...
Admiral Matt gave pretty much the answer I was planning to give: (a) that we're talking about the development of primitive fixed-wing aircraft by the end of the war, not the beginning; and (b) that high-budget government crash programs would have capabilities not available to gentleman amateurs. The only thing I'll add is that there will be separate crash programs working to improve the internal combustion engine, because better engines would have all kinds of militarily useful application, and the fruits of the engine program's labors would be available to the people who are working on powered flight.
If the war begins in 1893 as currently planned, we're talking about a Kitty Hawk-level plane in early 1896, and something like the Demoiselle or maybe a little better by war's end in 1897. There would simultaneously be development of dirigibles, which are bigger platforms and have a higher service ceiling.
Well, if in the period 1893-96, 3 years, we have arrived at aviation comparable to OTL 1904, what that says is that 3 years of wartime development equals 11 years peacetime. So each year is nearly worth 4 of peacetime years.
Apply that to the period 1914-18 OTL and we are saying that if there were no Great War, world aviation would reach OTL 1918 levels around 1929! Does that seem reasonable?
That's a question; it might.
Also, taken along with your remark that on the whole there is no general pattern of advance in technology over OTL in the long run, then after the war aeronautical development, for example, will plod along slowly again, so that by 1918 the two timelines are about on a par. (Ignoring the third "no war at all" timeline which by this reasoning is simply retarded compared to either by about a decade and a half!)
Some specific remarks on how it might go, given other remarks by Admiral Matt:
If, as he suggests, we get a big-money project making a big airplane, on the larger scales favored by people like Maxim and Langley (and Sikorsky, in Russia) and this is what makes a steam-powered airplane feasible--well, the motive to switch over to a set of gasoline engines will be to increase endurance and range. Because the tricky thing in employing steam engines for aviation is, making a condenser that allows one to reuse the water for the boiler. That requires orders of magnitude more radiator area than the sorts of radiators water-cooled gasoline (or diesel) engines need. So the solution is to run the water once through, then simply vent it. The steam cycle is less efficient because the lower limit of pressure is atmospheric, rather than the lower-than-atmospheric pressures one gets by condensing water and reusing it. But the big problem is, the water gets used up the way fuel does, only I think for every kilogram of fuel one is venting many kilograms of water. In effect, if you can lift a given weight of propellant, a steam aero engine means you can have only a fraction of that be fuel, the rest is water reserve.
Also, steam engines are inherently less efficient than all but the crudest IC engines, due to poorer thermodynamics; the lower temperature of the ideal cycle is higher (steam temperature, 100 C at sea level) and the highest temperature is lower, since it is limited by the strength of steels at high temperatures, whereas in a spark or even compression ignition engine, the peak temperature can be much higher, because it only stays that high for a fraction of a second, then the expansion of the cylinder cools it down.
On the other hand, steam engine design is a much more mature technology in 1892, so that helps a bit.
The upshot is, if it is feasible to make one's first airplane a big one, and all the various problems I mentioned can be solved by throwing money at them in a big government-contracted funded development effort, the airplane one initially gets has very short legs. It can't stay in the air very long before it has to land for more water and fuel.
But this might be OK and impressive in context; send the plane up for a quick look over the enemy lines, then it lands again for a report on what the crew saw. (Big plane, might as well start with a crew of at least two, a pilot and an observer).
For what it's worth, a steam engine can probably be made much quieter than an IC engine; this might come in handy in helping the observer and pilot communicate with each other.
I believe the 1930s Besler steam plane allowed the flyers to talk to people on the ground as they flew by.
For dirigibles on the other hand, venting water along with burning fuel compounds a peculiar problem airships have that airplanes don't. With an airplane, burning up fuel lightens the load and (until the fuel runs out!) raises the margins of maneuverability. (If you've designed the plane right that is; losing weight out of balance throws the trim of the plane off). But airships have, roughly speaking, a fixed lift from their lifting gas, and so lowering the weight means the ship is out of trim in the sense that if it took off with just the right amount of lift gas to balance its weight, it is now light and will tend to keep climbing until it reaches "pressure height," the altitude at which its lift gas has expanded to fill the available volume. Then if you've designed it right, the gas will valve out of safety valves, lowering the lift permanently. (If you haven't provided automatic safety valves, you'd better vent manually because if you don't the trapped lift gas will soon reach relative pressures where something ruptures; these pressures are not very high because to have any hope of aerostatic lift working you've made everything quite light hence flimsy.)
If we are using hydrogen for lift, this might be all right, though actually hydrogen is not that cheap to make. (It just looks cheap compared to helium, which in this time frame is by the way quite unavailable to anyone). But it's still a sloppy way to operate, especially because venting hydrogen is a fire hazard, right when you are under fire!
The problem still exists with IC engines of course, unless one is burning a fuel that is formulated to have the same density as air. But it would be multiplied with an open-cycle steam engine!
Actually, I've corresponded with
someone who is very serious about using steam as a lifting gas; it is the third most effective lift gas known in fact, right after hydrogen and helium, having about 55 percent the lift of hydrogen by volume. Tom Goodey has even patented the concept of using a steam ballonet as a condenser for an airborne closed-cycle steam engine! The tricky bit here, even in terms of modern materials, is that actually a balloon full of steam will take quite a while to condense, based on his experiments. Where I get lost is, I am not sure I know how to estimate just how much water throughput a steam engine of reasonable efficiency and power requires: if I knew that I could estimate the size of ballonet needed to return the necessary flow of water back to the engine.
In the meantime, the water, once vaporized, is providing lift in the steam ballonet. If one can get fancy with this approach it offers the option of variable net lift; boiling a kilogram of water relieves one kilogram of weight and also displaces about two kilograms of air, for a net lift increase of two kilograms; similarly letting that kilogram condense would ballast the ship down by a net two kilograms or so. But trying to make it that elaborate is tricky, especially with a rather primitive hydrogen lift system.
And despite its literally steampunk sound, steam aerostation as Goodey is trying to work it relies a lot on advanced modern materials. Modern hot-air balloons enjoyed a renaissance in recent generations mainly because new lightweight, strong, heat-tolerant fabrics were developed after WWII; Goodey's experimental steam balloons use that same kind of fabric.
It isn't clear to me that anything at all suitable can be made in the late 19th century. It would be very tricky to try to seal up any fabric typically used in those days for balloons (such as silk, or cotton) with something that would be flexible at both room temperature and 100 degrees Celsius. And water is chemically active, steam with its heat even more so. I suspect most fabrics available at the time would simply disintegrate!
So airships too would benefit very much from practical IC or diesel engines.
Airships generally require much lower power levels for a given lift than airplanes do, so achieving the highest power/weight ratio is not quite as paramount for them; getting better fuel efficiency can be worth a considerable increase in engine weight. So if the problem of preventing the sparks from an early gasoline engine from setting off the hydrogen can be solved, a somewhat balky and weak IC engine could be used in an airship sooner than in an airplane. Engine failure equals crash landing for an airplane; for an airship it need not.
Again I want to stress, though, an airship at the state of the art OTL 1905-10 is still not all that impressive.
Here's the first few Zeppelins for instance, with the LZ-3, which first flew in 1907, being the first of them that could be called successful. The
Lebaudy Republique was its contemporary French competition.
This article, which is not attributed, appears to have been written in the 1920s and
gives a sense of the Italian design philosophy of semirigid airships. Forlanini's first effort, the Leonardo Da Vinci, took him about 9 years to build and I believe the first, sepia-toned, picture depicts it.
Here's a 1914 article on Forlanini's second semirigid, "City of Milan."
In general I'm finding it rather hard to find images of the types of airships operating in the middle of the first decade of the 20th century, and that, I think, is because even that late they were quite primitive. But this is the sort of state of the art we can expect to reach by the end of the Male Rising timeline's 1890s Great War, on the sanguine assumption that on the whole the rival military-industrial complexes of the Great Powers will indeed set aside significant funds and resources on the off-chance that they might come up with something militarily useful before their enemies do, and that such forced-draft development will indeed accelerate the general pace of progress by a factor of three or four or more.
OK, then so be it!
Unfortunately arriving at a 1910 at best or so state of the art by 1899 will not open the way to dirigibles or airplanes serving as practical modes of transport any time soon, especially if we then assume that the pace will not have the OTL acceleration of 1914-18. Broadly speaking, around the end of WWI OTL is about when aircraft of either type became really practical.
Perhaps I can hope for a bit of continued intensive development of larger airships, of the semirigid and rigid types, with an eye toward commercial applications. OTL a number of projects continued for some years after the war in various countries.
But that would put the timeline decisively ahead of OTL, and that is not going to happen.
....
"Pasha" was a somewhat amorphous title, not necessarily (or even usually) indicating rulership of the empire; young Lev might grow up to be a general, a governor or a diplomat. Not, of course, that any of those would preclude him from having a significant influence on the development of the state.
It is a peculiarly Turkish, in fact Ottoman, title, right?
This suggests to me that the Ottoman regime does survive the Great War, long enough for young Lev to come of age and reach some kind of distinction in it.
And presumably not trying to overthrow it. (He might be the kind of reformer that conservatives accuse of being as bad as a rebel, but he's not labeling himself as such, apparently, and others agree he's a good Ottoman subject).
Though I suppose another way to come by the title would be if the Ottoman Empire does collapse, and not long after that there are revolutionaries trying to restore a revised version of it, with who (but you!) can guess what success.