There is something very poignant about an airplane that arrives not only with new technology but with the stories of men and women who built, flew, and now keep it running. The North American F-100 Super Sabre is such a remarkable airplane. The first U.S. Air Force fighter jet to break the speed of sound in horizontal flight—a threshold that marked the beginning of a new era in aviation—was the North American F-100 Super Sabre.
George S. Welch piloted the YF-100A on its maiden flight on May 25, 1953, at Edwards Air Force Base, flying the jet past Mach 1.03. It was not a technical achievement; it was a symbol of American determination in the hot-house Cold War era when America and Russia were locked in a battle of control in terms of speed and weapons technology.
Nicknamed “The Hun,” the F-100 was the precursor to the iconic “Century Series” fighters, a line of airplanes that ruled the skies during the ’50s and ’60s. Its swept-wing, streamlined design and potent Pratt & Whitney J57 engine made it capable of speeds up to Mach 1.4 and gave it a combat radius that made it a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. This period, says the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, witnessed how the F-100 established a standard for supersonic flight.
But this is more than a matter of a succession of figures and performance. Through time, the F-100 changed from being a high-speed air superiority fighter to becoming a stable, reliable ground-attack platform. The C and D models, in particular, were produced for close air support, and they became the backbone of U.S. operations in the early years of the Vietnam War.
According to F-100 pilot and MAPS Air Museum board member Ken Ramsay, the Super Sabre flew more combat missions in Vietnam than any other fighter and played a key part in hundreds of battles.
However, training on the F-100 was expensive. There were serious stability problems with initial versions that led to ghastly crashes, such as the notoriety of the “Sabre Dance,” an unsafe flight behavior because of inertial roll coupling. Some pilots, like Barty Ray Brooks, George S. Welch, and Geoffrey Dalton Stephenson, were killed attempting to push the jet to its limits. Their efforts brought substantial design advancements, such as adding yaw and pitch dampers, that made the aircraft handle and fly a great deal better and safer.
What truly makes the F-100 special is the community of individuals that have developed around it—pilots, mechanics, volunteers, and collectors who keep its heritage alive. To restore an F-100 is a time-consuming, labor-of-love affair that can take years. At places such as the Iowa Air National Guard at Sioux City, veteran pilots and new mechanics have worked together to breathe new life into such aircraft and ensure they remain a testament to those who flew and maintained them.
Museums such as the Fort Worth Aviation Museum and Ohio’s MAPS Air Museum are living reminders of the F-100’s heritage. They are not simply displaying aircraft but the people who designed them. The MAPS Air Museum exhibit, through the collaboration of groups such as the Super Sabre Society, features artifacts, personal effects, and stories that place the history of the jet in stark contrast. Among the artifacts are the mess dress and medals of Medal of Honor recipient and legendary F-100 pilot Colonel George “Bud” Day and Thunderbirds demonstration aircraft pieces.
Restoration and recovery of the F-100s is a testament in itself to hard work and engineering talent. Take, for example, the recent recovery of historic F-100 Super Sabre tail number N418FS from the Mojave Desert. It required a combination of meticulous planning, specialized equipment, and a diverse team of veterans, engineers, and volunteers collaborating. Their accomplishment ensures that the plane will continue to be an inspiration to generations to come, not as a museum artifact sitting idly, but as a living symbol of American resolve and spirit.
To many pilots and maintenance crews who have flown or worked on the F-100, the aircraft is more than metal and rivets; it’s a trusted friend. Pilots like Ken Ramsay recall the intimate relationship shared with the planes—the sensation of the sticks, the thrill of flying low, and the connection that existed with the co-occupants of the cockpit and flightline. To the restoration crews, each painstaking hour spent restoring an individual plane shows deference to the past and binds them to the stories that shaped their existence.
F-100 Super Sabre’s legacy is far more than speed and firepower. It is a legacy of the unconquerable will of the men who had the guts to innovate, to venture, and to keep remembering. In each of the restored jets, every museum display, and every personal tale that is recounted, “The Hun” continues to soar—not just through the skies, but in the hearts of all who revere its history.