(USAF)

The Dawn of Discipline

A B-47 pilot remembers when an airplane—and Curtis LeMay—stiffened the spine of the Strategic Air Command

  • By Walter J. Boyne
  • Air & Space Magazine, July 01, 2009

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    I got my first glimpse of a Boeing B-47 on an April morning in 1954, when I was a U.S. Air Force first lieutenant with about 450 hours in bombers. I was walking out to fly a rather staid base aircraft, a Beech C-45, and saw the B-47—glistening in the California sun and trailing long plumes of exhaust—land at my home station, Castle Air Force Base, the first of the 45 to be assigned there.

    I’d seen photographs of the bomber and read about its potential. The first time I saw the real thing, though, I was racked with envy, for at that moment, there was little prospect of my flying the B-47. (No one but Boeing publicists ever called it the Stratojet.) I was in the process of becoming an aircraft commander in the Boeing B-50, an upgraded version of the B-29, and the new, super-hot, Jet Age B-47 required even its copilots to have far more flying time than I had.

    But being young and foolish had some virtues. Only weeks later, after seeing the majority of my pilot friends in the 330th Bomb Squadron sent off to McConnell Air Force Base in Wichita, Kansas, for B-47 training, I stormed into the ancient Quonset hut that served as the squadron commander’s office to demand that I too be sent.

    Fortunately, the commanding officer wasn’t in (he would have thrown me out on my ear). After I pounded on the adjutant’s desk, the good-natured officer immediately had orders cut to send me on my way to meet an aircraft that I would come to love. In the intervening decades, the B-47’s airliner offspring have turned us into a nation of jetsetters, making it difficult to convey just how thrilling the prospect of flying the jet was to a young bomber pilot. (Perhaps more remarkable, today’s commercial transports exceed the subsonic performance envelope of the B-47 by only a small margin.)

    In the early years of the cold war, B-47s served as the spearhead of the Strategic Air Command, with the bomber fleet varying in size from 1,000 to more than 1,500 B-47s. We felt that we were the premier force, an unsolvable problem for the Soviet Union. Each B-47 carried as much firepower as a thousand World War II-era B-17s and B-24s, and each was capable of penetrating to the heart of enemy territory. The pleasure we found in flying the airplane, however, was not in its capacity for lethal warfare but rather its sparkling performance. In the early 1950s, freed from banging piston engines and whirling propellers, you sat under a beautifully streamlined canopy, peering out at thousands of square miles of territory, cruising along at seven miles a minute in a jet bomber. It was intoxicating.

    My wife Jeanne was not happy with my volunteering to fly the airplane. By 1954, everyone, including pilots’ families, knew that this aircraft, while magnificent, was also very unforgiving. The B-47’s cutting-edge design pushed the boundaries of both aerodynamics and pilot experience. Yet for young pilots eager to enter the Jet Age, knowing that the aircraft could be difficult heightened the pleasure of flying it.

    When the B-47 was introduced, it was simply too radical in its aerodynamics and in its demands for unrelentingly professional airmanship. The new United States Air Force was still operating under World War II attitudes. New swept-wing jets demanded much higher standards, yet far too little emphasis was placed on safety and rigorous training. Accident rates and fatalities skyrocketed. The B-47 was unusual in that through 1955, the accident rate rose with the number of flying hours, then stabilized for four years (see “A Dangerous Ride,” p. 67). From 1959 through 1962, the rate shot up again when structural fatigue and revised tactics imposed new stresses.

    In 1957, there were 28 fatal accidents and 63 deaths. The common denominator of the accidents was that the circumstances were routine, familiar. In case after case, there was some minor but fatal human error. In a fast instrument let-down, the pilot might turn the wrong way and run into a mountain. Misreading an altimeter led to a smoking hole in the ground. A 15-second lapse of attention in a descending turn could let airspeed build so fast that a safe recovery was impossible. In earlier, more forgiving aircraft, these mistakes might have been survivable, but in the B-47, they were disastrous. Some accidents were caused by maintenance errors, but these were less common. All too often the accident investigation ended with the heartless but accurate phrase “pilot error.”

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    I got my first glimpse of a Boeing B-47 on an April morning in 1954, when I was a U.S. Air Force first lieutenant with about 450 hours in bombers. I was walking out to fly a rather staid base aircraft, a Beech C-45, and saw the B-47—glistening in the California sun and trailing long plumes of exhaust—land at my home station, Castle Air Force Base, the first of the 45 to be assigned there.

    I’d seen photographs of the bomber and read about its potential. The first time I saw the real thing, though, I was racked with envy, for at that moment, there was little prospect of my flying the B-47. (No one but Boeing publicists ever called it the Stratojet.) I was in the process of becoming an aircraft commander in the Boeing B-50, an upgraded version of the B-29, and the new, super-hot, Jet Age B-47 required even its copilots to have far more flying time than I had.

    But being young and foolish had some virtues. Only weeks later, after seeing the majority of my pilot friends in the 330th Bomb Squadron sent off to McConnell Air Force Base in Wichita, Kansas, for B-47 training, I stormed into the ancient Quonset hut that served as the squadron commander’s office to demand that I too be sent.

    Fortunately, the commanding officer wasn’t in (he would have thrown me out on my ear). After I pounded on the adjutant’s desk, the good-natured officer immediately had orders cut to send me on my way to meet an aircraft that I would come to love. In the intervening decades, the B-47’s airliner offspring have turned us into a nation of jetsetters, making it difficult to convey just how thrilling the prospect of flying the jet was to a young bomber pilot. (Perhaps more remarkable, today’s commercial transports exceed the subsonic performance envelope of the B-47 by only a small margin.)

    In the early years of the cold war, B-47s served as the spearhead of the Strategic Air Command, with the bomber fleet varying in size from 1,000 to more than 1,500 B-47s. We felt that we were the premier force, an unsolvable problem for the Soviet Union. Each B-47 carried as much firepower as a thousand World War II-era B-17s and B-24s, and each was capable of penetrating to the heart of enemy territory. The pleasure we found in flying the airplane, however, was not in its capacity for lethal warfare but rather its sparkling performance. In the early 1950s, freed from banging piston engines and whirling propellers, you sat under a beautifully streamlined canopy, peering out at thousands of square miles of territory, cruising along at seven miles a minute in a jet bomber. It was intoxicating.

    My wife Jeanne was not happy with my volunteering to fly the airplane. By 1954, everyone, including pilots’ families, knew that this aircraft, while magnificent, was also very unforgiving. The B-47’s cutting-edge design pushed the boundaries of both aerodynamics and pilot experience. Yet for young pilots eager to enter the Jet Age, knowing that the aircraft could be difficult heightened the pleasure of flying it.

    When the B-47 was introduced, it was simply too radical in its aerodynamics and in its demands for unrelentingly professional airmanship. The new United States Air Force was still operating under World War II attitudes. New swept-wing jets demanded much higher standards, yet far too little emphasis was placed on safety and rigorous training. Accident rates and fatalities skyrocketed. The B-47 was unusual in that through 1955, the accident rate rose with the number of flying hours, then stabilized for four years (see “A Dangerous Ride,” p. 67). From 1959 through 1962, the rate shot up again when structural fatigue and revised tactics imposed new stresses.

    In 1957, there were 28 fatal accidents and 63 deaths. The common denominator of the accidents was that the circumstances were routine, familiar. In case after case, there was some minor but fatal human error. In a fast instrument let-down, the pilot might turn the wrong way and run into a mountain. Misreading an altimeter led to a smoking hole in the ground. A 15-second lapse of attention in a descending turn could let airspeed build so fast that a safe recovery was impossible. In earlier, more forgiving aircraft, these mistakes might have been survivable, but in the B-47, they were disastrous. Some accidents were caused by maintenance errors, but these were less common. All too often the accident investigation ended with the heartless but accurate phrase “pilot error.”

    In today’s Air Force, where bombers are few and terribly expensive, an accident rate approaching that of the B-47 would be unacceptable, and Congress and the public would be justifiably up in arms. In the early days of the cold war, however, it was just business as usual.

    To the bomber pilots who flew the aircraft, the B-47 offered fighter-like performance, a vast improvement over the B-29s and B-50s we had been flying. Besides its swept wings and six jet engines slung in pods beneath the wings, the B-47 was unusual in other ways. Its bicycle-style landing gear had it rest on the ground in takeoff attitude, stabilized by two outrigger gear. The high-aspect-ratio wings, spanning 116 feet, were very thin and flexible, so much so that in turbulence it sometimes seemed as if a vibrating outboard engine might simply rumba off the wing. The wings were too thin to serve as tanks, so fuel had to be stored in the fuselage (and in wing drop tanks), and fuel management, particularly during aerial refueling, was critical to maintain the proper center of gravity.

    Because of the B-47’s weight (sometimes exceeding 200,000 pounds), the takeoff roll had to be augmented by water-alcohol injection and even, sometimes, by rocket-assisted takeoff. The XB-47 was so advanced that even its designers didn’t know what to expect; one of them told me that when he watched it taxi on its first takeoff, he was not absolutely sure it would fly.

    But fly it did, on December 17, 1947, with Bob Robbins and Scott Osler at the controls. The first flight, a 52-minute cruise from Seattle’s Boeing Field to Moses Lake, Washington, was uneventful, and the aircraft embarked on a promising but troubled development period before it entered service. (Sadly, Osler later died in a B-47 canopy malfunction.)

    The introduction of the B-47 coincided with the massive makeover of the Strategic Air Command by General Curtis E. LeMay. He assumed command of SAC in 1948, and found that the pell-mell of post-World War II demobilization had left it in shambles. SAC had become a comfortable Air Force-subsidized flying club, where discipline was slack, standards low, and procedures wildly variant. LeMay began an intensive effort to acquire modern aircraft, standardize procedures, improve training, and impose an iron discipline. Although he was successful, the transformation took time.

    Joining the 93rd, I entered SAC at the very end of the command’s flying club heyday. While the B-50 was a good aircraft, many of the crew members were World War II veterans who were not yet impressed by the stern demands of a non-shooting cold war. As an example, my first flight as a B-50 copilot included a gunnery mission. During the preflight, I observed boxes of ammunition being loaded into the cavernous bomb bay. With the ignorance of youth, I approached the senior gunner and deferentially asked, “Sarge, wouldn’t it be better to load the ammunition in the fuselage, so we won’t have to depressurize to get it?” He smiled and said, “Don’t you worry about it Loooooootenant.” (Veteran non-commissioned officers could put an inflection on the word that revealed your insignificance.)

    Midway through the mission, we flew out to the bombing range off Point Mugu, opened the bomb bay doors, and jettisoned the ammunition boxes. The gunners marked their firing score as 100 percent (and they didn’t even have to clean the guns). Similar light-hearted chicanery went on with the radar bomb scoring, the navigation legs, and so on, until one Monday morning we went to work and found the old leaders had been fired and a whole new management team put in charge. As had happened elsewhere in SAC, base by base, flying went from sometimes frivolous fun to the serious pursuit of the mission.

    As he molded SAC to his standards, LeMay was largely responsible for converting the B-47s from maintenance-plagued, accident-prone nightmares into a fleet of the most powerful bombers the world had yet seen. At its peak, SAC employed 1,560 B-47s, primarily as nuclear bombers but also for reconnaissance and electronic warfare. Their projection of power deterred the Soviet Union’s huge army from overrunning Western Europe. Although none of us was privy to the entire war plan, we believed that in less than a week our B-47s could roll up the Soviet Union from the outside in, cutting off its invading armies and ending the war.

    In May 1954, I arrived at McConnell Air Force Base and was crewed up with two fine officers, Major Harold McCarty, the aircraft commander, and Captain John Rosene, the radar observer. They were probably not too thrilled to have a low-time copilot on board, but they were polite.

    The instructors were very experienced, and during training, they pointed out what made the B-47 capable and what made it dangerous. One of the most talked-about of the latter qualities was the fabled “coffin corner,” a point in the flight when the aircraft’s weight and altitude rendered the difference between a high-speed stall and a low-speed stall negligible. Recovering from a high-speed stall required a swift reduction in power to allow the speed to bleed down to a point where you re-established control. Recovering from a low-speed stall was more conventional. You lowered the nose and applied power, if necessary. The trick was to recover from one without transitioning into the other. In my view, the danger of the coffin corner was overblown, for if you executed correctly a well-planned mission, you would not find yourself in a situation where it might occur.

    Flight control issues were far more important, especially the need to react with the correct control inputs if you lost an outboard engine as you neared the takeoff point. The loss of power on the far right (number six) engine, for example, would cause a loss of lift on the right wing, initiating a roll to the right. In a piston-powered aircraft, the traditional reaction was to turn the control wheel to the left, which raises the left aileron and lowers the right one, thus raising the right wing. In the B-47, however, the correct procedure was to boot in rudder pressure to lift the right wing, and you had to do it within 1.7 seconds of the loss to be effective.

    Many a squadron briefing was spoiled by film clips of heavily laden B-47s caught at the wrong moment: as an engine failed on takeoff. The films would show the wing going down, the wrong control inputs applied, and then a veering, bounding cartwheel ending in a huge explosion, a sea of flames, and deaths.

    But despite the dangers and the new techniques required, flying the B-47 was a joy. Far more maneuverable than the bombers it replaced, it had superb visibility. In the B-50, you labored through a takeoff and wheezed to altitude, the piston engines gasping for air. In the B-47, you blazed down the runway and climbed out at an exhilarating 310 knots (355 mph)—faster than the B-50 cruised. You slowed gradually until you leveled off minutes later at the optimum altitude, perhaps 30,000 feet, well above most of the traffic of the time. The cruise speed was typically Mach .74, about 420 knots true airspeed.

    While takeoffs required good technique, they were not (unless you lost an engine) as demanding as landing. Setting the B-47 down safely required careful attention to weight, balance, and airspeed. The bicycle gear required that you touch down on the aft gear first. Touching down hard on the nose gear sometimes resulted in a series of porpoising bounces that could grow in size and end in disaster.

    The landing problems stemmed primarily from the very clean design of the aircraft, which made deceleration difficult, and the still-primitive nature of the early jet engines, which accelerated slowly. These two factors made it necessary for the pilot to employ a long, low final approach.

    The General Electric J47 engine was a workhorse, the later models generating 7,200 pounds of static thrust with water-alcohol injection, but accelerating from the low rpm of the engines at idle to full power still took up to 20 seconds. In the event a B-47 pilot decided to abort a landing and go around, his application of the throttle did not get an immediate response. Boeing overcame the problem by installing an approach chute: Derived from German practice, the 16-foot-diameter ribbon parachute was deployed to increase the drag of the aircraft, allowing engine power to be increased to maintain the desired airspeeds. If a go-around was necessary, thrusting the throttles forward would provide almost instant power because the engines were being made to work at the higher rpm necessary to overcome the drag of the parachute.

    Life as a Strategic Air Command B-47 pilot was fascinating. We logged as many as 60 to 80 hours per month, and the experience facilitated proficiency. Mission lengths varied from six hours to 24. On the latter missions, pills that worked like Dexedrine were supplied to ward off fatigue. My aircraft commander, Major McCarty (I never called him Hal or Harold, believe me), was a good guy who drove a Muntz Jet convertible and, even better, gave me a good share of the landings and inflight refuelings.

    Initially, we refueled the B-47 from the Boeing KC-97. Despite its four big Pratt & Whitney 4360 radial engines and two J47 jet engines, the KC-97 had trouble refueling the B-47 because it was so much slower. Refueling often began in level flight at some middling altitude, but as fuel was transferred, the B-47 became heavier, so we had to go faster to avoid stalling. The KC-97 could keep up only by entering a descent. I recall one refueling when the KC-97’s number-one engine failed, emitting a huge black cloud of oil. The big tanker decelerated like a rocket in reverse, disappearing behind us. Fortunately, the KC-97 passed back over, rather than into, us, for we would have had no time to react. (Later, we benefited from the introduction of the swept-wing Boeing KC-135, which flew at higher altitudes and airspeeds than the KC-97.)

    The continuous training in the B-47 was intense, and we were always aware that the reason for our existence was a nuclear strike mission. SAC crews were also burdened by a stark fact that other U.S. flight crews had never faced: If the worst happened and we were launched on a nuclear strike against the Soviet Union, we would fly with the knowledge that our families were at risk from a Soviet counter-strike. The supreme tragedy would have been our returning from a combat mission to find our families gone.

    The 93rd Bomb Wing was selected to be the first in SAC to convert to the Boeing B-52, and there was no way that I could wangle my way into a crew, for the minimum flying time required for a copilot was then 1,000 hours. By a stroke of good fortune, I was given orders to go to the University of California at Berkeley to finish my degree. Next, by an even luckier stroke, I was assigned to the 4925th Test Group (Nuclear) at Kirtland Air Force Base in New Mexico.

    The 4925th was an elite outfit dedicated to developing and testing nuclear weapons for the Air Force. It was small: two B-47s, two B-52s, and a handful of century-series fighters. The pilots were very experienced, many of them veteran B-47 instructors from McConnell. The radar observers were equally good. Unlike SAC crews, we did not fly as designated crews, and could be current in more than one type of aircraft. I quickly checked out as a B-47 aircraft commander and began my most fascinating period of flying. Missions were shorter than in SAC, and there was no alert duty, but the test requirements were extremely stringent and called for pushing the aircraft to its limits.

    Almost every day we had a different mission. They ranged from high-altitude drops of nuclear “shapes”—dummy bombs with the shape and weight of a nuclear weapon—to very-low-level bomb runs.

    Getting comfortable in any aircraft takes time. I realized I was finally comfortable in the B-47 when, on a newly qualified pilot’s first night mission, I sat in the back seat. After a short flight we came back to land, and the pilot made the classic mistake of touching down front gear first. The aircraft immediately bounded upward, the first step in the familiar “bounce to a crash” sequence. But because I was familiar with the aircraft, I popped the brake parachute at the top of the bounce. The aircraft immediately lowered onto the aft landing gear, making the pilot feel pretty good—and me really smug.

    The hybrid ancestry of the B-47 posed challenges for its crews. When the bomber was designed, engineers did not understand the stresses imposed by high speeds, prolonged exposure to sub-zero temperatures, and repeated cycles of takeoffs and landings. As Soviet defenses grew more sophisticated, the Air Force developed new low-level tactics for the B-47, which imposed even greater stress on its structure. As a result, metal fatigue and corrosion took a greater toll.

    Ultimately, Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara called for the removal of the B-47 from service; he believed the B-52 and the new family of intercontinental ballistic missiles provided sufficient deterrence. The B-47s were flown to the boneyard at Arizona’s Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, with only a few retained for special duties. The Air Force’s last B-47 ended service in 1969, and a single Navy aircraft was used to test electronic systems through 1976. The final flight of a B-47 was made in 1986, when a sketchily refurbished example was flown from the Naval Air Weapons Station at China Lake to Castle Air Force Base to become a museum piece.

    Boeing’s initial $14 million investment in the project paid off handsomely, leading to the production of 2,042 B-47s, including those that Douglas and Lockheed produced under license. The program provided the engineering and financial prowess necessary to create the successful military aircraft that followed it. All succeeding Boeing airliners, and indeed, most commercial jet airliners of all countries, followed the B-47’s configuration. The latest Boeing airliner, the 787, and even its arch rival, the Airbus A380, feature swept wings, tail surfaces, and nacelle-suspended engines—all derived from the B-47. 

    Walter J. Boyne is a former director of the National Air and Space Museum and the founder of Air & Space. A retired Air Force colonel, he has published 52 books, including his latest novel, Hypersonic Thunder.


     
    Comments

    Reading the story brought back memories of Clark Air Base in 1967. I was a security policeman assigned to flight line security. We had 3 RB47's on Clark. One afternoon, at shift change. We get the notice that one of the RB47's had declared an emergency. His nose landing gear was not reading down and locked. I was assigned to standby at the 1000 foot marker.I usually carried a small 16mm pocket camera but on this day I was out of film. The airplane came in on final with the stablizing chute deployed. The fire department had foamed the first 2000 feet of runway. The aircraft touched down on the aft gear right in front of me. The pilot held the nose up as he bled off speed. He set the nose gear down just as the aircraft rolled out of the foam. When the nose gear touched down it began to wobble but as more weight came on the gear it stopped wobbling and rolled straight and true. The pilot popped the main shute which immediatly threw the weight onto the noise gear. The gear collapsed. The outboard engines on both wings were ripped off and fuel started to flow from the broken fuel lines. Sparkes started fuel fires as the aircraft came to a stop. The fire department rushed in to but the fire out as the pilot popped the canopy and the 3 man crew slid down the fuselage and ran. And I had no film.

    Posted by Louis Palshaw on May 21,2009 | 02:09PM

    I really enjoyed your story, Colonel. There were many interesting facts I had no idea about, especially the rocket boost & alcohol/water mixture for speed boost. Thank you for a story well told and very interesting.

    Posted by Charles Smyth on May 21,2009 | 03:19PM

    In the spring of 1952, I was a crew chief in the Air Deffence Control Center at Ladd Air Force base in Fairbanks Alaska. We had a aircraft show up on Radar , and as part of the job, we were told it was a new bomber. We had F-94 fighters at Ladd and my controller scrambled 2. They finally sighted him and both the B-47 and the F-94's were not on the same frequency WELL....the F-94 flight commander said "Bogey in sight and we are going buster" ( after burners on). In about 30 sec., The leader said can you believe this. The B-37 was just moving away from them and they finally gave up and never caught it. Since my dad and brother-in-law worked at Boeing Wichita, I had to let them know later about it. After I was discharger in 54, I went to work at Boeing as an electric wire installer, I worked on the last 47 and then installed co-pilot wiring on all the B-52 models. Some of the 52's I worked on are still flying Great aircraft and a great job

    Posted by Dennis Colley on May 21,2009 | 04:39PM

    Several years ago I came across the online photo album of Bill Maloney,an avid USAF fan and photographer. I sent him some comments on what life was like for a B-47 Bomb/Nav technician. Perhaps you might find them interesting as a view from the non-cockpit crew. http://www.williammaloney.com/Aviation/USAFMuseum/ColdWar/BoeingRB47H/index.htm

    Posted by Rich Turck on May 21,2009 | 05:07PM

    I recall the final flight of the B-47 well. That was the only time I saw that bird fly and it was really something to see. I was serving in the 93rd at Castle AFB when we got word that the B-47 was on it's way in. We all headed to the fences outside the active runway to have a look. We saw the sunlight shining off of it from quite a ways out, with a chase plane escorting it in (T-38 I think). Things got 'interesting' from that point forward. Word has it that the airspeed indicator decided that 40 years of dedicated service was just too much. The pilot (a previously retired 47 pilot) was trying to get airspeed from the chase plane but this apparently wasn't as easy as it sounds given the patched up state of the craft. From my position it appeared as if a small drag chute was deployed well early of the landing, then when the bird was still about 50-100 feet above the runway the larger chute deployed. "Uh-oh, that doesn't look right at all" was the first thing that went through my mind, having seen B-52s preform the chute trick all day and night at the training base for several years. Flop-hop-flop is the best way to describe the landing. Everyone lived so it was a successful landing in any case however. It appeared that when it came to rest that the outer left wingtip strut was broken or bent and the engine nacelle was scraped and bruised but the bird was quickly surrounded by emergency equipment and we lost all view of it. The B-47 rests now at the Castle Air Museum repaired to good as new.

    Posted by Robert L on May 21,2009 | 05:46PM

    It's a shame how this beautiful aircraft has been so ignored. I can't even find a good picture of one in flight, but would especially love to have a picture of a night-time launch of one with jato assist. I still say to this day that she was the prettiest plane you ever saw in flight, she just looked like she belonged in the air. I worked on the bombing and navigation system on B47's from 1963 'till 1965. The problem was that I was at Pease AFB, there's about one nice week in the spring and about one more nice week in the fall. The rest of the time it was either too hot or too cold to be on the flight-line. Working on the Bomb/Nav system almost always required one person in the Navigator's seat and another one on a stand working in the computer compartment outside. Me being the 3-level working with my trainer, guess who was where! I'm still in awe of the fact that the Navigation and the Bombing computers were built by the National Cash Register Compant. Remember that this was in the days before transistors, everything was mechanical and/or synchro-servo mechanisms. I noticed that the writer made no reference to the position that the Navigator sat in or his life expectancy in the event of ejecting DOWN especially if the aircraft was at low altitude.

    Posted by Dennis R Sage, MSgt, USAF (Ret.) on May 21,2009 | 06:54PM

    Neat, clean new fighter has the virtue of three versions, therefore economically appealing. The understanding is that the F22 is a superior fighter but not convertible to three versions with the same facility as the F35.T he decision by Secretary of Defense Gates, a former CIA man, to produce only a few more F22's could be an error if the Soviets or other potential adversary produced a fighter competitive with the F22, which they are capable of doing. The F22 production line should be kept running if only at low production schedules, because reconstituting such a complex line would take far too long, presumably.

    Posted by Chatham H Forbes Sr on May 21,2009 | 08:12PM

    A terrific yarn. Sincerely hope the author has plenty more to come.

    Posted by Les Beard on May 21,2009 | 11:25PM

    I was a flight surgeon in 509 Bomb Wing at Walker AFB in 1958. We had one of our B47s crash on takeoff returning from reflex at Pease AFB NH. I was assigned to the investigation board at Pease. Our B47 stalled on takeoff because of mismanagement of fuel transfer during taxi and takeoff. Our guys were in a hurry to get ahead of a bomber stream and home to their wives and neglected to switch from taxi to takeoff. As a consequence the plane had a worsening aft center of gravity as takeoff proceeded. The plane settled in the woods at the end of the runway and burned a full fuel load. The night before I left for Pease I packed my B4 bag and we went to bed. My wife asked: "What kind of airplane crashed?. "B47." "What kind of airplne will you fly in to Portsmouth?" "B47" Silence.

    Posted by EDWIN M BRADLEY on May 23,2009 | 09:07AM

    Walter Boyne always does a great job and is to be commended for his extensive support to aviation. I came into the Air Force just after he did and had a great career as an maintenance NCO starting with the B-47. In his writing Walt always tried to emphasize the importance of the maintenance crews and the fact that this all too often is overlooked. My first attachment has always been with the B-47 which I served on and with for over 10 years. After retirement from my second career I found there was a B-47 Association being formed and I hopped right in and now I maintain the organization's website: http://www.b-47.com From time to time we have had an article of Walt's posted. The latest is at http://www.b-47.com/stories/Boyne/Boyne_2.htm And of course there are several other stories and lots of pictures on our site. So if you enjoy aviation stories and the B-47, drop by. Thanks again Walt for an excellent article.

    Posted by Jim Diamond on May 24,2009 | 06:33PM

    I really enjoyed the article on the B-47. It brought back a lot of fond memories. I spent four years in the Air Force, the majority of that time at McConnell AFB in Wichita, Kansas. During that time I was in the 4347 Armament Electronic Maintenance Squadron. Out primary duty was in support of the training flights of the B-47's located at the base. On July 21. 1961 an engine fire developed in a B47E-5238 while it was waiting to get into take-off position. I, along with A1c Wilbur Sinclair was able to move a fifty pound CO2 fire extinguisher approximately 100 yards to the aircraft. We were able to extinguished the burning outrigger tire, uncowle the # 4 engine fire before the fire trucks arrived. Needless to say as soon as the crew realized what was happening they wasted no time in exiting the air craft.

    Posted by Benjamin A. Blades on May 25,2009 | 02:39PM

    A great recap that brought back many memories. I flew about 900+hours out of Homestead AFB (19thBW, 30th and 659th BS from 1959-1961) I just wish the author had mentioned more about the duties of the B-47 co-pilot, i.e. tail gunner, electronic warfare operator, celestial star shooter, assistant navigator, etc. Many a mission I spent juggling clipboards, flashlights, pencils, flight lunches and various other things, trying to keep them all from falling down into the bottom of the fuselage. While shooting the sextant one night, I flipped on the switch for the little light in the thing and got a charge from the electrical wiring down through the zippers in my flight suit and into the ejection seat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it hard to let go of the damn sextant. Thanks, Colonel.

    Posted by Dick Koelling, Lt/Col, Ret. on May 26,2009 | 08:46PM

    Thanks for the nice comments, I appreciate them. And Col. Koeling, you are so right, the B-47 co-pilot was a busy guy with a lot of demanding duties. Walt

    Posted by Walter Boyne on May 27,2009 | 03:32PM

    That inflight photo of two B-47s flying formation on another is so lovely and one my Squadron commander Col Creo had in his office when I and B-52s began at Fairchild AFB in'56. It would be great to know where copies are available. Unfortunately he was lost when two 52s collided turning onto final. It was not pretty to see them spiral down nose first with ejection seats coming out. A medical problem eliminated me from pilot training, so I finished the ground crew four years at Dyess with 47s.

    Posted by Ralph E Palmer on May 28,2009 | 01:18PM

    I was a machinist assigned to the 320th BW at Mather from 1965 to the end of 1968. We worked out of the ATC machine shop away from the SAC area. One day one of the guys came in and asked what kind of airplane has wings like a B-52, inboard engines like a 52, and outboard engines like a KC-135. We were like what in the hell are you talking about. It was a B-47 parked right out back of the shop. Pretty aircraft for sure.

    Posted by Joe Roach on May 30,2009 | 07:12PM

    I flew Co-Pilot on them from 63-65 and it sure was a job! Lots to learn by doing as all the schools had been shut down and we had to learn as we went! When we were on alert at Brize Norton in England my navigator would take me out to the airplane with 4 Bombs on it and I would shoot the sextant! The guards really watched us! But I learned about the sextant. Great flying airplane from the backseat all you had to do was level the canopy rail and it would make a great landing. From the front it was a lot harder and I had ACs who would bounce it on and call for the Brake chute in the second bounce! I have a couple of pics of it at home in my office. It was my 1st assignment as a Pilot and I never forgot her. We dropped a bad Bomb and all got assigned to TAC C-130s! Great I was out of SAC. Pete

    Posted by Col Pete FitzGerald on June 2,2009 | 09:00AM

    I was crew-chief assigned to tail # 53-2308 at Forbes AFB Topeka KS. 55th Bomb Wing, 343rdsrs 1954-1965. I have the honor of holding the record for on time take-off (103)no cancellations for wx,maint,or supply. Looking back on this accomplishment I can recall not only my assistant and two other ground crew members helped to achieve that honor,but many support units also share in the recognition.we worked many hours clearing in flight write-ups and doing our daily inspection of the aircraft. I like to think that the letter i received from Gen. Lemay, wing commander Col.OF Lassiter,wing dcm Col Willey all helped toward my promotion to ssgt. My career took me to other assignments and onto other aircraft, KC-135, B-52,etc. But the best of the best has always been and will always be the B-47.

    Posted by DAVID W.HALL, MSGT. USAF.RETIRED on June 2,2009 | 02:11PM

    My Dad flew out of Plattsburgh AFB circa 1959-1966. He had flown B-26s and B-36s out of Biggs AFB in El Paso until we went to Plattsburg where me and my three brothers grew up in the loving arms of Strategic Air Command. Two of us followed him into the USAF as career officers, one as a pilot (still active at the USAF Academy) and me as an aircraft maintenance officer, now retired. Words are far too inadquate to describe our respect and admiration for those who served and those who continue to serve. A million stories of reflex to England, the Cuban Missle Crisis, Molehole tours, smoking holes, and all the slings and arrows that Air Force families live with make up our lives and we appreciate the notes from those who lived the history we proudly remember...

    Posted by Son of Maurice (Blackie) Wells on June 4,2009 | 05:10PM

    Piloted the beautiful B-47 for about 1,400 hours while stationed at Mt. Home AFB, Idaho, with the 9th BW. So many memories and so many wonderful and dedicated people. The accomplishments were many the B-47 and I still love to hear the stories written by those that loved that aircraft. She brought to aviation so much that is still state of the art. All of us that had anything to do with the B-47 have much to be proud of. As I fondly remember my B-47 experience the record of 103 on-time take-offs set by MSGT. Hall is almost unbelievable and he has has every right to be proud of that amazing record.

    Posted by Don Ulring, Lt. Col. USAF Retired on June 5,2009 | 02:35AM

    I flew from Homestead AFB 1957 -1961 as co-pilot in the 524th BS. My AC was George Conor and my Nav was Phillip Diehl. We reflexed from Ben Greire North Africa. I enjoyed the duty very much which took me to many places in Europ for our RNR. Most of the AC's were WWII pilots and had no jet time nor did they have any VOR (TVOR) time. As a new pilot neither did I. This made for some interesting and scary flights but with no experience we thought the experiences were the norm. I don't think history will show how important SAC was during the Cold War. Without the Soviet Union being surrounded by jet bombers cattying 15 megaton weapons for 24/7 we might be living in a different world today.

    Posted by Gene Weatherup on June 10,2009 | 03:56PM

    I remember flying the B-47 out of McDill AFB after several years in the B-29, and was really sad when I had to give it up due to numbness in my right arm. It also ruined my chances of going back to play second base with the St. Louis Cardinals. Fortunately, my wife, Sally, was always there for me, as might be expected of any woman who so resembled June Allyson. EDITORS' REPLY: Nice try, reprising the plot of the 1955 movie "Strategic Air Command" with Jimmy Stewart. (Note: The film also features footage of the B-36.)

    Posted by Lt. Col. Robert "Dutch" Holland on June 16,2009 | 03:37AM

    I was another of those back seat RB-47 jocks out of Forbes AFB, Kan. And Koelling is absolutely correct. In addition, sometime in the middle of all that, the AC would ask for a cup of coffee, the jug rack being along side the co-pilot. It's declassified now but it was interesting flying the Tell-two model and skirting around northern Iran and getting to watch the Russian missile launches. The Ravens always had a good time playing with their signal boxes. 1,500 hours later I went over to MAC and didn't miss SAC one bit. RMJ

    Posted by Robert M Jones on June 18,2009 | 05:09PM

    As a former B-47 mechanic with the 96th Bomb Wing I can say with out a doubt she could be the best aircraft in the world to work on, today, and a beast to work on tomorrow. All of the negatives aside, she was the most beautiful aircraft built!!!!

    Posted by William Ray on June 20,2009 | 03:22PM

    I grew up at Whiteman AFB, MO. My dad was a Security Policeman stationed there from 1963, until he retired in 1970. We lived close to the runway, and I can vividly remember this beautiful aircraft. Our next door neighbor, Don Hall (Tsgt, Ret.) was a crew chief, and as a young child fascinated by aviation, it was the greatest thing to hear him talk about the airplane. I even watched, sadly, as the last B-47 departed for Davis-Monthan AFB as they were retired from service, and they were leaving for the last time. Dad even let me take a day off school so I could watch them depart. I also remember my Dad coming home one evening after work, after a B-47 had exploded on the ramp, killing several fireman that had responded to the aircraft. It was a pretty somber day to say the least. My dad died in 1972, but my Mom still sees Tsgt Hall and his wife about twice a year. To say this article brought back many memories is an understatement. The B-47 is just one of the many aircraft of that era that captured my imagination. As a result, I ended up spending 21 years in the Air Force, all in aircraft maintenance, all on fighters. I now work as an Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, and I still miss being around the jets. Sincerely, Gary Martin Cmsgt, USAF (Ret.)

    Posted by Gary Martin on June 25,2009 | 11:49AM

    The most famous B-47 in Canadian eyes was that one loaned to us as a test bed for the Iroquois engine. Returned with airframe bent because of the off centre thrust of an engine that for a time made the B-47 into a single engine a/c it was scrapped. Our politicians and yours screwed up what could have been an alliance made in Heaven.

    Posted by William Ouellette on June 25,2009 | 02:49PM

    During 1955 and 1956 I worked as a draftsman on the C-130 Project at AFP #6 for Lockheed at Marietta, Ga. The B-47 production line had just about closed but modifications were in full blast. The one mod I recall was named operation "Milk Bottle" and was named so because of the embrittlement of the large, high tensile strength pins which held the B-47's wing spars to the fuselage. We were told that because of the movement of the wings from a negative dihedral at rest to a positive dihedral during flight and some flutter during turbulence and maneuvering, the pins became so brittle that they would shatter when dropped onto a solid surface. I do not know if this is true but I do know we went on a crash program to replace these pins and the planes were flown in, modified and turned around in very short order-as I recall in about 72 hours. Some of the planes had flown through radioactive clouds from atmospheric nuclear testing and in some cases read as high as 100,000 counts per minute beta/gamma smearable activity. Those that had this contamination were hosed off and then put into the mod line. As a 20 year old I spent as much time on the flight line as I could just admiring these robust and beautiful airceaft knowing that they were keeping us from war with the Soviet Union.

    Posted by John Bradburne on July 15,2009 | 11:06AM

    Walt, Well done my friend. Great story of a beautiful and demanding aircraft. You couldn't make that stuff up. Cheers, John

    Posted by John Shaud on July 27,2009 | 09:23AM

    Pilots think they were busy; I was a Nav. for 12 years--those were busy folks also. That airplane never ceased to amaze anyone conected with it. Phillip M. Goplen Lt/Col USAF (Ret)

    Posted by Phil Goplen on July 29,2009 | 09:51AM

    Spent my youth working Boeing Wichita from Fabrication to flight on B-47 and B-52s. Many stories to tell good @ bad one of most memorable watching "Dick Taylor" perform the bomb toss in a B-47 Coming balls out low level from South over McConnel, Screaming verticle, Bomb doors snapping open @ shut, smoke rigged on 1 and 6, so trails crossed during Immelman @ headed South again. We stood with our chins on the ground. One Heck of a Bird and pilot

    Posted by Jim Kelley on July 29,2009 | 03:47PM

    I was a B-47 co-pilot out of pilot training and arrived at Dyess A,F.B. January of 1960 after McConnell. A/C Mick James, R/N Jerry Stout and myself. Spent three years,96th Bomb wing 413th Bomb Squadron, and then on to B-52s. We were refueling on a KC-97 one evening over Oklahoma when they lost #4 engine and said oops and said we could continue refueling and then another oops and #3 went to feather. They were hurting and if they lost a third would have to bail or crash. So we stayed hooked up and pushed them all the way back to Schilling and disengaged on base leg.

    Posted by Richard Baese on July 30,2009 | 10:56AM

    It was great to finally see a story on the B-47, I showed the story to all the grandchildren as they had no idea what the aircraft grandpa worked on looked like. I spent my 4 yrs. (1954-1958) in the 93rdBS, 19thBW at Pinecastle AFB, Fl. and Homestead AFB Fl. with 4 TDY tours to Sidi Slimane North Africa as an assistant then crew chief on B-47s. Looking at the pictures I still think it's the prettiest airplane ever built. Thanks for a great story.

    Posted by Leo E. Vaillancourt on August 1,2009 | 02:49PM

    I have correponded with Col. Boyne on a few occasions and corrected some minor errors in his narraitives. In this case his statement: "Initially, we refueled the B-47 from the Boeing KC-97. Despite its four big Pratt & Whitney 4360 radial engines and two J47 jet engines, the KC-97 had trouble refueling the B-47 because it was so much slower." In the Cololnel's day the 97 did not have auxilary J-47 engines. He is either confusing the 97 with the KB-50 that did have the J-47s or his memory is faulty. The 97 did eventually get the jet engines in 1964 long after SAC had converted to KC-135 and B-52 aircraft. WALTER BOYNE REPLIES: I’m going to assume the writer is correct—the KC-97s may not have had the J47s yet. (It was a KC-97; the KB-50 would have made a much bigger impression on me, since I'd flown B-50s previously.)

    Posted by Paul Hunter on September 7,2009 | 05:12AM

    I was just a kid in the early 50s middle 50s. I lived in Salina Kansas. The base was Smokey Hill or Schilling, can't remember. We were riding bikes out on Jackrabbit Hill, just west of the base and end of the runway. The runway ran north to south. A B-47 was trying to take off. It didn't, it went off the end of the runway flipped and exploded. I remember seeing it happen, we watched all the activity, I have never heard mention of this accident. Does any one Remember this happening?

    Posted by MYRON SMITH on October 7,2009 | 12:24AM

    I went to tech. school on the B-47 in Amarillo in 1956 and to Davis Monthan and the 63rd. Bomb squadron, 43rd. bomb wing in 1957.I worked as a crew member and crew chief untill 1960 when I transfered to Walker AFB and the B-52. I had some great times on the B-47 and flying in the fourth man position was a treat.It was sometimes a very difficult a/c to work on, but you always felt a sense of accomplishment when you sent it off for a succesfull mission. This story brought back some great memories.

    Posted by John Patterson on November 10,2009 | 07:03PM

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