But the Air Force intervened
by JOSEPH TREVITHICK
When
one thinks of the U.S. Army, one generally doesn’t think of squadrons
of jets flying around the battlefield. But at the height of the Cold
War, the ground combat branch had its sights set on buying a fleet of
jump jets.
Though
the Pentagon turned the U.S. Air Force into a separate service shortly
after World War II, its ground-pounding cousins remained interested in
helicopters and other flying machines. A decade later, Army aviators
were hard at work with aircraft makers to cook up special craft that
could land and take off like helicopters, but fly like normal planes.
“While
the 1947 National Security Act created an independent United States Air
Force, this did not halt the expansion of Army organic aviation, or the
Army’s increasing use of the helicopter,” Dr. Ian Horwood wrote in Interservice Rivalry and Airpower in the Vietnam War.
“[But] in the early 1950s, such ‘convertiplanes’ appeared to offer more
potential for Army surveillance and air mobility tasks than
helicopters.”
By
1950, the idea of combining features from helicopters and traditional
aircraft was hardly new. Spanish engineer Juan de la Cierva invented the
autogyro, which blends a free-spinning rotor and a conventional
forward- or rear-mounted engine, nearly three decades earlier.
As
world settled into the Cold War, major air arms became fascinated by
the idea a jump jet that wouldn’t necessarily need a long runway. During
World War II, Allied forces bombarded Nazi Germany’s air bases and
limited the Luftwaffe’s ability to fight back.
On
both sides of the Iron Curtain, military commanders realized that
nuclear war would only speed up the destruction of normal airstrips. By
the time Berlin fell, Hilter’s weaponeers had already started work on
various alternatives, such as rocket planes that could shoot straight up
into the sky from a small launch rail right into enemy bomber
formations
.
.
However,
deadly surface-to-air missiles steadily replaced the need for these
sort of defensive planes. Still, American, British, German and Russian designers kept working on potential designs.
For
the Army, a covertiplane would allow aviators to keep the aircraft
close to the front lines and the soldiers they would undoubtedly be
supporting on the ground. Troops would not have to capture enemy
airfields keep the jump jets nearby.
But
the fledgling Air Force saw the sky as their domain. The flying branch
repeatedly opposed the ground combat branch’s research.
In
1949, both services agreed to the Bradley-Vandenberg Agreement, which
limited the weight of any Army planes to less than 2,500 pounds without
any fuel, ammunition or weapons under the wings. The flying branch hoped
this would kill the ground combat branch’s aspirations.
Instead, Army leaders claimed that their hybrid aircraft did not fall into this category. The Air Force was apoplectic.
After
three years of complaints and negotiations, the Pentagon imposed a new
deal that doubled the minimum weight for Army planes. This time, the
ground combat branch succeeded in getting a formal exemption for
convertiplanes.
While
the bickering continued, the Army never stopped its work on various
flying machines, helicopters and jump jets. By 1966, the ground combat
branch was testing more than 30 different kinds of crafts from futuristic jetpacks to “flying jeeps,” according to a contemporary fact sheet.
The
litany of projects also included two types of convertiplanes. While
plane makers Lockheed and Ryan Dubbed their unarmed prototypes “research
planes” to try and fend off any Air Force objections, the Army saw the
aircraft as integral to their future battle plans.
Externally,
Lockheed’s XV-4 Hummingbird looked very much like a small jet fighter
bomber. The plane could take off vertically by venting the engine
exhaust through nozzles in the underside of the aircraft. To help
produce more power in vertical flight, the top of the fuselage would
open up so the engines could pull in additional air.
In
contrast, Ryan’s XV-5 Vertifan had two traditional engines to power the
plane like any other jet aircraft. But when hovering, a valve would
open and force exhaust to drive three, powerful lift fans.
At
4,995 pounds, the original XV-4 was just under the Pentagon-imposed
restrictions for conventional Army planes. The XV-5 weighed nearly twice
as much.
Both
aircraft were much faster than Army choppers. The Hummingbird could get
to a top speed of over 500 miles per hour. The Vertifan topped out at
nearly 550 miles per hour.
Unfortunately,
neither design proved to be particularly functional — or safe. On June
10, 1964, Lockheed’s first prototype crashed, killing the pilot. Less
than a year later, test pilot Lou Everett died when the initial Ryan
model went down as the Army showed the plane off to the public.
In
both cases, the complicated engine arrangements proved to be
under-powered and unstable. In 1965, Army weapon testers recommended
Ryan make five “mandatory” fixes and suggested another 11 more
“desirable” changes, a preliminary review stated.
The
evaluators complained about overheating in the XV-5’s cockpit, engine
and fan ducts, sensitivity to gusts of wind while hovering and other
problems. Lockheed and Ryan both rebuilt their prototypes to try and
solve the issues.
In
addition, Ryan proposed turning their type into a rescue plane. With a
hatch in the bottom of the fuselage and a hoist, crews could reel in
wounded troops like a helicopter, but race much faster to the nearest
battlefield hospital.
The
problems continued in dramatic fashion. During a mock rescue mission in
1966, the lift fans on the XV-5 sucked up the dummy injured soldier.
With the mannequin in the motor, test pilot Bob Tittle lost control and
died in the resulting crash. Ryan managed to repair the damage so tests
could continue.
Three
years later, the remaining XV-4 smashed into the ground in yet another
incident. Harlan Quamme safely ejected, becoming the only test pilot to
survive an accident in one of the jump jets.
By
that point, the Army was losing its battle for its own jets. The
Pentagon and lawmakers repeatedly sided with the Air Force. The ground
combat branch had lost the right to arm its scout planes and its CV-2
propeller engine cargo planes.
In
the early 1960s, the service had tried and failed to get its hands on
two British Hawker Siddeley P.1127 prototypes. Between 1964 and 1965,
the service had managed to squeeze into itself into a test partnership of these planes along with Germany and the United Kingdom.
But
after the evaluation ended, the Air Force took over the experimental
XV-6s — and promptly got rid of them. The Germans ultimately dropped out
of the program. However, with continued interest from the U.S. Navy and
the British military, Hawker Siddeley pushed ahead, leading to the
iconic Harrier jump jet.
In
1971, the U.S. Marine Corps put the refined AV-8 Harrier into service.
The same year, the Army’s jump jet dreams finally came to an end.
Today, the surviving XV-5 now sits outside at the U.S. Army Aviation Museum at Fort Rucker in Alabama.
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