhaust is shown as being 8mm in. I would have preferred some kind of marking or stop for these parts, and you can tell that this kit is actually for more serious modellers when you review the steps needed to complete the kit.
The decals are very simple; there’s only the one scheme, so you get the appropriate “Stars and Bars” and a few numbers and stencils, and that’s it. Since the plane was blue, there’s no blue part to the decals, the blue around the star being inferred from the paint. This is fine for the actual plane, but it does mean that if you want to Whif this, you’re going to need to raid the spares box for even basic insignia. The decal plan is clear, but again, the problems of what’s an “Early” and a “Late” variant rear their heads. Adding to the confusion is the AZ tendency to have drawings that self-conflict. I hate this. In this case, the front view doesn’t show the gun bulges, so a very useful positioning guide is lost for no reason. Also, the front view doesn’t’ show the tanks on the wing tips, but does show the finlets, again contradicting what the other drawings show. This is just sloppiness, as far as I’m concerned, and AZ’s instructions department should really double-check their work before allowing it to reach publication like this.
Conclusions:
The dawn of the jet age and the rapid onset of untethered technological advancement meant that a lot of the earliest planes from this time were quickly superseded. Despite their best efforts at innovation, the manufacturers of the time couldn’t always produce aircraft that were as good as those that came before them, and the steep learning curve of the era often resulted in lessons being learned through failure rather than analysis.
The Pirate, while a sound idea in many ways, was one such failure. While it did indeed use composite materials, and it was the first Navy type with an afterburner, it was also very underpowered and was judged to be useless for combat. Even the Marines (traditionally not afraid to make the best use of substandard equipment) didn’t touch it. The Pirate had other features going for it; a bubble hood, heavy armament and wings so short they didn’t need to fold were all positives of the design. If you think about it, the A-4 Skyhawk of only a decade later had a similar bubble canopy and wings that didn’t need to fold, too, and it is practically immortal!
That the Pirate was a dismal disappointment and a barely recognized footnote in naval and jet aviation doesn’t detract from this kit in any way. However, just like the real thing, I feel this Pirate has a lot of potential to be problematic. As a shorter-run kit, it is only really suitable for experienced modellers, and indeed the box does say this on the side, so you are being warned. If you choose not to heed this, then that’s your fault. If you do buy the kit, though, all the normal workarounds for short-run kits will likely be needed.
This kit can easily become a gluebomb in the hands of someone not used to the attention demanded by kits of this kind. The use of resin for the nose gear attachment point is a particularly nasty and well-camouflaged pitfall, and others will likely manifest themselves during the build. I wouldn’t use this kit as a trainer, either, as while it is nicely detailed, a novice may find their results are frustrating because they don’t match up with the fineness they expected. Also, if you’re a shake-and-bake modeller, this is one to steer clear of.
For me, getting the Pirate was a no-brainer. It’s ugly, weak and a total failure at life; right up my alley! That the kit seems simple but is likely vexatious in the extreme only made its siren-call louder in my ears. However, for those who prefer the easy route, this isn’t going to be one you’ll want. If you do love failures, though, and you don’t mind some hard work, then I think this little guy might just be right for you. Just remember, even if it doesn’t turn out great, you’re just paying extra homage to the real thing!
The Sprue Lagoon 