Aah, the French.
A nation of aviation pioneers: Louis Bleriot, Henri Farman, Gabriel Voisin, Eduard Nieuport,
and many more who’s names I will equally butcher with my atrocious pronunciation.
But when it comes to aviation, the French aren’t just famous for their pioneering
inventors.
No.
They are equally well known in the aviation community for producing some of the strangest,
most perplexing, deeply questionable, and the most unapologetically French designs imaginable.
And that is the purpose of today’s video.
We’re not going to look at their best planes.
We don’t care if a design was good or bad, a success or a failure, we want to find their
ugliest examples.
We don’t want beauty, we want a plane that looks like it was shaped with nothing more
than the hardened edge of a stale baguette.
So, join me, and mentally prepare yourself, as we look at what I think to be the top 10
ugliest aircraft France has ever made.
In 10th place we have an aircraft that looks as equally beautiful as it was hideous, and
this was the Leduc 022.
This was an attempt at developing an interceptor aircraft that was powered by a ramjet, and
it was a perfect example of an aircraft being designed with total priority placed on the
engine.
The best example of this was the location of the pilot.
They were placed in the “ram” part of the ramjet, the cone directly in front of
the engine.
Now I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable if my cockpit formed part
of the literal air intake of my aircraft, especially as the whole thing had to be explosively
ejected in an emergency.
The position of the cockpit also restricted the pilot’s vision, courtesy of the steel
nose cone in front of their face.
Because of this a periscope had to be used during take off and landing.
So.
You’re sitting in a flying dustbin, unable to see directly in front of you, dwarfed by
the intake of the roaring engine behind you, and if something went wrong you were violently
ejected in a plexiglass prison…small wonder that, though innovative, the design of the
022 didn’t catch on.
Coming in at number 9 we have the Breguet 1050 Alize.
This chonky thing was operated as a carrier-based anti submarine aircraft by the French Navy.
Now, at first glance this may look like a Frenchified version of the Fairey Gannet,
but this was in fact independently developed from the prototype Breguet 960 Vultur.
With a thick-set fuselage, stubby wings with protruding nacelles, and a tail fin large
enough to have its own postcode, the Alize didn’t have the most flattering proportions…and
with a single turboprop engine it wasn’t going to break any speed records either.
Though it was wanting in looks, the Alize was remarkably successful.
First flown in 1956, this aircraft saw service for a remarkable amount of time, not being
retired until the year 2000 after 44 years of active duty.
Most were operated by France, but at least twelve saw service, and action, with the Indian
Navy as well.
They proved to be popular with their crews, and with a combat loaded range of 1800 miles,
carrying bombs, depth charges, unguided rockets, or a various selection of missiles, they were
a potent addition to any fleet, even if they were a bit on the slow side.
Up next we have the Amiot 143, proof that even a greenhouse can fly.
Designed to specifications drawn up in 1928 - which apparently included the requirement
to strap a small house onto the underbelly- this aircraft did not enter full service until
1935…when it was already obsolete.
The 143 represented a period of French bomber design when gondola-style cabins were in vogue.
The gondola design made sense in some ways, it provided excellent visibility for both
the bombardier and the defensive dunners, which would increase the aircraft effectiveness,
and it also made it easier for the pilot to navigate.
However, suspending your crew in an exposed, unarmoured glass box, flying above enemy territory,
didn’t invite much confidence for the survival of said crew.
And it also had the aerodynamic properties of brick.
All that being said, the French built 138 of these monstrosities, and they even saw
service during the second world war.
Many were flown on night missions during the battle of France, being sent mostly to attack
German airfields behind the frontline, and some were used in French Territories in Northern
Africa.
Despite having a slow top speed of just 295 kmh (183mph), the 143 didn’t suffer the
catastrophic losses one would expect, as they were often used at night and away from areas
of enemy fighter activity, no doubt to the relief of both sides.
Up next, we have the Sud-est SE 100.
This aircraft was an oddity in many ways.
Not only did it look like a flying croissant that had a set of wings bolted onto it, it
also featured an insanely potent armament for the time, and a very strange undercarriage.
It had a single large landing wheel under the nose, and two were installed at the rear
beneath the tailfins.
Usually, this layout would prevent the aircraft from taking out, as neither part of the undercarriage
was situated around the centre of gravity, but the SE 100 was designed to sit at a sharp
angle of attack to facilitate takeoff.
Once it did get airborne, the 100 could bring some heavy weapons to bear on its enemies.
The prototype was designed to be equipped with four 20mm Hispano cannons as offensive
weapons, and a fifth was installed in the rear as a defensive gun.
Plans were also in place for a later production model to have six 20mm cannons in the nose,
two in the rear, and two more under the fuselage.
For a design planned to enter service in 1940, this was a considerable amount of firepower.
The SE 100 was slated to enter mass production, unfortunately the Fall of France curtailed
this.
Had it seen full service it could have been an excellent multipurpose weapon: physically
powerful, and psychologically horrifying.
During the interwar period, France, like many other countries, got involved with the design
and production of flying boats.
Some of them were big, beautiful, and graceful machines: a glowing example of French elegance
and refined taste.
The Loire 130 was not a glowing example of elegance.
It was a squat, thick-set, flat-faced design that -when looked from the side- had a face
that vaguely resembled that of a hog nose snake.
Except that the Hognose is undeniably adorable, whereas the Loire 130 is psychologically terrifying.
Built as a reconnaissance seaplane, the 130s served aboard most French capital ships by
the end of the 1930s.
Though they were unpleasant to look at, the Loire 130s proved to be reliable aircraft.
They were deployed in some of the most remote theatres of the second world war, and they
had the confusing distinction of serving on both sides, often at the same time and in
the same operational theatres.
Unfortunately, the requirement for shipboard use limited their total weight, and thus the
reinforcements of the airframe.
In consequence of this at least twenty aircraft would be lost due to structural failures,
which sometimes caused the 130 to literally split in half when landing on the open sea…
Coming in at number 5 is the Sud-Est Gorgnard, which when viewed from the side looks like…well…this.
Though it was the aerial equivalent of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the Grognard did
have reasons for its weirdness.
Like the English Electric Lightning, the Grognard was powered by two jet engines stacked on
top of one another.
This was useful as it kept the thrustline in the middle of the aircraft, even with the
loss of one engine, but it led to the curious placement of the air intake that makes its
fuselage design so recognisable.
The Grognard also made use of several innovative design features.
It was the first French aircraft to use drogue chutes when landing; it was the first French
aircraft to have both swept wings and leading-edge flaps; and it was the first French aircraft
to use so-called elbow controls, with the flight stick being set to one side, rather
than being placed in the centre of the cockpit.
Despite being a cutting-edge design in almost all aspects, looks included, the Grognard
program was cancelled in favour of the more traditional Vautour.
Coming in fourth place, just missing a podium finish, we have the extra-thicc Bleriot 125.
Did it look like a plane carrying two sperm whales under its wings?
Yes.
Did it also have the flying characteristic of a plane carrying two sperm whales under
its wings?
Oh most assuredly.
Designed in the early 1930s, this was an attempt at reinventing the design of commercial aircraft,
and quite frankly it looked like somebody took a flying boat and just stuck a couple
of wheels on it.
Built to accommodate twelve passengers in a bulbous twin fuselage, the 125 was offered
as a sleek alternative to the blocky designs that had dominated the 1920s.
Passengers had the opulent luxury of cushioned wicker chairs, and the pilots sat in a cabin
that was sandwiched between the two push-pull engines that forced this curvacious machine
into the air.
Unsurprisingly, Only one of these unusual aircraft were built, and it handled so poorly
that even after three years of constant testing and tweaking, it still failed to receive its
flight safety certification, and thus it was scrapped in 1934.
In third place we have the Arsenal-Delanne 10, which was apparently built on the assumption
that French pilots had the superhuman ability to see through solid metal.
Designed by Maurice Delanne, it was an example of tandem-wing design; one pair of wings was
installed in a high-mounted gull-wing configuration at the centre of the fuselage, and the other
was installed at the tail.
This was also where the two-man cockpit was placed, which meant that the pilot had about
five and a half meters of fuselage, engine, and wings in front of him – which would
have made take-off and landing fun.
The rear gunner, on the other hand, had perfect¸ visibility, all he had to do was point his
weapon in the right direction and pray that his half-blind pilot didn’t sent them into
a grove of trees.
Like many French designs of the late 1930s / early 1940s, the second world war curtailed
its development.
The sole example was captured by the Germans, who then completed its construction and took
it back to Germany for testing.
However, no used appears to have been found for it, as no further examples were ever built.
Coming in for second place we have the ghastly and questionably designed Potez 75.
With an open cockpit, a fixed landing gear, and a 640 hp v8 engine, you’d be forgiven
for thinking this was a design from the late 1920s or early 1930s…but no, this was built
in 1953.
It was designed to be a low-cost ground support aircraft, and its designers apparently believed
it should also perform the role of psychological warfare.
With four 7.5mm guns in the nose, and the capacity to carry bombs or wire-guided anti-tank
missiles, this poor man’s A-10 was hoped to be a cost-effective solution for the support
needs of France’s colonial air units.
However, the Potez 75 was a complete flop.
Not only did it prove to be a poor platform for the Nord SS.10 anti-tank missile, but
with a top speed of just 275 km/h…in the mid 1950s, it was about as vulnerable to destruction
as the current French defence budget, which, as it turned out, was very vulnerable.
Somehow an order had been placed for 150 Potez 75s, but this was cancelled when the new administration
took a guillotine to the defence budget, and the single Potez 75 was scrapped in 1958.
And finally, in first place, we have a quintessential example of French aviation design from the
interwar period.
In the 1920s the Farman brothers designed a multiplicity of…curious looking aircraft.
Some were almost normal in appearance, some made you wonder if their drafting office also
doubled as a wine cellar, and some had the wonderful combination of being abominably
ugly and surprisingly successful.
The three-engine, box-like, thick-winged, and ludicrously proportioned Farman F.120
was one of the latter, and it’s appalling looks are why it takes the number 1 spot in
today’s video.
It was named the Jabiru, after a species of Central and South American Stork.
And I think, had said stork known about its metallic cousin, it would no doubt had been
rather offended.
The F.120 was in fact the first of several derivatives of a singular design that was
drawn up in the early 1920s.
Not all of them were as ugly as this initial variant, but in general they all resembled
something not unlike a flying drinks cabinet.
First flown in 1923, this aircraft was the result of a desire to build a compact, but
reliable transport, and one that might also find use as a bomber as well.
In pursuit of improvement, several different designs were iterated throughout the 1920s,
and although it looked as appealing as a mouldy piece of brie, a few of them found some local
success as airliners.
Capable of carrying 9 passengers in the luxury of a stout cabin, well-equipped with wicker
chairs that offered the same level of suggestive safety as the Belgian section of the Maginot
line, the Jabiru’s flew air routes in both France and Denmark.
Unfortunately, this commercial enterprise was limited to just four aircraft.
Other more modern designs were already making an appearance, and the Jabiru only saw active
use for about five or six years.
However during that time it attracted much attention, and most of this was certainly
attributed to its bulky appearance.
Now if you want to learn more about the aircraft covered in today’s video, fear not, I plan
to cover most of these in their own videos in the not-too-distant future, the translation
of source material pending.
But for now, that does conclude my look at 10 of the ugliest French aircraft ever made.
As always, thank you all so much for watching, and a big thank you of course to the Patreons,
who’s names you see on the screen here, and a big thank you as well to the members
of my discord server who helped me sift through the large numbers of unique and terrifying
French aircraft to make the list for todays video.
And of course I can’t forget our wing commander patrons, the highest tier members of this
special group, who’s support during the past few months has been amazing.
Thank you all so so much for your continued support, and I’ll catch you all next time.
Goodbye.