Few planes in history weigh as heavily—both literally and metaphorically—as the Enola Gay, the B-29 Superfortress that dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Its mission didn’t merely assist in ending World War II; it also launched the nuclear age, one that has left a lasting legacy to continue to generate controversy among historians, veterans, and the general public.
The Enola Gay was hardly an ordinary B-29. It was one of the highly exclusive “Silverplate” group, which retrofitted a small number of bombers to deliver the enormous atomic bomb. In order to make the plane suitable for the mission, engineers removed armor plating, eliminated most of the remotely operated gun turrets, and reserved only a tail gun for protection. These modifications were essential to carry Little Boy, the 10,000-pound uranium bomb that would change the course of history forever.
Originally identified only as No. 82, the plane acquired its lasting designation the evening before the flight. Colonel Paul Tibbets, commanding officer of the 509th Composite Group, personally chose the aircraft and had the name “Enola Gay” painted on its belly in honor of his mother.
President Harry S. Truman had a bleak set of options as the Pacific conflict dragged on: persist in the deadly routine of conventional bombing, invade at a high cost, demonstrate the atomic bomb, or target a city directly. Conventional bombing had already inflicted great slaughter, and an invasion risked horrific losses on both sides. Demonstrating the bomb risked failure, leaving Japan unpersuaded. Finally, Truman and his counselors decided that a direct attack provided the most immediate way to bring the war to a close.
Early on the morning of August 6, 1945, Tibbets and his eleven-man crew took off from Tinian Island, then the world’s largest airbase, constructed solely to facilitate the merciless bombing of Japan. The crew had spent heavily in practice with “pumpkin bombs” to help duplicate Little Boy’s dimensions and heaviness. At 8:15 a.m. At Hiroshima time, Major Thomas Ferebee dropped the atomic bomb. It exploded about 1,800 feet over the city, releasing an energy of 15,000 tons of TNT. Ground-zero temperatures rose above 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit, killing tens of thousands instantly and incinerating nearly everything in view.
In the ensuing days and weeks, many more died from radiation exposure. The Enola Gay had already flown unimpeded, and its crew watched the mushroom cloud rise, well knowing they had deployed a weapon unlike any other.
Three days later, a second bomb devastated Nagasaki. On August 15, Emperor Hirohito announced Japan’s surrender, ending the deadliest conflict in human history. Yet the bombings ignited immediate moral debate. Some, including members of the crew, argued that the attacks prevented an even bloodier invasion. Others maintained that targeting cities with such overwhelming, destructive force was morally indefensible.
Following the war, the Enola Gay was disassembled and put into storage for decades before being restored and exhibited at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. Even then, the exhibit proved controversial during the 1990s.
Curator Gregg Herken originally aimed to show a complete historical record, Japanese points of view, and civilian losses, but political backlash and protest from veterans resulted in an emphasis more on the plane itself than on the wider ethical and human consequences of its mission.
Today, the Enola Gay still provokes strong emotion. Some museum-goers believe that the human toll of Hiroshima is downplayed, while others view it as a celebration of technological prowess and strategic success. Approaching the airplane encourages consideration of memory, ethics, and the cost of human innovation in warfare.
Something greater than a relic of the past, the Enola Gay represents how technology can transform war, reminding us of the serious burden that accompanies power and of the timeless struggle between strategic imperatives and human cost.