PrattTown

My Favorite Song About Kansas

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 22:46:00 +0000

Suggested By: David Dunn

Kansas By A Kansan

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 17:03:00 +0000

Question:
What is life in Kansas REALLY like?

Recommendation:
Read Flyover People – Life on the Ground in a Rectangular State
to "experience" the answer!

Click image below to order online:

Airventure 2010 - Worlds Greatest Air Show

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 14:50:00 +0000

Source: Thanks to Lonnie Detmer for this link:

B-29 Crews In Saipan Scrapbook 1944 - 1945

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 16:04:00 +0000

Source: Mark Maloy

B-29 Crash Landings In WW II

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Source: Mark Maloy

Navy Submarine Rescues Of B-29 Crews In WW II

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 15:57:00 +0000

Source: Mark Maloy

Why does Pratt need a B-29 Museum?

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 21:37:00 +0000

This is why:

Every B-29 Crew deserves to have its story told!
The Bomber On The Prairie Museum in Pratt Kansas USA can make this a reality with your help.
Please support us with your time, treasure and talents!

Special thanks to Mark Maloy for sharing this story.

A WW II B-29 Air Commander's Story

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 16:42:00 +0000

Chapter I - The Baptismal

We were young warriors, eager for the battle. It was early evening on March 9th, 1945. We had been alerted the day before that we were scheduled to fly a mission to Japan, and now, following the flight crew briefing at which the target had been identified as Tokyo, we were standing around the nose of our loaded ship prior to boarding, talking about the mission to come, and the information divulged to us at the briefing. We also indulged in comments about what we were going to do to the Japs and how it should convince those that might be left in the morning to give up the fight. We joked good naturedly about "if we come back tomorrow" but there wasn't a man among us who really had any doubt about it - we would be back in the morning, and so would the others. Young men always believe in their own invincibility and immortality. We were cocky - almost to the point of having chips on our shoulders - not smart-alecky, but cocky in the sense of exuding confidence, invincibility, superiority and dedication to our purpose. At long last, after all those months and years since Pearl Harbor, we stood on the threshold of retribution - to give back to the Japs, in their homeland, in spades, what they had dished out to us all over the Pacific. We had the airplane to do it, and we had the resolve to do it. This was to be the beginning of the end.

My mind, however, was somewhat preoccupied. At our briefing we were dumbfounded and wondered if Bomber Command had gone crazy - the tactics to be used on this mission were a complete departure from the design objectives of the airplane, and, to us, tantamount to a suicide strike. General LeMay, over the objections of some of his planners, had concluded that because of the difficulties of achieving the maximum bombing effectiveness at high altitude in daylight because of reduced bomb loads, weather (including 250 mph jetstream winds), the strain on engines, high fuel burn, fighter opposition, and the lack of the element of surprise, that he would send the B-29's to Japan with absolute maximum loads, at very low en-route altitudes and very low bombing altitudes. He had also concluded, based on intelligence estimates in response to projected airplane and crew losses, that Japan had relatively few night fighters, so the strike force would not be subjected to the air-to-air opposition that it would if flown in daylight.

Thinking about all of this, I had many concerns: the take-off would be dangerous, exacting and challenging; there was considerable weather enroute; we would have neither guns nor ammunition (removed to save weight); Tokyo was the most heavily defended city in Japan; and, we would fly the bomb run at only 230 miles per hour at only 5,600 feet altitude. We would be overloaded - our take-off weight was 138,000 pounds - 13,000 pounds over the design limits of the airplane. This was to be a maximum effort, low level, night incendiary raid with over 300 Superforts participating. We were not scheduled to be in the initial attack force, so the fires would be burning merrily upon our arrival. (The consequences of this would be evident later). The mission objective was to kill and dehouse as many Japs as possible in order to deprive them of a labor force, destroy the in-home cottage manufacturing industry, and break their will to continue their resistance. The type of mass destruction we planned to rain on them would, we hoped, motivate the Japanese people to overthrow their military leaders and force the Emperor to seek peace. What rational people, as a society, wouldn't?

Our en-route procedure would be that each ship would take off 60 seconds behind the ship ahead of it, fly a timed leg on the runway heading, then make a procedure turn on to the course for Japan. This meant that there would be three ships on the runway at a time: one just lifting off, one in the middle of the runway gaining speed, and one just beginning to roll. It was thought unlikely that a crash would occur except at liftoff, and if that occurred, the ship at the half-way point on the runway would be expected to lift off over the crash and the third ship would do the same or brake and abort the takeoff.

The first ship would climb to 500 feet and level off, on course. The second ship would climb to 600 feet and level off, on course. The third ship would level off at 700 feet on course and so on up to 1,000 feet and then the stack would start over again at 500 feet. This would result in a series of "stair-step" formations comprised of six B-29's, each one minute apart in time and 100 feet apart in altitude, all on course to Tokyo.

The low en-route altitude was meant to accomplish several things: First, to conserve fuel - it takes a lot of gas to haul a heavily loaded airplane to high altitude; second, to avoid detection by radar or by any Japanese ships that might be in the Pacific near our course, and third, to avoid weather and jetstream winds which we would encounter at higher altitudes. The objective was to have the aircraft stream across the target in approximately the same formation as when they started; however, as a practical matter, this would be difficult to achieve. There would be timing errors of seconds - perhaps only fractions of seconds - beginning with the actual liftoff of each aircraft; the time when the procedure turn was begun; the time to complete the turn and climb to the assigned altitude (which was slightly different for each aircraft), all of which would skewer the proposed plan somewhat. There were other factors also - the slightly different performance of each aircraft as compared to another in both climb and airspeed, the slightly different effect of weather on various aircraft in the stream, and the slightly different fuel consumption rates of various aircraft. These small differences, minor at first, when multiplied by seven or seven and one-half hours flying time to the target, would become quite significant at that objective point in the flight. Therefore, at the target, single B-29's would be overflying the target area on whatever course and at whatever altitude their individual instruments put them. In other words, there obviously would be some degree of variation from the flight plan so each pilot would "fly it as he saw it" as he arrived at the target. However, this was not a precision bombing mission where everyone would be expected to pinpoint his drop, but a general target area to be saturated, so the plan was expected to work. The low bombing altitude had two objectives: to insure saturation of the target, and it was hoped, put us at the extreme range of the smaller anti-aircraft guns, and too low for the big anti-aircraft batteries to track us:

A glance at my watch, synchronized with all other pilot's watches at briefing told me that it was time to board. My crew had already pulled the props through - two men to a blade for sixteen blades - until all four engines had been purged of any oil in the bottom cylinders, and we scrambled up the nose wheelwell ladder into the forward compartment as the gunners and the radar officer boarded the waist compartment through its door. We settled into our positions, donned headsets, turned on the intercom and other equipment, picked up checklists and started the on-board preflight routine. The exterior pre-flight inspections and checks of the airplane had already been performed by the ground crew and armorers together with the appropriate members of the flight crew, and a final inspection by the pilot prior to boarding. Each crewmember had certain things to do befitting his station and specialty on the airplane, and, following his individual checklist, proceeded to prepare himself and his equipment for flight. The bombardier, after seating himself and adjusting his seat belt and harness, determined that all the switches on his panel were in the "off" position, checked his fuse panel for active and spare fuses, synchronized his clock with that of the navigator and pilot, set his altimeter, recorded the outside air temperature in his log, checked the dovetail alignment of his bombsight as well as the locking pins and secure position of the cannon plugs, and many other aspects of the functioning of the bombsight and its servo motors.

The pilot and copilot likewise seated themselves, adjusting their belts, and began their preflight procedures, the copilot reading the checklist and the pilot responding both verbally and physically by performing the act called for in the sequence of the checklist. The emergency ignition switch was turned on; the control surfaces and the throttles were unlocked; the parking brake was set; the emergency landing gear release, emergency bomb release, and emergency cabin air pressure release handles on the control panel were properly set; throttles were advanced to "full" and retarded again to insure that they were free functioning; the central fire control gunner in his astrodome observed the function and travel of the control surfaces as the pilot moved the control column and rudder pedals through their arcs, reporting to the pilot on the intercom on the performance of each; flaps were extended to their full down position and retracted again as the side blister scanners reported their proper functioning to the pilot on the intercom; aileron, elevator and rudder tabs were set in the neutral position; main system hydraulic pressure was checked; the clocks were synchronized; the altimeter was set; the autopilot master switch was thrown to the "off" position and all autopilot control knobs turned to the "pointers up" position; the turbocharger knob was set to the off position; all the gyros were caged until after engine start; the propeller limit switches were depressed until the lights on the panel flashed; and various other checks following which the pilot would announce on the intercom "stand by to start engines". During the time the pilot and copilot were completing their checklist, every other crewmember had been accomplishing similar routines at his station - the engineer, navigator, radio and radar operators, and each of the gunners/scanners. The tail gunner had the least to do at this juncture, so, immediately after boarding the rear compartment, he started the auxiliary power unit and reported to the pilot: "putt-putt on line" over the intercom. This unit, a small gasoline engine powering a generator, when operating, gave us electrical power on the ground. The engineer, having completed his pre-flight checklist, which was concerned almost entirely with the engines, acknowledged my "stand by" announcement as I determined that at least two of my ground crew members were standing by with fire extinguishers in front of number one engine, watching me. I would then hold up one finger of one hand, make a circular motion with a finger of the other hand, and command: "Start one". The flight engineer would then set the throttle and mixture control for the number one engine and hit the starter switch while at the same time intermittently operating the primer as I watched that huge sixteen and one-half foot prop start to turn. After three or four blades, the engineer turned on the magneto switch and the engine sprang to life. Big radial engines have their own peculiar starting characteristics and sounds: they cough and backfire and belch huge clouds of blue smoke, and then as they explode into life, the slipstream blows the smoke behind the airplane and the engine settles into its distinctive rumble. The engineer immediately set the mixture control to "auto lean", and set the throttle for an 800 RPM idle as he prepared to start the next engine. The ground crew then moved to number two engine and the signals and commands were repeated. Then number three and four were started in the same manner after which the ground crew chief took a position directly in front of the nose where he and I could see each other. He stood with his arms and hands about half-outstretched with his thumbs pointing outward. This stance informed me that the wheel chocks had been removed, and, as far as he was concerned, I was ready to taxi. My copilot continued our checklist to completion, I called for 25 degrees of flaps, closed the bomb bay doors, and as my crew chief backed aside giving me a "good luck" wave, I edged forward to take my place in the line of B-29's, tails slowly bobbing as the procession of ponderous, winged, elephantine shapes made their way to the head of the runway for takeoff.

As I turned and lined up in takeoff position on the runway, I could see the two preceding aircraft right where they were supposed to be: one halfway down the runway and one lifting off. I called for mixture, full rich; cowl flaps closed to 7� degrees; stood on the brakes and opened the throttles revving the engines to full power, the plane shaking and rocking from the restraint as wisps and streams of vapor came off the prop tips in the moist tropical air. Then, with a signal from the tower, I released the brakes and we began to roll. I danced on the rudder pedals feeling for control, and I soon had it as my copilot began calling, out the airspeed - 70 - 80 - 95 - 110 - 135 - I could feel the lift beginning to build under the wings and the rumble of the wheels on the runway lessen somewhat as the landing gear struts extended. I held slight backpressure on the control column and began to finesse the elevator trim tab ever so slightly. Under these load conditions, I didn't want to pull the airplane off at a given airspeed or point on the runway, and I didn't want to risk stalling it off by getting the nosewheel too high - I wanted to fly it off, so, as I felt the lift giving me control, I kept the airplane just on the verge of flying until it did - smoothly, but laboriously and slowly into the air. I tapped the brakes to stop the spinning of the wheels, and, as soon as I was positive that I was out of ground effect, I called for wheels up, and my copilot retracted the gear. I flew on about 20 or 25 feet above the terrain to the cliff at the end of the island where I could dive 200 or 300 feet down to the water and pick up airspeed. As I did this, I called for flaps up and my copilot milked them up two or three degrees at a time until they were fully retracted. I had achieved close to cruise speed at this point, and after reducing power, called for "head temperatures", my engineer responding "all in the green" as I banked into the procedure turn and started the climb to my assigned altitude of 900 feet, on course to the target. We were now committed to whatever fate had in store for us.

I trimmed the ship for level flight, turned on the autopilot, and settled in, more or less, for the seven-hour flight to the target. I instructed the aft crew members to shut down the "putt-putt" and busied myself with all the inflight activity typical of piloting a large aircraft: monitoring the engines - in this case with the assistance of the flight engineer; adjusting mixture controls to insure conservative fuel consumption without raising cylinder head temperatures; monitoring throttle settings to practice efficient cruise control; keeping the props synchronized; listening to the engines for any slight change in their steady sound; observing the engines for oil leaks, or a change in the blue flame of the exhaust; watching for ice build-up on the wings, sometimes with the help of a spotlight; and monitoring the whole instrument panel with a sweep of the eyes every minute or so. I was particularly alert and particularly tuned to every nuance of sound and vibration of the airplane as a result, perhaps, of anxiety, apprehension, and, I imagine, adrenaline.

In the beginning hour or so of the flight, it was not quite dark, there were fleecy cumulus clouds in the sky, the last streaks of the setting sun were fading and stars were visible above. Sometime later, daylight was gone and darkness had enveloped us. The bombardier had already gone back to the bomb bays to arm the clusters of incendiary bombs we were carrying as the navigator climbed into the astrodome to take one last shot with his sextant before the stars disappeared. We were about abreast of Iwo Jima when the weather closed in around us. I switched off the autopilot as I always flew the airplane manually when on instruments. There was light to mild turbulence from time to time, but nothing really severe. There was, however, considerable electrical activity with great flashes of lightning illuminating the ethereal white mass around us so that we appeared to be flying in an opaque atmosphere all by ourselves. There were times also when the airplane was covered by St. Elmos' fire - a static electrical discharge that made the whole ship glow like a huge neon sign. There were no B-29's visible to us when we entered the storm, but the possibility and fear of collision with other ships was constantly in the back of my mind. About an hour or so later, the navigator came on the intercom advising me that, according to the flight plan, we were at the point where the climb to our approach altitude should begin. Accordingly, I increased the engines to climb power and started an ascent to 5,600 feet - still concerned about who else might be there in the soup with me.

Through these hours of flight, I was busy flying the airplane with only an occasional comment on the intercom to my engineer or my copilot or receiving one from the navigator such as "correct two degrees right", so my thoughts and fears or concerns about the target had not saturated my mind as it may have for some other crew members on this, our first mission to Japan.

I leveled off at our assigned altitude and we broke out of the clouds fifty to seventy-five miles off the coast of Japan, and, even from that distance we could see the target ablaze - bright as a sunset. We put on our flak vests and helmets and prepared for the bomb run. We had not seen another B-29 since we turned on course off the end of Guam, but as we proceeded into the target area several were visible, more or less on the same course as we were. The target area was so wide that I was able to look it over and select a way in. There was a dark area down the middle that was not burning, so I approached directly toward it. At that moment, Rich Ranker, one of my gunners, with some tension and apprehension in his voice, suddenly warned me on the intercom of a B-29 directly above us with his bomb bay doors open. I immediately slid out from under him. The fires on each side were burning fiercely - a veritable inferno fanned by 75 mile an hour winds created by the firestorm itself. There was a B-29 on each side of me bracketed in a half dozen or more searchlights; I thought I might escape the searchlights by going in between the unfortunate ones already caught, and I did until just after bombs away when the cockpit was suddenly illuminated brighter than daylight with the blinding white lights of batteries of searchlights. They had found us. If it were not for the huge fires below, I would not have been quite sure which way was up and which way was down. The lights seemed to be coming from every direction - below, behind, from the side, and straight out in front of us, and I had never experienced such brightness. At our briefing we had been told not to look outside the cockpit - it had even been suggested that the pilot lower his seat and fly on instruments on the approach and bomb run, but how could a 25 year old pilot pumped full of adrenaline on his first mission be expected to not look around? Seconds after the lights hit us, the flak started exploding around us; we could hear it raining against the fuselage, and I immediately began evasive action like a broken field runner. My copilot had a couple of ack-ack batteries spotted, and he would watch them fire, then he'd yell at me and I'd roll to the left or right and then straighten out for a second or two when we would see the puffs of ack-ack exploding off our wingtip; then I'd roll further or back the other way. I was balls-out on the throttles indicating 290 miles an hour in my dash across the target in a desperate attempt to prevent the anti-aircraft batteries from tracking us. This went on for what seemed an eternity but actually was only a fairly brief 15 minutes or so: turn, straighten out, turn again, roll out, turn, climb, dive, and then it happened - we plunged into the roiling maelstrom of smoke and thermals for a slamming that I feared might destroy the airplane. The first giant updraft shot us up so violently and with such force that the blood drained from my head - approaching blackout - and for a moment or two I couldn't lift my feet off the floor or lift my arms to control the airplane. Some pilots later reported gaining as much as 5,000 feet in altitude in this first thermal. Other crews flying through the firestorm reported seeing flying debris - burning door and window frames for example - going up past their airplanes and still other crews reported the overwhelming stench of burning flesh. We, however, didn't experience these two phenomenon. I worried about the negative "G's" on the wings. I had no idea, of course, what force we were actually sustaining, and further, I had no idea what the negative "G" load limits were for the aircraft, but I knew of instances where aircraft had been torn apart in thunderstorms, and this was worse than any thunderstorm I had ever been in. However, the ship was hanging together and we were flying. Fortunately, we were now comparatively light, having dropped our bomb load and having burned half or more of our fuel load. The next one of course was a downdraft which pressed us against our seat belts and bounced everything that was loose against the ceiling, followed by up, and down, hard. We were being bumped and tossed around like a cork on water in a hurricane when a huge thermal flipped us over. We were not completely inverted, but the wings were well past the vertical, we were still rolling, and going down. Rich, the same gunner who had warned me earlier of the B-29 above us, concerned about the traffic over the target, looked up again through the CFC astrodome and saw nothing but raging fire. Then, as dirt, cigarette butts, oxygen masks, and other debris started floating past his face, he looked down through his blister and saw nothing but clouds and smoke reflecting the fire. We were upside down. Inverted flight at around 5,000 feet in a four-engine, 60-ton airplane was not exactly an approved maneuver. The airspeed was building up rapidly as we rolled further on our back, but the altimeter was not unwinding which confused me briefly, but it only took a second to remember that an altimeter is only an aneroid barometer and lags way behind the change in atmospheric pressure in a dive. For a brief second I thought that perhaps when we were flying through the flak some damage had been sustained that affected the instruments and I should not believe them, so I shouted to my copilot to ignore them. For the briefest fraction of a second, I thought, "Jesus, maybe this is it!" but just as rapidly, my answer was "The hell it is!" I came to my senses and was instantly aware that all four engines were producing power, and the airplane was still flying, albeit erratically, when years and thousands of hours in the air dictated a "seat-of-the-pants" response to the situation and I flew the airplane through a "split-S" maneuver to recovery from our inverted position. The airspeed exceeded 400 MPH, and I burned the speed off in a climb designed to put all the sky between us and the ground that I could. Leveling off, but still in the target area, I called for the radar officer to "give me a heading out of here", thinking he would be monitoring his scope and know exactly where I was, but before he could respond, the navigator came back instantly with "fly one-seven-zero". He had apparently been following my wild flight with his gyrocompass and therefore was on top of all my course changes - or maybe not - we both knew the reciprocal heading from Guam to Tokyo and he may have instantly fired it at me from memory. I don't know why I had to ask for it except that I might have been a little excited - outward appearances notwithstanding.

I called for a crew check, and each man, in turn, responded with an "all O.K.". Even though we had no guns or ammunition on board, I cautioned the gunners to watch for night fighters as I throttled back and headed out to sea. I conferred with my flight engineer about our fuel burn and concluded that with careful cruise control, we had enough to get home. After awhile - maybe fifty or more miles off the coast without seeing any other airplanes - either fighters or B-29's, we began to relax and unwind and engage in some chatter about what had happened - the glow of a burning Tokyo still visible behind us. I dove four or five hundred feet to get the ship "on the step", throttled way back to only 1650 or 1700 RPM and we "coasted" all the way back to Guam in a very slight descent - the rate-of-climb instrument needle resting just below the zero mark. It was now necessary to fly back through the storm we had encountered enroute to Japan, so once again I settled down to manually fly the airplane on instruments. My logbook shows that on this mission I flew a total of five hours of instrument flight.

As we escaped the storm and were back in clear weather a couple of hours north of Guam, I began to feel the strain of no sleep for 24 hours and 13 hours of flying, but, as we approached the Mariannas I felt somewhat rejuvenated at the prospect of being back at the base. Despite what we had been through, which had sobered us somewhat, we were on our way home, and we were not injured or damaged. It was good to be flying in clear daylight again, and I felt reassured that despite what we had been through, the ship had functioned and performed admirably, as had the crew. I felt proud of them, and wouldn't have traded them for any other outfit on the field. Reflecting, I thought that except-for the wild ride over the target and getting shot at, that the mission had gone pretty much as planned. I still had serious concerns though about a weakness of the mission plan: that of exposing every ship to the possibility, either enroute or in the target area, of a midair collision or the possibility of dropping bombs on another B-29. However we had seen no B-29's go down, and we had not experienced a near miss ourselves. Nevertheless, the concern lingered in my mind. I could not decide whether or not I had been frightened, simply because I had not known what to expect, and once I was confronted with what should have scared the bejabbers out of me, I was too busy flying the airplane to think about it.

As we neared Guam, two or three other B-29's were visible, and as my copilot and I completed our landing checklist, I fell into position behind them for the final approach. We touched down and rolled out after 15 hours 47 minutes in the air, and, as I started the turnoff to the taxiway, I acknowledged the Chaplain waving at us - checking each ship back to its home base. I turned into our hardstand, shut down the engines and "Little John" Miller, my crew chief, "Big John" Miller, his assistant, Luigi and others of the ground crew were there to greet us. We climbed down to Terra Firma and the euphoria of having made it - having done it - having succeeded - having survived - began to sweep over me and I felt somewhat triumphant and a little like a hero. Everyone was eager to hear just what had happened and we smiled as we told them how all Tokyo was burning and even to us, once back at our home base in broad daylight, the night's escapade didn't seem so bad. It was a little like a nightmare that was already a part of the past and no longer bothered you. I had a short conversation with John about the performance and mechanics of the airplane, and then I made a visual inspection expecting to find a lot of holes in the wings and fuselage, but to my surprise there were none; lots of little dents and scratches made by bits and pieces of shrapnel, but no holes. I also looked for popped rivets, expecting many as a result of my "split-S" and 400 plus mile-an-hour dive over Tokyo, but found none - a great testimonial to the integrity of Boeing airplanes.

The six-by-six truck was waiting for us and we scrambled aboard to be taken to the debriefing hut where we were plied with donuts and coffee by a couple of Red Cross girls and a couple of shots of whiskey by the debriefing officers. A look around the room saw pilots talking excitedly with their hands simulating flight as pilots are wont to do, and others matter-of-factly telling their stories. There were some smiles, but mostly tired, somber faces as each crewmember was interrogated about what he saw and did.

We left the debriefing hut for our quarters - a Quonset hut housing the officers of three flight crews. As we stumbled into the hut looking forward to some rest and sleep, we were shocked, astounded and stopped in our tracks - all the personal effects of the other two crews had been removed - only our stuff remained. Musser and Johnson had failed to return. But how did they know so soon? Was there a radio transmission? Did some other B-29 crew see them go down? Was there a mid-air collision? Did they make it out of the target area and crash at sea? Did they run out of gas? Could they have bailed out and been captured? Could they have ditched and perhaps still be picked up? We prayed and hoped for that all day, but we didn't ever find out what actually happened - they simply were gone. These were boys with whom we had talked and joked and lived with only hours before and now they were . . . gone.

So, this was the way it was going to be: you would have to coax an overloaded airplane off the ground while sweating out an engine failure, fire or explosion, or a runaway prop on takeoff, any of which would probably be fatal; then endure the stress of a seven or eight hour flight to the target, much or all of it on instruments in storms, then you had to fight the Jap, and take all that he threw at you, and he fought you, and maybe he would get you - or hurt you or damage you enough so that it would be difficult for you to get home - or maybe you couldn't get home and you would have to ditch . . . And your friends died . . .

Welcome to War . . .

Would you like to know the rest of this true story?
Read more about the author and how to buy an autographed copy of his book titled Bringing The Thunder .

Guess Who?

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 20:16:00 +0000

Year: 1944
Place: Pratt Army Air Field, Switchboard Room

Click image below for a larger view:

Do you recognize any of these ladies?
Email your responses and I will post them as comments.

Manhattan Project Memorial On Tinian

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 16:15:00 +0000

These thoughts are worth remembering ...:

"FiFi" Returns To Flight

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 21:48:00 +0000

Overview Of B-29 Use In WW II

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 02:59:00 +0000

Narrative as follows:
The officially recognized campaign “Air Offensive, Japan” extended from April 17, 1942, the day before the Doolittle raid on Tokyo, to September 2, 1945, the day the war ended. Although the Doolittle raid—a small raid by later standards, but a tremendous psychological shock to the Japanese—opened the air offensive, no more attacks on Japan occurred until 1944. Part of an overall effort intended to prepare for the invasion of Japan scheduled for November 1945, the air offensive against Japan was conducted by B-29 Superfortress long-range heavy bombers of the U.S. Army Air Forces (USAAF) 20th and 21st Bomber Commands from June 5, 1944, to the end of the war. The air offensive, which the Japanese could not effectively contest, devastated Japan through destruction of arms and armament factories, widespread incendiary bombardment of cities and urban areas, and the mining of Japanese waters. Culminating finally in the loosing of two atomic bombs, the air offensive contributed greatly to the surrender ending World War II. Conducted at first from bases in India, and later from the Mariana Islands in the Pacific, the air offensive featured a number of innovations. Originally intended to be conducted according to the theory of high-altitude daylight precision strategic bombardment developed by senior USAAF officers before the war, the air offensive evolved as it encountered problems of a type and scope never before experienced in aerial warfare. The immense distances of the theater of operations in which the B-29 fought placed a premium on aircraft—and aircrew— performance. The B-29s had to climb over the highest mountains in the world, the Himalayas. High-speed, high-altitude “jetstream” winds over Japan blew planes and bombs off course. Frequent poor weather prevented precision bombardment.

The B-29 Superfortress represented a challenge in and of itself. Based on cutting-edge technology, the B-29 featured the most powerful engines, (Wright R-3350 radials of 2,200 horsepower each, yet adapted for any production bomber); an innovative, centrally controlled defensive machine-gun fire system; and a pressurized cabin. Rushed into production, the plane brought to combat technical problems that normally would have been worked out during a prolonged testing and development period. Among other problems, the B-29’s engines were fireprone, and its clear plastic gun-sighting blisters often blew out.

USAAF officers, both in the field and back in Washington, created solutions to which the B-29 and its aircrews proved remarkably adaptable. Thousands of technical fixes were made; new maintenance methods were introduced; and bombing altitudes were lowered to get away from the jetstream. Night area incendiary bombardment of Japanese cities— less affected by bad weather than daylight precision bombardment—increased the air offensive’s effect.

The idea of a bombing offensive against Japan extended as far back as the beginnings of the U.S. rivalry with Japan early in the century. Both the Japanese and the Americans realized that Japanese urban areas, built largely of wood, were vulnerable to bombardment, whether from aircraft or ship. As prewar discussions evolved into strategies and tactics on how to fight a possible war with Japan, the idea of a long-range heavy bomber grew. A number of U.S. Army Air Corps career officers advocated strategic bombardment to reduce or even eliminate an enemy’s warmaking capacity through destruction of arms and munitions factories. As war clouds gathered, the United States began arming itself for a role in the fighting in Europe as well as against Japan. Although a number of state-of-the-art bombing planes were under development, the chief of the Army Air Corps, General H. H. Arnold, solicited bids from aircraft manufacturers that called for an aircraft to redefine that state.

Two serious prototypes were considered: Boeing’s B-29 and Consolidated Aircraft’s B- 32. Eventually settling on the B-29, Arnold, a strategic bombardment proponent, ordered the aircraft while it was still in blueprints—a highly unusual move for an industry accustomed to careful testing of new designs. This caused the B-29, and Arnold, many headaches in the days ahead. Nonetheless, he felt he could not afford to wait for normal development to wend its way to completion; the enemy certainly would not. (The B-32 was placed in limited production as a backup in case the B-29’s problems became overwhelming.) Arnold pushed the program, although there were setbacks. On February 18, 1943, famed Boeing test pilot Eddie Allen was killed when his B-29 crashed into downtown Seattle as a result of engine fires.

In early 1943, after much discussion reflecting interservice and theater rivalries, Arnold ordered 20th Bomber Command (20 BC) activated. To avoid intra-theater rivalries over command and control of the B-29 bombing force, the Joint Chiefs of Staff agreed that the 20th would be under their direct control, with General Arnold as their “executive agent.” This unusual arrangement was another innovation by the pragmatic Arnold to overcome obstacles and objections and to ensure the success of U.S. air-power. Arnold in turn appointed General K.B.Wolfe, who had been heading up B-29 development, to command the 20th.

Determining that Germany was already practically defeated, Allied leadership at the Trident Conference in Washington (May 12–27, 1943) earmarked the B-29 for use against the Japanese. Initial plans called for the planes to be based in China to reinforce the alliance with Chiang Kai-shek. Lack of success in the ground war in China meant that bases were not available in range of seaports which could supply the vast amounts of fuel, bombs, and parts needed by the B-29s. General Joseph Stilwell, the theater commander, suggested basing the B-29s in India—far out of the planes’ range of Japan— instead of China. The planes would shuttle through airfields in the Cheng-tu area of China, which was held by friendly forces, and then refuel and take off for Japan. Far from roads or seaports, these airfields would have to be supplied entirely by air. Inasmuch as competing demands such as the Fourteenth Air Force, based in the Cheng-tu area, stretched air transport resources razor thin, the B-29s themselves would have to fly in the gasoline they needed to refuel for the long flight to Japan. Although any such operations would be difficult at best, the Joint Chiefs eventually approved this method, and General Arnold in September 1943 directed General Wolfe to work up a plan—Operation Matterhorn—for bombing Japan from bases in India, after shuttling through China. General Wolfe ordered that bases be constructed in India and China.

Concurrently, USAAF planners—General Heywood S. Hansell, in particular—noticed that B-29 operations out of India would never be easy and recommended that the Mariana Islands be seized from the Japanese. Consisting of three principal islands (Guam, Tinian, and Saipan), the Marianas were located in the central Pacific ocean within B-29 range of Japan. They enjoyed good weather and could be supplied easily. A longtime U.S. possession, Guam had been garrisoned by marines before the war. The navy, which viewed the islands as important bases for the invasion of Japan, concurred. The nascent bombardment campaign received further impetus in November when General Hansell managed to convince the Joint Chiefs of Staff to issue a position paper at the Sextant Conference in Cairo, admitting the possibility that heavy bombardment and sea mining might win the war without the necessity of an invasion.

Logistics, command, the war itself, and such local difficulties as labor and weather delayed completion of the B-29 bases in India and China. Finding no progress as late as January 1944, General Wolfe borrowed the 853d Engineer Aviation Battalion and the 382d Engineer Construction Battalion from Stilwell’s Ledo Road project, and he also drafted civilians. After two months, 6,000 U.S. troops and 27,000 Indian laborers had the bases in India ready for B-29s. In China, civilians pulled large rollers by hand to tamp down B-29 runways.

Pushing aside studies telling him that the B-29 force might not see action until 1947, and under pressure to reinforce the alliance with Chiang Kai-shek, Arnold ordered that the first group of B-29s fly to India by April 1944. To make the deadline, he pulled mechanics from Boeing’s Wichita assembly line to help ready the first 100 bombers, which he found awaiting repair during a March 9–10 personal inspection at Smoky Hill Army Airfield, near Wichita, Kansas. Working around the clock in cold and snow, mechanics readied enough planes that they could begin leaving for India on March 26, barely three weeks later. Flying over Africa and the Mideast, the first B-29 landed at Kharagpur, about seventy miles west of Calcutta, India, on April 2, 1944. By May 8, there were 130 planes in India; two days later, the bases in China were deemed ready. The 20th’s first mission was not to Japan but from India directly to Japanese-held Thailand, on June 5, 1944, to give the new crews some experience. Sixteen of the hundred bombers scheduled for the mission turned back or were lost because of mechanical problems; clouds prevented formation flying and also forced some forty-eight of the seventy-seven planes that hit the target area to bomb by radar. Bombing results were poor. Although the mission was deemed an “operational success,” the 20th soon learned that problems experienced on this first B-29 operation would characterize later missions.

Impatient with such “training” missions, General Arnold insisted that Wolfe bomb Japan itself. Tactically, he wanted Wolfe to assist Chiang Kai-shek, by taking the heat off Japan’s offensive in China, and to cover an “important operation in the Pacific”: the invasion of Saipan. Wolfe planned a mission to the Imperial Iron and Steel Works at Yawata in northern Kyushu. The B-29s began stocking Chengtu-area shuttle airfields with fuel, flying over the Himalayas and dodging bad weather and Japanese interceptors—a routine they soon termed “flying the Hump.” Each B-29 had to complete roughly six flights over the Hump to accumulate enough fuel in China to fly a bombing mission over Japan. The task complete, on June 15, U.S. forces invaded Saipan; the 20th flew to the Imperial Iron and Steel Works.

Arnold had wanted the mission to fit U.S. bombing doctrine by being flown at high altitude, by daylight, in tight formation. Believing this took more experience than his crews had, Wolfe won a concession from Arnold: The mission would fly at night, with no formations, from medium altitudes of 8,000 to 18,000 feet. Sixty-eight planes of the original ninety-two made it over Japan, and the rest were turned back by mechanical problems. Bombing accuracy was poor. Despite positive stories in the press, General Arnold made some changes.

On July 4, 1944, Arnold promoted Wolfe to head B-29 development and production at USAAF Materiel Command. He replaced him with the Eighth Air Force’s General Curtis E.LeMay. Innovative and imaginative, LeMay did everything he could—in all facets of a unit, from the quality of the food, to aircraft maintenance, to training, to formation flying—to obtain the optimal results from each bombing mission, at first as the head of the famed 305 BG (H) and later of the 3d Air Division, with the Eighth Air Force in England. Operation Matterhorn’s difficulties were tailor-made for his talents. Arriving on August 29, LeMay instituted his training, maintenance, and formation systems. Performance improved but was still short of General Arnold’s expectations. Just weeks before LeMay’s arrival, Guam and Tinian fell to U.S. forces, and Seabee bulldozers began the massive air-fields needed for the huge B-29 forces.

Limited success on repeated missions to Anshan on September 8 (the 20th’s first mission since LeMay’s arrival) and on September 26 generated pressure in Washington for the USAAF to try different tactics. Arnold’s strategists tinkered with the target mixture, concentrating less on steel than on aircraft assembly plants; and in response to repeated suggestions by naval officers they ordered the B-29s to mine waters in Japanese-held areas. Eventually the 58th Bomb Wing dropped 987 mines between August 1944 and March 1945. Discussions also returned to the firebombing of urban areas, rather than the high-explosive precision bombardment of industrial targets.

October and November 1944 saw heartening if limited progress on a number of fronts. Ranging from Formosa to Japan, the 20th’s bombing improved, as LeMay’s crews concentrated on his tactics of formation flying, fuel economy, the “lead crew” concept he had brought from Europe, and “synchronous” bombing (in which the radar operator and the bombardier, with his optical bombsight, worked together to increase bombing accuracy even if clouds hid the target). On November 5, fifty B-29s flew 4,000 miles round trip from India to put the King George VI graving docks out of commission for three months at the Japanese-occupied naval base at Singapore. Ground crews took advantage of maintenance methods brought by LeMay, such as the sharing of technical specialties among units. Modifications to the R-3350 engine increased its reliability. The number of bombers that had to drop out of missions with mechanical problems decreased. The 73d Bomb Wing of the 21st Bomber Command established the air offensive in the Marianas with the first B-29—flown by 21st commander, Brigadier General Hansell, the strategist who had recommended taking the Marianas—arriving at newly constructed airfields on Saipan on October 12. The primary targets would be aircraft and engine assembly plants centered in Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka. After briefly training on a few such nearby targets as the great Japanese base on Truk, the 21st, under pressure to produce results, sent 110 bombers to the Mushashino engine plant in Tokyo on November 24. The mission was flown at high altitude, according to precision daylight bombing doctrine, but unexpected high winds and clouds arose. Only twenty-four bombers accurately hit the target, seventeen aborted because of mechanical failures, and six others did not bomb. The 21st Bomber Command had expected more than five hundred Japanese aircraft to oppose the B-29s; about a hundred actually did, bringing down a single B-29 and damaging eight others. Nonetheless, conditions encountered by the 21st on its first mission characterized, and frustrated, its operations for the next month. The B-29 and the air offensive were not living up to their promise. General Arnold decided once again to make changes to improve the B-29’s effectiveness.

In January, Arnold returned General Hansell to Washington; LeMay replaced him as head of 21 BC. LeMay privately thought, as did Hansell, that the B-29s could end the war without landings in Japan, although he continued the official strategy of preparation for an invasion. Despite the improvements in aircraft dependability and aircrew proficiency that had begun under Hansell and were continued by LeMay’s techniques, high winds and clouds continued to hamper accurate high-altitude daylight precision bombing on the sixteen missions LeMay sent to Japan after taking command of 20 BC. Trying to avoid winds and clouds, LeMay noted that Arnold’s strategists had once again turned to area incendiary attacks. Theoretically, area incendiary attacks would encounter the same problems as daylight precision attacks. Soon it became apparent to him, and to the strategists advising General Arnold and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, that success would mean changes to hallowed daylight precision strategic bombardment doctrine.

While LeMay pondered changes to 21 BC’s techniques, B-29 units continued to arrive. Under Brigadier General Thomas S. Power, 314 BW arrived in Guam in February. Iwo Jima, a volcanic island between the Marianas and Japan, was invaded on February 19, to eliminate Japanese fighter interceptions of B-29s from there, and to provide an emergency landing strip for combat-damaged B-29s. Taking of the tiny island would result in fewer ditchings and fewer men lost at sea.

Pushing aside concerns, Arnold ordered a maximum-effort mission to Tokyo for February 25, experimenting with the new firebomb technique. Bad weather forced the B- 29s to bomb from 25,000 feet, about 5,000 feet lower than usual; of the 231 aircraft which flew, clouds covering the target forced 172 to bomb by radar. Despite high hopes, results did not measurably improve. However, mulling over reconnaissance photographs revealing a square mile of the city burned out, LeMay hypothesized that the slightly lower bombing altitude helped to concentrate the firebombs in that area. Consulting with Washington, he changed the air offensive’s direction, discarding long-held tenets of daylight precision strategic bombardment. Navigating and sighting by radar, B-29s would drop firebombs on cities at night, from low altitude. The wind would not blow away planes and bombs; engines would not burn out; weather would not hide targets; and range would increase, increasing the B-29’s bomb load. It took considerable courage for the strategists in Washington to discard the tenets of their own doctrine. Auspiciously, the first B-29 landed on Iwo Jima on March 4. Area destruction was to replace “precision” bombing, and over the next several months several hundred thousand Japanese civilians were about to be incinerated.

Although Washington and 21 BC developed the new tactics in concert, General LeMay took responsibility for their success or failure. Expecting little or no fighter opposition on low-altitude night missions, he ordered all but the tail guns removed from the heavily armed B-29s. The planes would fly singly, instead of in formation, to avoid collisions. With careful training, LeMay taught even the least adept radar navigators how to get to the target. On March 9, 1945, the first firebomb mission went to Tokyo, where 325 planes bombed from 4,900 to 9,200 feet. After so many months of futile attempts and incremental improvement, the results were astounding: 15.8 square miles were burned out in the center of the city, including 25 percent of the city’s buildings. Official figures listed 83,793 people killed and 40,918 injured—many horribly burned. The Tokyo fire raid remains the worst single aerial bombardment in history. Only fourteen USAAF aircraft were lost.

Capitalizing on this success, 21 BC flew five more such missions in ten days, going on March 11 to Nagoya and on March 13 to Osaka, where 8 square miles were burned out. On March 16 Kobe was the target, and on March 19 it was Nagoya once again— exhausting the supply of firebombs in the Marianas and temporarily ending the incendiary offensive. The results of this week’s work were deemed, finally, successful. Almost sixteen hundred bomber flights had delivered 9,373 tons of bombs, which had burned out almost thirty-two square miles of Japanese cities. Washington prepared a list of thirty-three urban areas which had a concentration of heavy industry. Other types of bombing would continue; nighttime low-level area attacks would be mounted in weather not suitable for daylight precision bombardment.

While LeMay instituted a war-winning strategy in the Pacific, General Ramey’s 58 BW wrapped up Operation Matterhorn with a night attack on a oil-tank farm on Bakum Island, near Singapore, on March 29, and prepared to move to the Marianas. Despite the experience gained in operating the B-29 and working out some of its problems, and despite the support given to the Chinese and their pathfinding role in the air offensive against Japan, the official air force history deemed Matterhorn’s ten-month efforts a failure. If there were any successes, they were expensive.

Aerial mining of Japanese waters began as well, after much persistence by both U.S. Navy and USAAF proponents. Drawing on the experiences of 58 BW, the specially trained and equipped 313 BW, commanded by Brigadier General John J. Davies, flew the mining missions. The first mission, on March 27, 1945, mined the key bottleneck Shimonoseki Strait between Honshu and Kyushu. Soon, combined with submarine warfare, the mining caused imports of desperately needed food and supplies to drop tremendously.

On April 13, the B-29s, loaded with incendiary bombs straight from newly arrived cargo ships, burned out an other 11 square miles of Tokyo in the first firebomb raid since March 19. Kawasaki and Yokohoma were hit on April 15. At that point, despite misgivings of USAAF leadership, the 21st ceased strategic bombardment in favor of tactical support of the invasion of Okinawa. The navy credited B-29 poundings of kamikaze airfields with abatement of that danger to the fleet.

With 58 BW’s arrival in the Marianas, Arnold pulled together 20 BC and 21 BC under the Twentieth Air Force, with LeMay in charge as before. On May 14 and 16, released from Okinawa support, the 20th flew daylight incendiary precision attacks to the Mitsubishi engine factory in Nagoya. The bombers firebombed Tokyo on May 23 and again, for the last time, on May 25. The last raid, by more than five hundred B-29 s, burned out 16 square miles. A growing Japanese antiaircraft capability brought down twenty-six B-29s and damaged another hundred. At the end of May, P-51 Mustang fighter planes, based on Iwo Jima, began escorting the B-29s. Ominously, 509 Composite BG under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Paul Tibbetts Jr., began moving into North Field, on Tinian.

After mid-June, LeMay’s photo interpreters reported all of Japan’s larger cities burned out (except for those “reserved” for the atomic bomb, or for other reasons). While daylight precision strikes continued against industrial targets during clear weather, the B- 29s firebombed some fifty smaller cities between June 17 and August 14. The 20th completed its growth, with 315 BW flying its first mission on June 26. Commanded by General Frank Armstrong of European theater Eight Air Force fame, the B-29s of the 315th were equipped with Eagle radar, developed specifically for bombardment. The 315th’s mission was night bombardment of petroleum industry targets. Throughout the summer it dropped 9,000 tons of high explosives, losing just four aircraft, and completed the destruction of the already critical industry.

Portentous developments characterized July 1945. Scientists successfully test-detonated the atomic bomb at Alamogordo, New Mexico, on July 16. The Potsdam Conference on July 26 called for unconditional surrender of Japan; the alternative was “prompt and utter destruction.” To demonstrate to the Japanese their helplessness to prevent bombing, General LeMay began dropping warning leaflets—actually giving the date of the attack—on targets before sending B-29s.

As invasion preparations stepped up, Fifth and Seventh Air Forces fighters and bombers which had fought their way up the southwest and central Pacific theaters, respectively, joined the air offensive in early July. Flying from newly captured Okinawa, by the end of the war they had dropped 7,100 tons of bombs on airfields, railroads, bridges, and industrial and urban targets.

August 1945 brought into clear focus the massive strategic and tactical forces being brought to bear on Japan in preparation for the November invasion, Operation Olympic. General Spaatz officially assumed command of the U.S. Strategic Air Forces, Pacific. LeMay became his chief of staff; Lieutenant General Nathan F. Twining, late of the Fifteenth Air Force in Italy, assumed command of the Twentieth Air Force. Under Lieutenant General James H. Doolittle, the mighty Eighth Air Force began moving from England to Okinawa. The air offensive continued as B-29s wiped out 99.5 percent of Toyama on August 1. A week later, on August 6, the 509th dropped the first atomic bomb—code-named Little Boy—on Hiroshima.

Spaatz sent incendiary-filled bombers to Yawata and Fukuyama on August 8, as Fat Man, the second atomic bomb, took shape on Tinian. On August 9, Fat Man was detonated over Nagasaki. Giving the Japanese a chance to surrender, the 20th waited until August 14 before fire-bombing Kumagaya and Isezaki. Aircraft similarly loaded were recalled the next day upon word of Japan’s surrender. The air offensive came to an end, without an invasion of Japan.

Although the air offensive forestalled an invasion that would have been costly to both sides, it also left a troubling legacy. While night area incendiary bombardment helped to cripple Japanese military and industrial capabilities, it also took the lives of many noncombatant civilians. The bombardment of cities and the use of nuclear weapons have been surrounded by controversy ever since the fateful days of their use over Japan in August 1945.

FURTHER READINGS

Birdsall, Steve. Superfortress: The Boeing B-29 (1980).

Coffey, Thomas M. Hap: The Story of the U.S. Air Force and the Man Who Built It, General Henry H. “Hap” Arnold (1982).

Craven, Wesley F., and James Lea Cate, eds. The Army Air Forces in World War II, vol. 5, The Pacific: Matterhorn to Nagasaki, June 1944 to August 1945 (1953); vol. 6, Men and Planes (1955).

Hallion, Richard P. “Prelude to Armageddon,” Air Power History 42 (1995).

Jablonski, Edward. Air War: An Illustrated History of Air Power in the Second World War, vol. 2, Outraged Skies/ Wings of Fire (1971).

LeMay, Curtis E., with MacKinlay Kantor. Mission with Lemay: My Story (1965).

Maurer, Maurer. World War II Combat Squadrons of the United States Air Force: The Official Military Record of Every Active Squadron (1969).

Wheeler, Keith. Bombers over Japan: World War II (1982).

Werrell, Kenneth P. Blankets of Fire: U.S. Bombers over Japan during World War II (1992).

Source: http://americanmilitaryhistorymsw.devhub.com/

Aaron Tippin On Tour With “FIFI”

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 04:19:00 +0000

Caption: Aaron Tippin in front of his 1941 Stearman bi-plane. Photo courtesy of Aaron Tippin.

Source: Great American Country, July 28 2010

We all know Aaron Tippin as one of the most recognizable and influential voices in country music. And you may also know that Aaron is a highly experienced airmen who owns some vintage planes including a 1941 Stearman bi-plane. I’ve personally had the honor and thrill of taking a short flight in that plane over the hills of Middle Tennessee with Aaron at the controls. Now Aaron is putting his two passions together for what may be one of the most unique tours I’ve ever seen come across my desk.

Aaron, along with the good folks representing the Commemorative Air Force (CAF), announced today the CAF Red, White & Loud Tour celebrating America’s freedom. Here’s the cool part – Aaron will be touring with a fully restored Boeing B-29 Superfortress affectionately named “FIFI.” In fact he will be traveling from event to event in the historical bomber that was originally made famous during World War II. And not just as a passenger. Once he passes qualification, Aaron will be co-piloting the bomber to each and every event. Once on the ground, the massive B-29 will serve as the backdrop to his live performance.

“I am very excited about working with the CAF,” Tippin states. “As a son of a pilot, a pilot myself and patriot, the mission of the organization is especially important to me: acknowledging the history of this great nation and the service men and women who make our freedoms possible is stellar and I’m happy to champion the organization’s efforts. Touring with one of the most majestic B-29’s in history is a dream come true; I’m proud to be part of “FIFI’s” re-introduction to flight enthusiasts young and old.”

The Red, White & Loud Tour kicks off with its first stop in Denver on August 28th for the Colorado Sport International Air Show. If you’re a thrill-seeker who loves country music this tour is for you. Fans will be able to buy tickets for guided tours and rides in “FIFI” during the stops. For more information about the tour and to buy tickets visit www.cafb29b24.org.

Caption: FIFI the Boeing B-29 Superfortress. Photo courtesy of the Commemorative Air Force.

What do you think of this new tour and would you be willing to jump in and take a flight with Aaron at the controls?

Yee Haw! "FiFi" Will Fly Again

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 21:58:00 +0000

Here is an update:

"FIFI" Engine Run, Memorial Day 2010 from Hangar Workshop Productions on Vimeo.

Restoration Of A B-29

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 18:11:00 +0000

B-29 "Sentimental Journey"

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 21:01:00 +0000

The Plane

B29 Bomber from Terry Babb on Vimeo.

The Crew

To see this magnificent airplane, visit the Pima Air and Space Museum.

Killdeers

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 13:50:00 +0000

Killdeers are familiar and interesting Kansas marsh birds. Learn about them here.

Announcing A Facebook Group For B-29 Museum

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 16:14:00 +0000

This group was created for anyone interested in or connected with the B-29 training program, or if you have relatives who were involved with the Army Air Fields and the B-29s of WWII.

View the Bombers On The Prairie Museum Facebook Group

Riding Again With JV

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 15:43:00 +0000

Mike Blair remembers good times ...:

Greensburg Wind Farm

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 23:40:00 +0000

Watch this dedication video: (Courtesy of NativeEnergy)

Greensburg Wind Farm - Dedication from NativeEnergy, Inc. on Vimeo.

See these related links:

More About The Greensburg Wind Farm
Learn about Pratt's Plan for an Energy Training Center

A Man and His Dog

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 01:46:00 +0000

My friend, Mike Blair, and his dog, Java, were inseparable for the last 10 years until today.
View this "Tribute" to his canine companion:

A Travelers View Of Pratt Kansas

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 22:19:00 +0000

By: By RHETA GRIMSLEY JOHNSON, The Jamestown Sun

PRATT, Kansas — Somebody went to a lot of trouble to make two realistic President Barack Obama effigies and tableaux worthy of Disney.

“Obama Stimulus Package Free Junk,” said a sign propped beside discarded automobile tires, a ripped recliner and a stove riddled with bullet holes. The life-size Obama dummy, dressed in a black suit, is standing atop the stove.

The other scene, at the opposite side of the Prater Oil and Gas parking lot, is Obama in medical scrubs, a stethoscope hung around his neck. “Obama Care Makes Me Sick,” reads the sign. “Honk for no government health care.”

I’ve always liked Kansas for the reason a lot of other travelers do not. It goes on forever and is boring.

Read the rest of her opinion/story about Pratt and Kansas.

William Allen White and the B-29

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 02:46:00 +0000

Besides being associated with Kansas, what other connection exists between William Allen White and the Boeing B-29?

Give up?

Read the answer in this column written by my favorite Kansas blogger, Cheryl Unruh, titled "The Victory Lap".

The Air Force Story - Superfort August 1943 - June 1944

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 22:39:00 +0000

B-29 PRODUCTION ON INCLINE; AIRPORTS AND LANDING STRIPS BUILT IN CHINA; SUPERFORTS ARRIVE IN CHINA; AND JAPANESE BLITZ GETS UNDERWAY..

The Air Force Story -- Air War Against Japan, 1944-1945

miltm@cox.net (Milt) — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 14:36:00 +0000

B-29'S LAND ON SAIPAN; GEN LEMAY TAKES COMMAND AND PREPARES A B-29 OFFENSIVE AGAINST JAPAN; TOKYO BOMBED NIGHT AND DAY; ATOM BOMBS DROPPED ON HIROSHIMA AND NAGASAKI; JAPAN SURRENDERS..