The Death of Valeri Chkalov

Valeri Pavlovitch Chkalov is almost forgotten now, but in 1937 he became the Soviet equivalent to Charles Lindbergh. Together with his crew mates Baidukov and Belyakov, he crossed not the Atlantic but the Pole, flying 9130 kilometer non-stop from Moscow to Portland, Washington in 63 and a half hours. A national and propaganda hero, Chkalov's fame heightened the impact of his death in 1938: He received a national funeral, counting Stalin among the chief mourners, while over a million of Soviet citizens paid their last respects. An airfield, his home town and an island were renamed after him.

The public was not told that his death had been a breathtakingly predictable accident.

Enter the other hero of this sad story: Nikolai Nikolaievitch Polikarpov, designer of fighter aircraft and a close friend of Chkalov. Polikarpov, with the able assistance of Chkalov, had created the most advanced fighter aircraft of the early 1930s, the I-16. The small, tubby I-16 earned lasting fame when operated in support of the Republican forces in the Spanish Civil War, where it became known as "Mosca" (fly) to the Republicans, "Rata" (rat) to the Nationalists, and "Boeing" to foreign journalists who refused to believe that the Soviets could produce an aircraft this advanced. (It did have an engine of American design.) By 1939 it was obsolescent, and Polikarpov was under great pressure to develop a new fighter. Under Stalin, such pressure was not only verbal, and Polikarpov himself already had spent over a year in jail with a death sentence for "sabotage" hanging over his head. A reprieve was granted in 1931 after he had designed the I-5 biplane. He had been released but, as his file ominously stated, "not found innocent", and that file would remain open until Stalin's death, twelve years after Polikarpov's.

The Soviet industry separated design, which was performed by a design bureau or OKB, from manufacturing, which was done by state-owned factories. But for the construction of prototypes, a design bureau needed a factory, and hence Polikarpov's OKB was assigned the factory No.156, headed by M.A. Usachev. The Supreme Directorate of the Aviation Industry also assigned a project supervisor, S.I. Belyaikin. From the start, the design team and the factory were at cross-purposes. The friction was exacerbated by the tactless Belyaikin. Hence, when Chkalov arrived on Moscow's Central Field in December 1938 to start flight testing of the new I-180, the engineer in charge of the testing team warned him that there were quality issues with the construction work, and that the prototype had numerous defects. This did not worry Chkalov too much, because he regarded it as his role to help cure the defects of new aircraft, and because he had faith in the skills of  Polikarpov. As for Belyaikin, he was insisting that tests should go ahead as fast as possible.

Before flight testing could begin, an official document had to be signed for the handing over of the aircraft, declaring it to be ready for testing. On the morning of December 12, Polikarpov refused to sign. However, having been assured by the test team that the aircraft and engine appeared to be in good order, Chkalov decided to fly it anyway. He started to taxi the aircraft at high speeds, making small hops to get a feeling for its controls before the first flight. But before he could take off, an order from the test center arrived banning the flight, perhaps because somebody had noticed that the paperwork was not in order. Chkalov was furious, but perhaps it was just as well, for as he taxied the aircraft back in, the cable that connected the throttle handle to the engine broke, and the engine shut down. In flight, this might have killed him, and the incident added to Chkalov's frustration and anger. He was assured that the defect would be repaired and a new occurrence prevented.

When he returned on the 15th to renew tests, Chkalov was presented with a modified flight release document, which stated that the defects of the prototype did not prevent a first flight. But Polikarpov had still refused to sign it. And after the stubborn chief designer had been sidelined, his deputy Dmitriy Tomashevich refused as well. It says something for the foolhardy courage of the famous test pilot that he still decided to make the first flight. After a ground run to test the brakes and controls, he put the new fighter in position for take-off and waited for the green flag. The I-180 took off without difficulty, and Chkalov began a slow circuit of the airfield at low speed, without retracting the landing gear. In the third turn, the engine emitted a puff of black smoke and began to lose power. Struggling to regain the airfield for an emergency landing, Chkalov found a telegraph pole in his way. He died in hospital two hours later, never having regained consciousness. 

Officially, the engine failure was attributed to a combination of the cold weather and pilot error. Whatever the cause of the accident, Tomashevich, Usachev, Belyaikin and a number of others soon found themselves in Stalin's jails. Polikarpov narrowly escaped jail, but his career never flourished again. Tomashevich may well have been partially responsible: As a matter of course, Soviet aircraft were fitted with the necessary equipment for operating in a harsh winter, but to save time Tomashevich had omitted some of this vital equipment from the prototype, and its engine had been warmed up only perfunctorily after a night in which the thermometer had dropped to -25 C. It is also tempting to some of the responsibility for the incident to Chkalov himself. 

However, that would overlook the root cause of the problem. The design engineers, the factory managers and the bureaucrats that were quarreling with each other on these cold December days did not have a shared purpose. For each of them, the issue had become less whether the aircraft could make a safe flight, than whether a flight would put the others in the wrong. All had reason to fear the displeasure of Stalin, and the new aircraft was urgently required. The situation had all the marks of a disaster in the making, but it is understandable that Chkalov did not know what to think of it, and chose to rely on his own judgment.

The fundamental problem was that although several people had recognized the dangerous risks that were being run, none of them turned out to be in a position to stop this first flight from being attempted. Least of all Nikolai Polikarpov, although he was the head of the design team, and his consent was officially required. A bureaucratic policy of "pressing on regardless" had made a mockery of risk management and quality control. That ultimately killed Valeri Pavlovitch Chkalov.