Among the aircraft of World War II, hardly any can compare to Flak-Bait, a Martin B-26 Marauder whose very birth at the Glenn L. Martin plant in Baltimore in April 1943 seemed to foretell the bomber’s great longevity not only through its concept. During the war, Flak-Bait was sent on more than 200 combat missions, making it the longest U.S. bomber in Europe by flight time without any fatal damage. In the end, this single American bomber was able to survive the entire war without being wrecked after such a tough and long service.
The history of Flak-Bait is actually the story of Lt. James J. Farrell from the 449th Bombardment Squadron, 322nd Bomb Group who came up with the aircraft’s catchy nickname: “Flak” for the German anti-aircraft fire it was going to meet, and “Bait” as a reference to his brother’s dog, “Flea Bait,” because of the similarity in the names. It also reflected the aircraft’s steadfastness against danger, which was now omnipresent.
Between August 1943 and the very last days of 1945, Flak-Bait was not easy prey as it had to soar through some of the most dangerous skies in Europe. These are the major battles in which it took part, including D-Day, the Battle of the Bulge, and V-weapon sites precision bombing raids, besides the numerous air raids. Its 200th mission over Magdeburg in April 195 was a sort of farewell concert emphasizing the bomber’s toughness and the crews’ dedication who had so far flown it.
The most stunning thing about Flak-Bait is its durability. In its entire career, it was hit more than 1,000 times – with flak, bullets, and even cannon shells. It was sometimes on more than one occasion that it came back to the harbor with only one engine, some of which were on fire.
The failure of hydraulic systems, the outage of electrical circuits happened, but in all these cases, the bomber was able to bring the crew home safe. Incredibly enough, during the whole time of those missions, there was only one person who got hurt, which could be seen as both the aircraft’s robustness and the proficiency of its crews.
After WWII, the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum became the new place for Flak-Bait. The decision that was taken by the curators was not to refurbish it to look like new, but to preserve the bomber in all of its dents, patches, and scars. Each rivet, hole, and field repair is a storytelling element. People like Chris Moore, who keep the museum safe, realize how important it is to show the fabric-covered control surfaces and other damage so that the physical history of the missions is there.
The painstaking preservation work has been going on for some time. Pat Robinson, Lauren Horelick, and Malcolm Collum, who are specialists in this field, used methods that are more commonly associated with art conservation than with aviation to carry out the work. Original materials were very carefully stabilized; paint was kept under a lot of scrutiny on a molecular level; and even a rough bit of German flak that was stuck in the radio operator’s seat was left as it was – a scary memory of the crew’s danger.
One of the biggest problems that is still there is the difficulty in handling and logistics. Since 1946, Flak-Bait has never been totally rebuilt; hence, extreme caution is required whenever it is moved and reassembled with the aim of minimizing any interference and retaining its authenticity. The process, as Kristen Horing, museum collections manager, puts it, is very slow and very correct, guaranteeing that the aircraft’s story is not lost.
It is true that Flak-Bait’s past is the story of human beings as well. Most of the airmen, over 350, who were present during the operational life of the bomber, were the people who flew it. The names of the crew members, ground staff, visitors, and even children are engraved, scratched, or scribbled over the fuselage; thus, they form a living record of the people who interacted with it. The managers keep finding new names and recording them; hence, the bond between the aircraft and the people whose lives it affected gets stronger.
Flak-Bait is being preserved not merely for the purpose of maintaining the airplane in one piece but also to salute the people who constructed, looked after, and piloted it. Curator Jeremy Kinney describes it as a time capsule that imparts its narrative through scars and wear, not through refinement.
Flak-Bait is still around at a time when most of the aircraft were broken down or scrapped after the war. It is a mighty symbol of survival, capability in engineering, bravery, and sacrifice – a testimony to the missions it flew, the crews who depended on it, and the history it carried on every flight.