USS Flier a Gato-class submarine, was the only ship of the United States Navy to be named for the flier, a round sunfish widely known in the United States.

Her keel was laid down 30 October 1942 by Electric Boat Company of Groton, Connecticut. She was launched on 11 July 1943 (sponsored by Mrs. A. S. Pierce), and commissioned on 18 October 1943 with Lieutenant Commander John D. Crowley in command.

Flier put in to Fremantle, Australia, to refit between 5 July and 2 August 1944, then sailed on her second war patrol, bound for the coast of Indochina via the Lombok Strait, Macassar Strait and Balabac Strait. At about 2200 on 12 August, as she transited Balabac Strait on the surface, she struck a naval mine. Traveling at 18 knots (33 km/h), she disintegrated and sank in less than a minute, but several of her crew managed to escape.

Treading water in the darkness, the survivors took muster by shouting out their names. Fourteen had survived, meaning that 72 officers and men had gone down with Flier.

Although they knew that they were only three miles from land, they could not orient themselves in the overcast night. Commander Crowley directed the survivors to tread water until they could determine direction.

Moonrise was five hours later. By the time it became light enough to see a small island, six more of the crew died and the sea had become choppy. Unable to keep the survivors together, Commander Crowley ordered Lieutenant Liddell, Ensign Jacobson, RTC Howell, FCR2 Tremaine, QM3 Russo, MoMM3 Baumgart, and MoMM3 Miller to each make their own way to the beach. At about 1600 on 13 August, eighteen hours after the explosion, seven survivors met on Mantangula Island; Miller was unaccounted for.

The theory that the Flier hit a mine remains the most compelling explanation for its loss. According to Jacobson, the Flier crew initially tended to dismiss this idea because they knew that other U.S. submarines had recently passed through the area. Also, the Flier’s sonar did not indicate the presence of any mines. However, the use of frequency modulation sonar to detect mines was still in the developmental stage in mid-1944. Based on work done at the University of California War Research Laboratory in San Diego, Charles Lockwood informed Christie in late July that during recent trials, submarines had been able to pick up dummy mines at 450 yards. But the equipment was not regularly installed in submarines until 1945.

Japanese records confirm the presence of mines in Balabac Strait. Soon after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Japanese submarines I-123 and I-124, two of Japan’s four Kirai Sen–type vessels used for mine laying, were deployed in the vicinity of the Philippines. Their task included placing forty mines in Balabac Strait on 8 December 1941; they would later drop mines off Darwin, Australia, as well. The Japanese mines, known as type 88, carried 400 pounds of explosive and could arm in depths of more than 1,000 feet.

The I-124 was sunk off Darwin on 20 January 1942 in a combined attack by the Australian minesweeper Deloraine and the U.S. destroyer Edsall. Given that the submarine sank in only forty feet of water, American divers were able to recover Japanese codebooks from the wreck—a significant breakthrough for Allied cryptanalysts. Seven months later, on 29 August, the I-123 was spotted by an Allied aircraft in the vicinity of Guadalcanal and attacked by the destroyer-minelayer USS Gamble. Following a depth charge attack, the submarine sank with all hands.14 But the I-123 and I-124 had already planted the seeds of their revenge.

Whether the Flier was brought down by a mine laid early in the war or one placed later is unclear. According to Eugene McGee, it is more likely that the Flier struck one of the 600 deep-sea contact mines laid in March 1944. The Japanese minelayer Tsugaru, attached to the Third Southern Expeditionary Force, departed Palau on 24 March to carry out operations in the Balabac Strait area. It was laying type 93, model 1 mines, which could be placed in water up to 3,500 feet deep and could be set to explode at depths up to 230 feet. Each mine was housed in a floating case and anchored below the surface by a cable attached to the seabed. This type of mine presented a menace that the U.S. Navy was apparently unaware of at the time. The navy believed that moored mines were ineffective in water more than 600 feet deep. Coincidentally, the Tsugaru also found a watery grave. The same USS Darter that later grounded on Bombay Shoal torpedoed the Tsugaru on 29 June 1944 in the Molucca Sea, about 720 miles from Balabac Strait.

As a weapon of war, one of the advantages of mines was their relatively low cost; they were sometimes referred to as the “poor man’s navy.” Their effectiveness, however, was questionable. It is estimated that the Japanese deployed more than 50,000 mines in the western Pacific, but some of their best “hits” were their own ships. According to one claim, submarines of the U.S. Seventh Fleet deployed about 600 mines that sank or damaged more than fifty ships. According to W. J. Holmes, however, fewer than thirty of those ships were Japanese. In any case, mines offered other tactical advantages. They deterred enemy ships from entering certain waters, delayed shipping by compelling vessels to use alternative routes, and caused the diversion of ships and manpower for minesweeping operations. In fact, the Imperial Japanese Navy employed some 350 craft and 25,000 men for minesweeping in 1945. The mining of coastal waters could also force ships into deeper water, where they were more vulnerable to attack by submarines.

The question of how many U.S. submarines became the victims of Japanese mines is also open to much conjecture. Active measures known as deperming and degaussing were taken to make submarines less susceptible to magnetic mines and torpedoes. Deperming reduced the magnetism that ships acquired during construction; it was first employed in November 1940 on the submarine Sailfish. In addition, submarines regularly went through the process of degaussing to neutralize their magnetic signature.19 These measures may have been effective, but there were other types of mines that did not require a magnetic field to detonate.

Beginning in 1944 the Japanese increasingly relied on mines as an antisubmarine measure. It was not uncommon for American submarines on patrol to come across mines floating on the surface, torn from their moorings by storms. Although the Geneva conventions stipulated that unmoored mines were supposed to automatically disarm themselves, experience proved that this often was not the case. Submarine crews usually tried to explode these floating mines by shooting at them with the deck guns or small arms. During two patrols of the USS Atule, for example, the crew spotted fifty-two mines and managed to destroy forty-four. This could be dangerous work. The crew of the USS Dace was unable to detonate most of the mines they encountered, but when they did succeed in exploding one using the 20 mm gun, the shrapnel reached the deck. Floating mines remained a hazard well after the war and were blamed for damaging or sinking hundreds of ships. In fact, initial speculation was that the Russian submarine Kursk had hit a World War II mine, causing it to sink in August 2000.

In addition to the Flier, it is commonly believed that as many as ten other American submarines were sunk by mines during World War II: USS Runner, USS Pompano, USS Capelin, USS Scorpion, USS Robalo, USS Escolar, USS Albacore, USS Swordfish, USS Kete, and USS Bonefish.21 Of these, the evidence for the sinking of the Albacore is most conclusive. A Japanese patrol boat witnessed the submarine’s death throes on 7 November 1944 after the Albacore struck a mine while running submerged near Esan Misaki, off the south coast of Hokkaido. Such eyewitness accounts were a rarity, however. The presumed loss of the Scorpion to a mine in February 1944 was based mainly on captured Japanese records documenting the presence of extensive minefields where the submarine went missing. Interestingly, the Scorpion’s postwar nuclear namesake would also disappear under mysterious circumstances in 1968.

Along with the dearth of survivors and other witnesses, one of the things that makes the cause of a submarine’s loss so difficult to pin down is the sheer number of things that might go wrong. Even without the threat of enemy action, the potential for human error and equipment failure was enormous. For instance, on 11 September 1944 the USS Crevalle was nearly lost when it surfaced at high speed with its main vents open. This was a fairly common practice that allowed the submarine to dive again quickly if enemy aircraft were spotted. In this case, though, the Crevalle’s stern planes were jammed in the dive position. Seawater swamped through the upper hatch, and the submarine headed toward the bottom. Only the self-sacrifice of the officer on the bridge, Lieutenant Howard James Blind, who managed to close the conning tower hatch, prevented that dive from being the Crevalle’s last.

Later that same month, the USS Narwhal found itself in a similar predicament. While evading an enemy plane, the Narwhal hurtled into a runaway dive when the stern planes seized up. The submarine’s downward momentum was finally stopped at 300 feet after blowing all the main ballast and backing the engines at emergency speed. Such out-of-control dives—so-called Nantucket sleigh rides—occurred with alarming regularity. Many submariners had similar near-death experiences.

Of the presumed victims of enemy mines, the fate of the USS Robalo is especially pertinent to the loss of the Flier. Although the details were unknown at the time, the Robalo was lost two miles off the west coast of Palawan Island near Balabac Strait on 26 July 1944, only a few weeks before the sinking of the Flier. Earlier, while on its second war patrol, the Robalo had already suffered an experience similar to that of the Crevalle and the Narwhal. In that incident, a Japanese plane dropped a bomb off the Robalo’s port side as it dived for cover. The submarine’s main induction began flooding, and the Robalo plunged out of control to 350 feet before regaining equilibrium.

The Robalo departed Fremantle for its third war patrol on 22 June 1944. While traveling from Pearl Harbor to Fremantle, the Flier apparently crossed paths with the Robalo on 30 June. At about 3:00 a.m. the Flier’s radar picked up a craft at 7,500 yards, and the crew went to battle stations. On closer inspection the radar operator became convinced that the vessel was an American submarine, and later information led to the conclusion that it had been the USS Robalo.

The last message from the Robalo was received on 2 July, when it reported sighting a Japanese battleship with escorts. Eventually it would be learned that the Robalo sank on 26 July, with the loss of seventy-four men. Four of the crew managed to swim two miles to the west coast of Palawan Island. They made their way through the jungle only to be captured by Japanese military police and taken to the infamous Puerto Princesa prison camp. On 2 August the Robalo survivors threw a note from their cell to a prison work detail. The note, which included their names and the Robalo’s designation number (SS-273), eventually ended up in the hands of guerrillas. On 15 August the four men from the Robalo were put on a Japanese patrol boat or destroyer, after which their fate is uncertain.The Robalo crewmen believed that their submarine had gone down as a result of a battery explosion. Most commentators, however, believe that it is more likely that the Robalo struck a mine. The fates of both the Robalo and the Flier support this theory.

Contrary to most other submarine disasters, there was only one officer among the Robalo’s survivors, Ensign Samuel L. Tucker. The skipper, Manning M. Kimmel, had been given command of the Robalo on 29 March 1944. He was the eldest son of Admiral Husband E. Kimmel, who, as commander in chief of the Pacific Fleet in 1941, had received much of the blame for the devastation at Pearl Harbor. At President Franklin Roosevelt’s direction, Admiral Kimmel had been relieved of all naval duties on 17 December 1941 and replaced by Admiral Chester Nimitz. Some, including Ralph Christie, thought that his father’s notoriety prompted Manning Kimmel to be overly aggressive in his submarine patrols. After confirmation of the Robalo’s loss, Christie wrote to Vice Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid and noted in a postscript: “We had the impression that Manning was a little extra aggressive because of his Dad’s P.H. experience. In fact, I warned him not to ‘press.’” In the end, though, it was probably not Kimmel’s aggression or recklessness that sank the Robalo but simply bad luck.

The USS Flier: Death and Survival on a World War II Submarine by Michael Sturma

This vehicle was the largest AFV of American design in WWII. It was almost 15’ wide, 36’ long and weighed 190,000 lb. (95 tons). Because of its huge size and weight, it was equipped with 4 sets of tracks, two on each side of 19-1/2” width each. This most unusual arrangement was needed to lower the ground pressure to 11.7 lbs./sq.in. Each track assembly was made up of two complete horizontal volute suspension systems (HVSS). In order to reduce width and weight, the outermost tracks could be removed when the tank was being transported. To assist in this Herculean task, the tank carried two hydraulically assisted winches mounted at the rear of the tank. Each track assembly weighed almost 25 tons, and two could be linked together side by side to form a unit which could be towed behind a prime mover or the tank itself! It took a crew almost 3hrs. to make this change. The running gear included a total of 64 20-1/2” wheels with rubber backed steel tracks 19-1/2” wide and rear drive with support rollers and front idler.

The most important modification Flettner made to the design of the new aircraft was to re-locate the engine behind the pilot's seat, which gave him and the observer a much-enlarged field of view. The drive was taken off the front of the crankshaft through a reduction gearbox and transmitted up and back through a universally jointed drive shaft and a cross-shaft connecting the two rotor shafts, which were set at an inclusive angle of 24 degrees, and inclined forward by 6 degrees. The rotor blades were mounted so that they were parallel when they were at 45 degrees to the aircraft's centreline. The fin and rudder were much larger than in previous Flettner designs, steering being accomplished by a combination of rudder movement and differential collective pitch control.

The 'Kolibri' proved to be very satisfactory indeed, despite a pronounced vibration period as the engine was run-up, with a maximum speed in level flight of 150km/h (93mph), a vertical rate of climb of 91.5m/min (300ft/min), a hover ceiling of 300m (985ft), and a service ceiling of 3290m (10,800ft). Its range, with just the pilot and maximum fuel aboard, was 300km (185 miles). Some 50 pilots were trained to fly it, most of them by Flettner's test pilot, Hans Fuisting. It was extremely manoeuvrable and very stable and at forward speeds in excess of 60km/h (37mph) could be flown hands-off once the controls were balanced.

SEA TRIALS

From 1942, trials at sea aboard the cruiser Köln demonstrated that the aircraft was usable even in very poor weather conditions, and by the following year, 20 were in service with the Kriegsmarine in the Mediterranean and the Aegean. In 1944, an order for 1000 Fl 282s was placed with BMW, which began tooling up for production at its Munich and Eisenach plants, but before manufacture could begin, both they and the Flettner works at Johannisthal were very badly damaged by Allied bombing. Anton Flettner went on to design a 20-seat passenger helicopter, the Fl 339, but never got beyond the development stag

ANTON FLETTNER (*1885 -+1965): In 1905, Anton Flettner started his engineering career

designing control systems for use in Germany’s Zeppelins. Both during and after the

First World War, Flettner continued working on many innovative and successful projects.

In 1922, Flettner built a helicopter which however did not fly (in a tethered flight) until

1933. Flettner was one of the first helicopter designers to use intermeshing rotors. His

designs were superior to the Focke-Achgelis Fa 61 design and they also gave some of the

early efforts of Sikorsky’s a run for his money. Flettner emigrated to the U.S. in 1947,

worked for a while for the U.S. Navy and then started his own company, Flettner Aircraft

Corporation.

Flettner Fl 184: A gyroplane. The only single-rotor helicopter built by Flettner; all others had twin, intermeshing rotors. Single prototype destroyed in a fire; though the Kriegsmarine did have a strong interest in the capabilities of the aircraft.

Flettner Fl 185: Continuation effort of the Fl 184. Built more for design and testing purposes than anything else.

Flettner Fl 201: An enlarged Fl 185. Provisions for carrying 35 +/- passengers. Design only, none built.

Flettner Fl 265: Built for the German Kriegsmarine in 1938, but the program was stopped because the KM found the Fl 282 to be more optimally suited for its needs. Only six were built. In an interesting twist, the Fl 265 was “combat tested” against a Fw 190 and Me 109 in mock battles - both fighters were not able to score a kill against the agile Fl 265 (this was recorded on film).

Bordfliegerstaffel 196 (known codes: T3+**, 6W+** (until July of 1943), 6I+**):

Gruppenstab (established 12.1937)

1/196

2/196

3/196

5/196

Flettner Fl 285: A theoretical design intended to fill the needs of the German Kriegsmarine. None were built.

Flettner Fl 339: The Fl 339 was intended to serve the needs of the Wehrmacht as a communications, liaison and aerial observation platform. Two/four seaters were planned. None were built as the project was canceled.

When the F-16 was born in the early 1970s, much against the will of most U.S. Air Force planners who did not want an inexpensive, "incapable" aircraft, it was envisioned as a small, lightweight, supreme dogfighter. The Fighting Falcon has more than lived up to that design parameter in spite of being given extensive air-to-ground bombing and attack mission capability as well. The official name has never been popular with pilots, who prefer to call it the Viper, Electric Jet (the latter for its computer driven fly-by-wire control systems) or just plain Jet, but that has not stopped them from making the small fighter one of the most lethal in the world.

Climbing aboard the F-16 is like settling into the world's finest sports car...a greater than 1-to-1 thrust-to-weight ratio, incredible visibility out of the bubble canopy, a very comfortable seat reclined 30 degrees and side stick controls at left (throttle) and right (flight) with buttons on both for systems and weapons activation. With a turn rate of 19 degrees per second, an excellent Head Up Display (HUD), proven 20mm gun and Sidewinder heat seeking missiles, the Jet is deadly, particularly since its small size means it is very hard to see in air combat.

Once the aircraft is started, the canopy sill comes down to below shoulder level, leaving one sitting high inside the polycarbonate bubble. My first impression was that of sitting on top of the aircraft, suspended in space. I found the reclining seat left my head at just the right angle for comfort and pulling high G (1G is the force of gravity). After pretake-off checks and lining up on the runway, power is brought up to 80%...any more and the tires will slide. Brake release and into full afterburner...WHAM! The Jet leaps down the runway as if scalded and I am pressed back hard into the seat, but with far less discomfort than most modern fighters due to the couch. At 130 knots a little back pressure on the stick brings the Viper into a nose high attitude and at 145 it lifts off after 2,200 feet of runway.

The stick is connected to a digital complex of four computers which send electrical impulses to the flight controls...there are no cables or tubes. Though the stick grip looks normal, it moves only one tenth of an inch in any direction so gentle inputs only are necessary. A foldable wristrest enables the pilot to rest his hand on the stick and touch it with thumb and forefinger only when needed. At first this lack of motion is intimidating but after a few minutes it becomes so natural and relaxing, with all buttons handy due to HOTAS (Hands On Throttle And Stick) design, one wonders why we haven't done this before. Resting with my arm in a comfortable position is far better than reaching to the center of the cockpit for a conventional "pole." The lasting impression after some time at the controls is supreme precision with no friction or lag, freeing the pilot to fly the mission rather than manage the aircraft.

The radar and weapons systems are very versatile, enabling the pilot to track and fire at multiple targets without putting his head inside the cockpit (this is not always true for bombing or firing air-to-ground missiles like the Maverick). In one of my first mock dogfights I pulled the 9 Gs the Viper is capable of but it really took some getting used to. The machine can truly outperform the human, leading to some serious G-LOC (G induced Loss Of Consciousness) problems where the pilot blacks out. The F-16 community has pioneered this high-performance end of the envelope.

In a dogfight the F-16 is fantastic, able to turn and maneuver against anything in the sky, with the possible exception of the Harrier which can use nozzles to turn instantly. The computer immediately responds to commands but it will not allow a pilot to push the airframe into a stalled or out of control situation. With the exception of G-LOC, I was able to keep my adversary in sight at all times due to the clear bubble and the ability to swivel my head on the reclined couch.

Coming back into the landing pattern, the control system's sensitivity is reduced by 50% when the landing gear is lowered (or when the inflight refueling receptacle is opened). This immediately makes the Jet very easy to handle and landing is easier to perform than in a Cessna. Speed bleeds off nicely and a soft touchdown is made at 142 knots. In spite of the pressure in military circles to downplay the dogfight (something that has been done after every war since World War I), the F-16 Jet jockeys keep air combat maneuvering (ACM) in the forefront of their capability and no doubt they will have to use it in our world's ever changing military threat environment.

The Harrier vertical take-off and landing fixed wing warplane has earned its place in history as the only successful operational "jump jet," as the press likes to call it. Using vectored engine thrust through four rotatable nozzles, the Harrier was born in England from a prototype, the Kestrel, which first flew in October 1960. Before the decade was out the Royal Air Force was flying them operationally, then the U.S. Marine Corps bought them in 1970 as the AV-8A, replaced by the AV-8B which serves the Marines today as one of its primary ground attack aircraft.

Harriers can be based on ships, on small pads at an invasion beach, off roads or just about anywhere artificial planking can be laid down. Both the Royal Navy and the RAF proved the Harrier to be an effective combat aircraft during the 1982 Falklands War. This effectiveness was a hard earned feat since several pilots were killed in the early days trying to master the small, touchy fighter.

Flying the Harrier requires an absolute mastery of vertical flight basics and helicopter experience is usually mandatory, even if a new pilot has to be given several hours in a chopper before flying the jet. The coordination required to transition from vertical to level flight, especially when accelerating away from a hover, is critical. If the aircraft gets turned "out of wind," that is, if it is not pointing into the wind, it begins to roll over and fall out from under you. A little ten cent weathervane in front of the windshield turns out to be the most valuable instrument on board, indicating wind direction in relation to the aircraft. Keep it pointing forward and everything is fine.

Take-off and landing comes in eight possible combinations...the pilot never gets bored. Take-off: conventional, short (STO), rolling vertical (RVTO), vertical (VTO). Landing: conventional, slow, rolling vertical (RVL), vertical (VL).

Since I was looking forward to the jet's vertical capabilities, my first conventional take-off in the AV-8A took me by surprise. With a combat weight of 20,000 pounds and 21,000 pounds of thrust, the Harrier has the same acceleration as the F-16 or F-15...a greater than 1-to-1 thrust-to-weight ratio. As I quickly moved the throttle forward my head was slammed back into the headrest and in seconds the Harrier was airborne, then climbing virtually straight up. The controls are immediately sensitive to the touch, so much so the jet is best flown with fingertip pressures on the stick. Important information such as speed, altitude, angle of attack, heading and thrust vector all read out on the HUD (Head Up Display) glass in front so you don't have to spend much time with eyes inside the cockpit.

My first landing was conventional, though this is actually the more dangerous way to land since four sets of landing gear have to touch down at the same time while traveling very fast. If not done right the aircraft can bounce out of control. The more stable slow landing is flown at 120 to 140 knots with 60 degrees of nozzle deflection.

The short take-off can be made two ways: accelerate to 65 knots and deflect the nozzles to 65 degrees, which makes the machine jump off the ground in a scant 300 feet...one second it's normal linear acceleration, then the thing is clawing vertically into the sky like an elevator. A quick shove on the nozzle lever to full forward and the Harrier jolts ahead immediately to accelerate away. The less intimidating procedure is to accelerate to 110 knots then pull the nozzles to 50 degrees for a longer take-off run.

Bringing the jet around for the first vertical landing can be an unnatural act for a fixed wing jet pilot since you have to ignore the fear of losing airspeed. Power is reduced to 90% and nozzles set at 90 degrees as the nose ever so gently comes up while airspeed falls below 100 knots. Before you know it the Harrier is hovering on a column of jet exhaust just above the pad. The puffer reaction controls on the end of each wing and at nose and tail operate off bleed air from the engine with thrust activated and increased as the nozzles are deflected down. Movements of stick and rudder bring quick response, much like a helicopter but with no vibration and the moment arm being below the fuselage instead of under a rotor head.

With the jet stabilized at an 8-degree angle of attack, the power is brought back slightly until a descent of about five feet per second lowers us to the pad. Here, more than ever, I had to be very light on the controls but immediate with any input. Entering ground effect is unsettling as the exhaust hits the wings and tail plane...the entire machine trembles and shakes and control inputs have to increase to the point it feels as if you are moving the stick all over the cockpit to stay level. The power then has to be increased to avoid being sucked down into the ground. With a last great rumble the jet bounces onto the ground...immediate idle on the power and nozzles full aft to avoid ingestion of any foreign objects into the engine. If there is a great deal of debris on the landing surface the best technique is a rolling vertical landing with nozzles at 70 degrees and a forward speed of 50 knots.

There is really nothing to prepare one for a vertical take-off...nozzles to the hover stop, then slam the throttle forward. The Harrier instantly rockets off the earth straight up. At 50 feet bring the power back to 95% and the aircraft is hovering again. Throttle up to 100%, nozzles gradually to full aft and you accelerate away from a midair start to over 200 knots in a few seconds at that same fabulous rate. Flying the Harrier is a unique experience in military aviation, and certainly one of the most breathtaking.

Walking up to the B-17 is a humbling experience. Though small by today's standards, it still exudes a sense of power and size, not to mention history as America's most famous military aircraft. There are two distinct ways to get into a Fort...go through the right rear door and walk up the fuselage like any normal human, or walk boldly to the left nose hatch and pull yourself up and in with Gregory Peck Twelve O’clock High flair. The older I get, the less of an option the latter becomes.

The B-17's cockpit is very roomy and clearly laid out with a single set of flying instruments and propeller feather buttons in the center of the panel for use by both pilots. Fuel and engine gauges are on the co-pilot's side (right) while electrical and auxiliary gauges are on the pilot's side (left). As the pilots settle into their seats, the engineer or co-pilot begins an extensive check list which eventually results in getting the engines started.

The central control pedestal is dominated by the unique Boeing throttles which sprout up like iron grates, dominating everything else. Propeller pitch levers sit just below the throttles while the turbo boost control knob and engine mixtures are on the left and right front of the pedestal respectively. Starting the Wright R-1820 radial engines is usually effortless...you just have to do everything four times with both pilots working in harmony. Clouds of oil smoke belch from the turbos on the bottom of each nacelle until everything is running smoothly.

For its size, the Fort is delightful to taxi with good brakes and plenty of outboard engine authority...the tail wheel does not steer so it must be unlocked for turns on the ground. Once at the end of the runway the engines are run up and tested, the pretake-off checklist is read through and the beast lined up on the runway as the tail wheel is locked.

With right palm up to grab all four throttles at the center, I slowly work them up toward full power. The synchronized fury and roar of four 1,200 hp engines beats its way through the thin skin of the cockpit and hammers wonderfully at all of us inside. The co-pilot checks the gauges and taps my hand, the signal that he will make the fine adjustments up to full power and leave me free to concentrate on take-off. The bomber tracks very true with that massive fin and rudder with very little need to "jockey" the throttles. Holding a three point (nose high) attitude allows the Boeing to fly off very smoothly when it's ready, without much help from me. I give the co-pilot a thumbs up...he flicks the landing gear switch up...the massive wheels slowly retract into the nacelles, then stop short of disappearing to give that classic B-17 signature of exposed rubber.

After power is reduced to climb settings I glance out the left window and enter a left bank to leave the airfield...the sight of those churning propellers and massive wing lowering to reveal the ground is never old hat. The Fort is so stable that once the controls are set it tends to stay there, a good trait for a bombing platform. By the same token, it doesn't like to change attitude so it takes some muscle to maneuver around...sometimes over 100 pounds of control pressure. No wonder youngsters were the ideal pilots for those long range, tight formation missions.

Believe it or not, this monster is as easy to land as a Piper Cub. Once on final approach the trick is not to let the speed drop below 120 mph until the field is made since, if one or more engines fail, the aircraft becomes uncontrollable. On short final speed is bled down to 100 mph over the runway threshold and the wheel brought back for a three point landing. Usually, if I've managed to judge my height properly, the tires kiss the ground and the '17 tracks straight. Once down to almost walking speed, I call for the co-pilot to unlock the tail wheel and taxi in to the tune of squealing brakes for shutdown. When everything goes quiet I find I am always reluctant to leave, even if I'm tired. The Queen of the Skies really does gain a hold over her willing subjects. Honest, with a legendary ability to survive severe battle damage and bring her crews home, she has rightfully earned her place in history.

The symbol of Britain's refusal to give up during that dark summer of 1940, the Spitfire won the hearts of both pilots and public in World War II. Regardless of the version, with either Rolls-Royce Merlin or Griffon power, all Spitfire cockpits are virtually identical and wonderfully compact. Climbing in really is (to use a very worn turn of phrase) like pulling the machine on. If everything is done correctly, the Spitfire is one of the easiest aircraft to start. The engine usually fires within two blades and runs like a clock.

While the Merlin-engine versions run very smoothly, the larger Griffon-engine machines feel as if they are angry. The sound from the exhaust stacks and the vibration transferred to the seat of the pants communicates visceral power, almost a desire to go kill something. Any hot-rod lover would enjoy this sensation of unbridled horsepower, this impatience to be turned loose and hunt. Every fighter I've been in is great fun to fly but only a very few are brutally straight about why they exist. The Griffon Spitfire is one such machine.

With enough warmth in the coolant and oil, a flip of the parking brake catch releases the brake lever on the spade control grip and the aircraft is taxiing with minimal power. The first time I had the opportunity to fly a British aircraft with this hand operated air brake system I was skeptical about it being very effective compared to hydraulic toe brakes. Within a very few minutes I was completely won over. It is far easier to manage, particularly on run up when one has to really stand on most American fighter rudder pedals. The source of high-pressure air is controlled by the brake lever on the spade control grip, or stick. The rudder pedals modulate the distribution of pressure to the left and right main wheel brakes. If the pedals are even, equal braking is applied to both sides; as one rudder pedal is applied then more brake pressure is fed to that side. Strength of application is delivered by the hand lever on the grip. The major benefit to all this is having one's feet and legs almost completely relaxed most of the time.

Lining up for take-off is intimidating with that Rolls-Royce engine sticking way out in front. There is no sense in thinking too much about it. Throttle up slowly to prevent a lurch to the right (if in a Griffon Spit where the propeller turns the opposite direction from American aircraft)...left foot moves forward almost in concert with the left hand to keep the nose straight. Monster torque shoves the right wing down rapidly, very much like the P-40, until full left aileron and full (give or take a minuscule amount) left rudder is held. The Rolls is a wounded dragon bellowing horrendously.

There is so much raw power and noise, and you are so tightly focused on keeping everything under control, the actual lift-off at around 90 kts goes by almost unnoticed. Switch hands, move the gear lever down to disengage it from the slot, inwards through the gate and then smartly all the way forward, hold momentarily, then let go. If all is well, the lever snaps outwards through the upper gate, then springs back into the upper slot. Its easy to spot a new Spitfire pilot...the aircraft porpoises as the pilot changes hands and works the gear lever.

Sitting behind this demon V-12 churning out so much power is intoxicating...the earth falls away at a rapid rate, at least for something with a propeller. A look around reveals the excellent visibility out of the bubble canopy. This lessens, to a degree, the impression of being buried within a Spitfire, though that feeling of being a part of the machine does not change. The elevator is very light while the rudder is stiff and the ailerons even more so. Every Spitfire I've flown takes a bit more muscle to roll than most fighters. As speed increases both rudder and ailerons get heavier, resulting in a curious mismatch at high speed...one has to handle the almost oversensitive elevators with a light fingertip touch while arm-wrestling the stiff ailerons. Pilots had to keep this in mind during combat, particularly when going against the Fw 190 which had a sterling rate of roll and exceptionally well harmonized controls. That being said, the aircraft is very well balanced and delightful to maneuver. Whipping a Spit around the clouds ranks right up there at the top of aviation's great experiences.

The aircraft stalls like a Piper Cub. Though a wing tends to drop, there isn't the slightest mean streak in it unless you cob the power, which produces a very violent torque roll. Power off, gear and flaps down, main fuel tanks full, it stalls at 65 kts, which is ridiculously slow. Add a slight bit of power and that drops to 60 kts. With that enormous snout, I try to make a curving approach to landing at about 100 kts in order to keep the runway in sight as long as possible. By the time I'm rolling out across the field boundary, if at max landing weight, I should be no faster than 85 kts with power and 95 kts in a glide. At lighter weights these speeds can be reduced by 5 kts.

All Spitfires are exceptionally easy to land with no inherent tendency to swerve or groundloop. Just reduce power to idle, flare to a three point attitude and she sets down on a feather almost every time. This is a great surprise to most considering the narrow track undercarriage and full swivel, non-locking tailwheel. Why doesn't it drop a wing violently or make the pilot stomp on the rudders? I wish I knew. The genius of managing to combine light aircraft characteristics with such high performance is nothing short of miraculous compared to most other wartime tailwheel types. One or two landings in the Spitfire and you are in love for life.

America's most famous fighter, the P-51's beauty of line generates a magic and visceral reaction which has lasted well beyond World War II to the present day. To actually climb aboard and settle in behind that wizard Merlin engine is one of aviation's most coveted experiences.

Alone in the cockpit of a Mustang, I always feel secure. For the 1940s, the cockpit is a marvel of human engineering with everything easily accessible and logically arranged for a left to right sweep around the inside. Pilots could easily master it without a checklist, a real plus in the heat of combat. There are no emergency systems in the '51, other than the canopy quick release handle, so pilot workload is low.

I have never avoided the rush of adrenaline and racing heart as my hands move across the switches to bring the powerful 1650 cubic inch Packard-built Rolls-Royce Merlin to life. When the massive propeller begins to turn, the airframe wiggles slightly from the force of the starter, then the exhaust stacks bark and the V-12 settles down to a loud purr. The smell of burnt oil comes rushing into the cockpit and the hydraulics start to close the large landing gear fairing doors and raise the flaps. Slowly, she comes to life under my hands and I sit there, allowing coolant and oil to warm up. There is no reining her in or forcing her down the taxiway until she's ready.

Each time I fly the Mustang I am acutely aware of my human fragility and the necessity to pay the utmost attention to what is going on. The '51 is delightful and straightforward to fly, but she is a very powerful steed and can easily get away from any pilot. As the throttle moves up to full power, the Merlin screams and my right foot moves down on the rudder pedal to hold the torque and keep it straight...my first impression was that of being dragged down the runway on my back by the heels. The visceral experience is frightening, joyful, fearful and wonderful all at once. Not until the gear is tucked way and the power brought back to climb settings do I recover.

Pointing the nose up into the clouds, I am awed by the amount of power I control. Rarely do I fail to smile, though no one is there to see my expression...it must look idiotic but I can't help it. At 24,000 feet, power back to cruise, alone among the clouds and breathing a self-contained atmosphere, I sense that--as John Gillespie Magee wrote--I have "put out my hand, and touched the face of God." Flying this magnificent, once deadly machine becomes a spiritual experience that remains so personal, so unique, it is difficult to communicate once back down on the ground.

The fighter is so well balanced, with just the right compromise between maneuverability and stability, any pilot can look smooth and capable in only a few hours. The only real drawbacks are ever increasing control pressures as speed increases, particularly over 300 mph, and immense fluctuations in yaw with power or speed changes, requiring a fair amount of fiddling with the trim wheels. It is also incredibly hot (120oF or more under that bubble at low level) and loud (130+ dB) inside...or freezing cold at altitude. Heat, air conditioning and noise proofing were future concerns in World War II. This can make flying the aircraft for any length of time extremely fatiguing. I know why 20-year-old pilots were recruited to fly these fire breathers.

With some experience, the Mustang is quite easy to land three points (all three wheels on at once) and its marvelous tailwheel steering makes it simple to keep straight, though one can tell it would love to ground loop without the slightest provocation, as with all "tail draggers." Once the mixture is pulled to idle cut-off and that great propeller comes to a stop, the experience lingers. Minutes in a Mustang are worth hours in most aircraft.

When Anthony Fokker asked his chief designer, Reinhold Platz, to come up with something better than the British Sopwith Triplane, he wanted "only the absolute essentials of a fighting ship," sacrificing speed for climb and maneuverability. As a result, of all the fighters in World War I, the Fokker Dr.I Triplane, unveiled in late 1917, was the most controversial. In the right hands it sparkled during a dogfight, but it had poor top speed and miserable handling characteristics. Unstable in all axes, it required constant control input and skill to avoid hideous consequences. Though terrifying to an inexperienced pilot, this very trait made it sing in the hands of the Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen, who fashioned the airplane's legend and kept flying it even after newer aircraft had surpassed the Tripe's performance.

The Dr.I is very small, befitting a pure dogfighter. My first flight in the "Tripe" was a mixture of raw fear and overpowering exhilaration. No sooner was the throttle forward than the tail popped up and the aircraft leapt off the ground. Visibility was excellent, in spite of three wings, which may produce abominable drag, but wow, do they lift! The climb rate was astonishing in spite of an almost flat, nose-level attitude.

After I leveled off, the nose, which blocked all forward vision on the ground, was unnoticeable. Perched high in my seat, I could easily scan the sky for aircraft. The two Spandau machine guns sat directly in front of me, easy to aim and accessible when jammed. With more speed, I discovered the rudder had almost no feel to it. When I pushed the rudder bar, I got none of the expected feedback pressure in my feet. The wind on the sides of my face would have to do for input.

My first turn was an education. The wings generate so much lift that just a touch of aileron produces an immediate change in heading. Not only was normal coordinated use of the rudder in the turn unnecessary, but I actually had to hold some opposite rudder to keep the airplane from rolling over on its back. The ailerons were extremely stiff, giving a very poor roll rate, but that was not much of a liability because rudder and lift made up for it.

Working up some courage, I racked the Fokker over onto its side, pulled back on the stick and whipped around immediately, feeding in large doses of "top" rudder to keep the nose up. All Great War pilots agreed nothing could out-turn the Dr.I. My blurred eyes and sagging goggles confirmed the assessment. In a loop the fighter goes around so fast it seems to be trying to bite its own tail and it can be done so tight one might end up back in front of his opponent. One of the more effective maneuvers in combat was a wings-level flat turn using rudder alone. Allied fighters fell out of the air trying to follow it.

The Triplane is also the most terrifying World War I type to land since rudder effectiveness disappears the second the tail drops...that's why ax handle skids were bolted under the bottom wings, saving many a pilot from an otherwise disastrous ground loop. Complete loss of control on landing was not unusual...heaven help anyone who bounced on touchdown since all controls are ineffective at low speed and the fighter will surely roll itself up into a ball. In a sideslip close to the ground, you can actually stall the rudder out and end up descending into the ground out of control at full power. The Fokker Triplane was not an inexperienced pilot's machine.

The SS-Verfügungstruppe, combat support force, or SS-VT was created in 1934 from the merger of various Nazi and right-wing paramilitary formations. Two regiments were formed, in northern Germany the SS-Standarte "Germania", and in southern Germany SS-Standarte "Deutschland".

In Berlin-Brandenburg they were incorporated into the SS-Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler. SS-Verfügungstruppe was considered an armed wing of the General-SS and as a part of the Nazi party, not of the Wehrmacht.

In 1940, after the invasion of France, V-Division was given the name "Reich", at the same time, "Reich" and other SS-VT units, were subordinated to the new Kommandoamt der Waffen-SS and from then on called the Waffen-SS.

It was not until after the start of the Russian campaign, "Operation Barbarossa", that the Division got its final name, "Das Reich".

"Das Reich" SS Panzer Grenadier Division at Kursk

Of the three SS divisions in the battle, Das Reich was sort of in the middle between the other two when it came to the transition process to a full panzer division.

Das Reich 2^nd SS Panzer Regiment: Like with LAH, Das Reich's 1^st Battalion was back in Germany undergoing training in the new Panther tanks. When it left in the late spring of 1943, it left all of its tanks with the regiment, thus allowing the 2^nd Battalion to be at full strength. The 2^nd Battalion was organized into four companies, each with four platoons. However, there were too many tanks for the 2^nd Battalion to contain in its organization so an unusual procedure was implemented to alleviate this overage of tanks. The Das Reich SS Motorized Anti-Tank Battalion was stripped of all of its Marders and the command personnel and the organization were used to create a temporary panzer battalion for the leftover tanks. The 2^nd Battalion had about 18 Pz IVF/2, 24 Pz IIIJ, and 5 command tanks operational at the time of the battle. The Heavy Tank Company started the day with one operational Tiger tank but during the morning a second Tiger tank returned from the field repair shops so there were two of them when battle was joined. Of these one was knocked out in the day's combat (it was hit 83 times!).

Das Reich 2^nd SS Panzer Jager Battalion: This was the proper name of the division's motorized anti-tank battalion. The Marder II companies that were part of the battalion were parceled out to other units in the division. One company went to the assault gun battalion where it became the 4^th Company in that unit. The other two went to the panzer grenadier regiments, one to each, to become part of their 14^th Companies. The battalion, as a tank unit, was organized into three companies of three platoons each. This battalion was equipped with captured T-34c tanks. It is not clear whether there were two companies of T-34's and one company of Pz IIIJ's or one company of T-34's and two companies of Pz IIIJ's. Different sources list both types. The 2^nd Panzer Jager Battalion had about 15 T-34c, 10 Pz IIIJ, and 2 command tanks at the time of the battle.

Das Reich SS Artillery Regiment: The artillery regiment had four battalions. The 1^st and 2^nd Battalions were standard 105mm howitzer battalions of two batteries each. The 4^th Battalion was a mixed battalion of two batteries of 150mm howitzers and one battery of 105mm guns. The regiment used six gun batteries instead of the usual four gun batteries of other divisions, thus every two batteries. The 3^rd Battalion was the self-propelled battalion with three 105mm batteries. The self-propelled artillery pieces were actually experimental ones utilizing captured French tank chassis. These vehicles were hand-me-downs from the regular Army panzer divisions which had received their Wespe and Hummel vehicles.

Last Actions

Division Das Reich had a combat strength of 1498 men and 11 Panzers on 7th April, on 10th it reported 15 Panthers, 11 Panzer IVs, 4 Jagdpanzers IVs, 1 Jagdpanther and 8 Flakpanzer IVs (probably both operational and under repair). Other two divisions that formed the II.SS-Pz.Korps: -3.SS-Pz.Div. (1004 men and 6 Panzers) -6.Pz.Div. (1235 men and 8 Panzers) Gumpoldskirchen and Baden were captured (by Russians) on 4th April. Hstuf. Franz-Josef Dreike (Kdr.SS-Flak.Abt.2) and Stubaf. Hans Hauser (KG Hauser) received KCs for their actions at Laaer Berg and Münchendorf.

The last combat actions of the Division as a whole were around the 13th April 1945 near to the Floridsdorfer Bridge in Vienna.

VIENNA, AUSTRIA, 12 APRIL 1945: To buy time for the scattered remnants of the 2nd SS Panzer Division to escape north of the Danube, a small rearguard was left to protect the south end of the bridge and engage any Russian forces attempting to cross the Danube. Lt. Arno Giessen was in command, with 97 confirmed tank kills he was considered the best man for the job. With his small force, his prospects for slowing the Russian Juggernaut seemed small.

Superb leadership overcame superior numbers once again. Each time a Russian tank came into view the Germans would zero in on it and destroy it before the Russian infantry could intervene. When his Panther ran out of fuel, Lt. Giessen went stalking Russian tanks on foot with Panzerfausts. Before dawn on the 13th of April Lt. Giessen added 14 kills to his record. Lt. Giessen's actions allowed the majority of the division to escape across the Danube. He surveyed his destroyed tanks as his remaining men crossed the bridge. Lt. Giessen crossed the bridge and engineers sent it tumbling into the Danube. Lt. Giessen was the last man out.

By early May 1945 the Division had ceased to exist as a cohesive unit, the Der Fuehrer Pz. Gren. Regt were sent to Prague, the Deutschland Pz. Gren. Regt were fighting in Austria and the Div HQ and other Div units including the Panzer Regt were in action near Dresden.

Principal elements (1944) SS-Panzergrenadier Regiment 5 Thule; SS-Panzergrenadier Regiment 6 Theodor Eicke; 55-Panzer Regiment 3; SS-Panzerjager Abteilung 3; Sturmgeschutz Abteilung 3; SS-Panzer Artillerie Regiment 3; 5S-Flak Abteilung 3; SS-Panzer Aufkärüngs Abteilung 3; SS-Panzer Pionier Bataillon 3. The unit SS-Heimwehr Danzig was also incorporated into the Totetkopf Division at the start of the war.

Kursk, July 1943

Of the three SS divisions in the battle of Kursk, Totenkopf was the furthest behind in the transition process to a panzer division.

Totenkopf 3^rd SS Panzer Regiment: This regiment still had both of its battalions, plus the heavy tank company. Each battalion had three companies of four platoons each. The regiment had about 28 Pz IVF/2, 54 Pz IIIJ, and 7 command tanks operational in its two battalions at the time of the battle. The regiment’s 9^th Company (Tiger) had ten operational Tiger tanks at the beginning of the battle. However, by the time of the attack on Hill 226.2 in the afternoon, there were only four operational Tigers left, the rest having suffered mechanical breakdowns during the course of the day. By the end of the day these four Tigers were knocked out leaving the company with no operational tanks.

Totenkopf Theodor Eicke SS Panzer Grenadier Regiment: The 3^rd Battalion was a motorcycle battalion. It was originally a separate battalion within the division but in the spring of 1943 was absorbed in to the Theodor Eicke Regiment. The unit was scheduled to be converted to an armored infantry battalion in the autumn of 1943, so it was decided that retaining its motorcycles would be more cost effective than reequipping it with trucks for the short term before conversion.

Totenkopf SS Artillery Regiment: The artillery regiment had four battalions. The 2^nd and 3^rd Battalions were the standard 105mm howitzer battalions with two batteries each. The 4^th Battalion was a mixed battalion with two batteries of 150mm howitzers and one battery of 105mm guns. As in Das Reich, Totenkopf used six gun batteries. The 1^st Battalion was the self-propelled battalion with two 150mm batteries and one 105mm battery. Like in Das Reich, Totenkopf used hand-me-down experimental self-propelled artillery pieces mounted on captured French tank chassis.

In 1944 the Soviets began a redesign of the T-34. Designated the T-44, it appeared in prototype form that summer. A somewhat more streamlined T-34, with a larger turret and thicker turret and hull armor, it also had a torsion-bar suspension system in place of the Christie system on the T-34. The T-44 weighed some 76,100 pounds.

Powered by a 512-hp engine, the T-44 was the first tank to mount its engine transversely. Crewed by only four men (instead of five as in the T-34), it dispensed with the hull gunner and utilized that space for additional ammunition storage. Initially the T-44 mounted the 85mm gun of the T-34, but later this was replaced with a 100mm gun. The T-44 also had two 7.62mm machine guns.

The T-44 entered limited production in 1945, and a few saw service against the Germans at the end of the war. Although it was perhaps the most sophisticated tank design of the war, the T-44 proved to be mechanically unreliable. The transmission, proved troublesome in the initial production batches. An improved version, the T-44M was introduced on the assembly lines after the war, which corrected these defects and introduced other improvements such as a new, wider track which offered better flotation in soft soil and snow. As with the British Centurion, the T- 44 marked the end of the distinction between heavy and medium tanks and the beginning of the all-purpose main battle tank (MBT). This highly influential design was the basis for the postwar Soviet T- 54, T-55, and T-62 tanks.

The T-44 was issued to three tank brigades mustered on September 15, 1944 for training purposes, but these formations (6th Guards, 33rd Guards, and 63rd Guards Tank Brigades) were re-equipped with T-34-85 tanks prior to entering the Battle of Berlin and Prague Offensive. The T-44A was not used operationally during WWII in Europe for several reasons, including the fact that the Red Army was not ready to accept a new tank because of lack of sufficient spares and technical specialists who could repair and maintain the new tank as well as the fact that many of the tank crews would have to be retrained on it. However, three tanks were sent to the 100th Special Tank Company which tested them on the Eastern Front. Many T-44As were sent immediately after they were produced to the Far East regions of the Soviet Union. The first tanks arrived there before the end of the war and were used operationally during last three days of fighting. They continued to arrive after the war and eventually around 600 T-44As were stationed there.

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During the Cold War, both the Soviet Union and the United States developed a “Triad” of nuclear delivery systems consisting of intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs), submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs), and manned bombers. Although in Soviet doctrine the ICBM became the primary means of nuclear deterrence, for many years the Soviet Union’s only means of delivering nuclear weapons was the manned bomber. Even as aircraft fell out of favor as the main delivery system, the Soviet Air Force continued to maintain a heavy bomber fleet, and Russia, as the successor state to the Soviet nuclear arsenal, still maintains a bomber fleet, though it is only a fraction of the size of the Soviet force at its height.

Soviet Union/Russian Bombers

Following the detonation of its first atomic bomb on August 29, 1949, the Soviet Union possessed nuclear weapons but lacked the means to deliver them. Until the development of a useful ICBM, the Soviets relied on a series of manned bombers to supply a nuclear deterrent capability.

Tupolev Tu-4 (NATO Designation: Bull) As early as September 1943, the aviation design bureau headed by A. N.Tupolev was authorized to start work on a new strategic bomber based on the American B-29 Superfortress. The result was the Tupolev Tu-4 (NATO designation: Bull). The Tu-4 entered series production in 1947 and entered active service in 1949.With a range of only 6,200 kilometers (km) (3,348 nautical miles [nm]), it could not reach the continental United States from interior Soviet bases. While aerial refueling technology, and some efforts at intermediate basing on the Arctic icecap, provided some marginal enhancement of the Tu-4’s capabilities, a completely new aircraft was needed to perform the strategic nuclear strike mission.

Myasishchev M-4 (NATO Designation: Bison) Production of V. I. Myasishchev’s M-4 turbojet bomber (NATO Designation: Bison) began in 1954. In 1956, the M-4 underwent a major redesign that provided the aircraft with improved engines that extended its range to 12,000 km (6,480 nm). Only 116 Bison bombers of all versions were produced through 1960, and there were never more than 60 aircraft in the operational inventory at any one time.

Tupolev Tu-95 (NATO Designation: Bear) While Myasishchev was working on his turbojet design, Tupolev was working on a fundamentally different aircraft. Tupolev’s research had shown that the same performance as a turbojet could be achieved with a turboprop engine. Entering service in 1956, the Tu-95 (NATO Designation: Bear) was the Soviet Union’s first intercontinental bomber; its turboprop engines gave it greater range than the jet engines of the day. Spawning nine different variants, the Tu-95 continues in service today.

Tupolev Tu-160 (NATO Designation: Blackjack) By the late 1970s, the bomber leg of the Soviet Triad was clearly the least important, behind the ICBM force and the SLBM fleet, and in many respects it was approaching obsolescence. Responding to the Kremlin’s call for a new supersonic bomber, Tupolev developed plans for a variable geometry wing aircraft called Aircraft 70 (NATO Designation: Blackjack). Very similar in appearance to the U.S. B-1A, though larger and heavier, the new design first flew in 1981. Eventually designated as the Tu-160, the Blackjack entered series production in 1984. Although original plans called for 100 aircraft, production halted in 1992 following the collapse of the Soviet Union after only 36 aircraft had been built. Production resumed in 1998, and the first new aircraft entered service in May 2000.

Bomber Development Lags

The primacy of Long Range Aviation in the strategic nuclear force began to decline in the late 1950s. U.S. B-29 losses during the Korean War suggested that bombers could not survive modern air defenses. The Soviets also were concerned about command and control once the bombers left Soviet airspace and the pilots controlled the release of nuclear weapons. These issues, coupled with the successful launch of intercontinental-capable ballistic missiles, spelled the end of the primacy of the Soviet bomber force.

At the same time that new bomber designs were being developed, advances in cruise missile technology promised to give the bomber new life as a strategic nuclear delivery vehicle. In 1968, the Soviets conducted a study to examine future trends in strategic weapons. It focused on the use of a small, subsonic weapon on the premise that a smaller weapon would allow a delivery system to carry more. The result was the Kh-55 air-launched cruise missile (ALCM) (NATO designation: AS-15 Kent). The Soviets, however, now needed to develop an aircraft capable of delivering the cruise missile system. The Tu-160 was the aircraft most likely to carry the new missile, but in the late 1970s and early 1980s that aircraft was still undergoing flight tests. Considering it infeasible to upgrade the existing Tu-95M to carry the Kh-55, the Soviets opted to build a new aircraft, the Tu-95MS (NATO designation: Bear H), based on the Tu-142 currently in service as an antisubmarine warfare and maritime reconnaissance aircraft. Although only a low-cost, stopgap measure until the Tu-160 was brought on line, the Tu-95MS has shouldered the cruise missile carrier burden since the Soviet collapse and the end of Tu-160 production.

Theater Bombers

While developing its intercontinental bomber force, the Soviet Union also built a theater bomber force capable of threatening targets close to home. Tupolev began designing a replacement for the Tu-4 while work continued on the Tu-95 intercontinental bomber. Serial production for the design, which became the Tu-16 (NATO Designation: Badger), began in 1953 and ended in 1963 after 1,509 aircraft had been built. Soon after its delivery to line units in 1954, the Tu-16 became the primary Soviet theater bomber, serving with Soviet Air Force and Soviet Naval Aviation units until its retirement in 1993. The Tu-16 was a very successful design and underwent seven modifications that adapted the aircraft to carry improved weapons, particularly missiles. The Tu-16A was designed to carry free-fall nuclear bombs. In addition, the Soviets developed a unique wingtip-to-wingtip refueling system for the aircraft, modifying some Tu-16s, known as Tu-16Zs, to serve in the tanker role.

After Tu-16 serial production began in 1953, Tupolev began work on a new supersonic bomber design. Billed as the replacement for the Tu-16, the Tu-22 (NATO designation: Blinder) was, in fact, capable of carrying a similar payload to the Tu-16, but only to a slightly greater range. Before production ended in 1969, 300 Tu-22s were built. Ukraine is believed to be the only country currently operating the aircraft.

Despite his lack of success improving the Tu-22’s performance, Tupolev continued to work on a new medium-range bomber. The result was an aircraft with variable sweep wings and a subsonic range claimed to be 6,000–7,000 km (3,254–3,780 nm). First flown in 1969, the Tu-22M (NATO designation: Backfire) was adopted by both the Soviet Air Force and Naval Aviation in 1976. The aircraft was a subject of controversy during early Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT I). The Soviets agreed to remove the aircraft’s air refueling probes and to limit production to thirty aircraft per year as part of the SALT I agreement.

Russia currently maintains a bomber inventory including 74 Tu-95MSs, 15 Tu-160s, and 117 Tu- 22Ms, a mere shadow of the old Soviet bomber force. Plagued by shortages of spare parts and fuel, the bomber force finds it difficult to keep its aircraft flyable. These shortages have contributed to a training crisis among bomber crews. In 1998, Russian bomber crews averaged only about twenty-one hours of flying time per year, compared to twenty-five hours per month in the U.S. Air Force. Still, the bomber force remains a key portion of Russia’s nuclear deterrent capability. Russia also acknowledged the importance of airpower in rapid reaction operations. To this end, Russia reorganized Long Range Aviation into the 37th Air Army in 1998. This organization is tasked with the delivery of both nuclear and conventional ALCMs.

The Special Forces deployed two types of helicopter in the Son Tay raid: the HH‑53 Super Jolly Green Giant, and the HH‑3 Jolly Green Giant. Built by Sikorsky, the HH‑53 was designed as a heavy assault transport helicopter and when the machine entered service in late 1967 it was the fastest and most powerful helicopter in the USAF. Despite a maximum weight of 19,050kg when fully loaded with either 37troops or 24 litters and four attendants, the HH‑53 has a range of 870km when fitted with auxiliary fuel tanks and a speed of 300km/h at sea level.

During the attempt to free the prisoners, Super Jolly Green Giants were used in a fire‑suppression role to take out enemy guard towers around Son Tay prison's perimeter wall. The HH‑53s were fitted with three 7.62mm miniguns.

Like the HH-53, the Jolly Green Giant was also designed by Sikorsky. A twin‑engined all‑weather search and rescue helicopter, the HH‑3's first flight took place in 1963.

Fully loaded, with a crew of four and up to 30 troops or 2270kg of cargo, the HH‑3 has a maximum range of around 1000km. Operating from Udorn in Thailand or out of Da Nang in South Vietnam, the Jolly Green Giant was capable of reaching any part of the North and making the return journey.

During the Son Tay raid, the assault force's helicopters were refuelled during the flight to the objective.