V-2 “Round 3” is prepared for launch at White Sands Proving Grounds, New Mexico, 10 May 1946. (The Space Race – Rockets)
10 May 1946: The first successful launch of a captured V-2 ballistic missile in the United States took place at the White Sands Proving Ground in the Tularosa Basin of southern New Mexico. With a burn time of 59 seconds, the rocket reached an altitude of 70.9 miles (114.1 kilometers) and traveled 31 miles (49.9 kilometers) down range.
On 15 March 1946, a static test firing of a V-2 rocket had taken place at White Sands, and then on 16 April, a rocket was launched. One of the stabilizing fins failed, and then radio conttact was lost at 19.5 seconds. The rocket reached a peak altitude of only 3.4 miles (5.5 kilometers) before crashing a short distance from the launch site. (A 9-minute video of the preparations and launch can be seen at: https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6apkns Notice the extremely casual attitude toward personnel safety displayed throughout the film.)
A German V-2 rocket is launched from the White Sand Proving Grounds, New Mexico, 10 May 1946. (Popular Science)
The V2, or Vergeltungswaffen 2 (also known as the A4, or Aggregat 4) was a ballistic missile with an empty weight of approximately 10,000 pounds (4,536 kilograms) and 28,000 pounds (12,700 kilograms), fully loaded. It carried a 738 kilogram (1,627 pound) (sources vary) explosive warhead of amatol, a mixture of TNT and ammonium nitrate. The propellant was a 75/25 mixture of ethanol and water with liquid oxygen as an oxidizer.
The complete rocket was 14.036 meters (46.050 feet) long, and had a maximum diameter of 1.651 meters (5.417 feet). The rocket was stabilized by four large fins, 4.035 meters (13.238 feet) long, with a maximum span of 3.564 meters (11.693 feet). The leading edge of these fins was swept 60°, and 3°. A small guide vane was at the outer tip of each fin, and other vanes were placed in the engine’s exhaust plume.
Cutaway illustration of a V-2 rocket. (U.S. Army)
When launched, the rocket engine burned for 65 seconds, accelerating the V-2 to 3,580 miles per hour (5,760 kilometers per hour) on a ballistic trajectory. The maximum range of the rocket was 200 miles (320 kilometers) with a peak altitude between 88 and 128 miles (142–206 kilometers), depending on the desired range. On impact, the rocket was falling at 1,790 miles per hour (2,880 kilometers per hour), about Mach 2.35, so its approach would have been completely silent in the target area.
The V-2 could only hit a general area and was not militarily effective. Germany used it against England, France, The Netherlands and Belgium as a terror weapon. More than 3,200 V-2 rockets were launched against these countries.
U.S. soldiers examine an incomplete V-2 rocket at Kleinbodungen, Germany, 1945.
As World War II came to and end, the Allies captured many partially-completed missiles, as well as components and parts. Sufficient parts and materiel and been transferred from Germany to construct more than one hundred V-2 rockets for testing at White Sands. No missiles were received in flyable condition. Over a five year period, there were 67 successful launches, but it is considered that as much knowledge was gained from failures as successes.
Along with the rockets, many German engineers and scientists surrendered or were captured by the Allies. Under Operation Paperclip, Wernher von Braun and many other scientists, engineers and technicians were brought to the United States to work with the U.S. Army’s ballistic missile program at Fort Bliss, Texas, White Sands Proving Grounds, New Mexico, and the Redstone Arsenal, Huntsville, Alabama.
Dr. von Braun with V-2 rocket components in Texas, circa 1945. (Thomas D. McAvoy)
Tests of the V-2 rockets led to the development of U.S. rockets for the military and NASA’s space program. A NASA article states,
“The contribution that the V-2 made to guided missile technology is immeasurable. In general, the program provided training for men in the handling and firing of large missiles, experiments directly concerned with design of future missiles, operational tests of future missile components, and experience in collecting upper atmosphere and ballistic data.”
—Notes Regarding History of V-2 Operations at White Sands, MSFC History Office, Mashall Space Flight Center, Huntsville, Alabama.
Charles A. Lindbergh and the Spirit of St. Louis, just before departure, at Rockwell Field, 10 May 1927. At left is Donald A. Hall, the airplane’s designer. Second from left is A.J. Edwards, Ryan’s sales manager. Lindbergh is shaking hands with Lieutenant Colonel Harry T. Graham, U.S. Army Air Corps, commanding officer of Rockwell Field. (San Diego Air and Space Museum)
10 May 1927: At 3:55 p.m., PST, Charles A. Lindbergh and his Spirit of St. Louis lifted off from Rockwell Field on North Island, San Diego, California, for their record-setting overnight flight to St. Louis, Missouri. The new Ryan NYP, N-X-211, had been ready and all the flight tests complete since 4 May. Lindbergh had completed the navigational planning for both the transcontinental flight to New York City, and then, the transoceanic flight to Paris. He had been in daily consultation with Dean Blake, chief of the Weather Bureau in San Diego. A system over the Rockies had been holding up his departure for days, but now everything was ready. Lindbergh wrote:
At 3:40 I crawl into my flying suit. It’s uncomfortably hot in the California sun. . . It’s a few minutes early, but why wait any longer in this heat? I wave good-by, taxi into position, and ease the throttle open. As I pick up speed, I hold the tail low to put as much load as possible on the wings and reduce strain on the landing gear.
The Spirit of St. Louis is in the air soon after its wheels start clattering over the hummocky portion of the field. The take-off wasn’t as difficult as I expected. It’s 3:55 Pacific. I make a mental note of the time, check instruments, pull the throttle back slightly, and begin a wide climbing turn to the left. Two army observation planes and a Ryan monoplane have taken off with me as an escort. Colonel Graham, the Commanding Officer at Rockwell Field, is in one of the observation planes. Hall, Bowlus, Harrigan, and A.J. Edwards are in the Ryan. We circle North Island, the factory, and the city of San Diego. Then, leaving the ocean and the bay behind, I set my compass heading for St. Louis.
—The Spirit of St. Louis, by Charles A. Lindbergh, Charles Scribners’ Sons, 1953, at Page 134.
Charles A. Lindbergh and the Spirit of St. Louis over San Diego Bay. Photograph by H.A. Erickson. (San Diego Air and Space Museum)
Second Lieutenant George E.M. Kelly, United States Army. (SDASM)
10 May 1911: Second Lieutenant George Edward Maurice Kelly, 30th Infantry Regiment, United States Army, was killed during his primary pilot qualification flight at Fort Sam Houston, Texas.
Kelly had been sent to San Diego, California, in January 1911 as one of three U.S. Army officers to attend Glenn H. Curtiss’ Curtiss School of Aviation, newly established on North Island. After three months of training he was sent to Texas where the Army had set up its own training field.
Lieutenant Kelly was flying the Army’s second airplane, S.C. No. 2, a Curtiss Model D Type IV. The airplane had been accepted just two weeks earlier.
Curtiss Model D Type IV, S.C. No. 2, 1911. (U.S. Air Force)
The New York Times reported in its 11 May 1911 issue:
LIEUT. KELLY KILLED; HIS AIRSHIP WRECKED;
Army Airman Suffers Fractured Skull in Fall at San Antonio and Dies and Hour Later.
CARTER AND STAFF PRESENT
Only Up Five Minutes When Mishap in Control Equipment prevented His Shutting Off Power.
Special to The New York Times
SAN ANTONIO, Texas, May 10.—Second Lieut. George E.M. Kelly of the United States Signal Corps, one of four army aviators on duty with the division of regulars mobilized here, was killed this morning when a Curtiss aeroplane he was flying got beyond control, after which it ran through the air for over a hundred yards, and crashed to the ground, burying Lieut. Kelly in its wreckage.
The machine was reduced to splinters, the only parts of it left intact being the engine and the rear plane work. Lieut. Kelly suffered a fractured skull and died in the Fort Sam Houston Hospital an hour later. He never regained consciousness. The accident happened about 7:30 this morning, in full view of Gen. Carter and his staff and hundreds of soldiers.
The exact cause of the accident will probably never be known, although a board of officers from the Signal Corps who investigated the accident are of the opinion that it was due to a break in some part of the controlling mechanism, making it impossible for Kelly to shut off the power when he realized his peril.
The accident happened about one hundred yards from Gen. Carter’s headquarters. The young officer had been in the air about five minutes, and Major Squier, Chief Signal Corps officer, had commented on the fine flight he was making, when the aviator pointed his machine downward for the purpose of making a landing. The machine was going at a speed estimated at between forty and fifty miles an hour. It shot down, apparently under perfect control, and landed a few feet away from one of the main driveways that intersect the mobilization camp. Kelly could be seen working frantically at the steering wheel as the machine descended, and when it struck the ground everybody breathed a sigh of relief, believing the officer was safe.
But the unexpected happened. The machine ran along the ground for ten or fifteen yards and then the fork into which is fitted the front wheel struck some obstruction and a moment later the propeller began to revolve at a wild speed. It could be seen that the left part of the machine was absolutely beyond the control of the aviator. It suddenly shot forward several yards, and then ascended to an altitude of between fifteen and twenty feet. It darted through the air in the direction of the Eleventh Infantry camp, tumbling and rolling like a wounded bird. The officer could be seen working the broken controller, but those who witnessed the sight say that at no time did he have a chance to escape with his life.
The machine gave a last tumble in the air and fell with a crash to the ground. Kelly was pitched out just as it started downward. The aviator and the machine struck the ground at the same instant.
Photograph of the accident scene at Fort San Antonio, published by the San Antonio Express, 11 May 1911.
Major Squier, Lieut. Foulois, Frank Coffyn, the Wright aviator, and a trooper were the first to reach the side of the dying aviator, whose skull was crushed. He lay under the wreckage of one of the planes, his face to the ground. The ambulance came up a moment later. Lieut. Foucar of the Medical Corps, in charge of the ambulance, examined Lieut. Kelly and informed Major Squier that he was mortally hurt.
By this time the Third Cavalry galloped up and formed a cordon around the place where Kelly lay dying. Lieut. Foucar, aided by troopers, picked him up and hurried him to the hospital, where Major Hutton, the Chief Surgeon, after examining him said there was no chance to save his life. An hour and ten minutes later he died.
Others new when Kelly was killed, besides Gen Carter, were Col. Stephen Mills, Chief of Staff; Lieut. Col. Ladd, the Adjutant General, and Col. Birmingham, Col. Straub, Capt. Leonard and Capt. Craig, all of the division staff. The whole camp knew of the accident within a few minutes after it had happened, and on all sides the deepest feelings of regret were expressed for the unfortunate aviator, who was one of the most popular members of the army corps.
Major General George Owen Squier, Signal Corps, United States Army.
As soon as order was restored Major Squier appointed a board of three signal officers to investigate the accident. Lieut. Paul W. Beck, chief of the corps, was President of the board, the other members being Lieut. Fulois and Lieut. Walker. After a hearing that lasted several hours they reported that atmospheric conditions were good at the time of the accident, that Kelly’s first landing was a good one, and that the cause of the accident was due to a break in some part of the control equipment which made impossible the management of the engine and planes. The report has been forwarded to Gen. Allen, Chief of the Signal Corps, in Washington.
The accident to Lieut. Kelly is the third within the last ten days. All of them befell the same Curtiss aeroplane in which Kelly was flying. Lieut. Walker figured in the first accident. On that occasion, in making a turn, the machine got out of his control and fell 150 feet before it righted itself. Lieut. Beck was the victim of the next accident. He fell over 200 feet and landed in a mesquite tree. The machine was badly wrecked. When Lieut. Kelly went up this morning it was the first time the machine had been in the air since its mishap with Lieut. Beck.
Second Lieutenant George E.M. Kelly, U.S. Army, at Curtiss School of Aviation, North Island, San Diego, California, ca. April 1911. (San Diego Air and Space Museum Archives)
Lieut. Kelly came to San Antonio about six weeks ago with Lieuts. Beck and Walker. All had been receiving instruction from Glenn H. Curtiss at San Diego, Cal., and had certificates from Mr. Curtiss testifying that they were capable aviators. When the Curtiss machine arrived several weeks ago Eugene Ely, one of the Curtiss aviators, was sent here to look after the instruction of Lieuts. Beck, Kelly, and Walker, who had been assigned to fly the machine. Ely left ten days ago to fulfill some exhibition engagements, and is not due back until May 14.
Speaking of the accident this afternoon, Major Squier said that, in his opinion, it was unavoidable.
“Lieut. Kelly,” he added, “was one of the best men in the Signal Corps. He was a quiet, unassuming fellow, devoted to his work, and gave every promise of becoming one of the army’s most valuable aviators. However, we must all remember that an aviator’s life is one in which the danger phase must be considered. Orders have been issued forbidding further flying for the next few days.”
Lieut. Kelly was a native of England and joined the army in 1904 as a private in the Coast Artillery. He held every non-commissioned rank from Corporal to Sergeant, and was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the Thirtieth Infantry in 1907. He was unmarried and is said to have a sister living in New York City. His parents are believed to be in England.
Lieut. Kelly was the second army officer to be killed in an aeroplane. The other was Lieut. Thomas B. Selfridge, who fell with Orville Wright at Fort Myer, Va., in September, 1908.
—The New York Times, 11 May 1911, Page 2. (The photographs are from other sources and were not part of the original New York Times article.)
Second Lieutenant George Edward Maurice Kelly was the second U.S. Army aviator killed in an airplane accident, however he was the first pilot killed while flying the airplane. His remains were interred at the San Antonio National Cemetery, San Antonio, Texas.
In 1916, the Army replaced the air field at Fort San Antonio with a new field on the opposite side of the city. The new airfield was initially named Camp Kelly, then Kelly Field. In 1948, it was renamed Kelly Air Force Base.
Main Gate, Kelly Field, circa 1916. (U.S. Air Force)
9 May 1962: The Sikorsky S-64 Skycrane, N325Y, prototype of a heavy-lift helicopter, made its first flight at Stratford, Connecticut. The Skycrane was a turbine-powered evolution of the piston-engined S-60. The United States Army bought six S-64s for evaluation, and then ordered 54 production aircraft, designated CH-54A Tarhe, and 35 CH-54Bs. Sikorsky produced 12 S-64E and Fs for the commercial helicopter market.
The Bridgeport Post reported:
First Flight Is Made By Sikorsky Skycrane
STRATFORD — Sikorsky’s twin-turbine S-64 Skycrane, a giant new helicopter which is expected to have wide military and commercial applications, made its first flight May 9, the company said today.
The S-64 lifted off the flight field here and hovered 50 feet in the air. Short sidewards, forward and backward flights were made, and the aircraft touched down and took off again twice after the original lift off. Engineering test pilots James E. Chudars and John H. Peterson were at the controls during the 20 minutes of flying time. As a result of this successful flight, a public demonstration for press military and commercial observers is planned for early June.
The big turbocopter is designed to carry external loads as heavy as nine tons. Two S-64s are being built for the West German government, while a third will be used by Sikorsky for demonstrations in the United States.
—Bridgeport Sunday Post, Vol. LXXIII, No. 19, 13 May 1962, Page C-18, Column 3
The Sikorsky CH-54A Tarhe is a large single-main-rotor/tail rotor helicopter, specifically designed to carry large external loads. In U.S. Army service, it had a crew of five: pilot, co-pilot, third pilot and two mechanics. The third pilot was in a rear-facing cockpit position and flew the helicopter while it was hovering to pick up or position an external load.
FAI record-setting Sikorsky CH-54A Tarhe (FAI)
The CH-54A is 88 feet, 5.9 inches (26.972 meters) long and 25 feet, 4.7 inches (7.739 meters) high. The main rotor has six blades and turns counter-clockwise, seen from above. (The advancing blade is on the helicopter’s right side.) The main rotor has a diameter of 72 feet (21.946 meters). The main rotor blades have a chord of 1.97 feet (0.601 meters) and incorporate a twist of -13°. The tail rotor has four blades and is placed on the left side of a vertical pylon in a pusher configuration. The tail rotor turns clockwise, as seen from the helicopter’s left side. (The advancing blade is below the axis of rotation.) The diameter of the tail rotor is 16 feet (4.877 meters). The chord of the tail rotor blade is 1.28 feet (0.390 meters).
The helicopter has an empty weight of 19,120 pounds (8,673 kilograms) a design gross weight of 38,000 pounds (17,237 kilograms) and overload gross weight of 42,000 pounds (19,051 kilograms).
The prototype S-64A Skycrane, N325Y, lifts an M-113 armored personnel carrier during a demonstration at Fort Benning, Georgia. (NASM-84-8161)
The CH-54A is powered by two Pratt & Whitney JFTD12A-4A (T73-P-1) turboshaft engines, each rated at 4,000 shaft horsepower at 9,000 r.p.m. (N2) maximum continuous power at Sea Level, and 4,500 shaft horsepower at 9,500 r.p.m. (N2) for takeoff, 5-minute limit, or 30 minutes, with one engine inoperative (OEI). The maximum gas generator speed (N1) is 16,700 r.p.m. The T73-P-1 is an axial-flow free-turbine turboshaft engine with a 9-stage compressor section, 8 combustion chambers and a 4-stage turbine section (2-stage gas generator and 2-stage free turbine). It is 107.0 inches (2.718 meters) long, 30.0 inches (0.762 meters) in diameter, and weighs 966 pounds (438 kilograms). The helicopter’s main transmission is limited to a maximum 6,600 horsepower.
It has a useful load of 22,880 pounds (10,342 kilograms) and can carry a payload of 20,000 pounds (9,072 kilograms) from a single point cargo hoist.
The CH-54A has a maximum cruise speed of 115 knots (132 miles per hour, 213 kilometers per hour). It’s range is 217 nautical miles (250 miles, 402 kilometers). The CH-54A has a hover ceiling in ground effect (HIGE) of 10,600 feet (3,231 meters) and its service ceiling is 13,000 feet (3,962 meters).
The United States Army has a tradition of using Native American names for its aircraft. Tarhe (pronounced tar-HAY) was a famous chief, or sachem, of the Wyandot People of North America, who lived from 1742–1818. He was very tall and the French settlers called him “The Crane.”
Sikorsky CH-54A Tarhe 68-18448, Nevada National Guard, 16 November 1989. (Mike Freer/Wikipedia)
N325Y, the prototype Sikorsky S-64, was damaged beyond repair in an accident near Arboletes, Columbia, 19 August 1968. The FAA registration was cancelled.
Martin B-26B-25-MA Marauder 41-31819, “Mild and Bitter,” photographed during its 50th combat mission. (American Air Museum in Britain FRE 1191)
9 May 1944: A Martin B-26B Marauder of the 452nd Bombardment Squadron, 322 Bombardment Group, Ninth Air Force, named Mild and Bitter, landed at RAF Bury St. Edmunds, a military airfield in Suffolk, England. When its engines had stopped, it had completed its second combat mission of the day: an attack against an enemy airfield at Évreaux-Fauville, in the Normandy region of France.
This was the one-hundredth combat mission flown by Mild and Bitter. It had flown 310 hours, 40 minutes in combat.
In those 100 missions, the airplane had never been forced to abort for mechanical reasons, it always came back with both of its engines running, never came back with its bomb load, and most importantly, of the 166 airmen who had flown aboard, none had ever been wounded or killed.
The bomber still had the two Pratt & Whitney Double Wasp engines which had been installed at the factory, having logged 449 hours, 30 minutes, total time since new (TTSN).
The 100th mission flight crew of Martin B-26B Marauder 41-31819, “Mild and Bitter.” Left to right, 1st Lt. L.W. Rice; 2nd Lt. H.R. Harp; Capt. P. Shannon; SSgt. W.J. Bond; Sgt. R.E. Johnson, SSgt. J.K. Brandemihl. (U.S. Air Force)Captain Paul Shannon
The flight crew for the Marauder’s final mission was Captain Paul Shannon, aircraft commander; First Lieutenant Lee W. Rice, co-pilot; Second Lieutenant Harry R. Harp, bombardier/navigator; Staff Sergeant James K. Brandemihl, flight engineer and top turret gunner; Staff Sergeant Walter J. Bond, radio operator; and Sergeant Robert E. Johnson, tail gunner.
Following this last mission. 41-31819 was returned to the United States as part of a War Bonds tour. Following that, the B-26 was
“. . . taken to Patterson Field for study, inspection, and possible salvage.“
—Daily Hampshire Gazette Wed 26 July 1944
Martin B-26B-25-MA Marauder 41-31819, “Mild and Bitter,” following its 100th combat mission, May 1944. (American Air Museum in Britain FRE 4477)
FIRST HUNDRED
Just before dark, the sleek, fast B-26 Marauder circled her English air base and slipped in to a smooth landing. Technical Sergeant William L. Stuart, a taciturn, red-haired Texan, heaved an eloquent sigh, rubbed his grease-stained hands together, got out his tools and prepared to go to work.
The ship rolling up to his dispersal station, the “Mild & Bitter,” had just made history: she was back from her 100th combat mission. Sergeant Stuart, her crew chief, had sweated out every one of the 100 for her; now he would check her over and get her ready for Mission 101. “Mild & Bitter” thus joined the select company of famed warplanes of World War II—planes like the embattled Fortresses “Memphis Belle” and “Hell’s Angels,” and the R.A.F.’s Lancaster “S for Sugar.”
Quiet Type
But “Mild & Bitter” had no record of hair-raising escapes. Her saga was one of good luck and almost monotonous efficiency. She had lugged 166 different airmen to battle; 26 were decorated, but not one got a Purple Heart. During her robust career she acquired some 50 flak holes, but never any damage that Bill Stuart and his ground crew could not repair overnight.
On her first combat flight, last July 28, she led a sweep over Abbeville; the 100th mission was to bomb an airfield at Evreux, near Paris. In between she had taken the targets as they came; power plants, E-boat pens, air bases, all around France up to Holland and back. She still had her original Pratt & Whitney, 2000 Hp engines. No one had picked any soft spots for the ship, even when she neared her record. Her last two missions were done between dawn and sunset, her last four in 36 hours.
Successful Type
Ninth Air Force men were proud of “Mild & Bitter,” proud also that her performance so well underlined the striking success in the European Theater of the whole B-26 Marauder type. Once regarded by many airmen as a hot and dangerous aircraft, the B-26 has proved to be the outstanding medium bomber of the European air war. Its combat losses (less than 0.3%) are the lowest in the theater.
Crew Chief Stuart (who named the plane after hearing Englishmen ordering their pints of mild & bitter in a local pub) tried hard to think of something spectacular that had happened to the ship. On one raid, it is true, a burst of flak fountained up right through the open bomb bay. Hot steel fragments rattled against cold steel bombs with a hellish din. But nothing happened.
The record of the B-26 is equally good in all other theaters of operations.
—TIME Magazine, 22 May 1944, reprinted in Pilot Training Manual for the B-26, Headquarters, AAF, Office of Flying Safety, Page 7
Martin B-26B Marauder 41-31819, Mild and Bitter, 322nd Bombardment Group. (American Air Museum in Britain FRE 4478)
Mild and Bitter was a Martin B-26B-25-MA Marauder twin-engine medium bomber, U.S. Army Air Forces serial number 41-31819. It had been built by the Glenn L. Martin Company at Middle River, Maryland, in 1943. It was 58 feet, 2 inches (17.729 meters) long, with a wingspan of 71 feet, 0 inches (21.641 meters), and overall height of 21 feet, 6 inches (6.553 meters). The wings had a total area of 664.1 square feet (61.7 square meters). Their angle of incidence was 3° 30′ and they had 1° 17′ dihedral. The stabilizer had a span of 28 feet, 0 inches (8.534 meters), with -5° incidence and 8° dihedral. The bomber had an empty weight of 24,000 pounds (10,886 kilograms) and gross weight of 37,000 pounds (16,783 kilograms).
Crew Chief with Martin B-26B-25-MA Marauder 41-31819, DR-X, (American Air Museum in Britain UPL 28017)
The B-26B-25-MA was powered by two air-cooled, supercharged, 2,804.461-cubic-inch-displacement (45.956 liter), Pratt & Whitney Double Wasp 2SB-G (R-2800-41) two-row, 18-cylinder radial engines with a compression ratio of 6.65:1. The R-2800-41 had a Normal Power rating of 1,600 horsepower at 2,400 r.p.m. to 5,700 feet (1,737 meters), and 1,450 horsepower at 2,400 r.p.m. at 13,000 feet (3,962 meters). Its Takeoff Power rating was 2,000 horsepower at 2,700 r.p.m. The Military Power rating was the same as Takeoff Power up to 2,700 feet (823 meters), and 1,600 horsepower at 2,700 r.p.m. to 13,500 feet (4,115 meters). They turned 13 foot, 6 inch (4.115 meter) diameter four-bladed Curtiss Electric constant-speed, full-feathering propellers through a 2:1 gear reduction. The R-2800-41 was 6 feet, 3.72 inches (1.923 meters) long, 4 feet, 4.50 inches (1.334 meters) in diameter, and weighed 2,300 pounds (1,043 kilograms).
The B-26B had a maximum speed of 270 miles per hour (435 kilometers per hour) at Sea Level, and 282 miles per hour (454 kilometers per hour) at 15,000 feet (4,572 meters). The airplane’s service ceiling was 21,700 feet (6,614 meters). It’s maximum ferry range was 2,850 miles (4,587 kilometers).
The B-26B was armed with 11 air-cooled Browning AN-M2 .50-caliber machine guns. One was at the nose on a flexible mount, two fixed guns were on each side of the nose in “blister packs,” there were two flexible guns in the waist. A Martin 250CE power-operated dorsal gun turret had two, as did the Bell Type M-6 hydraulically-operated gun mount in the tail.
A maximum of four 2,000 pound (907 kilograms) bombs could be carried in the bomb bay.
When the B-26 entered service, it quickly gained a reputation as a dangerous airplane and was called “the widowmaker.” The airplane had relatively short wings with a small area for its size. This required that landing approaches be flown at much higher speeds than was normal practice. With one engine out, airspeed was even more critical. Some changes were made, such as a slight increase on wingspan and the size of the vertical fin and rudder, and an emphasis was made on airspeed control during training. The Marauder had the lowest rate of combat losses of any American bomber.
The Glenn L. Martin Co. produced 5,288 Marauders between 1941–1945. It served in the Pacific, Mediterranean and European combat areas. When it was removed from service at the end of World War II, the “B-26” designation was reassigned to the Douglas A-26 Invader, a twin-engine light bomber.
