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Excerpts from
AAHS Journal, Vol. 54, No. 4 - Winter 2009
Table of Contents
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Tactical Turnabout: Development of the Last
U.S. Propeller-Driven Attack Aircraft
Martin’s XBTM-1 was the
frontrunner in the race to become the Navy’s newest attack aircraft
until Douglas’s XBT2D-1 entered the picture.
Flemmings Island
Field, Florida, June 12, 1949: Navy
pilot Ens. Rex J. Vannoy of VA-84 was about to learn the value of a
pre-takeoff checklist. The big Martin AM-1 Mauler he was flying had just
left the runway at full takeoff power and he’d smartly moved the gear
selector lever to the "UP" position. Seconds later, at an altitude of
about 75 feet, the plane’s 28-cylinder Pratt & Whitney R-4360 engine
coughed a few times and completely died: In his haste to take off,
the young pilot had neglected to switch fuel tanks. At that moment,
there was no time for him to do anything except land the airplane -
straight ahead, gear up. Without power, the 10-ton Mauler dropped like a
stone. Evidently not forgetting everything he’d learned, Vannoy
maintained flying speed and bellied the plane into the overrun. Still
moving at nearly 100 mph, the big Mauler erupted through the perimeter
fence, slid across a road, snapped down a telephone pole, demolished a
second fence, and didn’t come to a complete stop until it plowed into a
stand of pine trees. Ensign Vannoy survived the incident; his aircraft,
AM-1 Bureau No. 22326, however, was a complete write-off. Ironically, the
most serious threat to "Able Mabel" (the Mauler’s unofficial
nickname) wasn’t inexperienced naval aviators, but an arcane process
known as the naval aircraft procurement system.
The Bomber-Torpedo
Requirement
Aircraft procurement is often dictated by the
lessons learned in combat, and the early carrier battles of WWII taught
naval strategists that a higher ratio of fighter aircraft was needed in
the carrier air groups to ensure air superiority around the task force
itself, and provide better protection for the aircraft of the carriers’
strike force. As a result, a decision was made in early 1943 to downsize
the complement of torpedo and scout-bombers (i.e., SBDs or SB2Cs and TBF/TBMs)
and replace them over time with one type of single-seat, multi-role strike
aircraft under the new designation bomber-torpedo (BT). With extra fighter
protection, strike aircraft would no longer need to carry gunners, and the
weight normally associated with aircrew, guns, and ammunition could be
exchanged for useful load and greater range. Moreover, with the more
powerful engines becoming available (i.e., the Wright R-3350 and the
P&W R-4630), the new BT types were likely to carry twice the payload
of existing torpedo and scout-bombers, thereby reducing the number of
strike aircraft needed by half. And to optimize mission flexibility, the
requirement further specified that all ordnance be carried on external
racks.
During the same timeframe, Douglas Aircraft Co.
was already at an advanced stage of development with an aircraft that had
been designed as an SBD/SB2C replacement - the two-place, tricycle-gear
R-3350 powered XSB2D-1 Destroyer; similarly, the Airplane Division of
Curtiss-Wright had the XSB3C-1 - a larger, more powerful . . .
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Douglas XBT2D-1 Prototype
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Pickwick Airways
"Southward, northward, southward again, Pickwick flew today. With the
muffled roar of three great engines that growled defiance at gravity, the
sleek air transport rose majestically from the runway of the Grand Central
Air Terminal in Glendale (California). With two crack pilots at the dual
controls and eight lucky passengers in the luxurious cabin, it hurtled to
San Diego. Ninety minutes later it headed northward again, this time to
San Francisco, and then homed southward once again." Much the same words
appeared in local newspapers on the evening of March 29, 1929.
Flamboyantly descriptive, they heralded the opening of another chapter in
the growth of U.S. transport aviation - the inauguration of Pickwick
Airways.
It was sunny and smogless in Glendale on that
March morning. Five hundred air-minded people filled the grandstands which
had been set up between the airport administration building and the flight
ramp at Grand Central. Looking out over the heads of the dignitaries,
seated on a stand below them, the spectators saw five brand new Bach
trimotor transports, or Air Yachts as they were known, lined up on the
asphalt runway. Across the field, the old Slate balloon hangar stood out
like a large thimble against a Griffith Park background. This inaugural
was to mark the beginning of regular California coastwise airline service,
scheduled for three round trips daily, week days only, to San Diego
(Ryan-Mahoney Airport) and one round trip daily except Sunday, to San
Francisco (Mills Field). Fares were $15.00 and $49.50, respectively.
While the American Legion drum and bugle corps
and the municipal band struck up a fitting tune, the propellers on the
first plane of the fleet turned over. Cameras began to click as the big
Bach taxied up to the speaker’s stand where Bobby Trout, former holder
of the women’s endurance record, swung a bottle of vintage champagne
against the side of the airplane in the traditional christening ceremony.
Included among the celebrities and local dignitaries on the stand were Los
Angeles District Attorney Buron Fitts and Thomas Morgan, Vice President
and General Manager of Pickwick. Both spoke briefly about the development
of commercial air transportation and keeping California in its place as a
leader in the field of aviation.
With the conclusion of the ceremony, the Air
Yacht taxied out and took to the sky. At the controls on this first
regular service flight were Bill Frye and Bob Kennedy. The eight
passengers, all guests of Pickwick on this occasion, were: Ruth Elder,
aviatrix; Al Wilson, stunt pilot; Morton Bach, aircraft manufacturer;
Henry Hohman, Pickwick . . .
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Pickwick Airways Bach 3-CT-6
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Struts, Wires and Braces:
1920s and 1930s Military Bomber Development
Military aircraft in the 1920s and 1930s had a charm and appeal that has
all but faded away. There was just something about the open cockpits,
struts and the whistle of the wind through wires that not only could catch
an imagination but retain it for a lifetime.
Many of these aircraft types were of limited
procurement, but it didn’t matter, the press photographed these
photogenic birds so often that there seemed to be fleets of them. The
beautiful and widely publicized Curtiss P-6E was so glamorized that few
even realized that only 46 were built.
The 1930s were a period of contrasts in aircraft
development. During the first half of the period the bulk of U.S. military
aircraft were, technologically, only slightly advanced over the WWI
designs. But during the same time civil aviation designers were trying out
all sorts of new concepts. Congress had doled out a few precious dollars
for military types, and the moss-bound thinkers didn’t want to waste
them on anything that might be considered innovative. Lockheed, Northrop
Gammas, Vultees and the speedy Seversky designs were catching the eyes of
the populace, but if it had been left to Congress we would have fought
WWII with the Martin B-10, and maybe entered the later stages of the war
with the Douglas B-18.
When war clouds began forming on the world’s
horizons, attention was directed toward the air forces of the world which
had surpassed us in technology. The designs of Supermarine and
Messerschmitt were innovative and fast. The biplane was fast disappearing.
Hawker proved the feasibility of its earlier designs by creating the
Hurricane from a biplane, but it was an isolated instance.
Though the biplane was fast disappearing, "last
gasp" exceptions included Great Britain’s Gloster Gladiator, the USN’s
SOC Seagulls and Japan’s Mitsubishi F1M2, later code named "Pete."
The golden age of struts, wires, and braces was for many the era of
romantic aviation.
This article describes the evolution of aircraft
design, with emphasis on U.S. Army bombers during the late 1920s and
1930s.
The first of the post-WWI bombers obtained in any
quantity with the "B" designation was the Curtiss B-2 Condor. Big and
slow, the 13 procured barely predated the 1930s. The Condors were rated at
133 mph and featured gun positions behind the wing-mounted engines. It was
not much of an advance over WWI bombers.
Stablemates of the Condors were the Keystone
series. The first Keystone to carry a "B" designation, other than some
converted LBs, was the B-4A. A total of 39 B-6As were procured for combat
units along with five more for use as service test vehicles. The Keystones
were even slower than the Condors and only able to reach 121 mph.
By 1932, approximately 75 of all types of these
"bombers" were serviceable. None of these had any appreciable value
for combat, despite being able to sink moored target ships!
At least the Army Air Corps was getting away from
thinking about biplane bombers. Although few in number, the Boeing B-9
started the monoplane trend. Yet it, in essence, was derived from the
Monomail, and little . . . .
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Douglas YB-11
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Bomber Number 148
I had lost track of time – absorbed
by the insides of a Browning machine gun - until I laid down an oily
screwdriver and glanced at the clock. Eleven o’clock. Late already.
I tore out of the Armament Section of the 20th
Bombardment Squadron and across the big empty hangar toward the flight
locker room. Three of the huge Keystone bombers had just been rolled out
onto the line, and I was scheduled to fly one of them as No. 3 in a
3-plane formation. I could hear the thunder of six Cyclone engines warming
up outside. A mechanic cut the racket off short as he hauled the hangar
door shut against the frosty air of a January morning at Langley Field.
I skidded to a brief halt before the bulletin
board in the locker room, to make sure of my ship’s number: 148 it was.
Crew chief: Sergeant Eddy. Passenger: Corporal Miller.
I jerked open my locker, pulled on a helmet and
goggles, light leather flying jacket, and winter flying moccasins. No time
for the full heavy winter flying equipment. Better to freeze up there than
miss the flight. It’s a serious matter to be absent from an ordered
mission in the Army without an air-tight excuse. I seized parachute and
fur gloves and ran out to 148.
Those numbers were painted white, and three feet
high, on the olive drab side of the bulky fuselage; but I had no reason to
give them any especial heed this morning. I didn’t notice for instance
that they added up to 13. Nor, for that matter, did I stop to recall that
the date on today’s operations order read 1-23-34, which also adds up to
13. And I was ignorant of still another fact: that punctuality doesn’t
always pay - that punctuality on my part this morning would have provided
a job for a dredge. The job of grappling along the muddy bottom of
Chesapeake Bay for my body within 20 minutes. You see, ordinarily I should
have had time to climb into my heaviest winter flying equipment – but
that comes later.
Another pilot was already in the cockpit of 148,
with Sergeant Eddy sitting beside him. I walked out under the nose and
crisscrossed my arms at the pilot. It was Lieutenant Crain. As he
unfastened his safety belt and climbed down out of the ship, I could
almost hear him cussing above the explosive hum of the left engine, which
the crew chief was running up. Crain stamped up to . . .
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Keystone LB-7
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John A. Macready and Oakley G. Kelly: Pioneering Aviators
The
dream of soaring on heavenly winds to distant destinations has been the
aspirations of mankind from time immemorial. During the 1920s four Army
pilots, through their aerial achievements, furthered the fulfillment of
that centuries old ambition and herein lies their remarkable stories. The
first of these pioneering feats began on a clear afternoon of May 2, 1923,
at precisely 12:36 and 53 seconds from Roosevelt-Hazelhurst Field at
Westbury, Long Island, N.Y., when Lts. Oakley Kelly and John A. Macready
departed in a Fokker T-2 (it actually carried, according to military
files, the designation F.IV) bound for Rockwell Field located on the north
end of Coronado Island (now North Island Naval Base) on San Diego Bay,
California.
Over a decade earlier, in February 1911, Glenn
Curtiss had signed a three-year contract with the owner of North Island
for the establishment of a flying school, but within a year the Army’s
Signal Corps Aviation School was established at that location for the
training of military pilots after moving from College Park, Md. The
airfield on Coronado Island was named in memory of Lt. Lewis C. Rockwell
who was killed in an aviation accident on September 25, 1912, along with
Corporal Frank S. Scott, at the old flying base before it relocated to
California. Of historical note, Corporal Scott was the first enlisted
member of the military air service to be killed in an aviation accident.
Kelly has left us a detailed description of how
he and his colleague, Lt. Muir S. Fairchild, had conceived the idea of
flying nonstop across the continent in the winter of 1921-1922 and then
set about getting support for this perilous journey.
Ridiculed by his colleagues at McCook Field,
Dayton, Ohio, for assuming that pilots could stand the strain of a
crosscountry flight, nonetheless, Kelly and Fairchild were convinced it
could be accomplished. Kelly later wrote:
In order to promote the
idea, a large map of the United States showing the proposed route from
New York to San Diego was posted on the wall in my office near the
entrance to the pilot’s locker room. Shortly the inevitable happened,
when Col. Thurman H. Bane, Commanding Officer at McCook Field at that
time, came walking in to don flying clothing and paused to inquire, "What’s
this?" In those days a good story was necessary to secure
approval of a cross-country trip over 100 miles. Later events indicated
that from that moment we were on our way except for approval from
Washington, and the all important feature of finding an airplane capable
of making the flight.
One
of the potential aircraft that was considered for the flight was a Fokker
single-engine monoplane of the F.IV design, which was an enlarged version
of the commercial aircraft, the F.III. Because of Fokker’s contributions
to the German war effort from 1914-1918 . . .
[PDF of
Complete Bibliography and Foot Note]
Complete
Bibliography for this article (PDF document) |

Macready & Kelly with Fokker T-2
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The 1938 National Air Races at Cleveland, Ohio
1938,
the ninth year of the Great Depression saw some improvement in the U.S.
and world economies. The unemployment rate of 20 percent in the U.S. would
not change until the outbreak of war in 1941.
The National Air Races (NAR) were a short respite
from the grinding depression. The event was a favorite and the Labor Day
week each year was something to look forward to.
There were many rule changes in the NAR for 1938.
The introduction of the Seversky civil P-35s in 1937 caused a complete
shake-up of the rules. Most of the changes were aimed at curbing possible
takeover by the advanced military aircraft like the civil P-35s that had
done so well in both the Bendix and Thompson races the year before. In
view of the $35,000 cost of the civil versions of the military aircraft,
the Thompson Race organizers felt they had to act immediately to keep
their series alive for the low budget grassroots American racers with
homebuilt planes.
The new 1938 rules stipulated a maximum engine
size of 1860 cubic inches to keep any large future military engines out of
the NAR. Qualifying was changed to two laps of the race course, with a
minimum average of 225 mph with no more than 15 planes starting. The race
was lengthened to 300 miles to encourage more practical planes with
reliable engines. The purse was nearly doubled to $45,000. A key rule
change was that no plane could compete in both the Bendix and Thompson
races, though this did not apply to pilots. It was felt that this would
give the big military a shot at one title but would prevent any domination
of both series. . . .
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Tony LeVier in #70
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“Air Raid on Pearl Harbor - This Is No Drill”
On the morning of November 28, 1941, a U.S. Navy task
force consisting of the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise and
accompanying cruisers and destroyers left Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, to deliver
a squadron of 12 Marine Corps fighter planes to Wake Island, some 2,000
miles west of Pearl Harbor. The fighter planes were to reinforce the
garrison at Wake.
After landing aboard, the Marine fighters,
Grumman F4F Wildcats, had been taken from the flight deck to the hangar
deck below using the enormous airplane elevators of which the Enterprise
had three. The Wildcats were stored on the hangar deck for the trip to
Wake in order to leave the flight deck clear for the twice-daily
operations of the ship’s own air group. This air group flew out from its
shore base at Luke Field on Ford Island in Pearl Harbor and landed aboard
after the Marines had landed.
While the fighters of Fighting Squadron Six (also
F4F Wildcats), the Douglas SBD Dauntless of Bombing Squadron Six and
Scouting Squadron Six, and the Douglas TBD Devastator of Torpedo Squadron
Six were being tightly parked in takeoff position on the aft end of the
flight deck, inspected and refueled. The pilots of the squadrons gathered
in their respective ready rooms for a briefing on the fleet’s mission. I
was a pilot in Bombing Six with the rank of ensign.
For security reasons the nature of the mission
had not been revealed until the ship and its squadrons were at sea. The
air crews and the "ship’s company" soon learned that this was to be
no practice cruise. They learned further that for the first time all of
their planes were to carry ammunition for their machine guns, and that the
SBDs were to carry a 500-pound bomb on the routine twice-daily scouting
flights.
Vice Adm. William F. Halsey’s instructions were
"If you encounter any enemy (Japanese) ships or planes, you are to avoid
detection if possible, otherwise you are to attack." And this was peace
time! I did not take the threat of war seriously, having been through many
false alarms about imminent Japanese attacks during my preceding two years
at Pearl Harbor. Many others on the ship shared my skepticism.
On the cruise to Wake Island, we encountered no
"enemy," as I expected. We flew our morning and evening searches to
150 nautical miles ahead of the fleet, each section of two planes scouting
a 15-degree sector, and saw nothing. Two events of interest did occur. The
fleet crossed the International Date Line, causing us to lose one . . . .
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Lt. (jg) W. E. “Bill” Roberts, USN
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Naval Aeronautics in the Civil War:
Naval-Associated Operations of Observation Balloons; Part 1
Naval
aviation history in the United States does not begin with the Civil War,
although it does mark the U.S. Navy’s first association with
aeronautics, a story that has yet to be told in full. The activities of
military observation balloons in the war are well documented; less so are
those naval-related operations by both Union and Confederate forces. The
term "naval" is used in the broad sense, in that military balloons
were employed on water-borne vessels for military purposes, these vessels
being both civilian and military. During the war, observation balloons
were operated by, and for the purposes of, the Union and Confederate
armies. At times, circumstances dictated using steam tugs or barges as
bases for balloon ascensions. On the Union side, the Army’s
Quartermaster Corps most often chartered these craft. Although balloons at
sea largely supported Army operations, the Union Navy benefitted directly
from aerial observations on at least two occasions, at Island No. 10 on
the Mississippi River and on the James River in Virginia. Both events are
of historical interest in that for the first time a navy combined
aeronautical and naval activities to achieve specific operational goals.
The Union Navy also modified and provided to the Army’s Aeronautic Corps
the world’s first vessel specifically configured for aeronautical
purposes, the balloon-barge George
Washington Parke Custis. Possibly of more
importance, the Navy built the mobile gas generators that allowed Union
balloons to operate independently in the field and at sea.
Balloon missions included gathering intelligence,
making topographical maps, and spotting and directing artillery fire.
Ships and barges extended their capabilities by providing mobile platforms
to observe military operations adjacent to rivers and bays. While
comprising only a small percentage of balloon ascensions during the war,
naval-associated flights can be documented on at least two-dozen occasions
and across a surprising number of military campaigns and theaters.
Operations occurred on the Mississippi River, at the sieges of Savannah
and Charleston, on the Potomac River below Washington, D.C., and in
Virginia on Hampton Roads and during Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan’s
Peninsular Campaign of 1862.
In general, all balloon ascensions from ships and
barges were tethered, in that a rope or ropes firmly connected the balloon
to the deck of the vessel below. Handheld telescopes or field glasses
assisted the observers, although observations with the naked eye could be
successful in clear weather. Communication between balloon and ship
were by voice, if within earshot, or via written notes attached to a metal
ring around the tether line, which guided. . . . [PDF
of Complete Bibliography and Foot Note]
Complete
Bibliography for this article (PDF document) |

G.W.P. Custis balloon barge
|
NAVAIR Memories
On
the morning of November 28, 1941, a U.S. Navy task force consisting of the
aircraft carrier USS Enterprise and accompanying cruisers and
destroyers left Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, to deliver a squadron of 12 Marine
Corps fighter planes to Wake Island, some 2,000 miles west of Pearl
Harbor. The fighter planes were to reinforce the garrison at Wake.
After landing aboard, the Marine fighters,
Grumman F4F Wildcats, had been taken from the flight deck to the hangar
deck below using the enormous airplane elevators of which the Enterprise
had three. The Wildcats were stored on the hangar deck for the trip to
Wake in order to leave the flight deck clear for the twice-daily
operations of the ship’s own air group. This air group flew out from its
shore base at Luke Field on Ford Island in Pearl Harbor and landed aboard
after the Marines had landed.
While the fighters of Fighting Squadron Six (also
F4F Wildcats), the Douglas SBD Dauntless of Bombing Squadron Six and
Scouting Squadron Six, and the Douglas TBD Devastator of Torpedo Squadron
Six were being tightly parked in takeoff position on the aft end of the
flight deck, inspected and refueled. The pilots of the squadrons gathered
in their respective ready rooms for a briefing on the fleet’s mission. I
was a pilot in Bombing Six with the rank of ensign.
For security reasons the nature of the mission
had not been revealed until the ship and its squadrons were at sea. The
air crews and the "ship’s company" soon learned that this was to be
no practice cruise. They learned further that for the first time all of
their planes were to carry ammunition for their machine guns, and that the
SBDs were to carry a 500-pound bomb on the routine twice-daily scouting
flights.
Vice Adm. William F. Halsey’s instructions were
"If you encounter any enemy (Japanese) ships or planes, you are to avoid
detection if possible, otherwise you are to attack." And this was peace
time! I did not take the threat of war seriously, having been through many
false . . . .
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The USS Sable, IX-81
|
Remember When - Piper Super Cub
For
those of us who recall the period, a boom in general aviation was to take
place following World War II. It was anticipated that returning airmen
would trade their wartime aircraft, flown in hostile skies, for light
planes flown over peaceful American terrain. The return of many veteran
pilots, aviators and airmen was to be the catalyst behind the figurative
statement "an airplane in every garage," and it gave impetus to
artists’ conceptions of smiling families flying to vacation destinations
in futuristic light planes. Aviation magazines of the day reinforced this
vision by depicting modern-day housing developments with a runway and
individual taxiways leading up to each new home.
Aircraft companies and subcontractors shared this
optimism as they converted their wartime facilities into the manufacturing
of general-aviation aircraft. Soon their drawing boards were busy as they
transitioned from the manufacturing of bomber and pursuit aircraft of war
to the postwar pursuit of building light planes. In some cases, and for
expediency, their aircraft were prewar or updated designs. Other
companies, however, capitalized on wartime knowledge and transferred newly
developed technology into modern and innovative aircraft designs.
New light-plane designs and prototypes from major
aircraft manufacturers, including Douglas, Grumman, Lockheed, North
American and Republic, entered into development. Additionally, new light
planes from many other aircraft companies entered the developmental stage
at the end of the war (see listing of aircraft). Concurrently, production
was resumed on prewar aircraft, including the ERCo Ercoupe, Globe Swift,
and the Luscombe Silvaire.
However, the aviation boom was not to be. Many
war-weary pilots turned their vision from the sky to earthbound goals,
including home, automobile, family and peacetime employment. Also, the
exigencies and economic conditions at the time helped to fuel the death
knell of the aviation boom.
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Piper Super Cub Brochure
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