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Why LeMay had tactical control of the Super Weapon in defeating Imperial Japan

by Till Daisd August 8, 2022

LeMay made the decision to turn to low-altitude incendiary operations after the high-altitude B-29 bombing with high-explosive ordnance produced negative results

Although General Douglas MacArthur is regarded as one of the greatest leaders of World War II and the 20th century as a whole, his command of the USAAF’s second-largest air force is sometimes overlooked.

Following the Japanese’s humbling defeat in the Philippines in 1942, MacArthur and his air chief General George Kenney were adamant about reestablishing the US aerial presence in the Pacific. The Allied naval and ground troops fought valiantly to drive the Japanese Air Force back, reclaim the Philippines, and advance the fight northward toward the Home Islands, and this increasing force was essential in assisting them. Yet the B-29 force was never tactically under MacArthur’s control.

The Boeing B-29 Superfortress was not only the pinnacle of strategic airpower in World War II but also the tool employed to carry out the strategic air campaign that would ultimately prove crucial in the downfall of Imperial Japan, as Bill Yenne explains in his book MacArthur’s Air Force.

Chester Nimitz and Douglas MacArthur were briefed on the B-29 by General Hap Arnold, the USAAF’s commanding general, and both of them expressed a desire for tactical control of the aircraft inside their respective regions.

Here’s Why LeMay (and not MacArthur) Had Tactical Control of the Super Weapon that Played a Pivotal Role in Defeating Imperial Japan — Douglas MacArthur smokes one of his favorite corn cob pipes on a ship bound for Luzon Island in the Philippines on Jan. 20, 1945. Five Star Insignia on his collar denoting him general of the Army. (AP Photo/Pool)

Arnold believed that the operational control of the superweapon should be in the hands of someone who had an eye for the ultimate strategic purpose as opposed to someone focused on a specific set of tactical goals inside a theater of operations. Additionally, Arnold was committed to using his most extreme kind of strategic airpower solely for that mission—to defeat Japan by attacking Japan.

So he decided to personally keep command of the B-29 force from his seat on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The USAAF Twentieth Air Force, which was established in April 1944 and was under Arnold’s direct command, would receive the entire operational Superfortress fleet. Arnold said in his memoirs, “I could do nothing but retain command of the B-29s myself.” He went on:

“I could not give them to MacArthur because then they would operate ahead of Nimitz’s command; I could not give them to Nimitz since in that case, they would operate in front of MacArthur’s advance. So, in the end, while everybody wondered why, I kept the personal command of the Twentieth Air Force. There was nothing else I could do, with no unity of command in the Pacific. I could find no one out there who wanted unity of command, seemingly, unless he himself was made Supreme Commander.”

Kenney continued to lobby for B-29s on behalf of MacArthur notwithstanding this ruling. In January 1944, Kenney was in Washington, DC, and he informed Arnold, “I could destroy the oil refineries of the Dutch East Indies and the Japanese would be unable to keep the war going.”

He had written to Arnold asking to “let me change over my B-24 groups to B-29 outfits so that I could drop ten tons of bombs per airplane instead of four.”

Kenney recalled that Arnold replied that he “would not make any promises but said that if I had a runway big enough to take them by July, he might let me have 50 B-29s at that time.” Kenneynrecalled that he issued orders for “construction of a 10,000-foot runway at Darwin, with parking for a hundred B-29s.”

Darwin’s 10,000-foot runway was finished, but it would never be able to accommodate MacArthur and Kenneyndream’s B-29s. Arnold would dispatch his Superfortresses to China as opposed to Australia. Arnold was looking for a location where he could base his large bombers and be within striking distance of Japan. As China was the only option in the spring of 1944, Arnold moved to Chengdu, which was 2,200 miles from Tokyo and around 180 miles from Chungking (now Chongqing), the capital of Nationalist China at the time.

The B-29s’ first operational deployment was with the Twentieth Air Force’s XX Bomber Command, under the command of Major General Kenneth B. “KB” Wolfe. In his position as a production engineering specialist with the Air Materiel Command, Wolfe had been in charge of the Superfortress’s technical development. As Thailand was an ally of Japan and served as a route for supplies to enter Burma, the first raid was carried out on June 5, 1944, against Japanese facilities in Bangkok. Ten days later, Yawata was the target of the first mission against a target inside Japan. On July 7, a significant raid on Japan was conducted.

In August, dissatisfied with the slow pace of the XX Bomber Command operation, Arnold replaced Wolfe, the technician, with Major General Curtis E. LeMay, a tough, results-oriented leader who had been commanding the 3rd Air Division of the Eighth Air Force. In October 1944 LeMay commanded the XXI Bomber Command too which had absorbed XX Bomber Command assets.

LeMay made the decision to move to low-altitude incendiary missions as a result of the unsatisfactory results obtained from high-altitude bombing employing high-explosive ordnance. Because most of the Japanese industry relied on subassemblies produced in urban areas, burning out urban centers was a better approach to destroy the economy than attacking major industries, as had been done in Germany. The goal of strategic bombing is to destroy an enemy war economy by destroying the industry.

As LeMay told this author four decades later:

“I made up my mind to make some major changes in the way we were using the B-29s because it was now clear that we wouldn’t possibly succeed by basing our strategy on our experience from Europe. That system wasn’t working. It was a different war with different weather and different airplane. It called for a different solution. As I looked over the reconnaissance photos, I noticed that there wasn’t any low-altitude flak such as we’d encountered in Europe. It looked reasonable to me that we could fly a successful mission with less fuel and a larger bomb load by going in low, particularly if we went in at night. After sizing up the situation and knowing that I had to do something radical, I finally arrived at the decision to use low-level attacks against Japanese urban industrial areas using incendiaries.nEven poorly trained radar operators could find cities that were on or near the coast, and going in at between 5,000 and 8,000 feet instead of 25,000 feet would ensure that all the bombs would fall in the target area. This method solved the weather problem because, instead of getting the force ready and then waiting for the right weather, we would go in under the weather when we were ready.”

LeMay chose to overwhelm Japanese defenses with a series of missions involving a maximum amount of effort, each involving about 300 Superfortresses, as opposed to earlier XXI Bomber Command flights, which had averaged about 60 B-29s. These missions were carried out against Tokyo, Osaka, Kobe, and Nagoya at night between March 9 and March 20 until incendiary supplies were exhausted.

LeMay recalled:

“… it was April 13 before we had built up large enough stocks of incendiaries to support a full-scale mission, but we flew a lot of smaller-scale missions while we were waiting for more bombs. ThenNavy scurried around and got some ships, and in six weeks we had the bombs. We never caught up from then on, though. We simply bypassed the bomb dumps, and with the help of the Seabees, some Marines that were supposedly in a rest camp, and anybody else that was around, we brought the bombs from the supply ships directly to the hardstands of the airplanes. Soon we were dropping over 3,000 tons per mission.

“I was not happy, but neither was I particularly concerned, about civilian casualties on incendiary raids,” LeMay explained to Yenne candidly. He continued:

“I didn’t let it influence any of my decisions because we knew how the Japanese had treated the Americans — both civilian and military —that they’d captured in places like the Philippines. We had dropped some warning leaflets over Japan, which essentially told the civilian population that we weren’t trying to kill them, but rather that we were trying to destroy their capability to make war. We were going to bomb their cities and burn them down. We suggested they leave for their own safety.”

As American air force finally dealt critical strikes against the center of Imperial Japan, MacArthur and Kenney watched. Arnold did provide them a very heavy bomber, even though he never gave them the B-29. By the spring of 1945, the Consolidated B-32 was fully operational. The Fifth Air Force 312th Bomb Group became a “very heavy bombardment group,” and B-32s were sent to Clark Field on Luzon in June 1945.

MacArthur’s Air Force is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

Photo by U.S. Air Force and Tomás Del Coro from Las Vegas, Nevada, USA via Wikipedia

August 8, 2022 0 comment

History

The story of the scene in The Right Stuff movie featuring Chuck Yeager’s NF-104 ejection

by Till Daisd August 3, 2022

written by Till Daisd

Chuck Yeager hasn’t bailed out of an airplane since the day he was shot down over Germany when he was twenty… I’ve tried A! – I’ve tried B! – I’ve tried C!… 11,000 feet, 7,000 feet from the farm… He hunches himself into a ball, just as it says in the manual, and reaches under the seat for the cinch ring and pulls. He’s exploded out of the cockpit with such force it’s like a concussion… He can’t see…

The clips in this post are taken from the 1983 epic historical drama film The Right Stuff. The recordings depict the infamous NF-104 ejection scenario involving Chuck Yeager, who was trying to break an altitude record at the brink of space when his plane spun out of control, forcing him to eject at a high rate of speed and almost losing his life. Yeager, despite being severely burned, picks up his parachute and makes his way to the hospital after touching down, demonstrating that he still possesses the necessary skills.

To train the students at the US Air Force Aerospace Research Pilot School (ARPS) in out-of-atmosphere maneuvering and reentry problems, the USAF purchased three NF-104 aircraft (which were sort of “special” F-104s with a rocket engine in the tail that permitted zoom climbs above 100,000 feet, an altitude where reaction control jets must be used instead of conventional control surfaces).

On Nov. 1, 1963, the third NF-104A (USAF 56-0762) was handed to the ARPS. On Dec. 10, 1963, Chuck Yeager was piloting the aircraft when it crashed and was completely destroyed.

The Right Stuff movie was adapted from Tom Wolfe’s best-selling 1979 book of the same name about the Mercury Seven, the seven military pilots who were chosen to be the astronauts for Project Mercury, the first crewed spaceflight by the US, and the U.S. Navy, U.S. Marine Corps, and U.S. Air Force test pilots who were engaged in aeronautical research at Edwards Air Force Base (AFB), California.

Here is a passage from Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff that describes Yeager being ejected from the NF-104:

Two extraordinary pieces of equipment were being developed specifically for ARPS. One was a space mission simulator, a device more realistic and sophisticated than the Mercury project simulator NASA had on the boards. The other was the NF-104, which was an F-104 with a rocket engine mounted over the tailpipe. The rocket engine used hydrogen peroxide and JP4 fuel and would deliver 6.000 pounds of thrust. It was like a super-afterburner. The main engine plus the regular afterburner would take you to about 60,000 feet, and when you cut in the rocket, that would take you somewhere between 120,000 and 140,000 feet. At least that was what the engineers confidently assumed. The plan was that the ARPS students would run profiles on the space mission simulator, then put on silver pressure suits, space-flight style, and take the NF-104 up to 120,000 feet or more in a tremendous arc, affording up to two minutes of weightlessness. During this interval, they could master the use of reaction controls, which were hydrogen-peroxide thrusters of the sort used in all vehicles above 100,000 feet, whether the X-15, the Mercury capsule, or the X-20.

The only problem was, that nobody had ever wrung out the NF-104. Just how it would handle the weak molecular structure of the atmosphere above 100,000 feet, and what the limits of its performance envelope would be, nobody knew. The F-104 had been built as a high-speed interceptor, and when you tried to do other things with it, it became very “unforgiving,” as the expression went. Pilots were already beginning to crunch the F-104 simply because the engine flamed out and they fell to the ground with about as much glide as a set of car keys. But Yeager loved the damned ship. It went like a bat. As the commandant of ARPS, he seized the opportunity to test the NF-104 as if it had his name on it.

The main reason he would be testing it would be for use in the school, but there was an extra dividend. Whoever was the first to push the NF-104 to optimum performance was certain to set a new world record for altitude achieved by a ship taking off under its own power. The Soviets had set the current record, 113,980 feet, in 1961 with the E-66A, a delta-winged fighter plane. The X-2 and the X-15 had flown higher, but they had to be hauled aloft by a larger ship before their rockets were ignited. ThenMercury and Vostok space vehicles were lifted to altitude by automated booster rockets, which were then disengaged and jettisoned. Of course, all aircraft records were losing their dazzle now that space flight had begun. It was getting to be like setting some sort of new record for railroad trains. Yeagernhadn’t tried to break a record in the skied over Edwards since December 1953, ten years ago, when he had set a new speed mark of Mach 2.4 in the X-1A and had come down in the far side of the arc in the most horrendous bout with high-speed instability any man had ever survived. Now Yeager was back on the flight line again to go for broke, out by the shimmering mirage surface of Rogers Lake, under that pale-blue desert sky, and the righteous energy was flowing again… and through that wild unbroken beast… a few volts of that righteous old-time religion… well, that would be all right, too.

The Story Behind the Famous Sequence of The Right Stuff Movie featuring Chuck Yeager’s NF-104 Ejection

Yeager had taken the NF-104 up for three checkout flights, edging it up gradually toward 100,000 feet, where the limits of the envelope, whatever they were, would begin to reveal themselves. And now he was out on the flight line for the second of two major preliminary flights. Tomorrow he would let it all out and go for the record. It was another of those absolutely clear brilliant afternoons on the dome of the world. On the morning flight, everything had gone exactly according to plan. He had taken the ship up to 108,000 feet after cutting in the rocket engine at 60,000. The rocket had propelled the ship up at a 50-degree angle of attack. One of the disagreeable sides of the ship was her dislike of extreme angles. At any angle greater thann30 degrees, her nose would pitch up, which was the move she made just before going into spins. But at 108,000 feet it was no problem. The air was so thin at that altitude, so close to being pure “space,” that the reaction controls, the hydrogen peroxide thrusts, worked beautifully. Yeager had only to nudge the sidearm hand controller by his lap and a thruster on top of the nose of the plane pushed the nose right down again, and he was in the perfect position to re-enter the dense atmosphere below. Now he was going up for one final exploration of that same region before going for broke tomorrow.

At 40,000 feet Yeager began his speed run. He cut in the afterburner and it slammed him back in his seat, and he was now riding an engine with nearly 16,000 pounds of thrust. As soon as the Machmeter hit 2.2, he pulled back on the stick and started the climb. The afterburner would carry him to 60,000 feet before exhausting its fuel. At precisely that moment he threw the switch for the rocket engine… terrific jolt… He’s slammed back in his seat again. The nose pitches up to 70 degrees. The g-forces start rising. The desert sky starts falling away. He’s going straight up into the indigo. At 78,000 feet a light on the console… as usual… the main engine overheating from the tremendous exertion of the climb. He throws the switch and shuts it down but the rocket is still accelerating. Who doesn’t know this feeling if he doesn’t? The bastards are fantastic! … One hundred thousand feet… He shuts down the rocket engine. He’s still climbing. The g-forces slide off… making you feel like you’re pitching forward…

He’s weightless, coming over the top of the arc… 104.000 feet… It’s absolutely silent… Twenty miles up… The sky is almost black. He’s looking straight up into it because the nose of the ship is pitched up. His angle of attack is still about 50 degrees. He’s over the top of the arc and coming down. He pushes the sidearm control to bring down the nose of the ship but the nose isn’t budging. It’s still pitched up! He hits the thruster again… Shit!… She won’t go down!… Now he can see it, the whole diagram… This morning at 108,000 feet the air was so thin it offered no resistance and you could easily push the nose down with the thrusters. At 104,000 feet the air remains just thick enough to exert aerodynamic pressure. The thrusters aren’t strong enough to overcome it… He keeps hitting the reaction controls… The hydrogen peroxide squirts out of the jet on the nose of the ship and doesn’t do a goddamned thing… He’s dropping and the nose is still pitched up… The outside of the envelope!… well, here it is, the sonofabitch… It doesn’t want to stretch… and here we go!…

The ship snaps into a flat spin. It’s spinning right over its center of gravity, like a pinwheel on a stick. He pushes the sidearm control again. The hydrogen peroxide is finished. He has 600 pounds of fuel left in the main engine but there’s no way to start it up. To relight the engine you have to put the ship’s nose down into a dive and force air through the intake duct to start the engine windmilling to build up the RPMs. Without RPMs, there’s no hydraulic pressure and without hydraulic pressure, you can’t move the stabilizer wings on the tail and without the stabilizer wings, you can’t control this bastard at the lower altitudes… He’s in a steady-state flat spin and dropping… He’s whirling around at a terrific rate… He makes himself keep his eyes pinned on the instruments… A little sightseeing at this point and it’s vertigo and you’re finished… He’s down to 80,000 feet and the RPMs are dead zero… He’s falling 150 feet a second… 9,000 feet a minute… And what do I do next?… here in the jaws of the Gulp… I’ve tried A! – I’ve tried B! – The damned beast isn’t making a sound… just spinning around like a length of pipe in the sky… he has one last shot… the speed brakes, a parachute rig in the tail for slowing the ship down after a high-speed landing…

The altimeter keeps winding down… Twenty-five thousand feet… but the altimeter is based on sea level… He’s only 21,000 feet above the high desert… The slack’s running out… He pops the speed brake… Bango! – the chute catches with a jolt… it pulls the tail up… He pitches down… The spin stops. The nose is pointed down. Now he only has to jettison the chute and let her dive and pick up the RPMs. He jettisons the chute… and the beast heaves up again! The nose goes back up in the air!… It’s the rear stabilizer wing… The leading edge is locked, frozen into the position of the climb to altitude. With no RPMs and no hydraulic controls, he can’t move the tail… The nose is pitched way above 30 degrees… Here she goes again… He has no RPMs, no power, no more speed chute, and only 180 knots airspeed… He’s down to 12,000 feet… 8,000 feet above the farm… There’s not a goddamned thing left in the manual or the bag of tricks or the righteousness of twenty years of military flying… Chosen or damned!… It blows at any seam! Yeager hasn’t bailed out an airplane since the day he was shot down over Germany when he was twenty… I’ve tried A! – I’ve tried B! – I’ve tried C!… 11,000 feet, 7,000 feet from the farm… He hunches himself into a ball, just as it says in the manual, and reaches under the seat for the cinch ring and pulls.

He’s exploded out of the cockpit with such force it’s like a concussion… He can’t see…

Wham… a jolt in the back… It’s the seat separating from him and the parachute rig… His head begins to clear… He’s in midair, in his pressure suit, looking out through the visor of his helmet… Every second seems enormously elongated… infinite… such slow motion… He’s suspended in midair… weightless… The ship had been falling about 100 miles an hour and the ejection rocket had propelled him up at 90 miles an hour. For one thick adrenal moment, he’s weightless in midair, 7,000 feet above the desert… The seat floats nearby as if the two of them are parked in the atmosphere… The butt of the seat, the underside, is facing him… a red hole… the socket where the ejection mechanism had been attached… it’s dribbling a charcoal red… lava… the remains of the rocket propellant… It’s glowing… it’s oozing out of the socket… In the next moment they’re both falling, he and the seat. His parachute has a quarter bag over it and on the bag is a drogue chute that pulls the bag off so the parachute will stream out gradually and not break the chute or the pilot’s back when the canopy pops open during a high-speed ejection. It’s designed for an ejection at 400 or 500 miles an hour, but he’s only going 175.

In this infinitely expanded few seconds the lines stream out and Yeager and the rocket seat and the glowing red socket sail through the air together… and now the seat is drifting above him… into the chute lines!… The seat is nestled in the chute lines… dribbling lava out of the socket… eating through the lines… An infinite second… He’s jerked up by the shoulders… it’s the chute opening and the canopy filling… in that very instant the lava – it smashes into the visor of his helmet… Something slices through his left eye… He’s knocked silly… He can’t see a goddamned thing… The burning snaps him to… His left eye is gushing blood… It’s pouring down inside the lid and down his face and his face is on fire… Jesus Christ!… the seat rig… The jerk of the parachute had suddenly slowed his speed, but the seat kept falling… It had fallen out of the chute lines and the butt end crashed into his visor… 180npounds of metal… a double-layer visor.. the goddamned thing has smashed through both layers… He’s burning!… There’s rocket lava inside the helmet… The seat has fallen away… He can’t see… blood pouring out of his left eye and there’s smoke inside the helmet… Rubber!…

It’s the seal between the helmet and the pressure suit… It’s burning up… The propellant won’t quit… A tremendous whoosh… He can feel the rush… he can even hear it… The whole left side of his helmet is full of flames… A sheet of flame goes up his neck and the side of his face… Thenoxygen!… The propellant has burned through the rubber seal, setting off the pressure suit’s automatic oxygen system… The integrity of the circuit has been violated and it rushes oxygen to the helmet, to the pilot’s face… A hundred percent oxygen! Christ!… It turns the lava into an inferno… Everything that can burn is on fire… everything else is melting… Even with the hole smashed in the visor the helmet is full of smoke… He’s choking… blinded… The left side of his head is on fire… He’s suffocating… He brings up his left hand… He has pressure-suit gloves locked and taped to the sleeve… He jams his in through the hole in the visor and tries to create an air scoop with it to bring air to his mouth… The flames… They’re all over it… They go to work on his glove where it touches his face… They devour it!… His index finger is burning up… His goddamned finger is burning!… But he doesn’t move it… Get some air!… Nothing else matters… He’s gulping smoke… He has to get the visor open… It’s twisted… He’snencased in a little broken globe dying in a cloud of his own fried flesh… Thenstench of it!… rubber and human hide… He has to get the visor open… It’s that or nothing, no two ways about it… It’s smashed all to hell… He jams both hands underneath… It’s a tremendous effort… It lifts… Salvation!…

Like a sea, the air carries it all away, the smoke, the flames… The fire is out. He can breathe. He can see out of his right eye. The desert, the mesquite, the motherless Joshua trees are rising slowly toward him… He can’t open his left eye… Now he can feel the pain… Half his head is broiled… That isn’t the worst of it… The damned finger!… Jesus!… He can make out the terrain, he’s been over it a million times… Over there’s the highway,n466, and there’s route 6 crossing it… His left glove is practically burned off… The glove and his left index finger… he can’t tell them apart… they look as if they exploded in an over… He’s not far from base… Whatever is with the finger, it’s very bad… Nearly down… He gets ready… Right out of the manual… A terrific wallop… He’s down on the mesquite, looking across the desert, one-eyed… He stands up… Hell! He’s in one piece!… He can hardly use his left hand. The goddamned finger is killing him. The whole side of his head… he starts taking off the parachute harness… It’s all in the manual! Regulation issue!… He starts rolling up the parachute, just like it says… Some of the cords are almost melted through, from the lava… His head feels like it’s still on fire… The pain comes from way down deep… But he’s got to get the helmet off… It’s a hell of an operation… He doesn’t dare touch his head… It feels enormous… Somebody’snrunning toward him… It’s a kid, a guy in his twenties… He’s come from the highway… He comes up close and his mouth falls open and he gives Yeager a look of stone horror…

“Are you all right!”
The look on the kid’s face! Christ almighty!”
“I was in my car! I saw you coming down!
“Listen,” says Yeager. The pain in his finger is terrific. “Listen… you got a knife?”

The kid digs into his pocket and pulls out a penknife. Yeager starts cutting the glove off his left hand. He can’t bear it anymore. The kid stands there hypnotized and horrified. From the look on the kid’s face, Yeager can begin to see himself. His neck, the whole left side of his head, his ear, his cheek, and his eye must be burned up. His eye socket is slashed, swollen, caked shut, and covered with a crust of burned blood, and half his hair is burned away. The whole mess and the rest of his face and nostrils and his lips are smeared with the sludge of the burning rubber. And he’s standing there in the middle of the desert in a pressure suit with his head cocked, squinting out of one eye, working on his glove with a penknife… The knife cuts through the glove and it cuts the meat of his finger… You can’t tell any longer… It’s all run together… The goddamned finger looks like it’s melted… He’s got to get the glove off. That’s all there is to it. It hurts too goddamned much. He pulls off the glove and a big hunk of melted meat from the finger comes off with it… it’s like fried suet…

“Arrggghhh…” It’s the kid. He’s retching.nIt’s too much for him, the poor bastard. He looks up at Yeager. His eyes open and his mouth opens. All the glue has come undone. He can’t hold it in any longer.

“God,” he says, “you… look awful!” The GoodnSamaritan, A.A.D.! Also a Doctor! And he just gave his diagnosis! That’s all a man needs… to be forty years old and to fall one hundred goddamned thousand feet in a flat spin and punch out and make a million-dollar hole in the ground and get half his head and his hand burned up and have his eye practically ripped out of his skull… and have the Good Samaritan, A.A.D., arrive as if sent by the spirit of Pancho Barnes herself to render a midnight verdict among the motherless Joshua trees while the screen doors bang and the pictures of a hundred dead pilots rattle in their frames:
“My God!… you look awful.”

A few minutes later the rescue helicopter arrived. The medics found Yeager standing out in the mesquite, him and some kid who had been passing by. Yeager was standing erect with his parachute rolled up and his helmet in the crook of his arm, right out of the manual, and staring at them quite levelly out of what is left of his face, as if they had an appointment and he was on time.

At the hospital, they discovered one stroke of good luck. The blood over Yeager’s left eye had been baked into a crust-like shield. Otherwise, he might have lost it. He had suffered third – and second-degree burns on his head and neck. The burns required a month of treatment in the hospital, but he was able to heal without disfigurement. He even regained the use of his left index finger.

No one even broke the Russian mark with the NF-104 or even tried to. Up above 100,000 feet the plane’s envelope was too goddamned full of holes. And Yeager never again sought to set a world record in the sky over the high desert.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

August 3, 2022 0 comment

History

How Scott Crossfield defeated Chuck Yeager and became the first person to reach Mach 2 with the D-558-2 X-Plane

by Till Daisd August 2, 2022

written by Till Daisd

Scott Crossfield claimed that he “just dropped the hint to the Navy that wouldn’t it be great if they could whip Yeager’s ass and beat him to Mach 2!”

The six Douglas D-558 research aircraft were the US Navy’s contribution to the supersonic X-Plane program. They were constructed as two different variants. Due to the inability of wind tunnels to duplicate these speeds in the late 1940s, pilots of experimental aircraft with extraordinary performance had to take great risks.

The D-558s exceeded their initial Mach 1 speed goal despite being delayed by their inventive but problematic powerplants and constrained by the cost of their air-launched sorties. In reality, Scott Crossfield’s D-558-2 was the first aircraft to surpass Mach 2.

Dr. Hugh Dryden at NACA was happy to help the USAF reach Mach 2 if they so desired, as stated by Peter E. Davies in his book Douglas D-558. Dr. Dryden was persuaded by Crossfield and Walter Williams, nevertheless, that there would be scientific advantages to pushing the D-558-2’s upgraded engine to its performance limits. Later, according to Crossfield, “just dropped the hint to the Navy that wouldn’t it be great if they could whip Yeager’s ass and beat him to Mach 2!” Rear Admiral Apollo Soucek of the Bureau of Aeronautics and Marion Carl persuaded the Pentagon once more to allow for a single Navy attempt at Mach 2 before Chuck Yeager was given the job.

Crossfield started testing the D-558-2 aircraft with a number of modifications on September 17, 1953. In order for Crossfield to raise pressures in the four rocket chambers, the “X-plane” actually had the nozzle extensions installed and a tank regulator in the cockpit. The two changes brought the overall thrust up to about 9,000 lb. With progressively higher top speeds, flights continued throughout October and November as stability and aerodynamic load tests. After launch, Crossfield would have to adhere to a highly exact climb, speed, and angle of attack, according to a flight profile that NACA calculated in mid-November. He would undergo a shallow dive after the “push-over” and accelerate to Mach 2.

How Scott Crossfield (and the D-558-2 X-Plane) beat Chuck Yeager and Became the First to Reach Mach 2

After the LOX was loaded, NACA 144 (BuNo 37974) was meticulously prepared with a waxed finish, sealed panels, and a prolonged “cold soak” to allow the liquid gas to settle and be topped up, both on the ground and from the carrier aircraft’s top-up system when in the airborne. The procedure also extended the burn time by seven seconds. The stainless steel propellant vent tubes at the tail end were swapped out for lighter aluminum equivalents that were bent so they would burn off in the rocket efflux and reduce weight. With NACA pilot Stanley Butchart at the controls, the P2B-1S bomber (the US Navy’s rendition of the Boeing B-29) and its load took off on November 20, 1953.

Butchart served in a torpedo-bomber squadron with future US president George Bush during World War II as a naval aviator. He worked in research aviation for 25 years, making 12 flights in the D-558-1. For six years, he was the High-Speed Flight Station’s main multi-engined pilot, launching hundreds of experimental aircraft from B-29s and other carrier aircraft.

Crossfield readied to launch at 10,000 feet, and upon release, he lit all four rocket chambers and soared to 72,178 feet. He then pushed the plane into level flight and continued to accelerate for an additional 45 seconds until the rocket fuel ran out. He was shocked to see Mach 2.04 on his Mach meter at that point. He had surpassed all previous records for speed, the D-558-2 had finally surpassed its maximum design speed of Mach 2, and the USN held the records for both speed and altitude.

Yeager climbed aboard the modified Bell X-1A three weeks later, intent to significantly surpass Crossfield’s record in a contractor flight operation code-named “Operation NACA Weep.” The horizontal tail of the X-1A was thought to be effective up to Mach 2.3 at 72,000 feet, according to Yeager’s team, but instability issues had already been noted at Mach 1.8. Yeager took off on December 12 at a height of 30,500 feet and achieved Mach 2 at 76,000 feet before pushing over and into a shallow dive that reached Mach 2.4 before all of the flying controls lost their effectiveness.

The aircraft tumbled, completely out of control in a wild spin for 50,000 ft, battering him into near unconsciousness before he could recover it. Fortunately, the X-1A’s incredibly durable airframe was unharmed, and Yeager made it out alive with the remark, “Boy, I’m not gonna do that again.” It was his final flight in the rocket plane.

Douglas D-558 is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

Photo by NASA

August 2, 2022 0 comment

History

When Convair planned to turn the B-58 into a Supersonic Airliner

by Till Daisd July 30, 2022

written by Till Daisd

Convair stated in 1957 that it could adapt an MB-1C pod to accommodate five people beneath a B-58 and provide some initial experience with commercial supersonic travel, but not proposing a large SST of the sort that Lockheed and North Americans were considering

The B-58 Hustler was designed in the late 1940s, a time when the motto “faster and higher” served as the inspiration for the majority of military aircraft designs. It embodied the idea that a bomber could overcome harsh enemy defenses simply by having a lot of power and speed. A bomber that could avoid interception, get to its target quickly, and disable the enemy’s offensive capability was required due to the nuclear threat.

Convair created the first supersonic strategic bomber and, aside from the North American XB-70, the noisiest aircraft in the world by pushing the boundaries of technology and employing 10 years of experience in the construction of delta-wing aircraft. It could maintain a speed of 1000 mph for several hours while being mostly automatically piloted and controlled by a fighter-type control column.

In the mid-1950s, when maximum airspeeds were increasing almost annually, there was a determined effort made by the US aerospace industry to create a supersonic transport aircraft (SST). As explained by Peter E Davies in his book B-58 Hustler Units, because of the Hustler’s spectacular top speed of Mach 2.2, Convair felt that the company’s lead in creating the first relatively large supersonic vehicle should be converted into a civil transport initiative.

Convair first suggested in 1957 that it could adapt an MB-1C pod to take five passengers beneath a B-58 and provide some initial experience of commercial supersonic travel, even though it did not propose a large SST of the size that Lockheed and North Americans were considering. Additionally, it was believed that this experiment may advance the concept of quick transportation for crucial military personnel.

Convair then put forth the CV-58-9, an expanded Hustler-based design with four non-afterburning J58 engines from the B-58C, a B-58 wing, and a fuselage that could carry 52 passengers at Mach 2.4. The Anglo-French Concorde, for which basic design studies had started in 1956, would have been quicker than the CV-58-9, which was first conceptualized in 1960 and may have entered service as early as 1964.

Convair Thought to Transform the B-58 into a Supersonic Airliner. And to Store 5 Passengers in Hustler’s MB-1C Pod.

When the American SST program received the official go-ahead in April 1961, BAC and Sud Aviation had already completed Concorde designs, using a slender delta wing that originated from prototype work with the Handley Page HP.115 research aircraft, and some of the data generated by the Convair XF-92A program — the latter had, of course, contributed to B-58 development. SST was developed in reaction to the possible threat Concorde posed to the US aviation industry, and it resulted in design contracts for Lockheed and Boeing, whose Mach 2.8 Model 2707 was chosen for further development. The CV-58-9 from Convair was not a contender.

It is conceivable that America’s unfavorable experiences with supersonic booms, primarily caused by B-58 flights, may have contributed to the US Congress’s decision to withdraw support for the SST in 1971, which was attributed in large part to the overland supersonic flight’s negative environmental effects. The Hustler was known for being the loudest airplane ever built by that point. In reality, the supersonic flights of the B-58As were usually restricted to a 1000-mile overwater route between Mobile, Alabama, and a point off the coast of Texas near Corpus Christi.

B-58 Hustler Units is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

July 30, 2022 1 comment

History

The first kamikaze attack in WWII

by Till Daisd July 23, 2022

written by Till Daisd

On October 25, 1944, at 1053 in the morning, an A6M5 Zeke purposefully struck the USS St. Lo (CVE-63), a survivor of the Battle off Samar

The U.S. Navy achieved such resounding triumphs in October 1944 that, had it come up against a different enemy, the war would have been over. However, as Thomas McKelvey Cleaver tells in his book Tidal Wave, the US Navy confronted a terrible new enemy tactic near the close of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, just when it appeared that they had won.

The defeat of the Imperial Japanese Navy, which at this point no longer posed a credible threat, was the objective for which the U.S. Navy had been established over the preceding 20 years by 1000 hours on the morning of October 25, 1944. Along with the carriers Chitose and Zuiho, Zuikaku, the final survivor of the six aircraft carriers that had assaulted Pearl Harbor 34 months previously, lay on the bottom 100 miles north of Cape Engano. One of the two biggest battleships ever built, the Musashi, was sunk in the Sibuyan Sea.

In Surigao Strait, the battleships Fuso and Yamashiro had been destroyed. After a terrible battle off the island of Samar, Admiral Kurita’s Center Force was in retreat through San Bernardino Strait. No other Japanese capital ship would seek engagement with the US fleet for the remainder of the war, with the exception of the battleship Yamato’s one-way assignment in the Okinawa campaign six months later. The victory that had been anticipated over the last 20 years had been realized. The outcome of Leyte Gulf was described by British historian J. F. C. Fuller in his book The Decisive Battles of the Western World as follows: “The Japanese fleet had [effectively] ceased to exist, and, except by land-based aircraft, their opponents had won undisputed command of the sea.”

Zeros ready to take part in a *kamikaze* attack

The Philippines’ defeat was catastrophic for Japan. The Imperial Japanese Navy has lost more ships and personnel in battle than at any time in its history. The defeat meant the inevitable loss of the Philippines. This in turn meant that Japan would be completely cut off from the Southeast Asian nations that it had invaded in 1942, which had provided her with resources essential for survival, most notably the oil needed for hardships and the fuel for her airplanes, as well as food for the Japanese people.

Admiral Yonai, the Navy Minister, said when interviewed after the war that he realized the defeat at Leyte “was tantamount to the loss of the Philippines.” As for the larger significance of the battle, he said,n“I felt that it was the end.”

The Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force’s 201st Air Group’s Shikishima Unit discovered the Task Unit 77.4.3, or “Taffy-3,” carriers north of Samar Island at 1047 hours, 47 minutes after Admiral Kurita pulled his force back to San Bernardino Strait, thus altering the course of the Pacific Naval War. An A6M5 Zeke purposefully struck USS St. Lo (CVE-63), a Battle of Samar survivor, at 1053 hours. The kamikaze had arrived.

The Story of the First Kamikaze Attack in World War II — A kamikaze A6M Zero towards the end of its run at the escort carrier USS *White Plains* on 25 October 1944. The aircraft exploded in mid-air moments after the picture was taken, scattering debris across the deck.

The Shikishima unit flew its first mission on October 24, 1944, with Lieutenant Yukion Seki leading four attackers and Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force leading acenHiroyoshi Nishizawa leading four escorts. The 201st moved from Mabalacat to Cebu in the central Philippines to put themselves closer to their targets. They returned to base with very little fuel because of the poor weather and dense clouds that day, failing to locate any targets.

On the morning of October 25, Seki led four old A6M2s that were each carrying a 250 kg bomb while Nishizawa led four A6M5 Zeke escorts. The Zekes were intercepted by Hellcat defenders, and in the fight that developed, Nishizawa claimed two of the Hellcats as victories 86 and 87. The attackers and the escorts split apart. A single attacker dove at Kitkun Bay (CVE-71) in an effort to damage her bridge, but it blew up as it contacted the port catwalk and cartwheeled into the sea. Fanshaw Bay (CVE-70) was attacked by two more, but they were both destroyed by antiaircraft fire. The last two took place in White Plains (CVE-66). While the other abandoned the effort and turned toward St. Lo under heavy fire and smoke, the first was hit and shot down by the antiaircraft fire.

St Lo attacked by Lt. Seki’s kamikaze attack, on Oct. 25, 1944

Lieutenant Seki had found his target.

The Zeke pulled up at the last moment to correct the dive and the airplane hit the center of the flight deck. The 250-kilogram bomb detonated while numerous aircraft were being refueled and rearmed on the port side of the hangar deck. The torpedo and bomb magazine exploded after six subsequent explosions, which were preceded by a brief gasoline fire. St. Lo sank 30 minutes later, in flames. An 889-person crew had 113 dead or missing, while 30 survivors eventually perished from their injuries. The destroyer Heermann and its escorting John C. Butler, Raymond, and Dennis pulled the 434 survivors from the ocean.

It was the sign of the impending storm known as the kamikaze, so named after the typhoon winds that sank Kublai Khan’s invading fleet in 1274. 3,860 Japanese pilots would attack Navy ships during the course of the final ten months of the Pacific War; 733 of them would succeed in hitting their mark. In a letter to the Joint Chiefs of Staff in June 1945, Admiral Nimitz made it clear that the Navy could not support an invasion of Japan in the face of this threat.

The human wind of the 20th century “divine wind” may have prevented or at least significantly delayed the planned American invasion of Japan while the Soviet Union invaded the nation from the north, if not for the Soviet invasion of Manchuria and the use of two atomic bombs that prompted the Japanese decision to surrender.

Tidal Wave is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

July 23, 2022 0 comment

History

The Battle of Berlin by Bomber Command was the first electronics war in aviation History.

by Till Daisd July 21, 2022

written by Till Daisd

If Bomber Command was to prevail in the Battle of Berlin, two crucial questions needed to be addressed. Could it effectively designate the target, focus the bombing effort, and, secondly, could it keep the Luftwaffe at bay and maintain a loss rate of less than 5%?

RAF Bomber Command chief Arthur Harris had long believed that if enough of his heavy bombers could be used on Nazi Germany’s cities, they could compel the country to surrender. He took the final opportunity to support his theory in late 1943. Hitler’s capital would be the target.

The Battle of Berlin was a grueling, hopeless struggle that took place over a harsh winter. Over the course of 16 significant attacks, night fighters from Bomber Command and the Luftwaffe attempted to outmaneuver one another.

Bomber Command’s Battle of Berlin was the First Electronics War in Aviation History — De Havilland Mosquito

If Bomber Command was to succeed in the Battle of Berlin, two crucial concerns needed to be addressed, according to Richard Worrall’s account in his book Battle of Berlin 1943–1944. Could it effectively designate the target, focus the bombing effort, and, secondly, could it keep the Luftwaffe at bay while maintaining a loss rate of less than 5%? In an effort to address the problem of bombing navigation and precision, which had plagued bomber operations since 1939, the PFF was established in the middle of 1942.

But there were also devices that had helped Bomber Command become more accurate. The first was Oboe, which high-flying Mosquitos employed. It was the most precise method of blind bombing yet created, but it had geographical limitations and was unable to reach Berlin due to the curvature of the earth. The H2S ground-echoing radar, the second technological device, was carried by aircraft. Because of the stark difference between land and sea, H2S was effective over small cities and against ports, such as Hamburg, but it became more problematic the farther inland it went. Over built-up regions, it grew hazy and difficult to decipher.

After the experience over Hamburg, there were high expectations for H2S over Berlin in August 1943, but Berlin was simply too large and filled the H2S screen, making any distinction impossible. However, given that Berlin was outside of the reach of either Oboe’s electronic navigation and bombing system or Gee’s radio navigation system, which was becoming increasingly vulnerable to German jamming, Harris had little choice but to continue trying to make H2S work. As a result, during the Battle of Berlin, which put a lot of demand on this technology, “blind marking” on H2S was considered the best approach to designate targets.

Additionally, the new H2S Mk III definition of Berlin—which Harris had excitedly anticipated before resuming the onslaught against the German capital—proved to be just marginally more accurate than the previous Mk II set. The alternative was to mark the target using the Newhaven technique, which involved laying a lot of flares to make it possible to see the aiming point. However, this method required good visibility for both the Pathfinders and the Main Force, and such conditions were infrequent over Berlin in the fall and winter.

The Battle of Berlin turned out to be an electronic battle between Bomber Command and the Luftwaffe in terms of the second issue, which was to neutralize the Luftwaffe. Throughout 1943, the British achieved great advancements in RCM in particular, and during the Battle of Berlin, these varied strategies would be used to take on the German defenses. The British electronic device known as Tinsel was still in use to jam German High-Frequency Radio Transmitters (HF/RT), as well as the older countermeasures of airborne and ground-based Mandrel to jam the frequencies of Freya, a ground-based early warning radar. Above all, Window was dropped by the entire bomber force and had evolved into the primary deterrent to enemy radar.

Since its introduction in July 1943, the employment of Window as a decoy has rapidly increased, and significant raids are typically preceded by one or more decoy strikes by Mosquitos. An eighth crew member, a German speaker, who listened to enemy radio instructions to the night fighters and jammed their frequency using a VHF transmitter, operated Airborne Cigar (ABC) in which Lancasters were fitted with jamming equipment. ABC Lancasters would fly throughout the bomber stream and would represent a continual problem for the Luftwaffe.

Similar actions were taken by Ground Cigar to jam VHF/RT. Then there was Corona when a German-speaking operator from a radio station in Kent transmitted fictitious instructions, including the direction to land due to fog, in an effort to obstruct the running commentary of night fighters.

Throughout the Berlin campaign, both of these RCMs would be employed after their introduction in October. Dartboard and Drumstick, two new measures, would be implemented in December 1943 and January 1944, respectively. The first was to jam Stuttgart’s high-powered transmitter, which the Germans used to transmit a running commentary when Corona jammed their original transmitters. When RT communication was jammed, the enemy controllers would turn to wireless broadcasts as a backup plan.

The 141 Squadron of the 100 Group created a weapon dubbed Serrate that focused on the electronic emissions from German night aircraft employing the Lichtenstein radar equipment in order to chase night fighters more aggressively. These so-called Intruder operations first took place on Dec. 16-17, 1943, and would do much to erode the German night fighters, particularly among the elite Nachtjagdgeschwader 1 (NIG-1) that was based in the Low Countries. Other tools, including Mandrel, which was used to interfere with the German early-warning radar, would also be deployed by 100 Group. The British had to create such technological tools to fend off the Luftwaffe’s rising assertiveness.

But it wasn’t all good news for the British in their “electronics war” with the Germans. Evidence mounted that the more devices British bombers carried, the more like “beacons” they were to the Germans, who had learned to focus on H2S emissions and locate the bomber stream behind the window screen. Other devices like Monica (a warning device for an aircraft approaching the bomber from behind and below) and Fishpond (a fighter warning radar added on to H2S) might also be damaged in the same way by night fighters.

Battle of Berlin 1943-44 is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

Photo by Piotr Forkasiewicz (www.peterfor.com) Crown Copyright and German Federal Archive

July 21, 2022 0 comment

History

The first USAF pilot to fly U.S. Navy EA-18G Growler in combat

by Till Daisd July 20, 2022

written by Till Daisd

While stationed at Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar, U.S. Air Force 1st Lt. Jonathan Wright became the first Airman to fly a U.S. Navy EA-18G Growler during a combat mission

On November 19, 2018, U.S. Air Force 1st Lt. Jonathan Wright, who was stationed at Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar, became the first Airman to fly a U.S. Navy EA-18G Growler during a combat mission.

Wright was assigned to the 390th Electronic Combat Squadron (ECS), Mountain Home Air Force Base (AFB), Idaho, and attached to the U.S. Navy’s Electronic Attack Squadron 135 “Black Ravens,” (VAQ-135) as stated by Tech. Sgt. Christopher Hubenthal, 379th Air Expeditionary Wing Public Affairs, in the article First USAF Airman pilots Navy Growler in combat. The majority of the sailors who make up the “Black Ravens” are from the Naval Air Station (NAS) Whidbey Island, Washington.

Wright was flying when the U.S. The VAQ-135’s commander, Navy Cmdr. Steve Shauberger, served as the plane’s electronic warfare officer from the back seat.

This Airman has been the First USAF Pilot to Fly U.S. Navy EA-18G Growler in Combat — U.S. Navy Cmdr. Steve Shauberger (left), Electronic Attack Squadron 135 (VAQ-135) “Black Ravens” commander, and U.S. Air Force 1st Lt. Jonathan Wright, 390th Electronic Combat Squadron and VAQ-135 EA-18G Growler pilot, make their way across the flightline after Wright’s first combat flight Nov. 19, 2018, at Al Udeid Air Base, Qatar.

“It’s a milestone, the fact that he’s the first Air Force pilot to fly a combat sortie in a Growler,” said Shauberger. “He’snthe first pilot we’ve had straight out of undergraduate flight training to do it as well. Hopefully, because of these successes, we can build up resident knowledge to enhance the Air Force while making the U.S. Navy more diversified.”

Wright made another flight when he was stationed at Al Udeid.

“It was a mix of excitement and a little anxiety, said Wright. “It was the first time for me to go into the country. I was getting to do what I’ve always wanted to do, flying in combat in a fighter jet.nIt’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was 10 years old. Years of training had led to this moment of doing the real thing.”

Wright, the sole Airman in the squadron that flies an EA-18G, was one of three Air Force officers assigned to VAQ-135 at the time. Wright acknowledged that it was challenging at first to operate in a combined setting, but he has relished the chance to study the electronic assault mission with his U.S. Navy counterparts.

“It was a challenge adapting to how the Navy does things versus the way it was ingrained to me at Shepard Air ForcenBase [during training],” said Wright. “It isn’t a challenge anymore and I fit right in. Having an Air Force pilot and a Navy electronic warfare officer in the same jet is a great picture of what a joint is. Same team, the same fight, and different assets. When we put them together, it’s effective.”

Though being the first Air Force Airman to operate a Growler in a combat situation is an accomplishment, Shauberger said that what Wright gets out of his experience in a joint environment will prove most rewarding.

“We integrate with the Air Force by going to Red Flag and other exercises,” said Shauberger. “It will be easier for that integration to happen in the future once 1st Lt. Wright returns to a regularnAir Force squadron and can educate them on Growler capabilities. He can lay the groundwork in advance and provide the, ‘hey these guys can give us this … we can leverage that,’ instead of trying to start from scratch. It’s getting that experience and expertise to take back to the Air Force.”

In 2015, it was decided to add fighter pilots to the joint airborne electronic attack program by Air Combat Command and the Command of Naval Air Forces. U.S. Wright and other 390th ECS members were sent to VAQ-135 in order to provide an airman’s viewpoint on expeditionary operations, according to Air Force Maj. Allen Ferkovich of the 390th ECS.

“This joint collaboration increases mission effectiveness and facilitates 390th ECS Airmen to learn offensive airborne electronic attack and SEAD,” said Ferkovich. “We then bring that expertise back to the Air Force on follow-on assignments.”

Photo by Tech. Sgt. Christopher Hubenthal / U.S. Air Force

July 20, 2022 0 comment

History

An exhibit to commemorate the 1986 F-4 flight by the North Dakota Air National Guard for a heart transplant

by Till Daisd June 28, 2022

written by Till Daisd

The heart was kept in an ice-filled plastic picnic cooler. General Bob Becklund of the North Dakota Air National Guard was operating the F-4, and the cooler was fastened to the backseat. The 33-year-old heart recipient resides in San Francisco

The pics in this post show Brigadier General Robert Becklund’s retirement, which was captured on September 7, 2019, at a formal ceremony held at the North Dakota Air National Guard Base in Fargo, North Dakota. Becklund, the Chief of Staff for Air at the Joint Force Headquarters of the North Dakota National Guard, has 37 years of outstanding service with the Happy Hooligans, including five years as the Wing commander.

More than 30 years ago, Becklund was the F-4 Phantom pilot who flew a highly-publicized North Dakota Air National Guard mission to deliver a baby’s heart to a transplant patient in California.

Later this month, the Fargo Air Museum will debut a notable exhibit to honor the North Dakota Air National Guard’s renowned “Heart Flight.”

The flight of the F-4 Phantom, a supersonic fighter, took place in December 1986 after a Learjet flying from California to Fargo to pick up a heart broke down in cold weather.

“It’s something that North Dakota is very proud of. We’ve never had a lasting exhibit for people to see” according to Fargo Air Museum Executive Director Jackie Williams. “A lot of the kids today don’t even know it happened.”

Exhibit to Honor 1986 North Dakota Air National Guard F-4 Flight that Allowed Heart Transplant

KFGO radio reported that the heart was kept in an ice-filled plastic picnic cooler. The General Bob Becklund-driven F-4 had the cooler fastened to the backseat. The military flight was authorized by the late governor George Sinner.

“That heart had been out of the donor body for quite some time, maybe 8 hours or so, which in those days was way longer than had ever been done before and well beyond medical technology at the time,” Becklund said.

The 33-year-old heart recipient, according to Williams, resides in the San Francisco region. The golf-ball-sized organ was flown to Stanford Medical Center by Gen. Bob Becklund. Along with news stories, pictures, and paintings, the exhibit told the tale of the Heart Flight. On September 18, 2019, there was a public dedication ceremony at the Fargo Air Museum.

Photo Credit: North Dakota Air National Guard

June 28, 2022 0 comment

History

Leslie Shook, the voice behind F/A-18 Super Hornet’s Bitchin’ Betty

by Till Daisd June 28, 2022

written by Till Daisd

Leslie’s stern commands have been heard by every mechanic and every pilot who has practiced on or flown an F-18. In the field of fighter jets, her voice is jokingly referred to as Bitchin’ Betty

Leslie Shook, a Boeing employee, remarked, “I have loved these planes for a lot of years,” as she looked up at the F/A-18 Super Hornet’s cockpit. Leslie’s unusual bond with the jet lasted 20 years, according to a company news release. She is the cockpit warning system’s voice. Leslie’s stern commands have been heard by every mechanic and every pilot who has practiced on or flown an F-18. In the field of fighter jets, her voice is jokingly referred to as Bitchin’ Betty.

“You hear this voice every day telling you things are okay or that you need to take action,” said Dana Perkins, Boeing Flight Operations, Weapons Systems Operator. “You start trusting this person’s voice. If she said ‘stand up straight,’ everyone would stand up straight!”

Leslie’s tenure as the F-18’s voice began by coincidence. The original Bitchin’ Betty’s voice may be heard on the F-15. Crews brought that voice onto the F-18, but more calls were required. During the recording sessions, Leslie, a media producer, filled in as the sound engineer.

However, the talent was unable to fully convey the sense of urgency required for the task. Leslie remarked, “Betty’s got a cadence and a sharpness to it”. The program manager took note of her instructions and determined that she was qualified for the position—a function that had existed for 20 years.

All good things, as the saying goes, must come to an end. To meet the woman behind the voice on her final day, Boeing staff members and Navy pilots met in St. Louis, Missouri, in March 2016.

“As soon as she started talking, we all grinned and said ‘oh yeah, that’s her!’” said Lt. Cmdr. Doug Crane, a DCMA Weapons Systems Officer on EA-18G and F/A-18F aircraft.

As she bid goodbye to “her plane,” Leslie’s distinctive voice slightly cracked. Watch the video to hear Leslie’s account of how one pilot’s life was spared by her quick decision at the ideal time.

June 28, 2022 0 comment

History

The first man to fly the B-1A, Charles “Charlie” Bock, died

by Till Daisd June 21, 2022

written by Till Daisd

On December 23, 1974, Charles “Charlie” Bock and his team completed the B-1’s initial flight. Before leaving Rockwell in 1981, he logged 600 hours of flight time in that aircraft

On August 21, 2019, retired colonel Charles “Charlie” Bock, who piloted the B-1A on its initial flight, passed away. Bock also piloted the first B-58 Hustler from Fort Worth to Edwards Air Force Base when he was testing aircraft. Bock was born in Council Bluffs, Iowa, on November 24, 1925.

In 1949, Iowa Aviation Museum graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Aeronautical Engineering from Purdue University. Bock served in the U.S. Air Force (USAF) for a very long time and had a remarkable career as a bomber pilot, fighter pilot, test pilot, and military astronaut nominee. Col. Bock flew 52 combat missions with the 35th Tactical Fighter Wing in Vietnam and 51 combat missions with the 90th Bomb Squadron in Korea. Two tours at Flight Test Operations at the Air Force Fight Test Center, Edwards Air Force Base, California, were among the other assignments.

He took involved in a number of the Center’s flight test initiatives and brought the first B-58 to leave the factory for a year of testing. Col. Bock flew the B-50 for the X-2 launch and the B-52 for all of the X-15’s initial captive and launch flights. A YF-12/SR-71 Test Force was established when the YF-12 landed at the Center, with Charlie serving as the Operations Officer. The objective was to help Lockheed increase the SR-71’s operating range.

Bock left the USAF in 1973 and accepted a job as the chief test pilot for the B-1 program at Rockwell International. On December 23, 1974, he and his crew completed the B-1’s maiden flight. Before quitting flying in that aircraft in 1981, he logged 600 hours of flight time.

Col. Bock was in charge of all aircrew training and significantly influenced the design of the priorities and objectives for the B-1 flight test program. He left Rockwell in 1981 and worked as a consultant for Northrop Corporation on the B-2 Stealth Bomber from 1982 to 1984.

Charles “Charlie” Bock logged more than 10,000 hours in more than 100 different types of aircraft throughout his flying career. He also won a number of numerous awards, including the Legion of Merit, two Distinguished Flying Crosses, six Air Medals, the Society of Experimental Test Pilots Tenhoff Award, and the Iven C. Kincheloe Award, in addition to the Legion of Merit. In 1994, he was inducted into the Aerospace Walk of Honor.

Charles “Charlie” Bock, the First Man to Fly the B-1A, Passed Away — B-1A takes off for its first flight

Photo by U.S. Air Force and Iowa Aviation Museum

June 21, 2022 0 comment

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