“America’s Leading Airline” And Its Aircraft Choices In The Early Jet Era

In the mid-1950s, while most American aircraft manufacturers were concentrating on creating the first generation of jet airliners, Lockheed answered the call to design a 4-engine turboprop type capable of comfortably accommodating at least 65 passengers and cruising at a speed close to 400 mph. CR Smith, the president of American Airlines, ordered 35 of the turboprops, dubbed L-188 Electras, for American Airlines.

The Race To Be First With Jets

Looking beyond the need for turboprops, American’s management team was exploring the pure-jet designs that were on the drawing boards. American had been a loyal Douglas customer since the 1930s, but Douglas’s DC-8 jet design was not going to be available as soon as Boeing’s jetliner would be.

Consequently, CR Smith placed an order for 25 Boeing 707s, intending for American to be the first airline to inaugurate domestic jet service within the USA.

A Back Room Deal Foils The Plan

While Pan American was the launch customer for the Boeing 707, introducing the aircraft on transatlantic routes in October 1958, American Airlines was scheduled to have the honor of being the first carrier to operate its own 707s domestically. Thus, American would be the first US carrier to introduce jets within the USA.

However, a shrewd deal arranged between George Baker of National Airlines and Juan Trippe of Pan Am allowed National to claim the distinction of operating the first domestic jet service in the United States in December 1958, when Baker’s airline leased a 707 from Pan Am for winter service between New York and Miami.

 American could still claim to be the first to fly ITS OWN jets over domestic routes in the USA when the company’s Boeing 707s entered service on January 25, 1959.

Electra Tragedy

American’s Lockheed Electra turboprops were slightly behind schedule in delivery, consequently the airline operated its first Electra Flagship flight on January 23, 1959, just two days prior to inaugurating 707 Jet Flagship service.

Less than two weeks after the Electra inaugural, one of the turboprops, the Flagship New York, crashed on approach to New York’s LaGuardia Airport, killing 65 of the 73 persons aboard. It was the first in a series of Electra accidents, experienced by four different airlines, that would initially tarnish the type’s reputation.

However, all Electras underwent a modification process to correct a design flaw – a flaw that played no part in the LaGuardia crash – and Electras went on to serve with many airlines for years to come.

FAN JETS Enter The Fleet

 American upgraded its initial batch of Boeing 707s by installing JT3D-1 fan-jet engines on them, and ordered 25 Boeing 720s (10 720s, 15 720Bs), all of which were soon standardized as 720B Fan Jet models.

No Longer The Biggest Airline

In 1961, United Air Lines absorbed Capital Airlines through merger. United became the largest airline in the United States in terms of domestic route mileage, number of passengers carried, and revenue passenger miles flown. No longer could American refer to itself with the slogan it had used since 1950: “America’s Leading Airline”.

American Airlines AstroJets Defined a New Era

In order to revamp American’s rather staid image, the company’s advertising agency came up with a new term to replace the word Flagship. Beginning in 1961, the moniker ‘Astrojet’ was applied to all of the JT3D-1 turbofan-powered jetliners.

The Astrojet name was eventually applied to all new jets entering American’s fleet, and CR smith ordered a lot of new jets, including a batch of Convair 990s from General Dynamics.

The last of American’s piston-engine Convair 240s left the fleet in 1964, the same year that the company introduced Boeing 727 Astrojets to its passengers. It was also the year that CR Smith relinquished the presidency of American Airlines and moved on to chairmanship of the board of directors.

American Airlines Buys A British Bird

One more aircraft type entered the Astrojet fleet during the 1960s. American ordered 15 British Aircraft Corporation BAC 1-11 -400 series aircraft to replace the company’s remaining turboprop Electras and piston-powered DC-6s on short and medium-haul runs. Referred to as BAC-400 Astrojets, the twin-engine British jets entered service with American in 1966.

American ended the 1960s with an all-jet fleet and orders for two new types that would be delivered in the near future: Boeing 747s and Douglas DC-10s.

In the span of a decade, American Airlines had transformed its fleet from all props to an assortment of the most modern jet equipment available. The American Airlines Astrojets became a core part of the airline’s storied history.

In 1961, the US Navy (USN) began looking for a new light bomber to replace the Douglas A-4 Skyhawk.

There was a general trend toward expensive supersonic aircraft in the military at the time, with the key word being ‘expensive’. Swimming against the current, the Navy wanted a somewhat simpler, austere design.

In 1964, the USN accepted a bid from Ling-Temco-Vought (LTV) for what became the A-7 Corsair II. Simple it was, and simple meant not only cheaper, but a fairly quick development period as well.

The first A-7 flew in 1965 and development proceeded apace. So much so that the end of 1967 would see the US Navy’s first deployment of the A-7 in Vietnam.

The A-7 Enters U.S. Navy Service

In 1966, the A-7 entered service with the U.S. Navy, and two fleet readiness squadrons received the first A-7As. VA-174 Hellrazors at Cecil Field, Florida, on the East Coast would train crews for the Atlantic Fleet squadrons. VA-122 Flying Eagles at NAS Lemoore, California, would do the same for Pacific Fleet outfits on the West Coast.

The first front line U.S. Navy outfit to become operational on the A-7 was Attack Squadron 147 (VA-147) Argonauts, on the West Coast.

US Navy Deploys the A-7 in Vietnam

VA-147 was also the first USN squadron to enter combat in Southeast Asia (SEA). The outfit embarked on USS Ranger (CVA-61) as part of Attack Carrier Air Wing 2 (CVW-2) in September of 1967. Combat operations commenced in December.

Navy squadrons flying the A-7 in Vietnam soon established a fine combat record. With a greater range than the A-4 and almost twice the payload, the A-7 became a veritable workhorse for the Navy.

The A-7 flew close air support missions and made high altitude level bombing runs. A-7s also played the Suppression of Enemy Air Defenses (SEAD) game, flying ‘Iron Hand’ missions against radar-guided air defenses.

Another role it filled, one rather placid in nature, was that of aerial refueling. Equipped with underwing ‘buddy’ stores, many US Navy aircraft types, including the A-7, can act as tankers for other birds in the air wing.

Bridge Busting With the A-7 in Vietnam

As a response to North Vietnam’s invasion of South Vietnam in March of 1972, Operation Linebacker began in May of 1972. Its intention was to disrupt the flow of supplies from the North to the South, in an attempt to halt the offensive.

Roads, bridges, and supply points were to be relentlessly pounded from the air. On 10 May, one of the most prominent targets was the Hai Duong rail and highway bridge, a major link between Hanoi and Haiphong.

The job of destroying the bridge fell to Attack Carrier Air Wing 11 (CVW-11) from the USS Kitty Hawk (CVA-63). This photo was taken by a rearward strike camera mounted underneath an A-7E of VA-195 Dambusters, flown by Lieutenant Mike ‘Baby’ Ruth.

Hunting SAMs With the A-7 in Vietnam

Perhaps the most dangerous of all the missions flown by the A-7 in Vietnam were of the SEAD variety. Operation Iron Hand was a joint effort by the USAF and the USN to destroy enemy radar-guided air defenses.

The idea was to fly ahead of a strike package and play bait, as it were. Attract attention from an enemy radar-guided surface-to-air missile (SAM) or anti-aircraft artillery (AAA) battery. Wait for the radars to switch on and track you. Locate the radars and weapons batteries, then take ’em out.

Weapons used for this purpose were a mix of anti-radiation missiles as well as a variety of ‘dumb’ bombs. Early on, the missiles were AGM-45 Shrikes, later augmented with the AGM-76 Falcon. Regular ‘ole iron bombs were used, but Rockeye cluster bombs were preferred by many crews.

‘Twas highly dangerous, to put it mildly. Many of the A-7 losses suffered were among the SAM hunters.

This photo shows an A-7 from VA-93 Blue Blazers about to launch for an Iron Hand sortie, She’s armed with four Shrikes and two Rockeyes.

Flying Combat Can Be Dangerous

Yeah, that’s an obvious one. But here’s an illustration of exactly how dangerous it could be.

On 14 September 1968, VA-27 Royal Maces flew a mission in support of the campaign against the ‘ole Chi Minh Trail. That day, the target was enemy shipping in the southern Panhandle area.

The A-7A flown by the squadron’s commanding officer, Commander George Pappas, took a hit from AAA, setting the starboard wing ablaze. He headed back toward home, the USS Constellation (CVA-64), and had gone feet wet when the fire worsened.

Weighing the odds, Pappas decided to turn toward Da Nang, which was nearer, and make an emergency landing there. Miraculously, he was able to make it to the base and was on his landing approach, but had trouble controlling the jet.

Pappas wound up riding the bang seat while over the runway. The jet came down hard, veered off, and headed straight for a hangar, coming to rest half in and out of the building. Fire crews extinguished the blaze, averting a catastrophe.

The jet was a write-off, and Pappas suffered minor injuries. But it could have been much worse. This was a relatively rare happy-ish ending. About 54 Navy A-7s were lost in combat, and many pilots were not as fortunate as Commander Pappas.

An Assessment of the U.S. Navy’s A-7 in Vietnam

The war in Vietnam was a failure for the USA as a whole. That much is true. But in failure, there are often successes, and the LTV A-7 Corsair II proved its worth in Vietnam.

The type flew somewhere in the neighborhood of 97,000 combat sorties with the USN, constituting a high percentage of the overall sortie count. In Operation Linebacker alone, the A-7 flew 60% of all USN offensive sorties.

In establishing this combat record, the Short Little Ugly Fella’s reputation as a first-class bomb truck had been firmly cemented in history.

I woke up early in the morning to the sound of a heavy prop driven aircraft. I live at the base of the Olympic Mountain range in Washington State. My location is so far out that the sound of passing aircraft only happens once or twice a day. On this particular morning things were much different.

Every twenty minutes the sound of roaring engines filled the sky. I went outside to see if I could catch a glimpse at one of those birds. A thin cloud of smoke whisked over the roof as I looked up. It was then that I remembered several friends had asked me about the Washington forest fires!

Sure enough, the roar of heavy prop driven aircraft returned. When I looked up I spotted four Canadair CL-415’s flying in formation over head. The float planes where mostly white in color and flew with a purpose. These planes where fighting a forest fire and it must have been close.

Ten minutes later the planes were over head again. They were heading back the way they had come. The formation of CL-415’s were dropping down behind the tree line and scooping up water from the Hood Canal. The Hood Canal is a long, narrow inlet of the Puget Sound.

The Canal stretches for about 80 miles from Puget Sound to the Olympic Mountains. It took the CL-415’s approximately 10 minutes to return from the canal, once they flew overhead. It then took them approximately another 15 minutes to return from dropping their payloads.

History of the Canadair CL-415

The CL-415 was developed as an improvement of the earlier CL-215, the first purpose-built water bomber. The CL-215 first flew in 1967, and after years of successful service, an upgraded model was proposed. The CL-415 was designed to be faster, more powerful, and more efficient. It included updated avionics, more powerful engines, and a larger capacity for water.

The first flight of the CL-415 took place on December 6, 1993. It proved successful, leading to its certification and entry into service. The aircraft received its certification from Transport Canada in 1994, allowing it to enter
operational service.

Specs of the Canadair CL-415

The CL-415 is specifically designed for water bombing, capable of scooping up to 6,137 liters (1,621 gallons) of water in just 12 seconds. The aircraft can also mix the water with fire retardant and drop it over forest fires to help control the spread of flames.

Engines: 2 × Pratt & Whitney Canada PW123AF Turboprops. Maximum Speed: 233 mph (376 km/h). Range: 1,518 miles (2,443 km). Service Ceiling: 20,000 feet (6,096 meters). Water Capacity: 6,137 liters (1,621 gallons). Crew: 2 (pilot and co-pilot), with space for additional crew depending on the mission.

The State of Washington does not own CL-415 aircraft. Instead, the state has leased or borrowed CL-415s, often from Canadian provinces, during severe wildfire seasons. This is a common practice in the U.S., where states and federal agencies collaborate and share resources during emergencies.

The exact number of CL-415s used by Washington at any given time can vary depending on the severity of the fire season and availability of aircraft from other regions. Typically, only a few CL-415s are deployed in Washington during peak fire seasons.

The importance of the Canadair CL-415

The CL-415 has seen service worldwide, particularly in countries with large forested areas prone to wildfires, such as Canada, the United States. Several Mediterranean countries also use the CL-415’s for fighting forest fires.

The CL-415 is renowned for its reliability and effectiveness in its
firefighting capacity. This is what makes it the aircraft of choice
for aerial water bombing missions world wide.

Bonus: Check out this video of the CL-415 in action

Youtuber HD1080ide shared a video of the CL-415 conducting both scooping operations and a water drop. It’s a great video to see how the water bomber operates.

When Marine Fighter Squadron 214 (VMF-214) comes up in conversation, thoughts turn to a certain television show from the 1970s. A show that helped steep the story of VMF-214 Black Sheep in myth and legend.

VMF-214: in the Beginning

The original VMF-214 was commissioned at Marine Corps Air Station Ewa, Hawaii on 1 July 1942. Named the Swashbucklers, VMF-214 deployed to the South Pacific in February of 1943.

The squadron had been equipped with the Brewster F2A Buffalo, but left these behind when they left Ewa. Flying borrowed, worn-out Grumman F4F Wildcats, VMF-214 operated from Turtle Bay Airfield on Espiritu Santo Island, and then Henderson Field, Guadalcanal.

Its first tour of duty at Henderson ended in early September of 1943, and the squadron was disbanded . The pilots awaited reassignment or were sent home on leave. But VMF-214 was almost immediately reconstituted at Espiritu Santo under command of its most famous leader, Major Gregory Boyington. Their mount would be the Chance-Vought F4U Corsair.

Oh, about the nickname ‘Pappy’. He was indeed older than most of the other pilots in the outfit, by almost a decade. But they apparently never called him ‘Pappy’, instead referring to him as ‘Gramps’.

The nickname we’ve come to know and love was an invention of the press.

The Myth of VMF-214 Black Sheep

VMF-214 is fabled in legend as a band of rebellious misfits, a notion popularized in the 1970s television series, Baa Baa Black Sheep. (later re-titled Black Sheep Squadron) But nothing could be further from the truth.

The pilots of this second incarnation of VMF-214 were something of a ragtag bunch, true. But none came from the stockade or anything like that, as has been suggested by some. They came from Marine Aircraft Group 11’s (MAG-11) pilot pool.

The pools were made up of pilots whose former squadrons had disbanded, and were simply waiting around for orders. Some of these guys were among the most experienced fighter pilots in the Pacific at that time. Included were eight members of Boyington’s previous squadron, VMF-122.

Other than Boyington himself, who did indeed have a reputation as a drinker and brawler, there weren’t any really rowdy types. Well, none more so than you would have found in your typical Marine fighter squadron, that is.

No, these guys simply happened to be in the right place at the right time. And they just happened to wind up with what became one of the most famous flying units in history.

Why ‘Black Sheep’?

An early order of business during their month or so of training at Espiritu Santo was to select a name for the outfit. Some of the guys had been referring to themselves as ‘Boyington’s Bastards’. Classic fighter pilot stuff, but not something that would go over well in the press.

The resident Marine Corps public relations officer at Espiritu Santo, Captain Jack DeChant, suggested they go with ‘Black Sheep’. It essentially had the same meaning and was still ‘colorful’, but less ‘abrasive’.

And so was born VMF-214 Black Sheep.

After training, VMF-214 moved from Espiritu Santo to Munda Airfield on New Georgia Island, then to Barakoma Airstrip on Vella LaVella Island. From these fields VMF-214 would fly most of its missions against Japanese forces for roughly three months during the Solomon Islands campaign.

VMF-214 Black Sheep and Rawhide

Like most Americans of the era, many of the the Black Sheep were baseball fans. During the World Series in October of 1943, most fans of America’s greatest pastime had the war on their minds. But the Black Sheep had baseball on theirs.

Baseball caps were prized possessions in the day, especially among Navy and Marine pilots throughout the Pacific. In the series that year it was the St. Louis Cardinals against the New York Yankees, and the men of VMF-214 proposed an unusual trade with the teams.

For every game-worn ball cap the players sent them, the Black Sheep would down one Japanese plane. The offer was accepted. At the end of the series, both teams sent around 20 baseball caps to the men of VMF-214, along with some bats and balls.

The Black Sheep held up their end of the bargain, and then some. They shot down 48 planes. ‘Twas good publicity and good fun all way ’round. And most importantly to the Black Sheep, they got their prized caps which were in short supply out in the Pacific.

Not All Fun and Games For VMF-214 Black Sheep

The baseball stuff was, of course, just a distraction. There was a war on and grim work to be done. The battle for the Solomons was raging, and VMF 214 was in the thick of it.

Boyington and VMF-214 often flew aggressive fighter sweeps around enemy airfields. There were times when they arrived at a field and found no airborne enemy. So they would simply parade around the area, inviting the Japanese up for a scrap.

Though highly exaggerated in books and on screens both large and small, such encounters were very real. It’s just that the invites were not sent through witty banter on the radio.The Americans’ presence alone was invitation enough.

One of their greatest successes took place during a sweep on 17 October, 1943. Boyington led 24 fighters to Kahili Airfield on southern Bougainville where at least 60 enemy fighters were known to be based.

Boyington and the Black Sheep circled patiently, and up came a large number of enemy aircraft. Then there was a swirling melee reminiscent of the dogfights of the First World War. Down went twenty Japanese. The Marines returned home without loss.

Boyington and the Ace Chase

Boyington had flown with the American Volunteer Group (AVG) in China, fighting the Japanese under the Chinese flag, beginning in late 1941. He claimed six Japanese aircraft destroyed. (He was officially credited with just two by the AVG.)

During his time leading VMF-214, Boyington had added considerably to his score, claiming 19 victories from mid September to late December 1943. In doing so, Boyington had also been inching closer to Eddie Rickenbacker’s record of 26 victories from the First World War.

That record had thus far been equaled by just one pilot, fellow Marine and Medal of Honor winner, Major Joe Foss. And he was no longer flying combat, so this gave Boyington a clear run at matching and perhaps surpassing the record.

The Black Sheep had not only been cheering him on, they’d been actively trying to help him get there. They’d run interference for him, and carefully watch his tail Some would even give up opportunities to flame a Zeke, instead deferring to their skipper.

It Wasn’t Easy Leading VMF-214 Black Sheep

By late December of 1943 Boyington’s score stood at 24. But the strain of combat and of leading men into it was starting to take its toll. And the relentless badgering by war correspondents about the chase to catch Rickenbacker and Foss didn’t help any.

More than once Boyington’s infamous temper got the better of him, usually ending with a press man sheepishly retreating to calmer spaces. The leader of VMF-214 Black Sheep was clearly reaching the end of his rope.

27 December 1943 brought his 25th victory. 28 December brought no luck. A mission to Rabaul on 2 January 1944 seemed promising until Boyintgton’s Corsair started throwing oil, and he had to abort.

Throughout December of 1943 VMF-214 had been staging missions out of Torokina Airfield on Bougainville. That evening of 2 January, Boyington and seven other Black Sheep headed to Torokina for another mission to Rabaul the next morning.

Fateful Day

Dawn came on 3 January 1944, and Boyington departed Bougainville with the other seven members of VMF-214 Black Sheep, headed toward Rabaul. Boyington was leading a combined armada of some 40-50 Navy and Marine fighters.

Nearing Rabaul at about 20,000 feet, Boyington spotted a number of Japanese aircraft rising up from Rapopo airfield to challenge the Americans. Calling on the radio for his section to attack, Boyington and his wingman, Captain George Ashmun, dove down onto the enemy.

Boyington drew first blood.

He poured a long burst into the Zeke. Ashmun called over the radio, “Gramps, you got a flamer.” A flamer it was. True to form, the lightly armored ‘Zero’ burst into a flaming mass, streaking orange and black through the air as it disintegrated.

‘Ole Pappy had done it. He’d tied Rickenbacker’s record. The two continued in their dive, attacking more Japanese aircraft they found below. Pappy nailed a second and Ashmun added a third: it was his first kill of the war.

No Cause For Celebration

Soon after Ashmun scored his victory, Boyinton noticed a number of aircraft descending behind them. He initially thought that these were the rest of his section from VMF-214 coming down to join the fray.

Unbeknownst to Boyington, the other Black Sheep had become separated in cloud and had momentarily lost track of him. The party crashers were Japanese. A moment later, he saw his wingman’s ship shudder and belch smoke, then enter a shallow glide.

The Japanese fighters buzzed ’round the stricken Corsair, pouring more fire into the ship. Boyington yelled over the radio for Ashmun to dive, knowing that that was his wingman’s best bet for escape. But there was no reply, and the Corsair continued in its glide.

Boyington ran headlong into the Japanese fighters, throwing his big Corsair around the sky with abandon. He didn’t take time to aim with the gun sight. The Zekes were all around, at close range, and he simply blazed away whenever one passed in front of his nose.

‘Twas futile. Ashmun’s Corsair burst into flames and crashed into the ocean. Boyington soon came under heavy fire and dived to escape, leveling out just above the water. But his ship, too, became a blowtorch, and it seemed that he would meet the same fate as Ashmun.

VMF-214 Black Sheep Mourn Their Skipper

One by one the other pilots landed back at Vella Lavella. Lieutenant Bruce Matheson reported that the last time he’d seen Boyington, he and and Ashmun were going after 15 Zeros. He also mentioned that Boyington had bagged one.

Everyone cheered. The skipper had tied the record.

None of the other pilots knew anything further about him, however. Other airfields were contacted, but neither the skipper nor Ashmun had landed at any of them.

As the afternoon wore on, slowly it sank in. Boyington was gone.

VMF-214 Black Sheep: End of Tour

This first combat tour for the Black Sheep ended on 8 January 1944, just five days after Boyington went down. The squadron had racked up an impressive tally during its roughly three months in combat.

Some 203 Japanese aircraft had been destroyed, 97 of them confirmed air to air kills. Nine Black Sheep became aces, each with five or more victories.

Also, numerous transport and supply ships were destroyed, as well as many ground targets. Among the squadron’s awards and honors was a Presidential Unit Citation for extraordinary heroism in combat.

VMF-214 would be reconstituted again on 29 January 1944 at MCAS Santa Barbara near Goleta, California. The outfit became carrier qualified and would deploy as part of Carrier Air Group 5 (CAG 5) aboard USS Franklin on 4 February 1945.

On 19 March 1945, during operations off Okinawa, a lone Yokosuka D4Y Suisei (‘Comet’, allied code-name ‘Judy’) penetrated the Franklin’s defenses and struck the flattop with two bombs.

The initial explosions, secondary explosions, and ensuing conflagration killed between 700-800 sailors and Marines, including 32 members of VMF-214.

This would be the end of the war for the Black Sheep.

Boyington Comes Back From the Dead

The Japanese would often announce the capture of allied servicemen, especially someone who was well-known. But no such announcement about Boyington had come, and it was assumed that he had been killed.

Though he had been at very low altitude, Boyington was able to bail out and survive, albeit wounded. He was picked up by a Japanese submarine and taken into captivity.

Like all prisoners of the Japanese, Boyington suffered cruel treatment. But he made it through in one piece, more or less. At the end of the war he was released and came home to a hero’s welcome.

He was surprised, no doubt, to find that he had been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. An even greater surprise must have been finding out that he was also bestowed the USA’s highest military award, the Medal of Honor.

Perhaps most important to him, however, was keeping a date of sorts that he had set with his men in 1943. When asked at the time if he was concerned about being killed, he replied:

“They can’t kill me. If you guys ever see me going down with 30 Zeros on my tail, don’t give me up. Hell, I’ll meet you in a San Diego bar and we’ll all have a drink for old times’ sake.”

And with that, we’ll just wrap things up here with this photo, taken at the bar of the St. Francis Hotel, San Francisco in September of 1945.