Hi All,
In an age of howling jet power and sharply swept wings, the idea of building a large, low-and-slow, propeller cargo plane would have been unthinkable to post-war NATO powers. But on the other side of the Iron Curtain, there was a real demand for just such an aircraft. The vast Soviet Union and her satellite nations were peppered with short, unpaved runways that would never be upgraded to support modern jet fighters, much less multi-engine, heavy-lift aircraft. A modern plane was needed to service these rough airstrips, and this was how one of the great airplanes of the 20th century came to be, the Antonov An-2.
A brief from the Soviet Ministry of Forestry was submitted to the Antonov Design Bureau for a big, rugged, single-engine plane with good short-field characteristics. Conceived by a team lead by Oleg Antonov himself, the prototype was ready for its maiden flight on August 31st, 1947. Known as “Annushka” or “Annie” by the Russians who flew and maintained her, the An-2 looked out of place on a tarmac full of the Soviet Union’s most modern types. To meet the requirements of the brief, Oleg Antonov looked back in time for inspiration for his new aircraft, and what he came up with was a surprise. The An-2 was a biplane…a great big biplane.
With a wingspan of nearly 60 feet and a boxy fuselage that could carry a useful load of 2 and a half tons, the flying anachronism was a purposeful looking beast. A number of features such as pneumatic brakes and automatic leading edge slats were incorporated into the design making it a simple matter for the biplane to operate on rough airfields of less than 1,000 feet. Western observers were at first puzzled by the appearance of the ungainly plane, but it wasn’t long before they appreciated the genius behind this technological throwback. Carrying the NATO reporting name Colt, the biplane was so popular among Soviet and satellite operators that it was in continuous production for at least 45 years, and it might still be produced in fits and starts in a secretive Red China.
When it comes to aircraft, the proud Russians have a long history of building the largest airplanes in the world. Sikorski’s Ilya Muromets of 1913, Tupolev’s ANT-20 Maxim Gorki of 1934 and today’s six-engine dream-machine, the Antonov An-225 Mriya are but a few examples. With a history like that, it’s no surprise that the Russians might consider making a big improvement on their popular biplane. And if you’ve already taken a peek at the photographs below, yet another Soviet secret is out of the bag.
In an effort to further enhance both payload and short-field handling, it was decided to try adding a third wing to the already capable An-2. Not only was it hoped that performance would be increased, but the idea of building and flying the largest operational triplane in the world had an instant appeal to the Stalinist mind. In mid-1949, with the current An-2 production lines in Kiev working to capacity, assembly of the first triplane was moved to a new site. In an effort to spur its slowly recovering aircraft industry, it was decided to farm out the project to a newly formed firm in the Soviet Occupation Zone of Germany.
Interestingly, a small consortium consisting of some Swedish money, some German know-how and some Soviet oversight was created to build the custom components for the proposed triplane. What may sound like a strange business arrangement was simply a continuation of a long aviation history between Sweden and Germany. Remember, it was a neutral Sweden that secretly produced and sold its Thulin copies of the Fokker Dr. 1’s Oberussel UR.II rotary engine to the German government during the First World War. The consortium that built the new triplane was called Haveril Werkzeug, or in English, Haveril Tools.
Prefabricated components were shipped to a quiet hanger at the Lübeck Flugplatz near Schwerin in northern Germany. There, experienced metalworkers made the necessary changes to the airframe and built the new, third wing. As produced, the An-2 had no stagger to its twin wings, and for the sake of CG, it was decided to move the triplane’s lower wing aft and the new top wing forward, giving the new aircraft a positive stagger. All three operational triplanes of WW I employed this wing form, and while the changes took some fitting, the finished product was a well-balanced aircraft. The imposing triplane was given the honorary designation An-2DR, with DR standing for Dreidecker, the familiar German word meaning triplane.
Coincidently, the maiden flight took place at Lübeck Flugplatz on October, 7th, 1949, the same day that the formation of the German Democratic Republic was announced. The single surviving flight report touted the hoped-for shortened takeoff run, increased climb and shorter landing and rollout. Everything that was desired by the design team, the financiers, the builders and their Russian masters had come to pass. And then…nothing.
As Yevgraf Zhivago says about the mother of his niece, Lara, “She died or vanished somewhere…A nameless number on a list that was afterwards mislaid. That was quite common in those days.” The Russian penchant for creating complex and daring machines is matched by their ability to completely abandon their efforts to rust and ruin. Jet powered locomotives, gyroscopic monorails, fabulous ekranoplans and the world’s largest triplane. These demonstrations of Russian brilliance can still be found throughout the great nation, decaying in the open or rusting in unguarded sheds.
All that remains of the An2DR is an entry in a pilot’s log book and the brief flight report. And interestingly, a paper model, too. I received a scan of this model from a private ephemera collector who lives in eastern Germany and has access to some remarkable archives. He also supplied me with much of the limited information contained herein. The model had no cover, no descriptive text and there were no part numbers to aid in construction. Luckily, all the pages were there. As paper modelers, we pride ourselves on being able to look at a printed page of two-dimensional parts and quickly construct the model in our minds. Everything appeared to be pretty straight forward, and while it took me a few tries, I finally got it together. To add a bit of color to the otherwise drab model, I printed out some red stars and applied them to the Soviet’s usual eight positions.
And for those interested in pursuing more research into the An-2DR, keep in mind a phrase that is often heard this time of year, a phrase that sounds a bit like the words, “Haveril Tools.” A phrase often heard on the first day of this new month. Haveril Tools, everybody.
Score and fold,
Thumb Dog
In an age of howling jet power and sharply swept wings, the idea of building a large, low-and-slow, propeller cargo plane would have been unthinkable to post-war NATO powers. But on the other side of the Iron Curtain, there was a real demand for just such an aircraft. The vast Soviet Union and her satellite nations were peppered with short, unpaved runways that would never be upgraded to support modern jet fighters, much less multi-engine, heavy-lift aircraft. A modern plane was needed to service these rough airstrips, and this was how one of the great airplanes of the 20th century came to be, the Antonov An-2.
A brief from the Soviet Ministry of Forestry was submitted to the Antonov Design Bureau for a big, rugged, single-engine plane with good short-field characteristics. Conceived by a team lead by Oleg Antonov himself, the prototype was ready for its maiden flight on August 31st, 1947. Known as “Annushka” or “Annie” by the Russians who flew and maintained her, the An-2 looked out of place on a tarmac full of the Soviet Union’s most modern types. To meet the requirements of the brief, Oleg Antonov looked back in time for inspiration for his new aircraft, and what he came up with was a surprise. The An-2 was a biplane…a great big biplane.
With a wingspan of nearly 60 feet and a boxy fuselage that could carry a useful load of 2 and a half tons, the flying anachronism was a purposeful looking beast. A number of features such as pneumatic brakes and automatic leading edge slats were incorporated into the design making it a simple matter for the biplane to operate on rough airfields of less than 1,000 feet. Western observers were at first puzzled by the appearance of the ungainly plane, but it wasn’t long before they appreciated the genius behind this technological throwback. Carrying the NATO reporting name Colt, the biplane was so popular among Soviet and satellite operators that it was in continuous production for at least 45 years, and it might still be produced in fits and starts in a secretive Red China.
When it comes to aircraft, the proud Russians have a long history of building the largest airplanes in the world. Sikorski’s Ilya Muromets of 1913, Tupolev’s ANT-20 Maxim Gorki of 1934 and today’s six-engine dream-machine, the Antonov An-225 Mriya are but a few examples. With a history like that, it’s no surprise that the Russians might consider making a big improvement on their popular biplane. And if you’ve already taken a peek at the photographs below, yet another Soviet secret is out of the bag.
In an effort to further enhance both payload and short-field handling, it was decided to try adding a third wing to the already capable An-2. Not only was it hoped that performance would be increased, but the idea of building and flying the largest operational triplane in the world had an instant appeal to the Stalinist mind. In mid-1949, with the current An-2 production lines in Kiev working to capacity, assembly of the first triplane was moved to a new site. In an effort to spur its slowly recovering aircraft industry, it was decided to farm out the project to a newly formed firm in the Soviet Occupation Zone of Germany.
Interestingly, a small consortium consisting of some Swedish money, some German know-how and some Soviet oversight was created to build the custom components for the proposed triplane. What may sound like a strange business arrangement was simply a continuation of a long aviation history between Sweden and Germany. Remember, it was a neutral Sweden that secretly produced and sold its Thulin copies of the Fokker Dr. 1’s Oberussel UR.II rotary engine to the German government during the First World War. The consortium that built the new triplane was called Haveril Werkzeug, or in English, Haveril Tools.
Prefabricated components were shipped to a quiet hanger at the Lübeck Flugplatz near Schwerin in northern Germany. There, experienced metalworkers made the necessary changes to the airframe and built the new, third wing. As produced, the An-2 had no stagger to its twin wings, and for the sake of CG, it was decided to move the triplane’s lower wing aft and the new top wing forward, giving the new aircraft a positive stagger. All three operational triplanes of WW I employed this wing form, and while the changes took some fitting, the finished product was a well-balanced aircraft. The imposing triplane was given the honorary designation An-2DR, with DR standing for Dreidecker, the familiar German word meaning triplane.
Coincidently, the maiden flight took place at Lübeck Flugplatz on October, 7th, 1949, the same day that the formation of the German Democratic Republic was announced. The single surviving flight report touted the hoped-for shortened takeoff run, increased climb and shorter landing and rollout. Everything that was desired by the design team, the financiers, the builders and their Russian masters had come to pass. And then…nothing.
As Yevgraf Zhivago says about the mother of his niece, Lara, “She died or vanished somewhere…A nameless number on a list that was afterwards mislaid. That was quite common in those days.” The Russian penchant for creating complex and daring machines is matched by their ability to completely abandon their efforts to rust and ruin. Jet powered locomotives, gyroscopic monorails, fabulous ekranoplans and the world’s largest triplane. These demonstrations of Russian brilliance can still be found throughout the great nation, decaying in the open or rusting in unguarded sheds.
All that remains of the An2DR is an entry in a pilot’s log book and the brief flight report. And interestingly, a paper model, too. I received a scan of this model from a private ephemera collector who lives in eastern Germany and has access to some remarkable archives. He also supplied me with much of the limited information contained herein. The model had no cover, no descriptive text and there were no part numbers to aid in construction. Luckily, all the pages were there. As paper modelers, we pride ourselves on being able to look at a printed page of two-dimensional parts and quickly construct the model in our minds. Everything appeared to be pretty straight forward, and while it took me a few tries, I finally got it together. To add a bit of color to the otherwise drab model, I printed out some red stars and applied them to the Soviet’s usual eight positions.
And for those interested in pursuing more research into the An-2DR, keep in mind a phrase that is often heard this time of year, a phrase that sounds a bit like the words, “Haveril Tools.” A phrase often heard on the first day of this new month. Haveril Tools, everybody.
Score and fold,
Thumb Dog
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