“Masters of the Air” follows crew members of a U.S. Air Force (then known as the Army Air Force) bomb group tasked with conducting daylight bombing missions into Nazi-held territory during World War II. The film was developed by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks – the same duo that gave us the land-based Band of Brothers (which followed a company of regular army soldiers through the European campaign) and the ocean-going The Pacific (which followed three Marines through that campaign). To say that fans of these series have been waiting a long time for this is an understatement.
The first two episodes introduce us to three of the characters at the heart of the series: Pilot “Buck” Cleven (Austin Butler, playing the kind of sharp-eyed, cool-headed pilot that Gary Cooper specializes in); pilot “Bucky” Egan (Callum Turner, a risk-taking ace in Clark Gable mode); and navigator Harry Crosby (Anthony Boyle). There are more, but given the high mortality rate in the unit, there is no telling how many more consequences they will have.
Hanks is known for his love of typewriters, and the series is imbued with a similar fondness for the sheer analog clunkiness of the B-17 bomber. The hatch to the bomb bay cannot be opened? Find a crowbar and pry it open so you can get the Bombardier out before the plane crashes. Do you need to be warned where the next threat of enemy fire is coming from? Have the machine gunner in his glass turret see it with the “Mark I human eye” (ie, naked vision), and then shout, “Fighter at 2 o'clock.” Problems locating the target location? Use the Navigator to figure it out using paper, maps, a compass and pencil calculations as you rattle under fire at 35,000 feet. Younger generations may be amazed that crews couldn't even rely on the computing power of a Nokia clamshell, let alone a smartphone.
The series is based on the book of the same name by Donald L. Miller, which relied heavily on the testimony of veterans and didn't take many liberties. Even the unlikely is often the incredible truth. Still, in the premiere episodes of “Masters of the Air,” we take a look at what is fiction and what is improbable fact.
“Bucky” Egan and Callum Turner. Photos from the American Air Museum and Apple TV+
Did the USAAF bomb teams have a top secret bomb aiming device?
In the show, the USAAF pilots come into conflict with some Royal Air Force pilots who believe that the American military is increasing the risk to its crews by conducting daylight bombing missions rather than flying at night like the British do. However, as the story goes, the United States was embracing a new technology that was second only to the atomic bomb in terms of the amount of money invested and the secrecy involved: a bomb aiming device that could attack specific targets with greater precision than ever before made possible. The disadvantage was that a Bombardier required visual target acquisition and therefore could only be used in daylight, putting the aircraft at greater risk of being shot down.
It is true that the USAAF developed its strategy around this new type of bomb target, the Norden. The North's major breakthrough was that it could directly measure the aircraft's ground speed and direction, whereas older bomb sights could only estimate these using complicated manual procedures.
The Norden bombsight was essentially an analog calculator that adjusted air density, wind drift, airspeed and ground speed, while also incorporating an autopilot that could control the aircraft during the final approach to the target. These capabilities promised unprecedented accuracy in high-altitude daytime bombing raids and enabled direct attacks on ships, factories, and similar strategic targets.
The USAAF's entire daylight bombing strategy was built around the north and relied on fewer and more accurately dropped bombs than the large-scale bombing practiced by the British, which was more a matter of throwing a lot of mud in the hope that some of it would catch on would become a viable goal. However, area bombing could be carried out at night when the aircraft were less likely to be shot down.
The Army was so convinced of the advantage the Norden offered that the acting chief of the Bureau of Aeronautics wrote: “The Norden bombsight is considered the single most important factor of superiority possessed by the air forces of this country over the potential air forces.” enemy countries” – that it invested $1.1 billion in research and development and production, equal to two-thirds of the budget for the atomic bomb and more than a quarter of the production cost of all B-17 bombers. Strict security measures have been put in place, such as requiring the Nordens to be stored in a climate-controlled safe at the air base's secure storage facility when not on an aircraft.
How well did it work?
Unfortunately, the army had fallen for a clever marketing campaign from the north. Although the device worked as advertised under test conditions, things were different in actual combat. The cold temperatures at the bombing altitude caused the equipment's lubricating oils to solidify and the optical sights to fog up, so the USAAF eventually purchased electric blankets to wrap the bomb sights (their equally frozen operators had no such comfort). Likewise, the autopilot's guidance system could be disrupted by smoke screens or even ground fog.
Then there was the maintenance. The Norden bombsight is still considered one of the most complicated mechanical devices ever made, with more than 2,000 parts including DC motors, gears, clutches, levers, mirrors and gyroscopes, not to mention special Harry Potter-style components Names such as piston bearings, gimbal bearings and gimbal rings. All were subject to the aircraft's vibrations, electrical surges, wear and tear, and the brushes of the DC motors dispersing the carbon dust they produced into sensitive bearings.
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But the main problem, as always, was human frailty. The bombardier's job was to input various parameters into the sight and then make numerous fine-tuning adjustments by reading the fine print on his bomb charts and handheld computers, similar to a slide rule, to set various speeds, angles and ballistic parameters of the bomb in front of the bomb calculate final automatic release. He then looked at the target through the device's telescope to optimize the preset values and attempt to position the target's dead center despite clouds, haze, smoke or fire in the crosshairs as the aircraft approached the release point. And he did all of this while stationed in freezing temperatures in the B-17's plexiglass nose, one of the most vulnerable parts of the plane, trying to navigate the noise of the plane's engines, the incoming enemy fighter attacks, the anti-aircraft fire and that of his plane concentrate defensive machine gun fire.
Given all this, it is no surprise that the North has failed to keep its promises. In fact, it was remarkable that the B-17 bombs hit anything. Several later studies confirmed that only 5 percent of Eighth Air Force bombs fell within 1,000 feet of their targets. And despite the elaborate security measures, the bombsight wasn't much of a secret – details of the North had already been passed on to Germany before the war, and both the British RAF and the German Air Force had developed bombsights based on similar principles.
Harry Crosby and Anthony Boyle. Photos from the American Air Museum and Apple TV+
Did the US Air Force really use navigators who suffered from airsickness?
Harry Crosby, who serves as the series' narrator, is an excellent navigator, but is very nervous during missions and suffers from terrible airsickness. He begs his crew members not to betray him to bomber command because he wants to continue flying missions. At one point in Episode 2, he vomits into his helmet, puts it on as the plane comes under fire, and then takes it off, forgetting what would be left on his head.
That actually happened. As retired Master Sgt. Dewey Christopher told a USAF website, “Harry would get airsick every time he went on a mission, so he carried a sack. On this particular mission he had forgotten it and when the plane took off, Harry became ill; He realized he didn't have a bag and the bombardier said, “Harry – use your helmet.” As they moved to drop their bombs, the pilot called out, “Them.” [flak’s] It's getting bad up here – put your helmets on…' And he did that because he forgot he was sick in them.”
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Crosby himself, who later worked as a professor of English composition and rhetoric, admitted this in his memoirs A Wing and a Prayer, recalling: “Although I…was in the air for nearly a thousand hours, I still became severely airsick, especially.” at low altitudes, where flying was particularly turbulent. For the millionth time since I joined the Air Corps, I regretted not joining the infantry.”
Were bomber crews really that superstitious?
A navigator friend of Crosby's, who is recovering in the hospital, gives Crosby his lucky snow globe, which he believes protected him when so many people died on his plane. Afterwards, Crosby makes sure he always has the snow globe with him. Even the practical Buck Cleven sticks a photo of his loved ones on his dashboard before takeoff, and the aviators generally seem to have as many rituals as baseball players.
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In his book “Flying Against Fate: Superstition and Allied Aircrews in World War II,” SP MacKenzie notes that Bibles were said to have protective properties. But more popular than St. Christopher medals and similar religious items were jewelry, clothing, toy figurines, and items ranging from a desiccated kangaroo's foot to fresh four-leaf clovers and a pink glass elephant to an aircraft from the 100th Bomber Group that even carried “a piece of rotting nonsense.” with him that once belonged to a man who had outlived his service. Given the losses of the Allied bomber commands in World War II, which amounted to more than 50 percent of the airmen (not that the airmen were given this information), it is hardly surprising that the aircrews tried to instill a sense of agency through magical thinking and superstition to attain a cruel and random fate.
According to an article by veteran Bill Wallrich entitled “Superstition and the Air Force.”
Pilots often coped with stress by carrying amulets and talismans such as silver dollars. Each unit had at least one unlucky aircraft – a “clinker” whose temperamental behavior was the result of a deeper curse – and, conversely, an enchanted aircraft that improved the odds for its lucky pilot. The entire 100th Bomber Group, upon which the Masters of the Air unit focuses, was known to the broader 8th Air Force as a bewitched unit and was nicknamed the “Bloody 100th” because of its high number of casualties in early attacks, although the group Statistically speaking, such losses did not suffer a greater proportion of losses than anyone else.