Flying the B-26

[Subdeacon Joe]

 

[Utah Bob #35998]

The Widowmaker

[Abilene Slim SASS 81783]

Jimmy Doolittle did an excellent job of dispelling that moniker, "Widowmaker". He traced the problem to outdated training methods that weren't appropriate for the Marauder's new low-drag wing. Afterwards, it had a great safety record. Marvelous airplane.

 

Doolittle was an amazing, multi-disciplinary genius.

 

[DocWard]

Just now, Abilene Slim SASS 81783 said:

Jimmy Doolittle did an excellent job of dispelling that moniker, "Widowmaker". He traced the problem to outdated training methods that weren't appropriate for the Marauder's new low-drag wing. Afterwards, it had a great safety record. Marvelous airplane

 

If I remember correctly, Jay Zeamer struggled with the B-26 almost to the point of washing out of training. He went on to do great things at the controls of a B-17.

[Duffield, SASS #23454]

It is reported that when the boys flying out of New Guinea were asked if they had any problems with the B-26 they said "Hell yes,  send us more B-26s"  They liked it because it was fast enough to stay ahead of the Zeros long enough to get away.

 

Duffield

[Abilene Slim SASS 81783]

I'd forgotten about that guy, Doc. Thanks for the post! 

 

I still have my copy of "Flying Fortress" by Edward Jablonski that I bought in 1965. It recounts Zeamer's mission as well as others of some amazing pilots in both theaters of war.

 

 

[Doc X]

Anybody know the nickname of the Flying Fortress Jay Zeamer earned the Medal of Honor in?           "Old 666"           from her serial 41-2666

[DocWard]

8 hours ago, Abilene Slim SASS 81783 said:

I'd forgotten about that guy, Doc. Thanks for the post! 

 

I still have my copy of "Flying Fortress" by Edward Jablonski that I bought in 1965. It recounts Zeamer's mission as well as others of some amazing pilots in both theaters of war.

 

 

 

22 minutes ago, Doc X said:

Anybody know the nickname of the Flying Fortress Jay Zeamer earned the Medal of Honor in?           "Old 666"           from her serial 41-2666

 

There are a couple of books on the men, the aircraft and the mission. I have Lucky 666: The Impossible Mission by Bob Drury and Tom Clavin and can recommend it highly.

 

There is also an exhibit at the National Museum of the United Stated Air Force.

https://www.nationalmuseum.af.mil/Visit/Museum-Exhibits/Fact-Sheets/Display/Article/196216/zeamer-and-the-eager-beavers/

[Sedalia Dave]

I’ll have to find it, but I recently read an article about why there were so many non-enemy action accidents during WWII attributed to pilot error. Turns out that it was actually a design flaw was the contributing factor in most accidents. 
 Aircraft designed before and during WWII didn’t have tactile controls. The landing gear handle and the flap handle looked and felt the same. A fatigued pilot would inadvertently move the wrong control causing the plane to crash. A psychologist discovered this and first the military and then civilian aircraft were retrofitted with tactile  controls which reduced pilot error dramatically. 
 

 

[Trailrider #896]

There were a couple of reasons for the initial high-accident rate in the B-26: First, the recommended approach speed was placarded too low!  Second, the original wing area was too small.  The wings were lengthened and the approach speed was increased.  Because so many pilots were afraid of the aircraft, Gen. Hap Arnold asked Jackie Cochran to wring out the aircraft, which she did, discovering the too-low approach speed as part of the problem. "If a woman can fly it..." Of course Jackie Cochran was a fantastic pilot (later, first woman to break the sound barrier), and in those days, a female pilot successfully taking on "The Widow Maker" did the trick psychologically for the male pilots.  Jackie Cochran, it should be recalled was head of the Women's Air Service Pilots. 

[Sedalia Dave]

9 hours ago, Sedalia Dave said:

I’ll have to find it, but I recently read an article about why there were so many non-enemy action accidents during WWII attributed to pilot error. Turns out that it was actually a design flaw was the contributing factor in most accidents. 
 Aircraft designed before and during WWII didn’t have tactile controls. The landing gear handle and the flap handle looked and felt the same. A fatigued pilot would inadvertently move the wrong control causing the plane to crash. A psychologist discovered this and first the military and then civilian aircraft were retrofitted with tactile  controls which reduced pilot error dramatically. 
 

 

 

Here is the article I read.

 

How the Dumb Design of a WWII Plane Led to the Macintosh

 

Quote

 

At first, pilots took the blame for crashes. The true cause, however, lay with the design. That lesson led us into our user-friendly age—but there's peril to come. 

 

The B-17 Flying Fortress rolled off the drawing board and onto the runway in a mere 12 months, just in time to become the fearsome workhorse of the US Air Force during World War II. Its astounding toughness made pilots adore it: The B-17 could roar through angry squalls of shrapnel and bullets, emerging pockmarked but still airworthy. It was a symbol of American ingenuity, held aloft by four engines, bristling with a dozen machine guns.

 

Imagine being a pilot of that mighty plane. You know your primary enemy—the Germans and Japanese in your gunsights. But you have another enemy that you can’t see, and it strikes at the most baffling times. Say you’re easing in for another routine landing. You reach down to deploy your landing gear. Suddenly, you hear the scream of metal tearing into the tarmac. You’re rag-dolling around the cockpit while your plane skitters across the runway. A thought flickers across your mind about the gunners below and the other crew: "Whatever has happened to them now, it’s my fault." When your plane finally lurches to a halt, you wonder to yourself: "How on earth did my plane just crash when everything was going fine?

 

What have I done?"

 

For all the triumph of America’s new planes and tanks during World War II, a silent reaper stalked the battlefield: accidental deaths and mysterious crashes that no amount of training ever seemed to fix. And it wasn’t until the end of the war that the Air Force finally resolved to figure out what had happened.

 

To do that, the Air Force called upon a young psychologist at the Aero Medical Laboratory at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton, Ohio. Paul Fitts was a handsome man with a soft Tennessee drawl, analytically minded but with a shiny wave of Brylcreemed hair, Elvis-like, which projected a certain suave nonconformity. Decades later, he’d become known as one of the Air Force’s great minds, the person tasked with hardest, weirdest problems—such as figuring out why people saw UFOs.

 

For now though, he was still trying to make his name with a newly minted PhD in experimental psychology. Having an advanced degree in psychology was still a novelty; with that novelty came a certain authority. Fitts was supposed to know how people think. But his true talent is to realize that he doesn’t.

 

When the thousands of reports about plane crashes landed on Fitts’s desk, he could have easily looked at them and concluded that they were all the pilot’s fault—that these fools should have never been flying at all. That conclusion would have been in keeping with the times. The original incident reports themselves would typically say “pilot error,” and for decades no more explanation was needed. This was, in fact, the cutting edge of psychology at the time. Because so many new draftees were flooding into the armed forces, psychologists had begun to devise aptitude tests that would find the perfect job for every soldier. If a plane crashed, the prevailing assumption was: That person should not have been flying the plane. Or perhaps they should have simply been better trained. It was their fault.

 

But as Fitts pored over the Air Force’s crash data, he realized that if “accident prone” pilots really were the cause, there would be randomness in what went wrong in the cockpit. These kinds of people would get hung on anything they operated. It was in their nature to take risks, to let their minds wander while landing a plane. But Fitts didn’t see noise; he saw a pattern. And when he went to talk to the people involved about what actually happened, they told of how confused and terrified they’d been, how little they understood in the seconds when death seemed certain.

 

The examples slid back and forth on a scale of tragedy to tragicomic: pilots who slammed their planes into the ground after misreading a dial; pilots who fell from the sky never knowing which direction was up; the pilots of B-17s who came in for smooth landings and yet somehow never deployed their landing gear. And others still, who got trapped in a maze of absurdity, like the one who, having jumped into a brand-new plane during a bombing raid by the Japanese, found the instruments completely rearranged. Sweaty with stress, unable to think of anything else to do, he simply ran the plane up and down the runway until the attack ended.

 

Fitts' data showed that during one 22-month period of the war, the Air Force reported an astounding 457 crashes just like the one in which our imaginary pilot hit the runway thinking everything was fine. But the culprit was maddeningly obvious for anyone with the patience to look. Fitts' colleague Alfonse Chapanis did the looking. When he started investigating the airplanes themselves, talking to people about them, sitting in the cockpits, he also didn’t see evidence of poor training. He saw, instead, the impossibility of flying these planes at all. Instead of “pilot error,” he saw what he called, for the first time, “designer error.”

 

The reason why all those pilots were crashing when their B-17s were easing into a landing was that the flaps and landing gear controls looked exactly the same. The pilots were simply reaching for the landing gear, thinking they were ready to land. And instead, they were pulling the wing flaps, slowing their descent, and driving their planes into the ground with the landing gear still tucked in. Chapanis came up with an ingenious solution: He created a system of distinctively shaped knobs and levers that made it easy to distinguish all the controls of the plane merely by feel, so that there’s no chance of confusion even if you’re flying in the dark.

 

By law, that ingenious bit of design—known as shape coding—still governs landing gear and wing flaps in every airplane today. And the underlying idea is all around you: It’s why the buttons on your videogame controller are differently shaped, with subtle texture differences so you can tell which is which. It’s why the dials and knobs in your car are all slightly different, depending on what they do. And it’s the reason your virtual buttons on your smartphone adhere to a pattern language.

But Chapanis and Fitts were proposing something deeper than a solution for airplane crashes. Faced with the prospect of soldiers losing their lives to poorly designed machinery, they invented a new paradigm for viewing human behavior. That paradigm lies behind the user-friendly world that we live in every day. They realized that it was absurd to train people to operate a machine and assume they would act perfectly under perfect conditions.

 

Instead, designing better machines meant figuring how people acted without thinking, in the fog of everyday life, which might never be perfect. You couldn’t assume humans to be perfectly rational sponges for training. You had to take them as they were: distracted, confused, irrational under duress. Only by imagining them at their most limited could you design machines that wouldn’t fail them.

 

This new paradigm took root slowly at first. But by 1984—four decades after Chapanis and Fitts conducted their first studies—Apple was touting a computer for the rest of us in one of its first print ads for the Macintosh: "On a particularly bright day in Cupertino, California, some particularly bright engineers had a particularly bright idea: Since computers are so smart, wouldn’t it make sense to teach computers about people, instead of teaching people about computers? So it was that those very engineers worked long days and nights and a few legal holidays, teaching silicon chips all about people. How they make mistakes and change their minds. How they refer to file folders and save old phone numbers. How they labor for their livelihoods, and doodle in their spare time." (Emphasis mine.) And that easy-to-digest language molded the smartphones and seamless technology we live with today.

 

 

[J.D. Daily]

The primary reason for the B-26's unflattering nickname "widow maker" was primarily due to it's unconventionally high wing loading which is the same reason the century series fighter F-104 received the same moniker.  The thin short wings that allowed the aircraft very high top speed made them their unforgiving flight characteristics.

[Utah Bob #35998]

How to fly the B-26.

Be very careful!

[Trailrider #896]

"I couldn't hear the tower telling me to put my gear (wheels) down because the warning horn was blaring in my ear!"  Badly-designed aircraft recently killed a bunch of people and the pilots because of the MCAS system, and lack of training or even awareness of the existence of the system! 

"Th' more they overthink th' plumbing, the easier it is to stop up th' drain!" - Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, Starship Enterprise

[Sedalia Dave]

2 minutes ago, Trailrider #896 said:

"I couldn't hear the tower telling me to put my gear (wheels) down because the warning horn was blaring in my ear!"  Badly-designed aircraft recently killed a bunch of people and the pilots because of the MCAS system, and lack of training or even awareness of the existence of the system! 

"Th' more they overthink th' plumbing, the easier it is to stop up th' drain!" - Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, Starship Enterprise

 

When the MCAS system malfunctions the symptoms closely mimic run away elevator trim as it is driving the same trim motor. If the pilots would have beeen properly trained they would have IDed the problem as runaway trim and pulled the corresponding circuit breaker the issue would have been easly corected and the plane would not have crashed. Many emergency procedures are supposed to be memorized so that corrective action is second nature and the mitigating steps can be accomplished while the checklist is being pulled up.

I know a guy that works on 737s and he says the AOA probes malfunction because maintenance crews damage them by hitting them with work stands.  The US airlines IDed this early on and took steps to ensure the probes are not damaged by maintenance stands and are given extra attention as part of every preflight. This is why US carriers were flying the 737MAX with no problems.  In both of the other instances inadequate training of both pilots and maintenance crews were the primary factor as to why the planes crashed.

The flight crews in both incidents failed to properly follow emergency checklists.

 

Just as MSM gets almost everything firearm related wrong they went out of their way to make Boeing the sole bad guy and ignored the abysimal lack of training the ground and flight crew had.  IMNSHO the MSM is out to get Boeing just like they are out to get firearms.