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By Bruce D. Callander
On July 25, 1909,
Louis Bleriot took off from a field in France, flew
his flimsy monoplane northward for half an hour, and
landed near Dover Castle in England. The flight-at
the time, daring beyond belief-caused a sensation in
Britain.
Forty years later, Capt. James G. Gallagher and a
13-man crew took off from Carswell AFB, Texas, in a
B-50 bomber named Lucky Lady II. Four days later-50
years ago this month-they landed back at Carswell.
This achievement, the first nonstop flight around the
world, also stirred the public imagination.
Neither event involved a major breakthrough in technology,
but each was significant for other reasons.
Bleriot's flight lasted a mere 37 minutes. In several
demonstration flights in France during the previous
year, Wilbur Wright had stayed aloft much longer. What
caught the public's imagination was that Bleriot had
actually crossed the English Channel. This narrow waterway
separating England and Europe had not been traversed
this dramatically since the invasion of William the
Conqueror in 1066.
"Britain's impregnability has passed away," warned
a London newspaper. "Airpower will become as vital
as sea power."
Similarly, Lucky Lady II was not the first airplane
to circumnavigate the Earth. That feat had been accomplished
25 years earlier by two Air Service biplanes dubbed
the "Douglas World Cruisers." In fact, Chicago
and New Orleans had flown a route almost 3,000 miles
longer than that covered by the Lady, and they logged
almost four times as much air time.
Nor was Lucky Lady's 94 hours, one minute aloft a
record for flight duration. Twenty years earlier, a
Fokker C-2 named Question Mark had stayed airborne
for more than 150 hours. In that case, Maj. Carl A.
Spaatz and his crew did all their flying in circles
over southern California, but, in the process, they
pioneered the refueling techniques that would make
it possible for Lucky Lady II to circle the globe nonstop.
Timing Was Everything
What made the flight of Lucky Lady II more than just
another record-setting event was its timing. Like the
achievement of Bleriot's little airplane, the big B-50
flight demonstrated that distance and geographical
barriers no longer offered sanctuary from airpower.
Consider the political climate of the late 1940s.
World War II was over, but the Cold War was just beginning.
The Soviet Union had blocked land access to Berlin
and Allied airplanes were struggling to keep the city
supplied by air through the Berlin Airlift. Meanwhile,
the Soviets were rebuilding their forces and tightening
their grip over most of Eastern Europe.
The war had demonstrated the effectiveness of strategic
bombing, but the US had scrapped much of its wartime
air armada and demobilized most of its troops. It still
had substantial numbers of the B-29s, the airplanes
that had pounded Japan into final submission, and it
was stepping up deliveries of an advanced Superfortress,
the B-50.
For the moment, at least, Washington still also held
a monopoly on nuclear weapons. However it still was
years away from developing an intercontinental ballistic
missile delivery system, and, although the long range
B-36 bomber was in development, much of the world remained
beyond the unrefueled range of any USbased aircraft
then in quantity production.
Needed, air leaders decided, were some dramatic demonstration
flights to convince the Soviets that the US still could
mount a credible attack with on-hand forces and that
the USSR was not invulnerable. Such demonstrations
also would help the Air Force at home. Less than two
years old, the new service still was struggling for
public recognition and still competing with the Navy
for a share of the strategic mission.
No one realized the importance of imagery better than
Air Force Gen. Curtis E. LeMay. He had taken over Strategic
Air Command in October 1948 and begun to reorganize
and rebuild it. Early on, he realized it was important
to showcase SAC's capabilities, both to discourage
Soviet aggression and to win the support of a war-weary
US public reluctant to spend heavily on peacetime forces.
Just months before LeMay had taken command, SAC had
sent three B-29s on a world flight, but it had not
been the unqualified success the Air Force had hoped
for. One of the bombers crashed. The other two, Gas
Gobbler under Lt. Col. R.W. Kline and Lucky Lady under
1st Lt. Arthur M. Neal, completed the trip in less
than 104 hours but a commercial airliner already had
done it faster.
LeMay's Demonstrations
In late 1949, LeMay launched a series of demonstration
nonstop flights from Texas to Hawaii and back. One
B-50 on the runs dropped a dummy bomb in the harbor
on Dec. 7, the anniversary of the Japanese attack on
Pearl Harbor. It was refueled in midair by a B-29 modified
into a tanker. If a B-50 could fly that far by refueling
en route, it followed that it could reach any point
on Earth the same way. To prove it, the Air Force began
planning a nonstop flight around the world.
Refueling during a four-day mission would be the main
challenge. State-of-the-art fuel transfer still had
not advanced far beyond that which had kept Question
Mark aloft for six days in 1929. Called a drogue system,
it involved one airplane's letting out a cable which
the other grabbed and brought on board. A hose attached
to the cable then was reeled in and connected at one
end to the tanker's system and at the other to the
receiver's tank. Gravity did the rest.
With radar still unreliable, this process was best
accomplished in daylight. This meant scheduling four
hookups, spaced about equally along the route so the
B-50 could reach each of them in the morning hours.
Accordingly, SAC dispatched the tankers to existing
US bases at Lajes Field in the Azores, Dhahran Field
in Saudi Arabia, Clark Field in the Philippines, and
Rogers Field in Hawaii.
Picked as the primary aircraft for the mission was
a B-50 dubbed Global Queen. Selected as a backup aircraft
was a second bomber bearing the tail #B-5046010. It
was called Lucky Lady II.
The Queen took off from Carswell on schedule and flew
eastward. It crossed most of the Atlantic before engine
troubles forced the pilot to abort the mission and
land in the Azores. Lucky Lady II, the understudy now
in a position to become the star, took off from Carswell
in a low overcast on the next morning, Feb. 26, 1949.
Except for modifications required for the trip, the
Lady was an off-the-shelf B-50, complete with armaments.
She carried a normal crew, manned two deep in most
positions. Gallagher was the aircraft commander and
Neal, who had commanded the original Lucky Lady on
her world flight, was second pilot. Capt. James H.
Morris was copilot.
The crew included two navigators, Capt. Glenn E. Hacker
and 1st Lt. Earl L. Rigor, and two radar operators,
1st Lt. Ronald B. Bonner and 1st Lt. William F. Caffrey.
Capt. David B. Parmalee, who had been on one of the
earlier flights to Hawaii, was project officer for
this flight and flew as chief flight engineer. Flight
engineers were TSgt. Virgil L. Young and SSgt. Robert
G. Davis. Radio operators were TSgt. Burgess C. Cantrell
and SSgt. Robert R. McLeroy. Gunners were TSgt. Melvin
G. Davis and SSgt. Donald G. Traugh Jr. All except
for Parmalee were with the 63d Bomb Squadron, 43d Bomb
Group.
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Lucky Lady II's crew, home from the first nonstop
around-the-world flight, recieve congratulations
from a host of USAF officials, including Secretary
of the Air Force Stuart Symington, shaking hands
with aircraft commander Capt. James Gallagher.
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Unblushing Promotion
While the flight was an unblushing attempt to promote
USAF and SAC, the Air Force took pains to keep it secret
while it was in progress. The ground crews who modified
the bombers and tankers were not told about the mission.
Nor did USAF inform the news media, which later protested
the service's unwarranted secrecy.
To preserve the illusion that the flight was nothing
out of the ordinary, the Air Force worked out an elaborate
system for filing dummy flight plans. The Lady was
to switch tail numbers with a tanker at each refueling
point to give the impression that it was going only
a short distance. The Air Force wanted to be able to
publicize a spectacular success, not have to explain
a costly failure.
The first refueling began over the Azores the morning
after takeoff. It took two hours, during which time
the bomber and the tanker remained linked and had to
maintain a tight formation. It was tiring work.
Later that day, the Lady flew past Gibraltar and across
the Sahara Desert. The next morning, it made its second
refueling over Saudi Arabia. This time, the transfer
was complicated by turbulence as the airplanes moved
through a line of thunderstorms. The operation went
off without incident, but, as the B-50's log noted,
the crew members were beginning to show signs of fatigue.
Heavy weather over the Philippines made the third
refueling difficult as well and the operation had other
problems. First, a chain on the hose reel broke and
had to be repaired. Then, a tanker returning to Clark
let down too soon and crashed, killing all aboard.
Here, too, the effort to disguise the nature of the
flight almost failed. One of the tankers out of Clark
had filed a flight plan for Honolulu, intending to
switch tail numbers so the Lady could fly that leg
undetected. When a sharp-eyed operations officer at
Clark realized the distance was beyond the range of
the B-29, however, he tried to recall the airplane.
He was talked out of it and the Air Force's cover story
remained intact.
Bad weather followed the crew to Hawaii and beyond.
The fourth refueling was complicated again by mechanical
problems, and crew fatigue aboard the Lady had increased.
Still, the B-50 continued to perform well and the end
of their ordeal was in sight.
The crew saw their fourth sunrise over El Paso, Texas,
and at 9:22 a.m. on March 2, the Lady circled Carswell
and landed. On hand to greet her were not only LeMay
but Air Force Secretary Stuart Symington, Chief of
Staff Gen. Hoyt S. Vandenberg, and a number of other
dignitaries. And, when it had become clear that the
mission was going to succeed, the media had been alerted,
so the welcoming group included reporters and photographers.
Each crew member was awarded the Distinguished Flying
Cross for the mission. Together, they later received
the MacKay Trophy, given annually for the most meritorious
flight of the year by an Air Force member, members,
or organization. The first MacKay had gone to 2d Lt.
Henry H. Arnold for a 30-mile flight in 1912, and later
winners had included Capt. Edward V. Rickenbacker,
Lt. Jimmy Doolittle, and LeMay himself. Appropriately,
the crews of the two Douglas airplanes that had circled
the Earth in 1924 also had received the MacKay.
Among other things, the B-50's flight showed that,
while aerial refueling was practical, something more
efficient than the drogue system was needed. It spurred
development of the flying boom and faster transfer
systems.
The Main Point
The more important result, however, was to demonstrate
that the Air Force's land-based bombers could reach
any spot on Earth. The significance of that fact was
not lost on the media. The Associated Press noted that
potential enemies "may reason that no single one
of their cities, should war come, would be safe."
The message was underscored less than eight years
later when three SAC B-52s retraced the route of Lucky
Lady II in less than half the time, making a simulated
bomb run en route.
It was not until 1986, however, that an ultralight
airplane named Voyager circled the Earth nonstop without
refueling. Flown by Richard G. Rutan and Jeana L. Yeager,
it was made of plastic and paper and carried more than
five times its own weight in fuel. That trip took nine
days and, by then, astronauts were circling the Earth
in 90 minutes and several had circumnavigated the moon.
Today, the flight of Lucky Lady II is ancient history.
Its commander retired from the Air Force as a colonel.
SAC itself disappeared in an Air Force reorganization.
The Lady herself was all but destroyed in an accident
not long after the world flight. Her fuselage was salvaged
and toured for a time as a recruiting exhibit before
going on display at an air museum in Chino, Calif.
Bruce D. Callander, a regular contributor to Air Force
Magazine, served tours of active duty during World War
II and the Korean War. In 1952, he joined Air Force Times,
serving as editor from 1972 to 1986. His most recent
story for Air Force Magazine, "How
Compensation Got Complicated," appeared in the
January 1999 issue.
Copyright Air Force Association. All rightsreserved.
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