No plane ever left its mark as indelibly as did the Boeing B-29 Superfortress. Completed as a bomber, it was much more—a quantum leap in flight that married cutting-edge technology with revolutionary, visionary design. The B-29 did more than win a war—it predicted the future of flight and inspired awe at its vision and ambition.
It was begun in 1940, when the U.S. Army Air Corps issued a challenge to the aircraft manufacturers to develop a bomber that could fly at 400 mph, carry 10 tons of bombs, and deliver them 2,500 miles to targets.
Boeing accepted the challenge, in the form of the Model 345, to later became the B-29. Its first flight in September 1942 was preceded by innovations for the time: pressurized crew compartments, remotely controlled gun turrets, an early computer-guided firing system, and massive new engines.
The project demanded a dramatic level of commitment in terms of labor and capital. At its conclusion, the B-29 was the most expensive American World War II war project, more than the Manhattan Project. And as with any new technology, it was buggy to begin with. General Curtis LeMay joked that it had “as many bugs as the Smithsonian’s entomology department.” Determination, testing, and flying by the seat of one’s pants worked out initial ills, and by the latter part of the war, the B-29 was a terror to the Pacific theater.
The Superfortress will probably be most famous for its operations in August 1945, when two specially modified “Silverplate” B-29s dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The aircraft were all stripped of much defensive equipment to save weight and were a choreographed operation supported by other B-29s that provided weather reconnaissance, collected data, and photographed the target.
The names of Enola Gay and Bockscar come to mind, but they were only part of a large, highly coordinated mission.
The B-29’s history did not end with the war. It evolved into the B-50 Superfortress, with heavier engines and a stronger airframe, to become the U.S. Air Force Strategic Air Command’s workhorse. One B-50, known as the Lucky Lady II, completed the first nonstop flight around the globe in 1949—a secret flight in those days, revealed publicly only when it was accomplished.
The Boeing Company also used the B-29 design for civilian applications. The Stratofreighter C-97 and the Stratocruiser airliner took the Superfortress’ rugged design and pressurized interior into commercial service. The Stratocruiser even featured a lounge on the lower deck, an omen for postwar in-flight comfort until the rise of faster jetliners came along to reshape the paradigm.
The B-29 was also used in science. Spare aircraft were modified into high-altitude science platforms, measuring solar radiation and cosmic rays. One, tail number 45-21847, has a 1948 flight over Lake Mead. “Flying laboratories” such as these worked in the background to aid in our understanding of the upper atmosphere and provide an example to future success in aeronautics and astronautics science.
It was due to the people who flew at the rear of the plane—pilots, scientists, mechanics, and engineers who gambled everything on untested equipment and hazardous skies. Their talent, courage, and knowledge brought to life the B-29 and enabled it to leave its signature.
All of these planes now rest in museums throughout the United States. There is even a Castle Air Museum in California where people walk beneath the giant wings of B-29s and B-50s with fantasies of the sounds of engines and crews’ capabilities that once filled Pacific skies. These planes are not just metal—these are permanent photographs of imagination, hope, and man’s bravado that reshaped the skies.