Thursday, October 31, 2013

Okha:Japanese Cherry Blossoms...

By
Scott Schwartz

Although devastating when they hit their targets, the Ohka was deployed too late to affect the course of the war.  Even so, the Ohka and “conventional” kamikaze attacks exacted a terrible toll, with over twelve thousand American servicemen killed as a result of these attacks.
And what became of Ota, Miki, and Ichikawa?  Ota actually stole an airplane three days after the war ended, supposedly intending to mount a suicide attack.  He wound up ditching in the ocean and was picked up by a fishing boat.  Fearing that he would be arrested as a war criminal, he hid out in a fishing village – surfacing only occasionally to borrow money (which he never paid back) from other surviving Ohka pilots.  He was last seen in 1949. 
Tadanao Miki refused to discuss the development of the Ohka and refused to release any of his documents after the war ended.  That changed when he happened to see an American documentary entitled Test Pilot, which chronicled the development of the Bell X-1 rocket plane.  Something about the X-1 being carried aloft and released by its large mother plane seemed familiar to him, and he decided that his war-time work might have some scientific value. 

As for Petty Officer Ichikawa, he died in 1980, after his aerial survey company went bankrupt.  In poor health, he spent his last days living alone in a run-down room.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Okha- Japanese Cherry Blossom- Continued...

By
Scott Schwartz

It should be noted that the men who flew the Ohka were not emotionless robots.  Many had misgivings about flying these missions and expressed their fears privately. In one case, an Ohka pilot confided to a comrade that he was afraid that it would “hurt” when he struck his target.  His companion told him not to worry, because he would be blown to pieces before he could feel any pain.   Some pilots, who had transferred from conventional units, expressed resentment at having to fly their last missions in what they considered to be a cobbled-together contraption.  Plus, Ohka pilots at one base actually rioted in response to the harsh treatment that they were receiving from their superiors.

To be continued.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Okha- Japanese Cherry Blossoms- continued...

By
Scott Schwartz

To many of us, the idea of constructing an aircraft specifically designed for suicide missions is incomprehensible.  From the Japanese point of view (at the time), the idea was very practical.  Besides being difficult to shoot down (once launched), the Ohka’s explosive was contained in the front of the aircraft, which maximized the explosive effect.  Young men, many of whom could barely fly, could be taught to fly the Ohka (a training version with a landing skid was produced) in less time that it would have taken to get them proficient in a conventional airplane. Still, the Ohka was not easy to fly, and there were accidents.

To be continued.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Japanese Cherry Blossoms- the "Okha"- continued...

By 
Scott Schwartz

The reader should keep in mind that Miki was not naive about the purposes for which even conventional aircraft were being used at this point in the war.  However, he rationalized that his job was to design and produce aircraft, with the decisions about their final use being decided by those in combat zones.  But to design an aircraft specifically for suicide missions was too much for him.  That is, until Ota explained that he would fly one of the missions.  Miki was taken aback by Ota’s dedication. 
And so work was begun on what became known as the Ohka (“Cherry Blossom”).  The aircraft was supposed to be powered by the same chemical rocket engines that powered the German Me-163 Komet.  This fuel used in these engines proved to be too unstable, so a jet engine was considered.  However, development of this engine was progressing too slowly, so Miki and his design team settled for solid-propellant  “gunpowder” rocket engines.
What eventually emerged from the laboratory was basically a large (2446 lbs.) flying bomb that was equipped with a small, rudimentary cockpit.  The only operational variant, the Model 11, had a range of about 23 statute miles, which meant that its lumbering mother airplane had to spend more time being exposed to enemy fighters.  Not surprisingly, many Ohkas and their carrier aircraft were shot down before they could launch their attacks. 

Still, with its extremely high diving speed (over 500 mph), the Ohka was almost impossible to intercept, once it was launched.  Seven American ships were sunk or damaged by Ohka’s.  In one case, an American destroyer was attacked by two Ohka’s.  One missed the ship completely.  The other one passed completely through the ship, with very little resulting damage.

To be continued.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Japanese Cherry Blossoms: The Okha....Continued..

By 
Scott Schwartz

Miki, having no idea what was coming, and figuring that he would be presented with another “cutting edge” guidance system idea, asked about it.  When Ota did not answer, Miki asked the question again and said that he was talking about “…the device to make sure that it hits the target.”  Ota replied that a man would be “on board.” In other words, the "the device to make sure that it (the new aircraft) hit the target" would be the pilot.


Incredulous, Miki exclaimed "What?!”  Trying to appear unfazed, Ota explained that the little aircraft would be carried by a bomber until the target was in range.  At that point, the pilot would climb from the bomber through the bomb bay into the small craft's cockpit. The flying bomb would then be jettisoned.  Ideally, there would be just enough propellant to get the manned flying bomb to its target while allowing its pilot to dodge defending aircraft.  Miki was outraged.   After calling Ota an idiot, Miki yelled that this "thing" would not be produced! 

To be continued next week.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Japanese Cherry Blossoms, continued..

By 

Scott Schwartz

Roughly two weeks prior to Petty Officer Motoji Ichikawa being asked to volunteer for the suicide missions, Lt. Commander Tadanao Miki, a designer at the Naval Aeronautical Research Laboratory, was asked to report to the laboratory Chief’s office to meet with a man who had plans for a new type of “glider-bomber”.  This irritated Miki, because the laboratory was in the midst of a crash (no pun intended) program to design jet-powered aircraft based on German design data.  He did not have time to discuss yet another cockamamie plan for a new “super-weapon”.  None of the previous proposals had ever been built, because the guidance systems (one of which was a heat-seeking device- imagine that!) were too advanced and impractical.  Nevertheless, Miki dutifully reported to his Chief’s office, where he was introduced to Sub-Lieutenant Shoichi Ota.  The Chief prompted Ota to continue the conversation that had been taking place prior to Miki’s arrival – the discussion of a “sure-hit” bomb.  Ota then produced a he drawing depicting a small craft suspended beneath a Mitsubishi Betty bomber.   The little craft did not have a propeller or landing gear.  Ota explained that the new aircraft would be powered by a rocket engine. 

To be continued.... 

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Japanese Cherry Blossoms....The Okha...

Contrary to popular belief, many in the Japanese military establishment were reluctant to adopt suicide or “body-crashing” tactics as official doctrine.  Even as the war turned against the country, Japanese tacticians believed that the goal in battle was to kill the enemy while at least trying to survive the battle.  Yet, as Japanese defeats mounted, there were more and more instances of desperate Japanese soldiers charging superior American forces, only to be mowed down in return.  Further, groups of pilots calling themselves Kamikazes) were making intentional suicide attacks on American ships, by deliberately crashing into and causing major damage to them.

Given the effectiveness of Kamikaze attacks, it didn’t take long for Japanese Naval officers to start lobbying for the use of suicide attacks as a regular strategy.  Although Naval Headquarters staff members were reluctant to go along with the idea, the reality of Japan’s war situation made it clear that there weren’t too many other options.  Accordingly, headquarters staff decided to include suicide attacks as part of Japan’s overall strategy. 

The “official” body-crashing tactics, though, left open the possibility (however slight) of crew survival.  This is because the early plans did not include aerial attacks.  Rather, the early strategy involved the use of manned torpedoes and the like.  This began to change in July of 1944, after the U.S. successfully invaded the Marianas.  Even so, naval leaders continued to resist the use of aerial body-crash attacks, because the deaths of the aircrews were guaranteed under such attacks.


In the meantime, B-29’s began making regular bombing attacks on Japan itself.  In addition, the Tojo government collapsed twelve days after U.S. forces occupied Saipan.   At that point, Vice Admiral Takijiro Onishi  - a proponent of aerial suicide attacks – “leaked” a story about the plans to produce body-crash weapons to a large newspaper.   In the story, Onishi advocated the use of aerial body-crash tactics as a means of winning the war.  He then lobbied the new government for the use of these same tactics.  With a flair for the dramatic, Onishi went to the home of one of the new government leaders.  There, he wrote the words “RESTORATION OF THE NAVY” with a brush on a large paper scroll.  Onishi was then placed in charge of the First Naval Aviation Fleet, a position that would enable him to carry out the plans for aerial body-crash missions. 

To be continued...

Monday, October 21, 2013

Japanese Cherry Blossoms, continued...

By
Scott Schwartz

Such was the dilemma facing Petty Officer Motoji Ichikawa on a hot August day in 1944.  A flight instructor at the Aonagahara training base, Ichikawa had seen combat during the battle of the Coral Sea and could hardly be described as a coward. To him, dying during combat was one thing; but planning to die was quite another.  Nevertheless, Ichikawa was a product of the Imperial Japanese Navy.  He wrote “yes” on his card. 


At this point in the war, most of Japan’s experienced combat pilots were dead.  Fuel shortages made it impossible to give new pilots decent training.  Attempting to penetrate the wall of anti-aircraft fire and the swarms of defending Hellcats made attacking American ships nearly a suicidal prospect anyway.  Plus America’s territorial gains convinced Japan’s leaders that an invasion of the home islands was a very real possibility.  Whether Japan’s military leaders wanted to somehow reverse the course of the war or merely force America to the bargaining table (and thus avoid the unconditional surrender that was being demanded by the Allies), it is clear that the Japanese wanted to inflict as much damage to U.S. forces as possible.  

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Japanese "Cherry Blossoms"..

By Scott Schwartz

“A sublime sense of self – sacrifice must guide you throughout life and death.  Do not think of death as you use up every ounce of your strength to fulfill your duties.  Make it your joy to use every last bit of your physical strength in what you do.  Do not fear to die for the cause of everlasting justice.  Do not stay alive in dishonor.  Do not die in such a way as to leave a bad name behind you!” – From the “code of ethics” that General Hideki Tojo ordered to be issued to all members of Japan’s armed forces in 1941.
You are a military flight instructor.  You’ve just returned early from a training flight, and you are removing your sweaty flight suit in the blistering summer heat.  Your country is losing a war that it had virtually no hope of winning in the first place.  You wish that you were still flying combat missions with your comrades, but you are also looking forward to spending the evening in town.  Before you can get the flight suit off, however, a loud speaker blares with an order for all pilots to assemble in front of the command post. 

Once you and the other aircrew are in front of the headquarters building, your wing commander dismisses those who are only-children, sons of single parents, and first-born children.  To those who remain, he talks of how badly the war is going and that your country will be destroyed unless “extreme” measures are taken.  Your wing commander goes on to say that a new weapon has been developed – one that will sink any enemy ship it strikes.  The wing commander speaks a little more slowly as he mentions the “catch” involved with using this weapon.  The pilot will not return from his mission.  Since pilots are being asked to volunteer for these missions, you can theoretically refuse. You are not afraid to die for your country, but you do not necessarily want to die, either. However, your decision will be public (you have to write “yes” or “no” on your identification card), and refusal to volunteer will bring dishonor to you.  In reality, you have no choice.  You will volunteer to die. 

To be continued...

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Autopilot and icing...

I was asked to give a presentation about the effects of aircraft icing on autopilot systems, to my Civil Air Patrol squadron tonight.  All of my research revealed the following:

Autopilot should not be used when flying in icing conditions, because it can prevent the pilot from feeling the adverse effects on aircraft handling, and because the ice-if it forms on control surfaces-can overload the servo(s).  If this happens, the autopilot may disengage, causing an un-commanded control surface movement-which can and has caused several fatal crashes.

Monday, October 14, 2013

Lockheed EC-121...

Just to be clear; the aircraft was ferried to Chino in January of 2012.

Lockheed EC-121...

The temperature was well over one hundred degrees when I took this photograph.  This is an EC-121 that was acquired by the Yanks Air Museum of Chino, California.  The aircraft was ferried here from Camarillo, CA, where it had been sitting for over a decade.  Photo by Scott Schwartz.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Lockheed Constellation - Part Three...

                                                                         By Scott Schwartz


Known to aircrews as the “Willy Victor”, the WV-2 became the EC-121K in Navy parlance, after aircraft designations became standardized among the services in 1962.  One hundred, forty two of these aircraft were ordered for the Navy, and the first of them were delivered in 1953.
Thirteen of the EC-121K’s were converted into EC-121M “electronic intelligence” aircraft, while another nine were modified to become WC-121N weather-reconnaissance machines.  Other EC-121’s were used by Navy training squadrons- and one of these aircraft served until 1982.
For its part, the USAF received eighty four EC-121’s; the first of these came from the Navy contract, with deliveries to the Air Force beginning in 1953.  Ten of these aircraft- RC-121’s – became TC-121C trainers.  Most of the remainder were used as electronic-monitoring or as radio-broadcast aircraft for use in psychological warfare.
The reader should consider that the WV-2/EC-121 aircraft were operated primarily during an era when satellite surveillance was in its infancy or was non-existent. 
So, it makes sense that the Navy put its WV-2/EC-121’s to use in conjunction with “picket” destroyers for nine years, beginning in 1956.  Flying missions which lasted as long as twenty hours, the aircraft extended the “eyes” and “ears” of the destroyers in the hope of detecting incoming Soviet missiles or bomber aircraft.  Squadrons of EC-121’s covered both the Pacific and Atlantic “barriers” – the operation being known as “Barrier Force”- with operations winding down by 1965. 
But, that wasn’t the end of Navy EC-121 operations altogether, as the aircraft was put to use in hurricane-hunting and intelligence-gathering operations, as well as for training Electronics Warfare Officers. 
As for the United States Air Force; the war in Viet Nam found that service making good use of its EC-121’s in connection with its Operation Rolling Thunder and with the Linebacker I and II operations.  Prior to the war, Air Force EC-121’s were used as adjuncts to land-based radar that was set up along both coasts of the United States.  Cruising three hundred miles off shore, the EC-121’s plugged the holes in early land-based radar coverage.
Once the war in Viet Nam began, however, EC-121’s were used to direct American fighters engaging in combat, as well as to track enemy aircraft.
Since the EC-121’s were designed to detect targets flying over water, terrain and buildings tended to “clutter” the images received on its radar.  EC-121 radar operators, however, drawing upon their experience in tracking aircraft over Cuba, were able to bounce their radar signals off the water.  This enabled them to detect enemy aircraft (those that weren’t flying too high, or too low, that is) up to one hundred, fifty miles away. The tracking EC-121 flew as low as fifty feet above the water, while a back-up EC-121 cruised at 10,000 feet, some distance away.
These EC-121’s made up the Big Eye task force.
Despite the EC-121 radar operator’s ingenuity in tracking North Vietnamese aircraft, most of the MiG’s being detected were far beyond the range of the EC-121’s “height-finder” radar, which meant that the radar operators could not tell U.S. fighter pilots how high the enemy aircraft were flying.  This shortcoming severely limited the EC-121’s usefulness as a fighter director aircraft.
Because the relatively slow EC-121’s were vulnerable to interception by enemy aircraft; therefore, they were protected by F-104’s flying MiG Combat Air Patrol (“MiGCAP”).  So serious was this threat, that EC-121 missions would be canceled if the F-104’s weren’t available.
As if the threat of being shot down wasn’t enough, the heat generated by the radar equipment rendered the on-board air conditioning all-but useless.
Despite these challenges, an EC-121 assisted in the shooting down of two MiG-17’s, by providing airborne radar warnings to two F4-Phantom fighters, on July 10, 1965.  This was the first interception to be controlled by an EC-121.
Beginning in March of 1967, Big-Eye became the College Eye task force, and EC-121 crews took on the additional tasks of directing attack aircraft, as well as helping to keep American Aircraft clear of Chinese air space.  This latter item was in response to a protest by Chinese, after an F-105 entered Chinese air space while in pursuit of a MiG.
August of 1967 saw the addition of Vietnamese-speaking crewmen to one EC-121K, which became known as Rivet Top.  The equipment aboard this aircraft enabled the crew to listen in on the communications between enemy pilots and their ground-controllers.  This may sound like an ideal arrangement, except for one problem; the bi-lingual intelligence specialists flying aboard the EC-121’s weren’t provided with radar screens, because the radar worked in conjunction with then-top secret equipment that could “read” enemy transponders.  Consequently, the intercepted communications could not be matched to specific enemy flights; this severely limited the system’s usefulness assessing threats to American Aircraft.  Even after these restrictions were lifted (in 1972!), American fighter pilots receiving reports were not told where the information was coming from.  What’s more, the poor quality of the radio transmissions from the EC-121’s required other aircraft to provide radio-relay services- which often did not work.  As a result, many fighter pilots were suspicious of the information provided by the EC-121’s, when they received it at all.
These problems were never completely resolved; nevertheless EC-121’s did manage to aid in the shooting down of twenty five MiGs between 1965 and 1973.
Operation of the EC-121 by the Air Force ceased altogether by September of 1978.  By that time, the aircraft had been transferred to the Air Force Reserve, which used them as advance-early-warning aircraft. 
There are roughly twelve EC-121’s in existence today; one of these is EC-121T -serial number 53-0548- which is owned by the Yanks Air Museum in Chino, CA.
Leaving Air Force service in 1979, “0548” was stored at Davis-Monathan Air Force Base, where it sat for five years until it was purchased by Wayne’s Aviation.  The aircraft wound up at Camarillo Airport, in Camarilo, CA where it stayed until January of 2012.
Wayne’s Aviation flew the aircraft to several airshows, but the organization lost its momentum- at least as far as the EC-121 was concerned-and the aircraft sat until it was purchased by the Yanks Air Museum in 2004.
At that point, Yanks Museum Manager Frank Wright and his team of fellow mechanics had their work cut out for them.  Over nearly eight years, the aircraft was slowly brought back to life.
Not surprisingly, corrosion was a big issue.  The type of aluminum utilized by Lockheed in the construction of the aircraft tends to actually peel away in layers as it corrodes.  So, portions of the outer wing panels had to be patched up.  On top of this, the fabric on the rudders had to be replaced, the stainless steel fuel lines had to be carefully inspected (they tend to crack), and, of course, there was the FAA’s extensive list of items that needed to be inspected and/or repaired. 
Still, the big aircraft was ready for the ferry flight to its new home on January 14, 2012.  The FAA stipulated that only essential crew could be on board for the flight, and after completing several orbits over Camarillo in order to make sure that there were no mechanical problems, “0548”  departed the area, detouring over the Mojave desert (in order to avoid populated areas-another FAA stipulation).  Ninety minutes later, the EC-121 touched down at Chino Airport.
According to Mr. Wright, the museum has a few other projects to complete, before it can focus on the EC-121.  The plan, though, is to keep the EC-121 airworthy.  There are a couple of challenges involved- an Airworthiness Directive involving leaking propeller hub seals has to be complied with, but, Mr. Wright asserts that the real problem lays in finding pilots and flight engineers who are qualified to fly this aircraft.  Many of those who are currently flying aircraft like the EC-121 are in their late seventies.  So, it will probably come down to these pilots being able to pass their skills on to a younger generation. 
For now, though, “0548” is in good hands.
EC-121 Data:
Length:  116 ft., 2 in.
Wing span:  126 ft., 2 in.
Empty weight:  69, 210 pounds.
Engines:  Four Wright R-3350 turbo-compound units, eighteen cylinders each.  The engines were originally rated at 3400 HP each, but “0548’s” engines are “de-rated” to 2800 HP, because 145 Octane fuel is no longer available.
Top speed:  299 mph.  “0548” cruised at 200 mph during its ferry flight to Chino.
Service Ceiling:  25,000 feet.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Above The Weather: The Lockheed Constellation, Part Two.

By Scott Schwartz

Since the first flight of a Constellation didn’t take place until January 9, 1943, it should come as no surprise that the United States Army Air Forces (USAAF) was very interested in this fast, high-flying transport aircraft.  World War Two was well under way, and, after all, the Constellation could out run the Mitsubishi Zero fighter, in level flight (theoretically, anyway).

Well, the initial plan was to allow the eighty Constellations being built for the airlines to be delivered to those airlines, but the airplanes themselves would actually be owned by the Government.  The USAAF would then receive another one hundred, eighty Constellations (designated as C-69’s) directly.  In reality, the USAAF decided to take all of the Constellations that were already on the production line, and it ordered more.  A total of three hundred, thirteen Constellations were ordered, but only a fraction of these were ever delivered to the Army.
This is because the Wright R-3350 was turning out to be far from reliable.  Many readers will know that the B-29 was powered by the same engine- and that one of the XB-29 prototypes crashed due to one of the engines catching fire-killing Boeing test pilot Eddie Allen and the whole flight crew.  Not to mention fourteen people on the ground.  This didn’t bode well for the Constellation  Although the initial test flights of the XC-69 yielded favorable results (indeed, Boeing’s Eddie Allen was “loaned” to Lockheed because of his experience with the R-3350 engine and is supposed to have said that the aircraft worked so well, that he was no longer needed.  This was a month before he lost his life in the XB-29 crash.), all aircraft using the R-3350 were temporarily grounded. 
The trouble was apparently traced to the design of the R-3350’s carburetor, and flight testing of the XC-69 was resumed in mid-June of 1943.  Once again, problems-this time in the form of leaking fuel tanks appeared.  This problem was resolved in April of 1944; but other problems like engine overheating and fires continued to plague the aircraft.  It became so bad, that Lockheed flat-out accused Wright of poorly designing and building the R-3350.  Lockheed even went so far as to recommend that the USAAF replace the R-3350 engines with Pratt & Whitney R-2800’s.  In response, the Army simply insisted that R-3350 production cease until its problems were resolved.
Naturally, this delayed the testing of the C-69 even further.  On top of this, the C-69 became less relevant to the Army’s needs as the war wound down.  So, most of the successes achieved with the C-69 were symbolic in nature.  One such instance occurred in 1944, when Howard Hughes flew a C-69 from Burbank to Washington D.C.  The trip was made in less than seven hours, and the aircraft averaged 346 MPH along the way.  Incidentally, this C-69 was painted in TWA colors (but, it had a military serial number), and it was to be handed over to the Army upon its arrival in Washington. 
Another aircraft- the original XC-69 had the distinction of being the last aircraft ever to be flown by Orville Wright, who was allowed to briefly take the controls during a flight that had departed from Wright Field.  And, finally, another C-69 was flown from New York to Paris, in August of 1945.  This flight was intended as a demonstration of the C-69’s trans-continental capability.  After all, the C-69 was intended to be a high-speed trans-continental troop-transport.  Nevertheless, the war had more or less passed the C-69 by, with the Army opting for the lower-flying, slower Douglas C-54 Skymaster.  Further, as the R-3350’s problems were ironed out, the needs of the B-29 program took priority.  Consequently, only fifteen C-69’s were ever delivered to the Army.   After the war, most of them were sold as surplus. Eventually, Lockheed converted them into airliners.  The old XC-69, which was briefly considered for conversion to Pratt & Whitney R-2800 power, was sold to the Hughes Tool Company.  Lockheed then bought this aircraft and converted it into the L-1049 “Super Constellation” prototype.
There is only one surviving C-69; painted in TWA livery, this aircraft rests at the Pima Air and Space Museum.
The lackluster success of the C-69 did not mark the end of the Constellation U.S. military service, however.
Lockheed introduced the L-749A version of the aircraft, which was supposed to be a more “economical” Constellation, in 1947. With the ability to carry 1555 gallons more fuel than the previous versions, the L-749A was supposed to meet airline requirements for a long-range airliner.  During the following year, the newly-independent United States Air Force (USAF) bought ten L-749A cargo aircraft, which were to be designated as C-121A’s.  The chief differences between the C-121A and the civilian Model 749A was the former’s reinforced floor and a large cargo door in the fuselage.  C-121A’s were later used during the Berlin Airlift and as VIP transport aircraft (VC-121’s).   Among the most famous of the VC-121’s was an aircraft that was named “Columbine” (a one-of –a- kind VC-121E)- which was President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s presidential transport aircraft.   By 1968, though, the C-121A had been completely withdrawn from service. 
But, still, the Constellation lived on in military service-albeit in a different form.
Back in 1950, the U.S. Navy had contracted for eleven cargo variants of the Lockheed Model L1049B Super Constellation.  And, prior to this, the Navy had ordered this same airframe as the WV-2- an early AWACS-type aircraft.  Well, the new cargo aircraft – first designated as the R7O and later becoming the R7-1-was actually delivered to the Navy before the WV-2, because, as a cargo/passenger aircraft, the R7-1 was easier to build.  First flying in 1952, the R7-1 could be converted from cargo to passenger aircraft relatively quickly.  Typically, the Navy removed at least some of the passenger seats on long over-water flights, in order to make room for life-rafts.  A couple of R-71’s were used to re-supply Arctic bases, and one of them is there to this day.   It had crashed during a landing attempt in 1970.  By 1962, there were fifty R7-1’s in the Navy’s inventory; during that year, thirty two of them were transferred to the USAF, which referred to them as C-121G’s.   The eighteen aircraft which had stayed with the Navy were re-designated as C-121J’s.  One of these remained in service as the Blue Angels’ support aircraft until it was replaced by another Lockheed product- a C-130-in 1971.
For its part, the USAF had ordered its own version of the Super Constellation, which it designated as the C-121C.  At first glance, the C-121C was similar to the Navy version.  However, there were some differences.  For one thing, the C-121C had square windows instead of the round ones found on the “J” model.  Further, the C-121C could accommodate troops (and their gear), passengers, or forty seven stretchers.  And, the seats could be stowed under the floor, so that cargo could be carried.
Like the civilian versions, the military variants of the Super Constellation were powered Wright R-3350 engines that were equipped with “power recovery turbines”.  Also known as “turbo-compound” engines, the theory behind their operation was simple:  the piston engine’s exhaust gases were routed through a turbine, which turned a drive-shaft that was connected via a fluid coupling to the engine’s crankshaft.  The idea was that the turbine provided extra power to turn the engine’s crankshaft.  That was the theory.  In reality, the system was prone to failure-so much so, that the set-up was sometimes referred to as a “parts-recovery” turbine. 
Still, the USAF received its first C-121C’s in 1955, and the type was retired in 1973.  One variant of the turbo-compound Super Constellation remained in service a little longer, though.  This was the EC-121 Warning Star.    
The idea of using the Constellation as an airborne radar aircraft germinated in 1949, when the U.S. Navy took delivery of two Model L-749 Constellations and had them fitted with large radomes on top of, and underneath the fuselages.  The two aircraft were designated as PO-1W’s, and their use confirmed the feasibility of operating powerful radar equipment on aircraft.  This paved the way for development of the next airborne warning variant- the WV-2 (the PO-1W’s were re-designated as WV-1’s in 1952), which was based on the L-1049 Super Constellation.
To Be Continued…..

Monday, October 7, 2013

Above The Weather: Lockheed's Constellation.

By Scott Schwartz

With the end of World War Two, the Lockheed Company already had an advanced airliner in production in the form of a military variant, which was used by the Army Air Corps under the designation C-69.  Most readers will know this aircraft as the Constellation. 
The Lockheed Constellation, however, was not designed as a military airplane, and in truth, relatively few C-69’s were produced for the Army.  The aircraft was intended from the outset to be an airliner, and its origins lay in design studies that were begun in 1938.  At the time, the twin-engine Douglas DC-3 reigned supreme in the airline market, which left competing Lockheed aircraft in the shadows.  What’s more, Douglas was about to unveil its DC-4 (which was eventually referred to as the DC-4E – “E” for “Experimental”), which was a four-engine aircraft that could carry forty two passengers. The DC-4E also featured three short vertical stabilizers that enabled the aircraft to fit into most airline maintenance hangars of the time.  Those who are familiar with the DC-4 may be scratching their heads, at this point.  Three vertical stabilizers?  Well, the DC-4E was not a resounding success, so it was not put into production (the single-fin derivative was).  In fact, the Japanese bought the DC-4E (the Pearl Harbor attack was still a few years in the future) and, with a little reverse-engineering, converted the design into the Nakajima G5N Shinzan bomber.  The G5N wasn’t a resounding success, either.
Nevertheless, four-engine airliners were on the horizon, and Lockheed didn’t want to be left behind.  The company began with the design of aircraft known as the Model 44 Excalibur.  The Excalibur was supposed to be able to carry twenty-one passengers and hit a top speed of 262 mph.  Since this was hardly an improvement over the DC-3, the airlines weren’t interested.  Lockheed engineers went back to the drawing boards and came up with an improved Model 44 that could carry forty passengers at 300 mph.  Further, its pressurization system allowed it to cruise at 15,000 feet.  Pan American Airways (“Pan Am”) was sufficiently interested in this incarnation of the Model 44 that it actually entered into contract negotiations with Lockheed.  The negotiations were under way, when one of the annoying characteristics of the free market system-competition-slowed things down.  Boeing unveiled its Model 307 Stratoliner – which was essentially a B-17C with a large, circular, pressurized fuselage.  The Stratoliner’s pressurization system enabled it to cruise at 18,000 feet, albeit at a slower speed than that of the Model 44. 
While all of this was going on, the airline TWA’s long-standing interest in high-altitude, “above-the-weather” passenger transportation had coalesced into a set of requirements, which it presented to Lockheed in the summer of 1939.  One of the “presenters” was a major TWA stockholder by the name of Howard Hughes.  Hughes and TWA wanted Lockheed to come up with an aircraft that exceeded the Excalibur’s design parameters.  Specifically, the new aircraft had to be able to fly non-stop from coast to coast, fly at 250 mph, and to be able to carry six thousand pounds of cargo.  And, of course, the cabin had to be pressurized.  By this time, models of the Excalibur were being tested in wind tunnels, but Lockheed suspended development of this aircraft.  Now, the name Excalibur was used to identify the aircraft being designed to TWA’s specifications.  This new design was called the Model 49 Excalibur A, with Kelly Johnson and Hall Hibbard as the chief engineers on the project.
Like the DC-4E, the Model 49 was to be built with three short vertical stabilizers.  Further, the Model 49 would have hydraulically boosted control services, a wing that was essentially a scaled-up version of the P-38’s wing, and tricycle landing gear.
What set the Model 49 (later to be known as the Constellation) apart from other airliners (even modern ones) was the “flattened-S” shape of the fuselage.  This was the result of engineer Ward Beman’s desire to have the air flow along the fuselage in such as way that it did not interfere with the lift being generated by the wing.   His original design would have required a really long nose wheel strut, so his final design has the nose of the aircraft tapering downward.
The design process progressed steadily, although slowly.  By late 1939, Lockheed was marketing the design to the airlines (having received permission to sell the aircraft to other airlines from TWA).  As a result, TWA and Pan Am bought forty Constellations each. 
With a top speed of 360 mph and the ability to cruise at twenty thousand feet, the Constellation was on the cutting edge of airliner development.  As mentioned previously, the design process was a slow one, and war was looming on the horizon. 

TO BE CONTINUED…



Saturday, October 5, 2013

The Final Countdown.....

Since I've thrown off the yoke of satellite television (the monthly fees add up to over $1000 per year.  I can do a lot with an extra $1000.), I've taken to relaxing on Friday nights by watching movies on Netflix.  Last night, I picked "The Final Countdown", which is a 1980 film starring Kirk Douglas, Martin Sheen, Charles Durning, James Farentino, and Katherine Ross.  The plot is silly:  a mysterious storm engulfs the U.S.S. Nimitz, which is cruising serenely in the Pacific and propels it back in time to December sixth, 1941.  Naturally, the principal characters debate the implications of changing history, with the CAG  ("Commander, Air Group", played by James Farentino) Commander Owens, insisting that history cannot be changed no matter what actions are taken by time-travelers. Owens, an amateur historian, is writing a book about the attack on Pearl Harbor. Nonetheless, the Captain of the Nimitz (Douglas) decides that he is duty-bound to defend the United States, regardless of the implications, and he dispatches his aircraft to intercept the Japanese fleet.  The two civilians who were rescued after their yacht was blown apart by Japanese Zeros- fictional Senator Samuel Chapman (Durning), and his secretary (Ross) are deposited on a deserted Hawaiian beach, in order to keep them out of the way. For his part, Owens, as a historian, knows that Chapman mysteriously disappeared prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Therefore, he is deeply disturbed by the Senator's presence on the Nimitz.  Senator Chapman- who, never having seen jet fighters or helicopters before, is incensed that this "new" technology has been developed without his knowledge, and he becomes apoplectic when when the Nimitz' captain refuses to warn Pearl Harbor Command about the impending Japanese attack.  The captain assures Chapman that the Nimitz can handle any attack on the United States.  Chapman demands that he and Laurel be taken to Pearl Harbor so that he can warn the authorities there.  The Captain agrees to this, ostensibly.  Once the helicopter carrying Chapman, Owens (who'd gone along to oversee the operation), and Laurel sets down on the deserted beach, Chapman realizes that he's been duped.  While the CAG is helping Laurel get set-up on the beach, Chapman grabs a flare gun and attempts to hijack the Sea-King helicopter in order to get to Pearl Harbor.  A crewman attempts to disarm Chapman, and the gun discharges during the ensuing struggle.  With the Sea King destroyed, Chapman dead (with his destiny thus unaltered), Owens is now stranded in 1941.  Laurel, having seen the inspection date on one of the supply packets left with them, now realizes that Owens and the Nimitz are from the future.

Back at sea, however, the mysterious storm appears again, engulfing the carrier and the aircraft that were heading toward the Japanese fleet.  The ship and its aircraft are then returned to 1980 before they can stop the Japanese attack.

Once in port, the black limousine carrying the mysterious "Mr. Tideman" pulls up to the ship.  Tideman, who had helped to design the Nimitz, is a shadowy figure. His face out of view, Tideman had also seen the carrier off on its departure from the inside of his limousine.

As "Mr. Lasky" (Martin Sheen), the Department of Defense "observer"/Tideman employee (although he's never actually met Tideman), who's been on board the Nimitz throughout this whole adventure, is walking down the gangway with Laurel's dog, "Charlie" (also rescued from the ocean after the yacht is destroyed), the dog runs toward the limousine after a familiar voice calls its name.  Tideman's personal assistant then approaches Lasky and tells him that Mr. Tideman wishes to see him.  As Lasky peers into the open door of the limousine, he is stunned to see an aged Commander Owens and Laurel staring back at him.  Tideman/Owens tells Lasky that they have a lot to talk about, and the movie ends.

There are some holes in the plot, of course.  Yes, history is unaltered, because Chapman "disappears" in accordance with his destiny, and because the Nimitz is unable to thwart the attack on Pearl Harbor.  But, what of the pilots of the two Zeros who are killed after being shot down by a pair of F-14's?  One is killed outright, when his plane is blown out of the sky by one of the F-14's.  The other is rescued and brought aboard the Nimitz, where he is killed in an attempt to commandeer a radio.  What effects would these men's deaths have on history?  And, wouldn't someone discover the wreckage of the Sea King on the beach, along with the bodies of its crew?

Still, it's the footage of various naval aircraft of the era (late 1970's) - F-14's A-7 Corsair II's, being catapulted off the flight deck, making arrested landings, that make this film one that is worth watching for aviation buffs.  The Navy cooperated with the producers, and most of the aerial footage- including the dogfight between the F-14's and the "Zeros" (actually T-6 Texans that were modified to look like Zeros) was filmed specifically for this movie.  In an era where computer-generated special-effects are used excessively, it is refreshing for this writer to travel backward in time, so to speak, to an era when real people flying real machines were still the primary "special-effects" that were used in film making.





Thursday, October 3, 2013

Name this airplane...

Ok readers; what kind of airplane is this wing and engine pod attached to?

Photo by Scott Schwartz.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Zero Killer: The Grumman F6F Hellcat....

By
Scott Schwartz

     Although famous for being the plane that turned the tide against the Mitsubishi Zero, the F6F Hellcat was not designed specifically for that purpose.  This may come as a surprise to many, but the Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation (as it was known at the time) was working on a replacement for the F4F Wildcat long before the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Most of the development work revolved around producing more powerful versions of the basic F4F fighter. While not a bad airplane, the Wildcat was hampered by relatively low speed, and short range.  The idea was to capitalize on the Wildcat’s ruggedness and firepower, but give it more range and higher speed.  Experiments centered primarily on the installation of the powerful Wright R-2600 fourteen cylinder engine.  Readers will recall that the Grumman-built Wildcats flew with 1200hp Pratt & Whitney R-1830 engines which put out 1200 hp. The R-2600 produced roughly 1700 hp. 

     Experiments with the Wright engine led to the development of the “Model 50”.  The Model 50 was an R-2600 powered Wildcat, which was so altered, that it looked like a different airplane. In fact, it looked sort of like a scaled – down Hellcat. But of course, it wasn’t.  The bigger engine improved performance dramatically, but the Model 50 was still basically a Wildcat. As such, it retained many of the Wildcat’s limitations – such as limited fuel capacity.  Still, the R-2600 engine showed promise, so it should come as no surprise that Grumman opted to design a whole new airplane around this engine.  The result was the XF6F-1, which first flew in June of 1942. 

     Ironically, by the time the XF6F-1 was ready for flight, the Navy’s requirements had changed in response to combat experience against the Mitsubishi Zero. The Zero, while not equipped with armor plating, nor self-sealing fuel tanks, was highly maneuverable, and had a far greater combat radius than the Wildcat.  Plus, the Zero was 20 mph faster.  

     Although the XF6F-1 flew well, it didn’t fly or climb fast enough to ensure air superiority over the Zero.  More power was needed. 

     One solution took the form of the XF6F-2, which sported an exhaust-driven turbo-charger.  Clearly, this was not the answer, as the performance improvement was negligible. 

     By coincidence, the huge Pratt & Whitney R-2800 eighteen cylinder engine, which was slated for the F4U Corsair and P-47 Thunderbolt became available, due to delays in the production of these airplanes.  

     Grumman installed an R-2800 in the XF6F-1, which now became the XF6F-3.  All it took was one 15 minute flight (which took place on July 30, 1942) to demonstrate that the new engine was the answer. 

     With a top speed of 380 mph, six .50 caliber machine guns, and a combat radius of over 800nm, the Navy finally had a carrier-based fighter that could turn the tables on the Japanese. 

     “Carrier-based” is an important distinction; while the Corsair was faster and served well from land bases, technical difficulties kept it from being used on aircraft carriers until 1944. 

     Deliveries of the production F6F-3 began in 1943.  The Hellcat’s first combat occurred in September of that year, when a group from the light carrier Independence shot down a Japanese sea plane. 

     In truth, the Hellcat was not as maneuverable as the Zero. Even in the F6F, American pilots engaged in twisting-turning dogfights at their peril.  The Hellcat, like most American fighters of the period was a heavily armored flying gun platform, that could fly at extremely (for the time) high altitudes.  Accordingly, a favored combat tactic was to make diving attacks from 20,000 feet against Japanese formations, with guns blazing.  Pursuing Japanese fighters – including improved versions of the Zero, simply could not dive fast enough to keep up with the Hellcats. 

     From 1943 on, F6F’s flew 66, 530 combat missions, and achieved a “kill ratio” of 19:1.  In other words, Hellcats destroyed 5,163 enemy planes (of all types, not just fighters, and of course, some of these enemy planes were destroyed on the ground during strafing attacks on airfields), while losing only 270 of their own.  Nevertheless, nearly every WW 2 U.S. Navy fighter ace became one at the controls of a Hellcat.  The Japanese did eventually deploy newer fighters that could challenge the Hellcat.  However, these were too few to make much of an impact, and most were flown by inexperienced pilots.  By 1944, most of Japan’s experienced pilots had been killed.   

     Two main Hellcat variants were used in combat; the F6F-3, and the F6F-5.   The “5” model had an improved cowling for better engine cooling, all metal control surfaces, additional armor plating, a windshield with less “framework” for better visibility. Many of these were converted into fighter bombers by the Navy.   Radar equipped night fighter versions of both variants were built and flown by Marine and Navy squadrons. 

     Two more experimental versions were built, but never put into production.  One was the XF6F-4, which was used to test the installation of an R-2800 engine with an integral two-speed supercharger, and cannon armament.  This airplane was actually the XF6F-3 air frame.  After these tests were completed, the airplane was converted into a “regular” F6F-3 and delivered to the Navy. 

     The last experimental Hellcat was the XF6F-6, which used more powerful version of the R-2800 engine, and had a four bladed prop.  The Navy actually planned to produce the -6, but the war ended before production could begin. 
    
     Once the war ended, F6F’s were used by naval reserve squadrons and for training purposes through the late 1940’s. The British Fleet Air Arm, which had received over 1200 Hellcats, which gave the German ME-109 pilots a run for their money.  The French even used a few Hellcats during their Indochina war, and the Uruguayan Navy used them as front line fighters until the early 1960’s. 

     Although the Hellcat had been largely phased out of U.S. Navy service by 1950, a few lingered on as target drones and miscellaneous test aircraft.  This may seem like a sad ending for a great airplane.  But, over twelve thousand were produced, and a small number of Hellcats are flying to this day. 

     The world has changed since the days when the Grumman “Iron Works” was cranking out Hellcats.  The very buildings where Hellcats were once built are now occupied by an insurance company. Many of the men who flew these planes in combat have gone West. 

     Fortunately, we can still be treated to the sight and sound of carefully preserved Hellcats at air shows.  Perhaps, the rumble of the Hellcat’s massive R-2800 engine will serve to remind us of a time when men and women toiled to build the weapons that helped defeat a ruthless enemy.  One that was Hell – bent on enslaving much of the world. 

Statistics, Grumman F6F-5 Hellcat:

Length: 33 ft, 7 in.
Wing Span:  42 ft., 10 in.
Empty Wt:  9238 lbs.
Max. T/O Wt:  15,415 lbs.
Engine:  1 Pratt & Whitney R-2800 supercharged 18 cylinder radial, producing 2,000 hp.
Propeller: 3-blade Hamilton-Standard constant speed.
Max. Speed:  380 mph.
Service Ceiling:  37,300 ft.
Armament:  Six .50 cal. machine guns, plus up to 4,000 lbs of externally mounted weapons (bombs, torpedoes).  Many F6F-5’s were fitted with rocket rails under their wings, as well.



Tuesday, October 1, 2013

The Other Wildcats...


Although it was intended to be a replacement for the F4F Wildcat, the “Zero-killer” F6F Hellcat was still being developed during the early part of 1942.  The company planned to stop the production of Wildcats altogether, once the Hellcat was ready for front-line service.  Because the transition on the assembly line from one aircraft to another would not be instantaneous, Grumman had to find a way to maintain a steady stream of combat aircraft coming off  the line, while Hellcat production gained momentum.
The answer was to have another company build F4FWildcats and TBF Avengers. 
In the meantime General Motors had stopped making passenger cars shortly after the U.S. entered the war.   This left several G.M. plants with nothing to produce. 
Discussions between the Navy, Grumman, and General Motors resulted in the Trenton, New Jersey plant being assigned to build TBF Avengers, while the Linden, New Jersey plant would build the F4F-4 Wildcat.  All of this would be handled by General Motors’ Eastern Aircraft Division.
Naturally, the F4F-4’s being produced by Eastern Aircraft were not called F4F-4’s.  Instead, these aircraft were designated as FM-1’s.  Eastern Aircraft was contracted (on April 18, 1942- the date of the Doolittle raid, by coincidence) to build one thousand, eight hundred FM-1’s, and the plan called for Grumman to provide Eastern with ten partially-assembled F4F-4’s to familiarize the Eastern staff with Wildcat construction.  These were actually the first FM-1’s to be built, and the initial flight of an FM-1 took place on August 31, 1942.  Like the F4F-4, these ten FM-1’s were armed with three .50 caliber machine guns in each wing.  And, as with the F4F-4, combat pilots complained about the reduced firing time with the six guns (more guns meant that less ammunition could be carried), and about the aircraft’s sluggishness due to the weight of the extra guns.  Accordingly, the FM-1’s that were built after the initial ten, were equipped with only two guns in each wing.
Powered by a  fourteen cylinder,1200 horsepower Pratt & Whitney R-1830-36 radial engine that was equipped with a two-stage, two-speed supercharger, the FM-1 could hit approximately 320 MPH. 
Though outclassed by its replacement- the F6F Hellcat- there was still a place for the tubby Wildcat on board the U.S. Navy’s incredibly large fleet of small escort carriers.  This is because the FM-1 was, well….smaller.  More of them could be carried aboard these mini-carriers, and they served well, as anti-submarine and ground-attack aircraft, along with TBF/TBM Avengers.
Production of the FM-1 was halted, after one thousand, one hundred, fifty of them had been built, including the three hundred, eleven that had been given to Great Britain’s Fleet Air Arm (which initial referred to the aircraft as Martlet V’s, and later as simply Wildcats).  This was in September of 1943.
Your author has attended air shows, during which surviving Wildcats have been flown and/or displayed.  It may surprise some to learn that most of the surviving flyable Wildcats are quite different than the version flown during the Battle of Midway. 
Beginning in 1943, Eastern Aircraft starting building a light-weight version of the Wildcat, which was known as the FM-2.  The chances are that the Wildcats seen at air shows today are FM-2’s; over four thousand of them were built, and more of these survive than any other Wildcat variant. 
The FM-2’s air frame was five hundred pounds lighter than earlier versions of the Wildcat.  In addition, the FM-2 was powered by a 1,350 horsepower Wright R-1820, nine-cylinder , which was supplemented with a single-stage, two-speed supercharger.  The lighter weight and increased horsepower resulted in a very effective combat aircraft, and the FM-2 saw service with escort carrier squadrons in both the Atlantic and in the Pacific theater- the aircraft soldering on until the end of the war.
Given that some civilian-owned FM-2’s have been incorrectly painted in early World War Two paint schemes, it may be difficult to distinguish the FM-2 from the earlier FM-1/F4F variants.  As stated earlier, most surviving Wildcats are FM-2’s.  But just for good measure, here are some other things that the observer can look for in an attempt to identify the Wildcat variant.
1.        Due to its being powered by a single-row, nine cylinder radial engine, the FM-2’s cowling is shorter than that of the F4F, FM-1.
2.       The radio mast on the top of the FM-2’s fuselage points straight up.  It is not slanted forward, as on the F4F/FM-1.
3.       The lower-fuselage window was not installed in FM-2’s.
4.       If all else fails, and if it is permissible, walk up to the aircraft and look at the engine.  If it is a Wright Cyclone, then the aircraft in question is an FM-2.






 An Eastern Aircraft FM-2 banks for the crowd at an air show.  Photo by Scott Schwartz.