Your well-dressed aerial gunner of the 1930s.

One of the squadron’s pilots is preparing for some aerial gunnery himself. He will not hit a thing, but will have fun trying.

The squadron was new when these photos were taken in 1939, but the aircraft were hand-me-down O-38s. Here, they certainly show their age. This plane, 34-12, was wrecked in 1941.

Time to grease some lifters.

A more modern aircraft assigned to Key Field was this A-17.

The Mississippi National Guard was just starting out in the aviation world when these photos were taken back in ’39. The newly-minted 153rd Observation Squadron took to the skies with a gaggle of decidedly well-worn O-38s, but they were no doubt happy to have something to fly.

Several people have asked me for the full photo of the image that appears on the header for this site. Nice guy that I am, here it is: The 6th Pursuit Squadron at Wheeler Field, Hawaii, circa 1935. The 6th Pursuit (later Night Fighter) Squadron was inactivated in 1947, and despite being one of the older units (activated in 1917) it entered a long post-war slumber*. This was rectified in 2017, and once again the 6th is an active component of the USAF.

*Note: Wikipedia states that the 6th was reactivated in 1968, assigned to the 11th Air Force, and flew F-4 Phantoms for 25 years at “Alberts Air Base” in the “San Francesco Islands”. Not a word of this is even remotely true thus serving as a helpful reminder why Wikipedia is not an accepted source at any college or university.

The location is Luke Field, Territory of Hawaii. The date, oh, sometime in the 1930s. The aircraft, the Thomas Morse O-19. The 4th had obviously just done something worthy of the sizable trophy held by the officer in the middle. Given the sedate performance of the O-19, it is safe to assume the trophy does not reflect the squadron’s establishment of a new world record for airspeed.

Taken at March Field, California, in about 1933, the pilots are as follows: Front row, left to right, Squadron Commander Lt. Ralph A. Snavely, Lieutenants Lewis, Allison, and Eaker. Top row, Lieutenants Stone, Messer, Gardner, and Skaer. Although the number of B-7 (and its variants) were small (14 built in total) it marked a revolution in Air Corps bombers: all-metal, and a monoplane to boot. This revolutionary aspect can be seen when one compares the Y1B-7 with another 31st Bomb Squadron bird lurking in the background – a Keystone B-4 – which looks right out of World War 1.

A-3 Falcons of the 26th Attack Squadron, Wheeler Field.

Keystone B-5s of Luke Field’s 72nd Bombardment Squadron pay a call to Wheeler.

P-12s of the 18th Pursuit Group warming up at Wheeler Field.

The photo’s caption says the crew of this DH-4 was “O.K.”. Well, that’s good, but despite having survived the crash, their troubles were not over: They have ended up in a field full of Opuntia ficus-indica, also known as the prickly pear cactus (“Panini” in Hawaiian). This no doubt caused a lot of cursing and swearing as the crew worked their way out of the field. Additional blasphemous language was supplied by the mechanics who arrived later to haul the wreck out of there.

When this photo was taken on April 24, 1934, the 1st Observation Squadron at Mitchel Field, NY, was mainly in the business of flying the Curtiss O-1 Falcon. However, they also had this Fairchild C-8 for hauling cargo and personnel from place to place. This C-8 (31-463) was one of only 14 ever built for the Air Corps.

One would be forgiven when seeing these photos for laughing at what appears to be multiple views of one pilot’s misfortune. Unfortunately (for the taxpayer, that is) these are different aircraft on (I assume) different days. Same plane – the BT-14 – and, same place – Randolph Field. The invention of the tricycle landing gear was a welcome addition to the world of flying, especially for those who were just getting started.

Another look at the pre-war B-17

Note that the aircraft is labeled the YB-18 – oops.

Let’s take a look at the early birds of the B-17 world…

The 94th Pursuit Squadron of Selfridge Field out for a drive in the mid-1930s. Great photo – you can practically hear the engines roaring. The aircraft are, of course, P-26s.

We see a rather rare photo here: a pre-war P-36 sporting a bare metal finish with national insignia on its fuselage. Perhaps this can be explained by the fact that in late 1940, the Air Corps was conducting experiments with camouflage as well as the placement of the national insignia. This P-36 is assigned to Maxwell Field’s 23rd Composite Group – the unit that carried out such testing.

When this photo was taken May 28, 1934, Major Muse was commanding officer of Crissy Field, San Francisco. A somewhat stout gentleman, Muse must have found the P-12 cockpit (or those of most pursuit ships of the day) a rather tight fit. There is what appears to be a pole or staff protruding from the aft fuselage – no idea what it’s for.

Sporting some rather bizarre camouflage paint schemes, P-36 Hawks of Selfridge Field’s 27th Pursuit do some fancy flying for the camera. Contrary to popular belief, the camo paint was not part of some war game exercise but rather for display – the 1939 National Air Races in Cleveland, Ohio. In theory, the water-based paint could be easily removed. In practice, that was not quite so: broad areas were washed clean, but the paint adhered itself into every panel seam and rivet head.

Fast forward: In the early 1980s, a pair of A-10s from my base in Alaska were given a water-based “Arctic white” paint job over their normal dark green. Used only for a one week exercise, the white paint was then given a rinse. Same results as in 1939. Every place that was not a smooth flat surface had white paint clinging to it. Every panel, rivet, and screw head was highlighted making for two hideous-looking A-10s. Eyesores that they were, the two aircraft were parked together at the far end of the ramp.