NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00142

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Schultz, James, 1956–

Crafting flight : Aircraft pioneers and the contributions of the men and 

women of NASA Langley Research Center / by James Schultz.

p. cm. -- (NASA history series)

“SP-2003-4316.”
CRAFTING

FLIGHT

BY

JAMES SCHULTZ

CONTENTS

PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V

FOREWORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII

INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IX

CHAPTER 1—CRAVING FLIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

CHAPTER 2—A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

CHAPTER 3—REFINING THE AIRPLANE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

CHAPTER 4—SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

CHAPTER 5—BEYOND THE HOME PLANET. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

CHAPTER 6—EXPERTISE APPLIED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

CHAPTER 7—REDEFINING ROLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151

CHAPTER 8—BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171

FOOTNOTES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193

PREFACE

While this is a self-contained history of NASA Langley Research Center’s contributions to flight, many other organizations around the country played a vital role in the work 

described in this book.

Within the Agency, Langley for decades has worked closely with other NASA Centers, 

particularly Ames Research Center at Moffett Field, California; Glenn Research Center in Cleveland, Ohio; and Dryden Flight Research Center in Edwards, California. These are NASA’s “aero” centers, where most of the Agency’s aeronautics research has been conducted over the years.

Other NASA Centers include Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama; 

Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland; Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida; Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas; and Stennis Space Center in Mississippi.

Without the support of these Centers and NASA Headquarters in Washington, D.C., 

Langley’s work would not have been possible. NASA also collaborates extensively with academia, private industry, and other government agencies. These are far too numerous to mention, but their contributions are equally important.

Last but certainly not least, we must not forget the U.S. citizen, whose tax dollars support our work and whose representation in the Administration and the Congress guides our 

actions. It is for their benefit, ultimately, that we exist.

FOREWORD

One hundred years of flight is quite a historical achievement. We have progressed from 

a 57-second flight over the dunes of Kitty Hawk to the over 25-year journeys of Voyager 1

and 2 beyond Pluto’s orbit. During that time span, in perhaps the most awe-inspiring aerospace accomplishment after Wilbur and Orville Wright’s historic flight, the first humans, 

Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins, flew to the Moon. Sixty-six years after the flight at Kitty Hawk, people all across our home planet Earth paused to watch on television as American astronaut Neil Armstrong stepped out of the Lunar Lander onto the surface of the Moon.

As we pause to celebrate the centennial of flight from our perspective in the early part 

of the twenty-first century, we can look back over the countless contributions of many individuals to flight. The first person who looked to the sky, observed birds in flight, and dreamed of humans soaring through the air is lost in history. Recounted in these pages are the stories of a few aviation pioneers and the contributions of the men and women of Langley Research Center. We celebrate not only their accomplishments, but also their perseverance and dedication.

A Congressional mandate issued in 1915 formed the National Advisory Committee for 

Aeronautics (NACA). In 1958, Congress mandated the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) from the NACA. Both the NACA and NASA were created in response to the need for the United States to catch up to existing technological advances. Although the United States was the birthplace of controlled, powered flight, by World War I, we were technologically far behind Germany, France, and Great Britain. The NACA was created to study the problems of flight “with a view to their practical solution.” In 1958 when the former Soviet Union launched the first artificial satellite to orbit the Earth, the United States again found itself behind technologically, Congress passed the National Aeronautics and Space Administration Act of 1958 “to provide for research into problems of flight within and outside the Earth's atmosphere.”

Today through partnerships with industry, universities and colleges, and other 

Langley Office of External Affairs photo archives

INTRODUCTION

When you pass through the front gates of NASA Langley Research Center you are 

entering an extraordinary place. You could easily miss that fact, however. A few years ago a cross-state bicycle tour passed through the Center. As interesting as looping around the Center was, the riders observed that nothing about the vaguely industrial site fit the conventional stereotypes of what high tech looks like. NASA Langley does not fit many stereotypes. It takes a close examination to discover the many ways it has contributed to the development of flight.

As part of the national celebrations commemorating the 100th anniversary of the 

Wright brothers’ first flight, James Schultz, an experienced journalist with a gift for translating the language of engineers and scientists into prose that nonspecialists can comprehend, has revised and expanded Winds of Change, his wonderful guide to the Center. This revised book, Crafting Flight, invites you inside. You will read about one of the Nation’s 

oldest research and development facilities, a place of imagination and ingenuity. If this is your first “visit,” you will surely find many surprises. If you are a veteran, the pictures and text will evoke many memories.

For five years, I had the privilege of serving as the NASA Langley Visiting Historian. 

Like the other historians who have spent time at the Center, I have developed a keen appreciation for the work that has been done here. In April 2002, the Center invited me to participate in the ceremony celebrating the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics’ selection of Langley as a historic aerospace site. This is an international award that recognizes sites where significant contributions were made in aeronautics and astronautics.

Asked to give a speech, I spent considerable time reflecting on the importance of 

“community” to the development of technology, indeed, all of history. Technology is more than machines. It is, as the brilliant historian of technology Brooke Hindle once said: “making and doing.” The “making and doing” of flight (atmospheric or space) has required an extraordinary community and Langley has been vital to the effort.
Langley 8-Foot High-Speed Tunnel in 1936.

GRIN photo no. GPN-2000-001821
INTRODUCTION

Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants

STANDING ON THE SHOULDERS OF GIANTS

“If I see further, it is because I stand on the shoulders of giants,” wrote Isaac Newton to 

Robert Hooke. Paraphrasing Newton a bit, if the American aerospace industry is to continue as the world leader, it will be because it stands on the shoulders of giants. So who were these “giants?” It is common practice among aviation history enthusiasts to point to individuals—Ludwig Prandtl, Theodore von Karman in the technical realm; Donald Douglas, William Boeing among many manufacturers; Hap Arnold, Billy Mitchell, William Moffett in the military; and Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart among the scores of pilots—and surely individuals, especially these individuals, matter. The American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics is doing a daring thing then: it is honoring places.

I could not be more pleased because for the past five or six years I have had the privilege to “Think Langley, Work Langley, Dream Langley.” (This is a variation on a quotation 

of Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) president Richard C. Maclaurin, who led the campaign at the turn of the century to build our Cambridge campus and was describing to alumni how MIT had gotten into his system!) The Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory (now the NASA Langley Research Center) is a remarkable place, a place that has consistently transformed mostly ordinary engineers and scientists into a premier technical community.

To be sure, Langley has had its share of “stars.” Their names are well-known to you, 

but this plaque honors a community, the collective endeavors of individuals and a Nation. Years from now, when maybe the Center no longer exists, there will be this bronze plaque. Imagine in two or three centuries, stumbling across it in the woods among the ruins of buildings, much as we have stumbled across the last remnants of George Wythe’s old homestead. Imagine asking yourself: “What was this place? What were they doing? How did this work change the world?” In your mind’s eye, can you see the archeologist clutching a crumbling copy of Engineer in Charge or Winds of Change, exclaiming, 

“Here is where the 16-Foot Tunnel was!” “That’s where the NTF [National Transonic Facility at Langley Research Center] stood!” “And look, the 8-Foot High Speed Tunnel is 
Eight of the twelve members of the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics attending the 9th Annual Aircraft Engineering Research Conference at 

Langley Field, Virginia, on May 23, 1934. Pictured from left to right are Charles Lindbergh; Vice Admiral Arthur Cook; Charles Abbot, Secretary of the Smithsonian; Dr. Joseph Ames, Committee Chairman; Orville Wright; Edward Warner; Fleet Admiral Ernest King; Eugene Vidal, Director Bureau of the Commerce.

GRIN photo no. GPN-2002-000024
INTRODUCTION

Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants

declared, challenged, prophesied that the new Langley Memorial Laboratory would become a mecca for aeronautical engineers.

You had to be the hardy sort to make the pilgrimage in those first few years. To go to 

work at Langley in 1920 was reminiscent of the experiences of 19th century civil engineers assigned to remote locations with few amenities. While the NACA committee members spent time trying to figure out a way to move from Hampton back to Washington, D.C., the young men who were hired to work at Langley began to form a cohesive community.

They began by building a wind tunnel. Edward Warner, the new NACA Chief 

Physicist—he got that title so he did not have to take the Civil Service exam; engineers had to take the civil service exam and scientists did not—was fresh out of MIT. MIT had established the first aeronautical engineering program in the United States in 1913. It built its first “real” wind tunnel at this time—the hole cut by students in the side of a ventilation duct in the 1890s does not count as a “real” wind tunnel—based on plans given to Jerome Hunsaker during his visit to the National Physical Laboratory in England. MIT President Maclurian asked the NPL for these plans, and his good friend and former teacher, NPL Director Richard Glazebrook had complied. Warner, along with Donald Douglas, had been one of the most active in building MIT’s tunnel. Now he was primed to do it again for the NACA.

Neither engineers nor historians have had many kind things to say about “Wind Tunnel 

No. 1.” It certainly was not a source of new insights in the nascent field of aerodynamics, but it supplied a purpose and focal point for this early cadre of NACA employees. It also reinforced in the minds of these young American engineers that Europe had become the preeminent source of new ideas and research techniques in aeronautical engineering. If you don’t believe me, check out the fact that many of the oldest publications now found in the Floyd L. Thompson Library (one of the world’s best collections, by the way) are in languages other than English.

What an odd bunch these Langley engineers must have seemed. In the muggy, mosquitoey muck of newly drained swampland in the segregated south was this band of a dozen 

or so indefatigable young men who wanted to work all night. They hearkened from north

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Chief of Aerodynamics, 

Elton Miller, and Sperry M-1 in Propeller Research Tunnel in 1927.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00342

NACA cowling (covering over engine) #10 
INTRODUCTION

Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants

Langley laboratory into a major research facility on par with the best in Europe. From the VDT came the series of reports presenting the NACA family of airfoils. From the PRT came the NACA cowling. Both accomplishments won considerable acclaim. But all was not well at Langley.

Essentially, Munk and the Langley engineers did not get along. Munk may have been 

brilliant, but he was not in charge of either Langley or the NACA. Needless to say, the Langley engineers chafed at the fiats he issued. He was outspoken and, on occasion, offensive. He drove the Langley engineers crazy. But the real issue was: What sort of laboratory was Langley to be? Munk wanted to replicate the German research university model. The Langley engineers believed they had a different mandate: to work collaboratively to find practical solutions to the problems of flight. Munk’s resignation set the stage for a new period in the history of the Laboratory.

“Hurricanes Daily!” was the theme of an advertisement in a 1930 issue of the Saturday 

Evening Post. The hyperbole and emotional rhetoric of the ad would become commonplace for descriptions of the new NACA Full-Scale Tunnel (FST). The dedication of the 

FST in 1931 was supposed to be a modest affair, but neither the press nor the visiting engineers could contain themselves. Over the next decade, it became apparent that the FST would not achieve its research objective or the pioneering status that the VDT and PRT had. Yet, the facility’s critical importance to the history of the NACA and Langley cannot be overstated. Engineers made great use of the FST, and it has proven invaluable over many decades for development studies.

The historic significance of the Full Scale Tunnel derives from its monstrous size and 

the tremendous emotional reaction that visitors experienced when seeing the tunnel for the first time. Ordinary people do not experience technology as intellectual abstractions. An airplane in flight is a “miracle” to be wondered at, not an assemblage of scientific puzzles like boundary layer theory. The vast scale of the FST conveyed the importance of longterm investment in research equipment, of institutional permanence and of aviation’s prominent place in the life of the Nation. The public, if they knew what the initials NACA stood for—and most did not—saw the organization’s mission to make airplanes fly faster, further, higher, and safer. In the FST, though the price tag was steep, they could easily apprehend the fact that the engineers at Langley were upholding the mandate

To the aeroMax Munk in his office at Langley in 1926. Electrical engineer Kitty Joyner at Langley in 1952. Langley staff working on 

IBM type T04 electronic data processing machine in 1957.
INTRODUCTION

Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants

to this was the aircraft structures group led by Eugene Lundquist and Paul Kuhn who deliberately designed building 1148 to be too small to do the Army Air Force’s static loads testing work and therefore maintained an emphasis on research.) The war work had its gratifications and rewards, but it also brought significant change.

Langley was suddenly a much larger facility. There were multiple research groups 

each with their own specialized tunnel or laboratory. There were many more people (growing from 500 to 3,200 in five years) including, for the first time, a significant number of women working in professional positions. Langley was not only the center of its employees’ work lives, but also their social lives. From sports to Sunday School, Langley people (then as now) tended to hang out with each other. Locals dubbed them “NACA Nuts,” although the relationship of Langley to Hampton Roads is basically the same as “town-gown” relationships everywhere.

The establishment of Lewis (now Glenn) and Ames laboratories meant that Langley 

was now one of three NACA facilities. To ensure success and continuity, several of Langley’s best and most entrepreneurial engineers went west to organize, direct, and staff these new labs. This resulted in yet another substantive change wrought during the World War II period: the creation of competition (for resources and ideas) within the NACA. It would prove a key change for Langley in the postwar period.

The period stretching from the end of World War II to 1957 should probably be called 

aviation’s “Second Golden Age.” For those of you who worked at Langley during this time: Can you imagine a more productive, interesting, challenging, exhilarating (and perhaps exhausting) time? The aerospace industry (along with the electronics and chemical industries) could not grow fast enough as Americans invested generously in science and technology. The turbojet revolution supplied an astonishing new research agenda. The story of Richard Whitcomb’s discovery of the area rule has been well-told, but less wellknown is the fact the Langley performance tests of the NACA 65-Series airfoils were the basis for the design method that the NACA presented in a series of three confidential memorandums known as “The Compressor Bible.” This was work critical to the development of the turbofan.

Or, what about the astonishing aircraft structural mechanics group, widely hailed for 

its “ability to attract bright young university graduates

[and] develop them into first-class 
Langley’s 737 flying laboratory flight tested advanced warning wind shear detectors to make aircraft safer.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00019

Cockpit of Shuttle Atlantis showing multifunction electronic display system.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00036
INTRODUCTION

Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants

Langley: “The goal was to do enough research to enable NASA to make independent judgments about the contracts it was letting.” The military, he argued, had made the mistake of relying on outsiders (from the universities and industry) to evaluate work and formulate its agenda.

In this period, Langley also had to adapt to the mission model of research. Congress 

debated and funded specific missions with clear objectives: a crewed space program; a supersonic commercial transport; a mission to Mars. It is with the Viking Program and during the tenure of Center Director Ed Cortright that it became clear that the “spaceflight revolution” (the transformation from NACA to NASA) was now complete.

The period that followed—from the mid-1970s to the end of the Cold War—was 

marked by the reexamination of the role of aeronautics research. One of the more ambitious efforts was design and construction of the National Transonic Facility at Langley. What is obvious, however is that some of the greatest successes have been unanticipated by many outside the NASA family. Researchers in the Transonic Dynamics Branch have always known they work in a unique facility, but it has taken much longer for the rest of the world to recognize that fact. Likewise NASTRAN, a computer software program, is a major albeit unheralded accomplishment.

Until the early 1990s, the military was a reliable patron. With the end of the Cold War, 

there was the painful reality of downsizing. There were many who were asking: “What is the “return on investment” we get for a Langley? Why should we continue to spend on this work?” Langley managers took the questions to heart and carefully examined research goals. There was an unprecedented quest for efficiency, while maintaining research integrity within NASA as a whole. Revising organizational structure was the focus of innovative energy, as well as an emphasis on new forms of outreach.

But what of the future? Alfred Chandler wrote in his Pulitzer Prize-winning history, 

The Visible Hand: The Rise of the Modern Business Enterprise that it was revolutions in transportation and communication technology—specifically the railroad and the telegraph—that provided the foundation for not only the rise of the modern business enterINTRODUCTION

Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants

The answer is all of the above. We need different types of facilities, different communities, because there is no “one best way” or “one best organization” to solve all of the 

problems in aerospace. The strength of this community has been its diversity and the stimulation supplied by the intersection of strikingly different thought styles. Langley has been less about boldness, more about breadth and depth of knowledge.

Naturally, I will hedge my bets a bit here, as after all, I’m a historian, not a fortuneteller. But to my mind, Langley has been among the giants whose broad shoulders have 

helped support the Nation’s aviation and space enterprises. The plaque unveiled today reminds us of what has been achieved. It is a splendid and well-deserved tribute. May the vision and hard work of your predecessors also be an inspiration as you face the challenges—for surely there are many—in the days to come. May you continue to be both mecca and mine for those who wish to reshape the world of aeronautics and space. 
Simplified drawing based on da Vinci 

lifting airscrew design.
C HAPTER

1

CRAVING FLIGHT

In the latter part of the 15th century, Leonardo da Vinci spent many of his waking 

hours attempting to perfect an “ornitottero,” or ornithopter, a helicopter-like craft whose primary mechanism was a spiral airscrew built to obtain lift. He was convinced that avian anatomy proved beyond doubt that human flight would be no more and no less a matter of mastering essential mathematical principles. Da Vinci wrote, notes biographer Serge Bramly, that a bird “is an instrument functioning according to mathematical laws, and man has the power to reproduce an instrument like this with all its movements.”1

So committed was da Vinci that by 1496 he began discrete, secret experiments with 

model craft from the heights of buildings near his workshop in Milan. Bramly believes 
CRAVING FLIGHT

1

The problem of scaling up ornitottero 

design led Leonardo to study the relationship between birds’ wing size and weight. He deduced there was no fixed rule; some large birds like the pelican have short wings relative to weight whereas a flying mammal like a bat has long wings relative to size. For the ornitottero, Leonardo therefore envisioned wings of different sizes that could be bent, stretched, and moved in such a way as to rise vertically and then fly horizontally. To that end, he sought out the lightest, strongest, and most supple materials then available: pinewood strengthened with lime, raw and sized silk, canvas covered with feathers; leather treated with alum or smeared with grease for lanyards and straps, young pine laths or reeds for the chassis, and steel and horn for the springs.3

Bramly writes that da Vinci was “full 

of faith,” [spending]

endless hours on his invention. Others might have tried to fly before him, but 

no one had pursued this dream with such patience, ingenuity, daring and tenacity.

He must have given up in the end 

the idea of jumping from the roof [of a nearby building].... Perhaps he used the roof only to test the load his wings could bear, or try out his models. Prudently, he decided [writing in his journal] ‘You will experiment with this machine over a lake and you will wear attached to belt a long wineskin, so that if you fall in, you will not be drowned.’

Bramly is not certain da Vinci 

attempted to fly, but thinks that he might have tried. It is likely that the end result would have been a kind of kite-like hang glider rather than an engine-containing chassis with mobile wings.4

Da Vinci was not the first would-be 

aviator. Nor, for 400 more years, would he be the last. Even though skeptics may have thought the skies would forever remain the domain of insects and birds, many pioneers were eager to take on the aerial challenge.
CRAVING FLIGHT
CRAVING FLIGHT

Plying the Ocean of Air

1

Nature served as a template and 

guide. Observers noted how leaves drifted from trees, clouds scooted across the skies, bubbles floated, and creatures without feathers, like bats, nimbly flew through air. Certain species of fish, squirrels, lemurs, lizards, even snakes glided and remained airborne for a few seconds. Animals living in water sometimes moved in ways reminiscent of flight, like whales and dolphins breaching and then, resubmerging, navigating like avian imports. There seemed abundant evidence that many creatures could escape Earth’s surface, at least for a short time.5

People, of course, were distinctly 

unavian, with a strong, if heavy, skeleton, considerable musculature, water-containing inner organs, and a relatively weighty brain encased in thick bone. In contrast, a bird is born with honeycombed yet reinforced bones, huge (in relation to body weight) flight muscles, flexible wing arrangements, feathers that provide both lift and propulsion (and weatherproofing), as well as an oxygenrich metabolism and anatomical structure uniquely suited to the physiological 

6

ity’s constant clutch. If humans were to fly, it seemed it would not be like birds. PLYING THE OCEAN OF AIR Early aviators struggled to under- stand the interaction of air with solids, like wood and textiles. Simple air resis- tance slows moving objects by imposing a force opposite to the motion. Air resis- tance increases with the square of speed, so that acceleration is slowed and the object eventually stops. Absent a continuing, accelerating force, even a rocket shot into the atmosphere will fall back to Earth, reaching a final speed known as terminal velocity. The atmo- sphere offers little resistance to a dense stone. On the other hand, a feather will fall more slowly because the shape of its surface creates much greater air resis- tance in proportion to its negligible weight. (In a vacuum, in a gravitational field, both stone and feather fall equally fast.)8Lift is a more complex phenomenon. It is produced by the motion of specially shaped surfaces through the air and acts in a direction essentially perpendicular to 
CRAVING FLIGHT

Plying the Ocean of Air

allowing them to glide great distances. Other seeds look like advanced designs for military aircraft, like the B-2 Stealth bomber. One, the maple seedpod, spins in autorotation like tiny helicopter blades as it descends, its wings generating lift that slows its fall and gives the wind time to carry the seed away from its parent.10

Innovators noted closely these 

phenomena and attempted a modest degree of aerodynamic experimentation. Prehistoric hunters not only took note of the ways their projectiles penetrated animal flesh, but also how straight and sure they flew. The tails of arrows contained feathers or feather substitutes such as leather, leaves, or fur to stabilize them in flight. Other hand-tossed devices, such as boomerangs and disks of wood and metal, could travel substantial distances and were used in hunting and during battle. In particular, boomerangs, often fashioned in the classic shape of the letter V, anticipated modern aerodynamic practice and design.

Kites also exploit the possibilities of 

flight. In producing fabric and paper prot

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in hard-to-reach waters and experiments with electricity.11

Kites were prized for simplicity and 

dependability, both of which correlated directly to simple aerodynamic principles. They remain aloft because their surface area resists the wind. Held at an angle by string, the kite deflects moving air downward. In a breeze of constant strength, forces applied by the wind and the string are perfectly balanced, and the kite hangs nearly motionless in air.12

By the Middle Ages, two other 

aviation-like devices had been developed: the windmill, an early kind of propeller, and the model helicopter. Toys using the principle of the helicopter—a rotary blade turned by the pull of a string—were also widely known.

Some three centuries later, the first 

flights of human-carrying balloons occurred. The fact that warmed air rises and can be harnessed to lift weight occurred to French paper-maker Joseph Montgolfier one evening in 1783 as he watched the fire in his hearth. Montgolfier made a bag of fine silk and lit 

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Plying the Ocean of Air

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Paintings of balloon flights in France.

National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution, SI neg. no. 71-309
CRAVING FLIGHT

Going Aerial

balloon equipped with a brazier. The fledgling fliers took along a bucket of water and sponges in case the fire burned out of control, but the first crewed balloon ascent proceeded without incident. The balloon rose 500 feet and floated above Paris rooftops for 25 minutes.13

Even as the Montgolfier brothers 

were developing their balloons, another experimenter was working on a different approach to lighter-than-air flight. Professor Jacques A.C. Charles filled a small bag of rubberized silk with hydrogen, a gas only seven percent as heavy as air. Launched in Paris, it flew for about 45 minutes before coming down 15 miles away in the village of Gonesse. The balloon met an unfortunate end; pitchforkwielding villagers tore it to shreds, convinced they were destroying an instrument of the devil. Undeterred, Charles built a larger human-carrying balloon, which he flew just a month after Montgolfier’s flight. The public enthusiasm for ballooning grew, so that an estimated 400,000 people witnessed Charles’ takeoff from the Tuileries Gardens. Charles lifted skyward with a f

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designed airplanes with rigid wings to provide lift and with separate propelling devices to provide thrust. Cayley demonstrated, both with models and with fullsize gliders, the use of the inclined plane to provide lift, pitch, and roll stability; flight control by means of a single rudder-elevator unit mounted on a universal joint; streamlining; and other devices and practices.

Born in Scarborough, England, 

Cayley began designing experimental aircraft after observing birds in flight. His first aircraft was a type of kite fitted with a long stick and a movable tail. Encouraged by his success with this simple design, Cayley designed a larger aircraft with fixed wings. The essential form of the modern airplane, a rigidwing structure driven by a separate power plant, first appeared in a design of Cayley’s from 1799. By 1808 he had constructed a glider with a wing area of almost 300 square feet. In 1853 Cayley built a triplane glider (a glider with three horizontal wing structures) that carried his unwilling coachman 900 feet before crashing. It was the first recorded flight 

15
CRAVING FLIGHT

Going Aerial

1

Sir George Cayley and his early aircraft designs.
CRAVING FLIGHT

Going Aerial

when a lightweight engine was developed to provide adequate thrust— an innovation finally accomplished by American aviators Orville and Wilbur Wright in 1903.16

Others would advance the fledgling 

science of aeronautics through the study of and experiments with gliding, thereby contributing extensively to the design of wings. These pioneers included the Frenchman Jean-Marie Le Bris, who tested a glider with movable wings, and the American John Joseph Montgomery. In 1843 British inventor William Samuel Henson published his patented design for an aerial steam carriage, a blueprint that did more than any other to establish the form of the modern airplane: a fixedwing monoplane with propellers, fuselage, wheeled landing gear, and flight control by means of rear elevator and rudder. Steam-powered models made by Henson in 1847 were promising but unsuccessful. In 1890 French engineer Clément Ader built a steam-powered airplane and attempted the first actual flight of a piloted, heavier-than-air craft. However, the flight was not sustained, and the airplane brushed the ground over a dis

National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution, SI neg. no. A-39013

Otto Lilienthal, c. 1890.

Lilienthal biplane glider in flight.
CRAVING FLIGHT

Prelude To Flight

1

careful notes on their aerodynamic qualities.18

He launched his flights from the top 

of a 50-foot hill that was built for the purpose in an open area near Berlin. The hill was conical, which allowed Lilienthal to fly directly into the wind no matter in which direction it blew, thus increasing the lift-generating movement of air over the curved, fabric-covered wings of his fixed-wing gliders. Half sitting on a trapeze so that his head and shoulders were above the wings, Lilienthal would step off the hill to begin a long

gentle glide to 

generated by his experiments would prove a crucial element in the development of powered flight.20

Beginning in 1896, the American 

civil engineer Octave Chanute had a limited success with multiplane gliders. But his most notable contribution to flight was his compilation of developments, Progress in Flying Machines, published 

in 1894. Additional information on aerodynamics and on flight stability was gained by a number of his experiments with kites. Before turning to aviation, Chanute built railroads and railroad bridges. Attracted by the work of Otto Lilienthal and other Europeans who were experimenting with gliding flight, Chanute (then in his sixties) established a glider camp on the sand dunes of Lake Michigan near Chicago. There, he and his associates made about 2,000 gliding flights without accident in machines of his own design. Chanute was particularly interested in problems of control and equilibrium, and the data he accumulated proved extremely useful to the Wright brothers in evolving their earlier designs. He was in constant correspondence with th

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Samuel Pierpont Langley, former secretary of the Smithsonian Institution and an avid aeronautical researcher.

NASA Langley photo no. 61L06095
CRAVING FLIGHT

Prelude To Flight

National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution, SI neg. no. A-30908-C

Chanute biplane glider.

Chanute triplane glider under test by assistants in 1896.
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Prelude To Flight

1

by the challenges flight presented. Despite criticisms from skeptical colleagues, and after 10 years of often frustrating struggle, Langley and his assistants were greatly encouraged by the successful launch of one of their uncrewed scale models on May 6, 1896.

Vowing to become the first to launch 

a full-scale, human-carrying airplane, the group intensified its efforts over the succeeding seven years. However, their final crewed test of Langley’s Aerodrome A on 

December 8, 1903, ended abruptly in failure as the awkward machine lumbered not into the air, but into the chill waters of the Potomac River after being catapulted from its original position on top of a houseboat.

Writer Tom Crouch describes the 

preparation for the flight, as pilot Charles Manly “stripped off his outer clothes, [making] the flight clad in a cork-lined jacket, union suit, stockings and light shoes. Whether he succeeded or failed he faced a dunking in the icy waters of the Potomac and had no intention of being weighed down by heavy garments. The 

sky as the machine flipped over onto its back and dropped into the water.

Manly hung from the cockpit sides 

and entered the water feet first. In spite of his precautions, he was trapped beneath the surface with his jacket caught on a metal fitting. Ripping the garment off, he struggled through the maze of broken wood and wire, only to reach the surface beneath an ice cake. Diving, he finally emerged in the open water some distance from the floating wreckage, just in time to see a concerned workman plunge under the remains of the craft to rescue him. Both men were quickly fished out of the water and carried to safety aboard the houseboat. Manly was uninjured, but so cold that Dr. F. S. Nash had to cut the clothes from his body.

Moments later, wrapped in a blanket 

and fortified with whiskey, this genteel son of a university professor startled the group by... delivering a “most voluble series of blasphemies.” Samuel Pierpont Langley’s 20-year quest for the flying 

22
CRAVING FLIGHT

Prelude To Flight

NASA Langley photo no. 90L04341

Langley Aerodrome houseboat on Potomac River.

Langley Aerodrome A catapulting off houseboat October 7, 1903.
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Brothers Extraordinaire

1

BROTHERS EXTRAORDINAIRE

One cannot describe Wilbur and 

Orville Wright as mere tinkerers or runof-the-mill bicycle mechanics. They were engineers of the first degree, who amplified one another’s talents working side by side, forging a professional bond as strong as their personal bond. That affection would sometimes be tested as the brothers labored—first in Dayton, Ohio, and eventually on the windswept sands of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina—where they meticulously evaluated, designed, tested, redesigned, and then built a series of experimental aircraft that would culminate in a double-wing glider forever to be known as the Wright Flyer. 

That these two sons of a Midwestern cleric could, in a little over three years, accomplish what legions of others could not over the course of centuries came as no surprise to older Wright brother Wilbur. Biographer Tom Crouch, writing in The Bishop’s Boys, cites Wilbur’s 

words describing his relationship with sibling Orville:

From the time we were little children, 

my brother Orville and myself lived 

Thousands of men had thought about 

flying machines and a few had even built machines which they called flying machines, but these were guilty of almost everything except flying. Thousands of pages had been written on the so-called science of flying, but for the most part the ideas set forth, like the designs for machines, were mere speculations and probably 90 percent [were] false. Consequently those who tried to study the science of aerodynamics knew not what to believe and what not to believe. Things which seemed reasonable were often found to be untrue, and things which seemed unreasonable were sometimes true. Under this condition of affairs students were accustomed to pay little attention to things they had not personally tested.24

Crouch explains that Wilbur was 

careful in setting a goal and persistent in pursuing it:

He was the perfect engineer—

isolating a basic problem, defining it in the most precise terms, and identifying the missing bits of information that would enable him to solve it. Other stuCRAVING FLIGHT

Brothers Extraordinaire

Orville (left) and Wilbur Wright, c. 1910.
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Brothers Extraordinaire

1

bishop in the Church of the United Brethren in Christ. Like Milton, the brothers were independent thinkers with a deep confidence in their own talents, an unshakable faith in the soundness of their judgment, and a determination to persevere in the face of disappointment and adversity.26

Following their mother’s death, 

Orville, who had spent several summers learning the printing trade, persuaded Wilbur to join him in establishing a print shop. In addition to printing services, the brothers edited and published two shortlived local newspapers. They also developed a local reputation for the quality of the presses that they designed, built, and sold to other printers. These printing presses were one of the first indications of the Wright brothers’ extraordinary technical ability and their unique approach to the solution of problems in mechanical design.27

In 1892 the brothers opened a bicycle 

sales and repair shop where they began to 

build bicycles on a small scale in 1896. They developed a self-oiling bicycle wheel hub and installed a number of light machine tools in the shop. Profits from the print shop and the bicycle operation eventually went to fund the Wrights’ aeronautical experiments from 1899 to 1905. In addition, the experience of designing and building lightweight, precision machines of wood, wire, and metal tubing was ideal preparation for the construction of flying machines.28

The brothers realized that a successful airplane would require wings to generate lift, a propulsion system to move it 

through the air, and a system to control the craft in flight. Otto Lilienthal, they reasoned, had built wings capable of carrying him in flight, while the builders of self-propelled vehicles were developing lighter and more powerful internal combustion engines. The final problem to be solved, they concluded, was that of control.29 

Wright’s bicycle shop with aeroplane wings, c. 1910.
CRAVING FLIGHT

Brothers Extraordinaire

Most aeronautical experimenters up 

to that time sought to develop flying machines incorporating a measure of inherent stability. These aircraft tended to fly a straight and level course unless the pilot intervened to change altitude or direction. As experienced cyclists, the Wrights preferred to place complete control of their machine in the hands of the operator. Moreover, aware of the dangers of weight-shifting control (a means of controlling the aircraft by shifting the position of the pilot), the brothers were determined to direct their machine through a precise manipulation of the center of pressure on the wings. After considering various mechanical schemes for obtaining such control, they decided to try to induce a helical twist across the wings in either direction. The resulting increase in lift on one side and decrease on the other would enable the pilot to raise or lower either wing tip at will.30

Their first experiments with “wing 

warping,” as the system would be called, 

were made with a small biplane kite flown in Dayton in the summer of 1899. Discovering that they could cause the kite to climb, dive, and bank to the right or left at will, the brothers began designing their first full-scale glider using Lilienthal’s data to calculate the amount of wing surface area required to lift the estimated weight of both machine and pilot in a wind of given velocity.31

Realizing that Dayton, with its relatively low winds and flat terrain, was not 

the ideal place to conduct aeronautical experiments, the Wrights requested of the U.S. Weather Bureau a list of more suitable areas. In 1900, they selected Kitty Hawk, an isolated village on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, which offered high average winds, tall dunes from which to glide, and soft sand for landings. In October 1900, at Kitty Hawk, the Wrights tested their first glider, a biplane featuring 165 square feet of wing area and a forward elevator for pitch control. The glider developed less 

Wright Brothers in hangar at Kitty Hawk.
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Brothers Extraordinaire

1

lift than expected, however, and very few free flights were made with a pilot on board. The brothers flew the glider as a kite, gathering information on the performance of the machine that would be critically important in the design of future aircraft.32

Eager to improve on this disappointing performance, the Wrights increased 

was the result of errors in the experimental data published by their predecessors, the Wrights constructed a small wind tunnel with which to gather their own information on the behavior in an air stream of model wings of various shapes and sizes. The brilliance of the Wright brothers and their ability to visualize the behavior of a machine that had yet to be constructed was seldom more apparent 

Wright 1900 glider at Kitty Hawk. Noted on back of photo that glider did not fly.

National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution, SI neg. no. 89-4710
CRAVING FLIGHT

Brothers Extraordinaire

the machine at the Kill Devil Hills camp in September and October 1902. It performed exactly as the design calculations predicted. For the first time the brothers shared flying duties, completing hundreds of flights that covered distances in excess of 600 feet and remaining in the air for as long as 26 seconds. In addition to gaining significant flight experience, 

propellers from data derived from a small wind tunnel they custom-built.36

Returning to their camp near Kill 

Devil Hills in September 1903, the brothers spent the next seven weeks assembling, testing, and repairing their powered machine, and conducting new flight tests with the 1902 glider. Wilbur made the first attempt at powered flight on 

National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution, SI neg. no. 93-12785

Wright 1903 Flyer on ground at Kitty Hawk.
CRAVING FLIGHT

Brothers Extraordinaire

1

Wilbur Wright watches his airborne brother Orville make history on December 17, 1903.
CRAVING FLIGHT

Brothers Extraordinaire

washed and shaved, the other fed chunks of driftwood into the makeshift stove that doubled for heating and cooking. Within half an hour both were dressed in white shirts, celluloid collars and ties....

By 10:30 the machine was set up at 

the head of the launch rail. A few drops of gasoline were pumped into each [engine] cylinder; the battery box was hoisted onto the wing and attached to the engine. After a final check all around, Wilbur and Orville walked to the rear and pulled the propellers through in unison. The engine coughed to life... They shook hands and Orv[ille] climbed into place beside the engine, prone on the lower wing with his feet braced against a board tacked to the rear spar....

At about 10:35, Orv shifted the 

[control] lever to the left. Slowly... the machine began to move down the rail into the teeth of a wind that was now gusting up to 27 miles per hour. Wilbur had no trouble keeping up with the craft, which rose from the track after only a 40-foot run....

News of the Wrights’ achievement 

was met with disbelief in the several years following their initial flights. The straitlaced brothers believed they should be taken at their word; they limited access to the details of their invention and permitted but a handful of individuals to witness a small number of test flights. By 1908, however, demonstration flights in France led to worldwide acclaim for the pair. In aeronautical circles it was assumed that the age of flight had finally arrived. But in the United States at least, flight continued to be regarded as an indulgence fit for adventurers, daredevils, and eccentrics. Even though the first transcontinental flight had taken place by 1911, the prospect of fleets of airplanes carrying paying passengers seemed, to put it mildly, improbable. In the first full decade of the 20th century, Americans of serious temperament dismissed the airplane as a fad or as a specialized machine suitable only for military purposes.39

Meanwhile across the Atlantic, 

Europe was well ahead of the United States in aeronautics. In Europe, governments were funding ambitious aeronauti
Metal workers welding pipe in 1929.
C HAPTER

2

A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

When just a young man, novelist Thomas Wolfe set out to see the world. His travels 

eventually led him to the Virginia port city of Norfolk and, after he heard of work available nearby, onward to the fishing hamlet of Hampton. There in the summer of 1918, Wolfe and hundreds of others labored in the oppressive heat and humidity to construct a “flying field.” In his fictional, semiautobiographical book Look Homeward, Angel, Wolfe’s alter 

ego, Eugene Gant, recalls the experience as “the weary and fruitless labor of a nightmare.” The workers, wrote Wolfe, reshaped the landscape by blasting ragged stumps from spongy soil and filling the resulting craters that “drank their shoveled toil without end,” as they graded and leveled the ground from dawn to dusk. Meanwhile, overhead, the “bird-men 
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

2

The NACA Langley Laboratory 

would become one of the country’s foremost sources for reliable, detailed information on aircraft design and performance. Aspiring aeronautical engineers attending universities read research papers published by Langley researchers. Both the fledgling commercial aircraft industry and those concerned with the performance of military aircraft looked to Langley for help with all manner of difficulties, from aerodynamic stability and control to structural integrity, from propulsion efficiency to means of reducing drag. As it tackled and solved a variety of problems related to airplanes and flight, Langley established an international reputation as the world’s premier aeronautical laboratory by paying close attention to detail and displaying a passion for accuracy.2

The Laboratory enlarged its mission 

in the late 1950s when the arrival of the space age shook the international geopolitical order and promised dramatic new technological possibilities on the “high frontier.” A successor agency, the National Aeronautics and Space 

Former Langley Director Paul F. Holloway.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00434

Former Langley Research Center Director Richard H. Petersen next to a model of the Pathfinder transport in the National Transonic Facility.
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

science. In particular, Langley provided NASA with a large part of the engineering and administrative nucleus for the U.S. manned spaceflight program.”

According to former Langley Director Richard H. Petersen (1985–1991), 

Langley was able to vault the United States into a preeminent position, first in aeronautical technology from 1920 through 1940, and next into thenemerging fields of aerospace science and engineering. “Langley also had a major responsibility in bringing the U.S. into the space era,” Petersen says. “Project Mercury came out of Langley and much of the Apollo technology came from Langley. Langley people were also involved in the early Space Shuttle conceptual design. Langley was able to assemble a group of outstanding researchers on the cutting edge of their respective fields and technologies.”

Throughout its history, with research 

and applied engineering, the Center has been responsible for some of the 20th century’s fundamental aeronautical and aerospace breakthroughs. The N

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NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00287

Prototypes of Mercury capsules were assembled by Langley technicians.

Gemini Rendezvous and Docking Simulator suspended from the Langley Hangar.
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2

The Space Shuttle Challenger deploys the Long Duration Exposure Facility in 1984. Mexico’s Baja peninsula is visible to the upper left of the cargo bay.
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

Langley staff theoretically analyzed 

the flight limiting problems of flutter and rotary wing mechanical instability and verified the theories by tests of scaled aeroelastic models in the 1930s and 1940s.

In addition, Langley developed and 

refined instrumentation systems for aircraft, contributed to improvements in aircraft structures and materials, and increased the understanding of structural dynamics and crashworthiness. Langley played a primary role in the development of generations of military and civil fixed and rotary wing aircraft.3

On March 3, 1915, the 63rd Congress 

passed a resolution authorizing the creation of a government-sponsored committee to study aeronautics. Thus the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics was created and given $5,000 to 

begin aeronautical research. The NACA was composed of a Main Committee consisting of seven government and five private-sector members. The Committee was to meet in Washington, D.C., semiannually (more often if necessary) to identify key research problems to be tackled by the agency and to facilitate the exchange of information within the American aeronautical community. The unsalaried Committee, independent of any other government agency, would report directly to the President, who appointed its constituent members. Perhaps too idealistically, it was hoped that members of the Committee would put ego, personal and public agendas, and personality conflicts aside in the interest of advancing aeronautical research. Considering human nature and the inherent limitations of working in committee, the 

The members of the Main Committee of NACA, which met in Washington, D.C. on April 18, 1929, include from left to right: John F. Victory, secretary; Dr. William F. Durand; Dr. Orville Wright; 
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

2

NACA Main Committee functioned surprisingly well.4

Beginning in 1920, upon his NACA 

appointment by President Woodrow Wilson, Wright brother Orville took his responsibilities seriously as a Main Committee member. According to biographer Tom Crouch, Orville remained a member of the NACA longer than anyone else in the history of the committee, until his death from a heart attack, on January 30, 1948, at the age of 77. Although, as Crouch notes, while Orville’s

record of attendance at the annual 

and semiannual meetings over a period of 28 years was exemplary, yet his personal contributions had no special impact on the NACA program. He concentrated on those issues of greatest interest to him, such as championing the cause of the small investors who wrote in search of advice or assistance. He participated in discussions but rarely exercised leadership.5 As the NACA began its work in Washington, high on the agenda was finding land on which to build its first research laboratory. The Committee’s best chance to quickly obtain the required parcel was to cooperate with the Army Air Service, which was looking for a site to house an experimental facility with adjacent airfield. The land chosen was 1,650 acres just north of the small Virginia town of Hampton. At the time, the site was located in Elizabeth City County, a largely rural area that was home mostly to fishermen and farmers. The land was flat, fronting on water, which was advantageous when conducting test flights. It was east of the Mississippi and south of the Mason- Dixon line, an area generally prone to good weather and therefore good flying. It was no farther than 12 hours by train 

Engineer David L. Bacon and physicist Frederick H. Norton escorted Orville Wright, in hat, around the laboratory during his visit in July 1922. To the right is George Lewis.
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

from Washington, D.C. Nor was it so close to an unprotected coastal area as to be subject to attack or possible capture in the event of war.6

Although the first NACA laboratory 

building was complete by the end of the summer of 1917, the Army’s resistance to a permanent civilian aeronautical laboratory (the Army felt the military would do a better job of airplane research than civilians) slowed the NACA research timetable. Matters were finally resolved, however, and on June 11, 1920, Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory—and its first wind tunnel, appropriately christened “Wind Tunnel Number One”—was formally dedicated.7

In a speech delivered before the 

Air Force Association in Spokane, Washington, on May 31, 1957, NACA Executive Secretary John F. Victory framed the challenges confronting the 

organization in its early years: “Forty years ago we had just entered World War I and had a great deal to learn. We had but small knowledge of aeronautics—and most of that had come from abroad. We were short of spruce with which we then built planes; short of linen to cover the wings; short on engine power—we had no engine over 80 horsepower. We were short of factories, short of pilots, short of know-how. In short, we were just caught short.”8

To confront the daunting technological challenges it faced, Langley Laboratory had to build a professional and support staff from the ground up. Early on, 

the NACA committed itself to finding the best and brightest to solve the problems of flight. Langley’s people would matter most as the Laboratory pushed across the uncharted frontiers of aeronautical research.

Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory as it appeared in 1918.
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A Collective Effort

2

A COLLECTIVE EFFORT

The young engineers who came to 

work at Langley in its first decades brought with them a particular sense of mission. Most were aeronautics enthusiasts, interested in all things with wings, 

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Center as assistant director for External Affairs.

Key to Langley’s research strength 

was an atmosphere that fostered exploration and initiative. Individuals were encouraged to find out what worked. If a device, modification, or process was suc

The NACA hangars in 1931.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00354
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

A Collective Effort

phenomena. At Langley, the mistakes were just as important as the successes, for they sowed the seeds of future accomplishment.9

“Hired fresh out of school with a 

minimum knowledge of aerodynamics and little practical experience of any kind, the majority of these early Langley researchers learned nearly everything on the job,” writes Engineer In Chargeauthor James Hansen. “Because they were so young, they had not learned that a lot of things could not be done, so they went ahead and did them.”

No matter how much latitude 

Langley’s staff was given, when all was said and done, applied engineering was what the Laboratory was about. But researchers did not simply slap parts together to see what worked. The Langley way was one of systematic parameter modification: that is, meticulous, exacting variation of one component, then another, and so on until the optimum configuration was achieved. Such a process took time, patience, and cooperation above all else. At Langley, no researcher ever really worked alone. 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00367

Making test models in the 1930s.

NASA Langley photo no

EL

2001

00475

Designed to fly at very low airspeeds, this Custer channel wing aircraft never made it in to full production.
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

A Collective Effort

2

to the design of thinner and lower drag wings, sturdier aircraft structures, better propellers, and the first widely used airplane deicing system, which put engine exhaust heat to good use.10

For their part, Langley engineers first 

used wood, then metal and composites, to model new aircraft designs. Laboratory researchers refined existing flight systems, improved engines, and reworked original aerodynamic shapes. Because many of Langley’s most talented engineers came to the Laboratory with little or no background in theoretical studies, it took a while for them to learn how to use theory to enlarge upon or improve a given engineering approach. Nevertheless, some of Langley’s best work was done by those very engineers who managed to relate abstract theory to pragmatic aeronautical requirements to arrive at new techniques or better devices.11

An expert support staff was also critical to Langley’s ability to innovate. One 

of the most important factors considered by the Army and the NACA in site selection was the local availability of mechan

Model of a possible supersonic transport mounted in a wind tunnel.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00405

Scale model of an SBN-1 airplane in the 12-Foot Free Flight Tunnel in 1940.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00202
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

Having the Right Tools

The coalition of these groups, each 

with its own emphasis and strength, drove Langley to research excellence. Those who went to the Laboratory for assistance were impressed by the staff’s abilities and were confident of receiving the best possible help. Said former McDonnell Douglas Corporation official L. Eugene Root, when interviewed by historian Michael Keller in the 1960s, “If you think the young guys at the NACA [could not make] your design... better, why, you have another think coming.... No one company, or one individual, could have ever gotten it together [or] the facilities that were required to make the United States of America tops aeronautically. It would never have happened if it had not been for the wisdom of putting together these laboratories and giving young, driving, ambitious and damn smart... young men a place to be, a place to go and something important to do that was really fundamental to the country.”

As intellectually nimble and technically shrewd were the Langley staff, they 

nonetheless needed first-rate laborato

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the wind tunnel in 1871—but their use of the device was central to the refinement and, subsequently, to the success of their Flyer. It was cheaper, safer, and parameters could be easily varied without having to build full-scale models.13

In their simplest form, wind tunnels 

consist of an enclosed passageway—hence the term “tunnel”—through which air is pushed by one or more fans. Depending upon design, and whether outside air or another gas is used, the gas flowing through wind tunnels has certain properties of velocity, density, and temperature. To mimic in-flight conditions and monitor a wide range of an aircraft’s physical reactions to those conditions, researchers mount instrumented models (or in certain instances, full-size craft) in the wind tunnel’s heart, the test section. There, air or gas is made to flow around the (usually) stationary model. Many Langley tunnels took their names from the size of test sections.

Throughout its history, Langley has 

taken pride in an extensive wind tunnel complex, one of the largest of its kind in 
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Having the Right Tools

2

A technician unlatches a door in the guide vanes of the 16-Foot Transonic Tunnel.
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

Having the Right Tools

and spacecraft have all been evaluated in Center tunnels. Langley wind tunnels are also durable, so much so that a handful remain from the Laboratory’s earliest days, even if in substantially renovated form.

Today, Langley Research Center continues to upgrade and improve its wind 

tunnel complex. Over the years, though, money has not always been readily available when the time came to renovate or replace tunnels. As it does today for NASA, the U.S. Congress held the purse strings for the NACA and carefully considered every request for new facilities. NACA officials appearing before Congressional committees were adept at explaining why funds were needed and exactly how the money would be spent. Still, being regularly grilled by committee was not something any NACA official relished. Nor did Congress routinely write the NACA a blank check for projects. Some projects were delayed, some denied outright. But there were ways to get around budget restrictions, as was demonstrated in 1937 when Langley d

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began construction of an “ice” tunnel in May 1937.15

Former NACA Langley employee 

W. Kemble Johnson recalled in a 1967 interview his role in the project:

We built it from scratch—I mean, 

we were poor people. At Fort Eustis [a nearby Army base] we scrounged steel, trusses and columns that had been torn down and were laying in the weeds with trees practically growing through them. Because they were twisted and out of shape I had burners and welders come in.... [They] straightened out the trusses... took columns... cut the ends off and welded another column to them to get the height.... For less than $100,000 we built the whole building and wind tunnel and the works....16

The ice tunnel’s insulation came 

courtesy of the U.S. Navy. Surplus Navy life preservers were obtained, and high school students cut the vests open to fluff out the insulation before it was applied. The refrigeration system consisted of dry ice, automobile carloads of which were unloaded by the same intrepid students. The first operational run of the tunnel 
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Having the Right Tools

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The Variable Density Tunnel arrives by rail in 1922 from the Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00529

The Lunar Landing Research Facility, now the Impact Dynamics Facility.
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Beyond Brainpower

Low-Turbulence Pressure Tunnel.17 In 

the battle of wits and pocketbooks, at least in this instance, the Laboratory had emerged the victor.

If there were ways to get around 

funding bottlenecks, there were also ways to get around research restrictions in the wind tunnels themselves. Langley wind tunnel studies were sometimes not officially approved; the practice of “bootlegging”—unauthorized, if imaginative, research—has occurred over the years. Two of the more ambitious Langley bootleggers were Arthur Kantrowitz and Eastman Jacobs. In 1938 the pair undertook what is believed to have been the world’s first attempt to construct a nuclear fusion reactor. The project was abruptly canceled, however, when discovered one day by Dr. George Lewis, the NACA director of research, who was visiting from NACA headquarters in Washington.18

Tunnel work has also presented a 

degree of physical risk. High pressures can lead to explosions; structural failure of fan blades can tear a building apart. In one instance that occurred in the 

1942. As a recently arrived junior engineer, he was sent to work in the 19-Foot Pressure Tunnel. One day, Geer was instructed to take pressure and humidity readings in the tunnel’s test section. To do so he had to enter an airlock. But, says Geer, “In the early years, we did not think about safety like we do now. So the fellow who put me in there went home and forgot all about me. I didn’t know how to work the airlock to get out. I was thinking, ‘What’s going on here? What’s my wife going to think?’ Fortunately, around midnight he said, ‘My gosh—Bart’s still in there!’ So he came back and got me out.”

In recognition of their contributions 

to aeronautical science, three Langley tunnels were declared National Historic Landmarks in 1985 by the U.S. Department of the Interior: the Variable Density, 30- by 60-Foot, and 8-Foot HighSpeed Tunnels. Two other facilities—the Lunar Landing Research Facility and the Rendezvous Docking Simulator—were also proclaimed Historic Landmarks.

Take human ingenuity out of the picture and Langley wind tunnels are nothA LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

Beyond Brainpower

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of sharp intellect, curiosity, humor, enthusiasm, competitiveness, personalities, and personality clashes—that enabled aeronautical researchers to do their best work. “What impressed me most about Langley,” says Donald H

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ment of Floyd Thompson, the title of the individual overseeing Langley was changed to Center Director.) Regardless of how it exercised its expertise, Langley had enough to spare. Langley exported its organizational and 

The 1934 Aircraft Engineering Conference attendees in the Full-Scale Tunnel below a Boeing P-26A Peashooter. Orville Wright, Charles Lindbergh, and Howard Hughes were among the attendees.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00157
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Beyond Brainpower

here to start Johnson Space Center—totally from scratch.”

Langley engineers might have been 

bright and creative, and the leaders adept at technology management, but the Laboratory was not immune to the petty 

“Yankees.” Matters were not improved when, in response to their cool reception, some Langley researchers did not hesitate to tell the locals on what side of the streetcar they should get off.

“Hampton was a sleepy fishing town. 

NASA Langley photo no. L-1995-06377

Langley employees attend the closing ceremony for the Full-Scale Tunnel, which is now operated by Old Dominion University.
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Beyond Brainpower

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Barrel-joust competition at Langley picnic at Buckroe Beach.
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Beyond Brainpower

Langley engineer, it was said, would venture into hardware stores and ask that lumber be cut to the nearest sixteenth of an inch, which was considered to be a ridiculously precise amount. Or a hapless appliance salesman would be waylaid and asked to detail the manufacturer’s specifications for a vacuum cleaner, including the number of revolutions per minute made by the electric motor.19

Once, or so the story goes, a Laboratory engineer bought a hand-cranked icecream maker from a local hardware 

store. The appliance came with a rustproof guarantee. Three weeks after the purchase, the engineer returned; the maker was a rusted ruin. The store owner replaced the original with another, also guaranteed against rust. Another three weeks went by and the engineer returned, with the second maker in the same condition as the first. Again a free replacement was provided. Two weeks later, the engineer was back, this time with a third rustencrusted ice-cream maker. Incredulous, the hardware store owner asked the engineer exactly how he made his ice cream. The engineer replied that he would make no ice cream until he was satisfied that 

frequent. The locals grew accustomed to the accents and habits of the young researchers who came to Hampton from NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00346

The NACA cowling on a Curtiss AT-5A at Langley in 1928.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00444

In 1959, then-Langley researcher Francis Rogallo examines the Rogallo Wing in the 7- by 10-Foot Tunnel. Designed to bring spacecraft to a controlled soft landing, the concept was embraced by hang-gliding enthusiasts.
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

Beyond Brainpower

2

The High-Speed Frontier, Becker recalls that, even during World War II, sometimes a good diversion was nothing more than a well-thought-out practical joke:

The staff relaxed through all of the 

usual sports and social events with little apparent effect of wartime pressures. Five of us had formed an informal golfing group.... [My boss John] Stack had never played before and had no clubs of his own, but we offered to lend him an old bag with a broken strap and some of our spare clubs.... [Henry] Fedziuk, who was the chief humorist of the group, had often been the butt of Stack’s practical jokes and saw here a welcome chance to turn the tables.

With enthusiastic help from some of 

the rest of us he lined the bottom of Stack’s bag with some 10 pounds of sheet lead. We also made sure the bag had a full complement of clubs, and we told Stack that caddies were used only by the rich and decrepit. By the start of the back nine, with a score card showing well over a hundred in spite of considerable cheating, Stack was seen to start dragging the bag along behind him

Richard Whitcomb with model designed with area rule in 8-Foot High Speed Tunnel in 1955.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00401

An Apollo model in the slotted-throat 16-Foot Transonic Tunnel in 1964.
A LABORATORY FOR FLIGHT

Beyond Brainpower

from Langley in 1976, was the chief engineer on Viking, the first project to ever soft-land a robot probe on Mars. “People would fight with each other over technical details. That was all very healthy. The end result was a battle of ideas—ideas that had merit tended to float to the surface. The good ideas won.”

That Langley was an environment 

suited to achievement was underscored by the multitude of national and international awards won by staff members over the years. Perhaps none was more prized than the Collier Trophy, named in honor of publisher, sportsman, and aviator Robert J. Collier. Since 1910 the Collier has been awarded annually for the greatest achievements in American aeronautics (and recently for astronautics achievements as well). Langley researchers have been thus acknowledged five times: in 1929, for a low-drag engine cowling; in 1946, for research on airplane icing; in 1947, for supersonic flight research; in 1951, for development of the slotted-throat transonic wind tunnel; and in 1954, for the transonic area rule.

The point can be made that

since 

applied to the flying of aircraft. But nothing is ever guaranteed. That Langley Laboratory achieved what it did is tribute to the talent and drive of the staff and the savvy of NACA officials and supervisors who knew when and how to exercise control. Langley’s ultimate contribution was not that of the manufacturer, for the Laboratory would never build airplanes. Rather, Langley donated its intellectual currency to the advancement of aircraft; its true value to the aeronautical industry and the Nation was that of aeronautical trailblazer as testified by its technical documents.

In time, later generations of flying 

machines would surpass the Wright Flyer in the same way that a modern 

automobile outstrips a primitive twowheel cart. Prowess in the atmosphere led directly to success in space. Ever more sophisticated craft would be developed. Yet close to seven decades would pass before humankind was able to make the long leap from the Wrights on the wind-swept Carolina beach to the Sea of Tranquility on the Moon. During that time

Langley Research Center would 
NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00252
Crafting Flight 45

3

REFINING THE AIRPLANE

High above the mud, blood, and gas attacks of World War I trench warfare flew 

remarkably flimsy craft that were, by the standards of the day, a stunning technological 

advance. Here was proof that the airplane was an invention with which to reckon. The 

plane was no longer a comic extravagance nor an adult toy; the outbreak of military conflict mandated a darker purpose—that of a powerful agent of war. As the aircraft of the 

warring powers sparred with one another in the world’s first dogfights, it was quite clear 

that the airplane’s role had been forever altered.

At war’s end, with the European rail system in shambles, the role of the airplane was 

again expanded, this time as an instrument of commerce. The private sector aviation 

industry slowly began to grow, led by individuals determined to find a profitable niche in 

the transportation of people and goods. There were certainly plenty of equipment and 

skilled workers, for war had provided an abundance of aircraft and pilots willing to fly 

them.

Within three months after the November 1918 armistice, commercial aviation began in 

Germany as Deutsche Luftreederei inaugurated passenger-carrying service. That same 

year, daily flights between London and Paris commenced. The first passenger flights 

between U.S. cities followed in 1920, and by 1925 regular airfreight service between 

Chicago and Detroit had been established.1
46 Crafting Flight

there would be a personal airplane in 

every garage. It was simply a matter of 

time. The general public was becoming 

accustomed to the drone of aircraft 

engines overhead, to the sight of goggleand leather-clad aviators, and to the 

notion of sending or receiving airmail. 

However, in physical and economic 

terms flight remained a relatively risky 

business. Crashes were not uncommon. 

With the exception of a handful of hardy 

commercial carriers that pampered wellto-do clients and ferried mail under contract, few American companies found 

profit in aviation. The federal government and the military remained the primary buyers of new aircraft and the 

sponsors of most aeronautical research.2

Fortunately for the commercial aviation 

industry, the nonstop transatlantic flight 

of aviation pioneer Charles Lindbergh in 

1927—coming as it did almost a quarter 

century after the Wright Flyer rose above 

the sands of Kitty Hawk—dramatically 

changed the situation.

Wedged into what essentially was a 

flying gas tank with wings, Lindbergh 

dared the wide Atlantic and won. His 

touchdown at an airfield outside Paris on 

a cool May night set off wild celebrations 

on two continents. But Lindbergh’s gutsy 

accomplishment was more than a personal triumph, for it proved that the 

airplane could conquer great distances. 

Lucky Lindy’s success drew worldwide 

attention to the airplane’s oceancrossing potential and, not incidentally, 

inspired an entire generation of young, 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00284

A test pilot and an engineer 

prepare for a research flight 

in 1920.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00319

U.S. Navy dirigible U.S.S. 

Los Angeles during turning 

radius tests in 1928.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00286
Crafting Flight 47

aeronautical engineers and aviators. By 

the late 1930s, coast-to-coast air service 

was a routine fact of life and “flying 

boats” were beginning regular treks of 

transpacific routes.

3

Just after World War I, the bulk of 

Langley research was still aimed 

squarely at solutions to problems of specific concern to the military. But by the 

late 1920s, as the importance of commercial aviation increased, so did the time 

the Laboratory devoted to study of aeronautical items of interest to the private 

sector. Fortunately, what had been 

learned in Langley studies of military aircraft design could usually be applied, 

with minor modification, to civil aviation. (By the late 1930s, military and private sector interests were diverging, as 

the military became interested in higher 

speeds and altitudes while commercial 

carriers emphasized safety and efficient 

operation.)

4

By 1927, aeronautical research at 

the NACA Langley Laboratory was in 

full swing. Extensive theoretical and 

experimental work was being done on 

lighter-than-air (LTA) craft—known popularly as airships or dirigibles—in tandem with the U.S. Army. Langley personnel conducted tests to determine 

takeoff, landing, and docking procedures 

and assisted in speed and deceleration 

measurements. As a result, writes Engineer In Charge author James Hansen, 

many Langley flight researchers became 

outspoken advocates of airships.

It was not clear at the time that the 

airplane would win out over the airship. 

Airplanes of the early 1920s were slow 

and small—an aerodynamicist who 

favored airships over airplanes even 

went to the bother of proving that airplanes larger than those of the day could 

never be built. LTA advocates believed 

correctly that airships had enormous 

unproven capabilities. They were not 

much slower and could carry many more 

passengers in far greater comfort than 

airplanes, most of which still had open 

cockpits. They were much more forgiving 

than airplanes during instrument flight. 

With their extreme range and low 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00522
48 Crafting Flight 

Hindenburg as it attempted to dock in 

Lakehurst, New Jersey—23 crew and 

13 passengers lost their lives when the 

airship burst into flames—also resulted 

in the economic collapse of the 20-yearold LTA passenger-carrying industry.5

Simultaneous with its LTA studies, 

Langley continued aircraft research. New 

models manufactured by such companies 

as Curtiss, Martin, Sperry, Vought, 

Douglas, and Boeing underwent evaluation at the Laboratory. The work at 

Langley contributed to an improving airplane: one that was becoming safer, 

faster, stronger, and easier to handle. But 

the plane was far from perfect. Designing 

the best possible aircraft proved to be a 

trade-off between desirable characteristics, such as speed and range. Moreover, 

the forces that permit and constrain flight 

are complex. Understanding them 

required time, determination, and 

ingenuity. ON THE JOB

The first building erected at Langley 

was, by modern standards, a modest 

affair. Built by the New York City firm 

J. G. White Engineering Corporation at a 

cost of $80,900 in 1917-era dollars, the 

structure contained administrative and 

drafting offices, machine and woodworking shops, and photographic and instrumentation labs. The first wind tunnel at 

the Laboratory was housed separately in 

a small brick and concrete building. By 

1922 the Langley complex had grown to 

sion efficiency, and improve structural 

integrity.

6

For more than a dozen years after its 

official formation, the Langley professional staff numbered less than 100, a 

figure that was not surpassed until 1930. 

(By 1927 support staff had grown to 

104 individuals.) That this relatively 

small complement would repeatedly produce top-notch results might have been 

due to the balance between structure and 

independence, a dynamic that author 

James Hansen terms “careful bureaucratic restraint [and] research freedom.” 

At Langley there was great institutional 

reluctance to announce results of studies 

until researchers and their superiors were 

confident that those results would bear 

up even under the toughest scrutiny. 

Researchers were therefore free to work 

creatively on novel ideas without the fear 

of preliminary reports building up too 

much industry anticipation of and pressure for future advances.7

The Langley working atmosphere 

was one of informality. Everyone knew 

everyone else, and the most junior could 

become acquainted with the engineer in 

charge. There was an organizational 

chart, but it was seen more as a necessary 

evil. “Titles were tall cotton. People were 

not here for self-glorification,” says 

William D. Mace, who came to Langley 

in 1948 and who retired in 1989 as director for Electronics. “The thing that held 

folks together out here was their common interest: the ability to do first-class 
Crafting Flight 49

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00473

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00355

Full-Scale Tunnel under 

construction in 1930.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00392

NACA Langley Laboratory 

and U.S. Army Langley Field 

in 1933. Buildings with 

checkerboard roofs are U.S. 

Army airplane hangers.
50 Crafting Flight

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00373

Patternmakers manufacture 

and assemble a wing skeleton 

for inflight pressure 

distribution tests 

in 1922.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00257

A Ford model A with a “Huck 

starter” cranking an airplane 

engine in 1924.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1997-00132
Crafting Flight 51

y 

and bureaucrats in the Nation’s capital. 

John Becker, writing in The High-Speed 

Frontier, observes that the Langley of the 

1930s did not think of itself as part of the 

federal bureaucracy. Langley was “spiritually and physically separated from 

Washington. The staff had been largely 

handpicked in one way or another to 

form an elite group unique in the federal 

system... [There was] a beneficial sense 

of family.”

As in any family, at Langley there 

were occasional disputes, personality 

clashes, and struggles over the nature and 

extent of research programs. Whatever 

problems arose were refereed by management, a group small in number but 

fiercely dedicated to Langley’s flightresearch mission. Managers did not mind 

dirtying their hands; indeed, many relished it. That Laboratory management 

was of the hands-on variety soon became 

evident even to the most junior engineer. 

John Becker writes of his introduction to 

the Langley management style while 

preparing an experiment in the 8-Foot 

Tunnel:

One night during my second week on 

the job, just before I closed the airlock 

doors at the entrance to the test chamber 

for a test run, an unusual-looking 

stranger dressed in hunting clothes came 

in and stood there watching my preparations. [My supervisor] had advised me 

not to allow visitors in the test chamber 

during a high-speed run primarily 

because the pressure dropped quickly to 

move he said, “I am Reid,” in such ponderous and authoritative tones that I 

quickly realized it was Langley’s Engineer In Charge whom I had not yet met.

No one had told me that Reid, who 

lived only a couple of miles from Langley 

Field, often came out in the evening, 

especially when tests of electrical equipment were being made (he was an electrical engineer)....8

Today there is much talk about how 

to improve the efficiency of public and 

private enterprise. The intent is to eliminate unnecessary layers of management 

in awkward command-and-control systems, systems that centralize power, 

reward bureaucracy, and stifle creativity. 

From the very beginning Langley had 

few such problems. Laboratory management encouraged the free flow of ideas, 

whether they came from a grizzled veteran or a recently hired junior engineer. 

If an idea had merit, a junior engineer 

could approach his superiors without fear 

of reproach. If the idea was successfully 

adopted, the individual proposing it 

would receive full and proper credit.

There was a brisk exchange of ideas 

at Langley in discussions not only limited to the lab. Some of Langley’s best 

work was done while researchers were 

out to lunch—literally. Most of the professional staff assembled on a daily basis 

in the second-floor lunchroom of the 

Laboratory administration building. Plate 

lunches could be bought there for 25 or 

30 cents (35 cents on days steak was 
52 Crafting Flight 

served). The lunch tables had white marble tops, a feature that was a great boon 

to technical discussions. Researchers 

could and did draw curves, sketches, and 

equations directly on the table during 

animated exchanges. Such marks could 

easily be erased with a hand or napkin. 

“It was exciting and inspiring for a young 

new arrival to sit down in the crowded 

lunchroom and find himself surrounded 

by the well-known engineers who had 

authored the NACA papers he had been 

studying as a student,” John Becker 

writes in The High-Speed Frontier. 

“There were no formal personnel development or training programs in those 

days, but I realize now that these daily 

lunchroom contacts provided not only an 

intimate view of a fascinating variety of 

live career models, but also an unsurpassed source of stimulation, advice, 

ideas, and amusement.”

However challenging and intellectually exciting Langley’s aeronautical 

research was, it was far from glamorous. 

Young engineers worked long, hard 

hours. The recently hired paid their dues 

by laboriously plotting by hand the data 

collected from wind tunnels, supervising 

the mounting of models, turning valves, 

watching gauges, and generally making 

sure that everything was shipshape 

ee was a cetapce to pay o

the Langley can-do reputation. As the 

Laboratory attracted more national 

attention, it began to lose some of its best 

and brightest to the booming private sector, which beckoned with higher salaries 

and hard-to-refuse research opportunities. Between 1920 and 1937, thirtyseven professional staff left Langley for 

aeronautical careers elsewhere.

9 Considering Langley’s size, such a loss was significant. As James Hansen notes, though 

the personnel losses may have delayed 

the successful execution of a few NACA 

research projects, the larger American 

aeronautics effort probably benefitted 

from the loss. Langley provided a training ground for dozens of aeronautical 

experts and an apprenticeship that was 

excellent preparation for a university 

career or a job with a major aircraft 

manufacturer.10

Many who came to work at Langley 

intended to stay but a few years and then 

move on. However, not all who thought 

of the Laboratory as a professional stepping-stone followed through on their 

original intentions. Langley’s character, 

its sense of community, its technical culture, its strong sense of self and mission, 

the sheer number of aerodynamics challenges that confronted its staff, and the 

chance to make a difference: these were 

persuasive arguments that convinced not 

a few to stay at the Laboratory. Certainly, 

for those who elected to remain, there 

would be no shortage of interesting 

projects.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00440
Crafting Flight 53

BREAKING THROUGH

Exactly how it is that human beings 

make an intuitive leap from half thought 

out idea to sound concept remains something of a mystery. What is not mysterious is that chances for making the right 

connections increase the longer one 

works at it. Perhaps Thomas Edison said 

it best when he described genius as 

consisting of 1 percent inspiration and 

99 percent perspiration. Hard work was 

the norm at Langley, but it was work that 

the researchers eagerly embraced. Motivating them was a feeling similar to that 

felt by pioneers crossing unexplored territory: anticipation, enthusiasm, and a 

sense of pending accomplishment. 

“Langley engineers knew they were 

making fundamental contributions 

toward understanding how an airplane 

flew,” says John C. Houbolt, who came to 

Langley in 1942 and who retired in 1985 

as the Center’s chief aeronautical scientist (13 of those years were spent 

in the private sector). “Langley was 

breaking through, on the frontiers of 

technology.”

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00378

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00355

A W-1 with tricycle landing 

gear designed by Fred Wieck 

in the Full-Scale Tunnel in 

1934.
54 Crafting Flight

standards and operating efficiencies. 

Langley’s high-speed research, begun 

in the 1920s, continued even as speeds 

geometrically increased. Laboratory 

researchers also worked on small-scale 

projects with precise objectives, like the 

instrument program to measure such 

things as engine torque, revolutions per 

minute, propeller thrust, airspeed, and 

angle of attack (the angle at which aircraft wings meet the onrushing flow of 

air). In addition, there were projects to 

gauge stresses on airplanes while in 

flight and upon landing and attempts

to develop better, more responsive 

controls.11

A landmark event in Langley’s early 

history was the installation, in 1922, of 

spheres (1 atmosphere being the normal 

pressure of air at sea level). At the higher 

pressures, or atmospheres, accurate aerodynamic information could be obtained 

by monitoring the flow of air over small 

models.12

The VDT was not pretty—it resembled a giant, corrugated, hollow lozenge—but its appearance belied handsome research results. Studies conducted 

in the VDT, beginning in 1923, culminated in the 1933 release of an NACA 

report that detailed 78 different airfoil, or 

wing shapes for aircraft, each designated 

by a four-digit number. Using the fourdigit airfoil series from this report, several generations of aircraft designers 

were able to produce some of the finest 

Eastman Jacobs, Shorty 

Defoe, Malvern Powell, and 

Harold Turner conduct tests 

with the Variable Density 

Tunnel in 1929.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00143
Crafting Flight 55

leap that rejuvenated American aerodynamic research and, in time, led to some 

of the best aircraft in the world.”

Nor was the VDT a perfect instrument of research. It was repeatedly 

plagued by operational difficulties. When 

partially destroyed by an August 1927 

fire, normal operations did not resume 

until December of 1930. Nevertheless, it 

was the first of a generation of Langley 

wind tunnels that would be acclaimed for 

its leading-edge capabilities.

Other research facilities at Langley 

grew out of specific requests. Early in 

1928, the Assistant Secretary of Commerce for Aeronautics called a conference of military and government agencies, including the NACA, to study the 

quickly modified, as noted in Chapter 1) 

and was intended to study ice formation 

and prevention on wings and propellers 

of aircraft. These studies grew into a 

major effort that later won a Collier 

Trophy for NACA scientist Lewis A. 

Rodert, who conducted most of his basic 

research on thermal deicing from 1936 

through 1940 while working in the 

Langley Flight Research Division.14

However productive were these inhouse efforts, NACA officials were well 

aware that they needed to keep abreast of 

trends and developments in the larger 

aeronautics community. Accordingly, in 

May of 1926, the NACA inaugurated the 

first Aircraft Engineering Conference at 

Langley. These “inspections,” as they 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00285

Wing model in the Variable 

Density Tunnel.
56 Crafting Flight

Researcher in the Two-Dimensional Low-Turbulence Tunnel, which was equipped with heavy 

insulation and refrigeration equipment to conduct aircraft icing research.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00659
Crafting Flight 57

The event grew from a modest and 

relaxed affair in 1926, when the NACA 

Main Committee sent out only 38 invitations, into a highly staged pageant that 

took weeks of preparation by the 

Langley and Washington office staffs. By 

1936 the meeting took two days. Over 

300 people attended each session, including a number of aviation writers who 

reported fully on the presentations in 

newspapers and journals. Discontinued 

during World War II, the conferences 

resumed in 1946 under a slightly different format and were eventually stretched 

to five days. In succeeding years, the 

inspections became semiannual affairs 

and rotated among various NACA 

facilities.16

One of Langley’s most celebrated 

aeronautical contributions came about 

partly as a result of the second conference in 1927, during which privatesector representatives repeated a suggestion that had been made by the U.S. 

Navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics a year earlier. Could a covering, or cowling, be 

designed to fit around the finned cylinders of radial aircraft engines then in 

widespread use? Both the Navy and 

industry were eager to reduce the high 

amount of drag associated with the cylinders, which, because they were arrayed 

like spokes in a wheel, jutted directly 

into the air stream during flight.17

Langley’s subsequent low-drag cowling design was proof that the methodical 

approach to tough aeronautical problems 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00441

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00391

A plane fuselage mounted in 

the Propeller Research 

Tunnel in 1922.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00352

Curtiss Bleeker helicopter in 

front of the Langley hanger in 

1930.
58 Crafting Flight

paid dividends. First, a team headed by 

aviation pioneer and then Langley engineer Fred E. Weick designed ten different 

experimental cowlings and put them to 

the test in the recently built Propeller 

Research Tunnel (PRT), which could 

accommodate full-size operating engines 

and propellers. Elements of the design 

were systematically varied to determine 

how best to cool the engine while maintaining a streamlined shape. Results were 

carefully collected and examined. Once 

the optimum cowl shape had been identified, air vanes and baffles were redesigned to direct the airflow to cool the 

hottest portions of the cylinders and 

crankcase. The final product, entitled 

simply “NACA cowling no. 10,” caused 

an immediate sensation when its performance was made public. The cowling not 

only reduced drag, but also substantially 

improved engine cooling.18

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00341

Army Curtiss AT-5A with 

NACA cowling in 1928.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00305
Crafting Flight 59

to the press that if the cowling (estimated 

cost: $25) was installed on existing aircraft, then the possible annual savings in 

fuel and associated costs could amount to 

over $5 million—more, said politically 

astute officials, than the total of all 

NACA appropriations through 1928.19

Confirmation of cowling no. 10’s 

drag-reducing abilities was provided by 

Frank Hawks, a stunt flyer and barnstorming pilot. Flying an NACAcowl-equipped Lockheed Air Express 

from Los Angeles to New York nonstop 

in February 1929, Hawks increased his 

craft’s maximum speed from 157 to 

177 mph and set a new coast-to-coast 

record of 18 hours, 13 minutes. A day 

following the feat, the NACA received 

the following telegram:

Cooling carefully checked and O.K. 

Record impossible without new cowling. 

All credit due NACA for painstaking and 

accurate research. [Signed] Gerry 

Vultee, Lockheed Aircraft Co.20

Several months later, the NACA won 

its first Collier Trophy. The airplane 

design revolution had begun.

The NACA cowling became the standard enclosure for air-cooled radial 

engines and in succeeding years was continually revised and improved. The 

reduction in drag afforded by the new 

cowling led designers to ask for, and the 

NACA to look for, other areas where 

drag could be substantially reduced. 

Looking back, it was clear that in the 

cowling design Langley researchers had 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00375

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00526

Open-circuit air intake for 

first wind tunnel.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00348

Fabricating airplane engine 

cowlings in the metal shop.
60 Crafting Flight 

experimentation and applied mathematics.” More than any other project in its 

first full decade of existence, the Langley 

cowling design effort cemented the 

NACA’s reputation as an organization 

that knew airplanes and how to better 

them. THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME

As work progressed at Langley in the 

early 1930s, a new sort of airplane was 

emerging from the drafting boards of aircraft industry designers. The wood and 

fabric that made up the original biplanes 

were gradually being replaced by metal. 

By decade’s end, most new airplanes 

were built entirely of metal. The 

biplane’s externally braced double wing 

gave way to a single, internally braced 

wing. Landing gear became retractable 

and the engine was lighter, more powerful, and covered by a cowling. The propeller had variable pitch, which meant 

that propeller angles of attack could be 

adjusted according to flight speed, permitting aircraft engines, for the first time, 

to operate at maximum efficiency either 

at low or high speeds.21

For all the progress being made in 

airplane flightworthiness, designers 

still had an incomplete understanding 

of the interaction between the aerodynamic forces acting on an aircraft and 

the aircraft’s structural response to 

those forces. Two areas of particular 

concern to researchers were aeroelastic 

breakup of a Fokker trimotor, which 

caused the deaths of famed Notre Dame 

football coach Knute Rockne and six 

others. Theoretical analyses by Theodore 

Thoedorsen and Isadore Garrick developed at Langley provided a means to calculate the unsteady aerodynamic forces 

causing flutter, thereby allowing engineers to suggest ways to structurally 

modify or strengthen the most flutter-susceptible parts of aircraft.22

In 1940 Langley formally dedicated 

the Structures Laboratory, its first facility 

devoted strictly to the study of aircraft 

structures. There, researchers worked on 

ways of making an airplane’s metal skin 

stiffer and stronger and examined methods to internally brace the weakest areas. 

Fatigue—the tendency of metal structures to buckle or break after repeated 

use—was also investigated. Fatigue 

experiments done at Langley and elsewhere eventually led to “rip-stop” 

designs that minimized crack propagation (the tendency of a small tear to 

become a catastrophic rip) by reinforcing 

an airplane’s frame at key points.23

If there was one airplane that 

epitomized the design revolution of 

the 1930s, it was the Douglas DC-3 

transport. Langley had an active role in 

developing or evaluating the DC-3’s 

aeronautical innovations, which included 

internally braced wings, wing flaps, 

retractable landing gear, cowled engines, 

controllable pitch propellers, a geared 
Crafting Flight 61

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00350

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00454

Langley operations crew in 

front of Fokker trimotor with 

newly installed NACA 

cowlings.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2002-00166

Structures Research 

Laboratory just after 

completion in 1940.
62 Crafting Flight

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00476

The 19-Foot Pressure Tunnel 

in 1939.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00159

Douglas YO-31A airplane in 

the Full-Scale Tunnel.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00377
Crafting Flight 63

gy pg

number of passengers and a cruising 

speed of 185 mph at 10,000 feet, airlines 

had for the first time an aircraft with 

operating costs sufficiently low so that a 

profit could be made without complete 

dependence on revenue from airmail 

contracts. The craft was, as pilots 

described it, “one tough bird”: although 

easy to handle, the DC-3 could absorb 

structural punishment and keep on flying. 

By 1940, the existing fleet of DC-3s had 

flown 100 million miles, carried nearly 3 

million passengers and had become the 

dominant airplane of its time.25

Langley’s contributions to the development of an aircraft such as the DC-3 

would not have been possible without 

additional state-of-the-art research facilities, which, by the early 1930s, were 

becoming operational at the Laboratory. 

In 1931, for instance, the Full-Scale Tunnel joined Langley’s wind tunnel roster. 

Into its 30- by 60-foot test section a modest two-story house could comfortably 

fit; most aircraft of the era could easily 

be accommodated as well. (The FullScale Tunnel exists still, refurbished and 

renamed the 30- by 60-Foot Tunnel, and 

is now operated by Old Dominion University under the terms of an agreement 

with NASA.) By mid-1931 a hydrodynamics facility—known at Langley as 

the Towing Tank—was also put into 

operation. Originally 2,000 feet long, it 

was later extended to 2,900 feet and was 

used primarily to determine the performance characteristics of various hull 

designs for seaplanes and amphibious 

had been built and by the late 1930s a 

series of high-speed tunnels—the 

11-Inch, 24-Inch, and 8-Foot—were 

completed. The 24-Inch High-Speed 

Tunnel was especially productive: by 

1939, tests of airfoils therein had led to 

the design of the propellers that powered 

the American fighters to over 400 mph, 

thus enabling the fighters to rule the 

European and Asian skies in the last 

years of World War II.27

In 1936, the 8-Foot High-Speed Tunnel began operations. There new aircraft 

models could, for the first time, be evaluated at speeds in excess of 500 mph. 

Based on pioneering investigations conducted in this facility, researchers were 

able to delineate the specific stability and 

control problems encountered in highspeed dives. Practical aircraft products 

that resulted from the studies included a 

dive recovery flap, high-speed low-drag 

engine cowlings, a new family of air 

inlets for jet-propelled aircraft, and 

designs for propellers that powered 

aircraft to over 500 mph.28

Early in 1937, a contract was 

awarded to begin construction of the 

19-Foot Pressure Tunnel, which became 

operational two years later. There, under 

2.5 atmospheres of pressure, various aircraft control and flap systems were 

examined, as well as designs for a number of World War II era airplanes. When 

more advanced tunnels were developed 

later, the 19-Foot was assigned to 

research in aircraft aeroelasticity and 

high-speed flutter.29 Eventually the 
64 Crafting Flight

facility found new life, with Dupont 

FreonTM gas as a test medium, a new 

16-foot test section, and a new name: 

the Transonic Dynamics Tunnel.

By the late 1930s, Fred Weick, of 

NACA cowling fame, had devised an 

effective, if unconventional, tricycle 

landing gear, improving upon a design 

introduced by the Wright brothers. Weick 

positioned a single strut with a tire under 

the plane’s nose and a wheel under each 

wing. Because the two main wheels were 

behind the plane’s center of gravity and 

the nose wheel was steerable, it was far 

easier to taxi and land an airplane. Pilots 

favored the improvement in visibility—

the plane sat more level on the runway—

and passengers were grateful that they no 

longer had to scramble up and down 

inclined aisles. Prototype versions 

appeared in the late 1930s and by the late 

1940s nearly all U.S. commercial and 

military aircraft employed the tricycle 

concept or a version thereof.30

By Langley’s 22nd anniversary in 

1939, the world had been made a different place by the advent of ocean-crossing 

airplanes. Travelers were crossing the 

Atlantic and Pacific Oceans in increasing 

numbers. By contemporary standards, air 

travel was slow and time consuming—a 

trip from London to New York on 

Pan American Airways’ “flying hotel,” 

the B-314, took 23 hours—but stylish 

and comfortable nonetheless. The 

introduction of Pan Am’s China Clippers 

and the construction of island-based 

resorts and refueling depots made 

passenger-carrying transpacific flight 

feasible, even enjoyable. The airplane 

had become an intercontinental, paying 

proposition.31

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00366
Crafting Flight 65

“Many people knowing aviation considered that [commercial] transoceanic 

flight would forever be impossible,” 

remarked famed aeronautical-design pioneer Igor Sikorsky in an interview conducted in October 1971. “[But] the 

NACA by [its] work... certainly helped to 

produce these ships and certainly helped 

to bring and keep America in the first 

place in commercial aviation. Military 

too, but commercial aviation was definitely first because of the very excellent 

scientific work which this organization 

produced.”32

The airplane had ascended to youthful prominence directly after World War I 

as a carrier of people and goods. Its vigorous adolescence in the 1930s was 

marked by substantial design changes 

and the further maturation of globegirding commercial markets. But political conflict would again drive technological change. By 1940 the planet was 

embroiled in yet another worldwide conflict, a struggle that would prove more 

terrible and destructive than the first. 

World War II would provide the impetus 

for the airplane’s next evolutionary leap.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00671
Model Bell X-5, tested at Langley, 

shows two extreme positions of variable wing sweep.
C HAPTER

4

SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

During the dry season in 1923, as the Curtiss “flying boats” of the forest patrol 

swooped low over the Canadian timberland, their crews alert to any sign of fire, a sevenyear-old boy watched in admiration and envy. Often he would wave. From a forward perch in a former gun turret an observer returned the greeting. The more the boy saw of the airborne foresters, the more impressed he became. Soon he began to picture himself as an aviator, in command of powerful aircraft, carrying out important and useful missions. By the time the boy returned several years later to the Michigan Upper Peninsula, the place of his birth, a new goal had crystallized: he would become a test pilot.

By 1943 the young boy’s dream had been realized, for now the man was an NACA test 
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

4

B-24. “I was not jittery or shocked after it was all over. I was too busy thinking of how to get out of the situation,” Reeder recalled. “I really did enjoy my flying, even though I had to handle some pretty wild beasts. Many were unstable—they’d fly sideways, speeds would vary. We’d fly because we were trying to find something wind tunnel tests had not shown. You can not get handling characteristics from a wind tunnel.”

The test pilot was the bridge between 

two ages. If the old aeronautical age was epitomized by the self-sufficient, ingenious individualism of the Wright brothers, then the new aerospace age would be characterized by coordinated group effort between teams of researchers to produce new generations of powerful machines. The challenges posed by flight were becoming more and more complex; no one individual could solve them alone. Humankind was beginning to reach beyond the usual boundaries, beyond the speed of sound, beyond the lower reaches of the atmosphere, even beyond the familiar grasp of Earth’s gravity. Highly trained, disciplined, in excellent physical 

Langley test pilots in 1945, from left, Mel Gough, Herb Hoover, Jack Reeder, Steve Cavallo, and Bill Gray in front of a P-47 Thunderbolt.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00366

Boeing 737, UH-1H, T38A, BE-80 Queenaire, OV-10A, T-34C, Boeing 757, and F-16XL research aircraft in front of Langley hanger in 1994.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00055

America’s first jet airplane, the Bell YP-59A under test in the Langley Full-Scale Tunnel in 1943.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00370

Technicians installing flaps and wiring on a model around 1944.

Human “computers” at work in 1947.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

The Slippery Slope

4

“only to the extent that duplication, competition and cross-fertilization were productive.”

War would bring societal change, not 

the least of which was the increased presence of women in Langley’s professional work force. Proportionally speaking, the female presence in engineering science was slight, even though many of Langley’s human “computers”—those who assisted engineers by performing mathematical computations by hand on bulky adding-machine-like devices—were women. (This was a fact that pleased some of the Laboratory’s male staff who, quite literally, married their computers.)

With the large wartime increase in 

staff levels, Langley lost some of its clubby, brain-trust feel. Nevertheless, the World War II years and the period following were among Langley’s most exciting and productive. In a world where one “hot” war had ended and a “cold” war was about to begin, the question became how to abide by the biblical edict to beat swords into plowshares: that is, how best to adapt machines of war to 

namely the rapid betterment of existing military aircraft design. There was little doubt that improvements were essential. The Germans and Japanese had produced several superb aircraft. In particular, Axis fighters threatened to dominate aerial combat. If the United States and its allies were to emerge victorious, then Allied fighters had to be equally agile and fast.

By the late 1930s, Langley had been 

called upon by aircraft companies and the military to examine the latest American military airplane prototypes. Over the next several years lives would depend on how fast war planes flew and how efficiently they used fuel. The primary means used to accomplish this was to streamline the entire aircraft surface as much as possible. Drag reduction, or “cleanup,” improved considerably military airplane performance. Langley was also called upon to develop the helicopter for search and rescue of military personnel separated from their units during battle.

The Brewster XF2A Buffalo was 

Langley’s first full-fledged effort at drag cleanup. The craft was brought to the 
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

The Slippery Slope

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00379

Brewster Buffalo in FullScale Tunnel for drag cleanup studies.

Grumman F4F Wildcat, later the General Motors FM-2 Wildcat, on the Langley tarmac in 1945.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

The Slippery Slope

4

Grumman XF6F Hellcat at Langley for turbosupercharger research beginning in 1944.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00243

A Lockheed YP-38, a prototype of the Lightning series, in the Full-Scale Tunnel in 1944 for wing investigations.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

The Slippery Slope

1972. “One of the first things we found—and it was very important in World War II—was that the initial cowling design did not pay too much attention to the air flowing through it. Reducing the amount of air flowing into the engine and redirecting it as it flowed out amounted to a significant increase in performance. For one, it cut down on the amount of fuel needed for a given range. For another, it increased the maximum speed.”

Extra speed, even as little as a 

15-mph edge, could determine the outcome of an aerial dogfight. A faster plane could maneuver behind an opponent and mount a fatal attack. At the beginning of World War II, drag cleanup on the U.S. Navy’s front-line fighter, the Grumman F4F Wildcat, made it 45 mph faster. While not the equal of the swifter Japanese Zero, the F4F nonetheless performed well in combat, attaining speeds of up to 320 mph. The F4F’s successor, the F6F Hellcat, was faster and more maneuverable, able to reach a maximum speed of 375 mph. The Hellcat, which destroyed nearly 5,000 enemy planes in aerial engagements, is considered by 

flush, nonprojecting rivets should be routinely used for aircraft to efficiently attain maximum speed.5

Similar Langley programs focused on 

other aircraft components. Modifications were made almost piece by piece. “In the end you knew what percentage of drag was associated with each piece [of the airplane],” says Laurence K. Loftin, Jr., who arrived at Langley in 1944 and retired in 1973 as director for Aeronautics. “The idea was to make airplanes faster. And we did.”

The original NACA cowling underwent substantial improvement, as contours were modified to retain low-drag 

characteristics at speeds approaching 500 mph. Laboratory researchers examined and solved problems with landing gear not properly retracted or fairings that did not properly cover the retracted gear. Some manufacturers failed to correctly smooth the area where the wings joined the airplane fuselage or created poor angles between windshield, canopy, and fuselage, all oversights that resulted in higher-than-necessary drag. These problem areas were also investigated at 
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

The Slippery Slope

4

Dive recovery flaps installed on a P-47 Thunderbolt.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00456

In 1946 Langley equipped a North American P-51B Mustang with wing gloves to investigate low-drag performance.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

The Slippery Slope

Laboratory researchers had devised a dive-recovery flap. Installed on the lower surface of the aircraft wing near the leading edge, the wedge-shaped device created just enough lift so that pilots could regain control. Although a significant wartime contribution in its own right, the flap would also prove useful during Langley’s determined research attack on the transonic flight regime, that region where speed increases from just under to just over the speed of sound and where large changes in aerodynamic forces occur. Faster-than-sound flight was only to be achieved after the war, but World War II pilots were already beginning to experience problems related to high aircraft speeds.7

Dozens of aircraft passed through the 

Laboratory for better wartime design and then to combat duty. During one month alone, July 1944, thirty-six U.S. Army and Navy planes were evaluated in detailed studies of stability, control, and performance. Langley tested 137 different airplane types between 1941 and 1945, either in wind tunnels or in flight, including all types that actually saw comb

i

8

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00372

Several airfoils tested at Langley in 1933.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00525

Historical evolution of airfoil sections.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

4

wing surfaces free of debris. The task was next to impossible given the way planes were manufactured—there were plenty of small crevices where dirt could accumulate—and less than ideal given operating conditions—mechanics soiled the aircraft as they maintained or repaired it, and dead insects fouled surfaces on landings and takeoffs. NACA officials ever eager to impress a tightfisted U.S. Congress with NACA research prowess nevertheless trumpeted the project as a technical triumph.10

Although the project was oversold, 

Langley’s laminar-flow efforts did lead to an airfoil-shape series that was first employed on the North American Aviation P-51 Mustang, which first flew in 1941. The Mustang went on to become a highly effective escort fighter for longrange bombing missions in World War II. In fact, this later-named “lowdrag series” was so successful in improving aircraft performance, especially at high subsonic speeds, that its airfoil shapes continue to be used by airplane designers.11

Some observers have criticized the 

solving a host of specific war-related problems, equally important fundamental research—notably into jet propulsion and rocketry—went undone. Failure to pursue fundamental research in these areas, some individuals maintain, hindered the Nation’s progress in the new field of astronautics. Defenders counter that Langley’s wartime focus on improving subsonic military airplanes was proper, indeed essential. “The thought on the part of military planners was to stick with one thing,” Herbert Wilson says. “It’s for that reason that we were somewhat behind the Germans in rocketry. It was not for lack of imagination on our parts. If we had divided our efforts we might have compromised our ability to win.”

As in any victory, however, the attention of the victor must inevitably turn to 

new conquests. In Langley’s case, it was that of passing through an invisible and difficult to understand barrier.A NEED FOR SPEED
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

1910. Thirty-five years later, 100 mph appeared ridiculously slow for everything but recreational flying. During the war years the need for speed was indeed a real one, as pilots sought to outmaneuver and outfight their opponents. Even after—especially after—the cessation of hostilities, fascination with faster and more powerful planes took hold and would not let go.

By the end of World War II, the 

Germans and the British had a handful of operational jet fighters, and the Americans had begun to fly jet prototypes. In the years between 1948 and 1957, the speed of service fighters in the U.S. Air Force and Navy virtually doubled from 670 to 1,200 mph. A speed faster than that of sound—760 mph at sea level at moderate temperatures, 660 mph at altitudes above 36,000 feet, where temperatures average −60°F—

would be attained by Captain Charles E. “Chuck” Yeager on October 14, 1947, in the rocket-propelled X-1. By November 1950, the first jet-to-jet dogfight took place over Korea. In May 1952, scheduled jet passenger service began with the flight of the British-built Comet

By 

taken to the air; in that same year, Pan American World Airways ordered 45 jet transports. By the late 1950s, jet transports were routinely flying across the continental United States and to Europe.12

The advent of the jet and its penetration into military and commercial 

spheres would change habits and lives, make a global economy possible in succeeding decades, and spur further aeronautical advances. Although high-speed flight research had been conducted at Langley since the late 1920s, there were enormous technical challenges in making such speeds practical. But the concentrated energies of Langley researchers would, in the 1940s and 1950s, lead to a more complete understanding of highspeed flight. Results of such work at Langley and elsewhere would enable, first, military jets and, later, commercial aircraft to fly at speeds only dreamed of in prior years. In the 1930s Laboratory staff were the first to develop highly efficient airfoil shapes used in the design of highspeed propellers; in the 1940s they were among the first to explore practical methods of traveling beyond the apparent 
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

4

It was in 1938 that British aerodynamicist W. F. Hilton first used the 

phrase “sound barrier” in remarks made to a reporter. Hilton said that an airplane wing’s “resistance” to high speeds “shoots up like a barrier” the closer to the speed of sound an airplane travels.13

High flight speeds are often 

expressed in Mach number multiples, as a tribute to Austrian physicist Ernst Mach, famed for his exploration into the physics of sound. Mach 2, for example, is twice the speed of sound, or 1,320 mph at 36,000 feet or higher.

To fly at supersonic speeds would 

present vexing challenges, ones that worried designers and engineers alike. Could 

increase in drag and a dramatic decrease in lift. In such extreme circumstances—extreme, that is, compared with subsonic flight—control surfaces of traditional propeller-driven planes did not respond well, if at all. Some pilots in World War II, finding themselves in near-supersonic, fatal dives, literally bent their control sticks in a vain attempt to pull up in level flight. Others—the majority—managed to pull their planes up at lower altitudes.

In 1945 Langley staffer Robert T. 

Jones was the first American aerodynamicist to realize that the angle at which airplane wings were placed in relation to oncoming air—their sweep—would make a critical difference in achieving and maintaining supersonic flight. Jones’ calculations indicated that, at faster-thansound speeds, the air flowing over a thin sweptback wing would actually be subsonic, thereby delaying or preventing compressibility effects. Swept wings were a significant aeronautical advance and eventually were used on nearly every high performance military airplane. After 1950, wing sweep was also incorporated in the design of commercial aircraft to 

Langley researcher Robert T. Jones.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00384.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

NASA Dryden photo no. E-3996

A Douglas D-558-2 and a North American F-86 display early examples of swept wings.

A small model mounted on a flight research aircraft to study supersonic air flow.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

4

Slotted throat test section installed in the Langley 8-Foot High-Speed Tunnel in 1950.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

These “drop bodies” were then tracked by radar. Information on airspeed, readings of atmospheric pressure, temperature, and the like was relayed via a small radio transmitter placed inside the drop body. Many NACA engineers considered these data reliable enough to estimate the drag and power requirements of a future transonic airplane; indeed, test results were incorporated into the design of the sound-barrier-breaking X-1 aircraft.15

An earlier method was termed “wing 

flow technique” and entailed the mounting of a small model wing perpendicular to the wing of a P-51 Mustang. The Mustang took off, flew to altitude, and initiated a series of steep dives. For brief periods during the dives the air would flow supersonically over the model. A small balance mechanism fitted within the P-51’s gun compartment and tiny instruments built into the mount of the model recorded the resulting forces and airflow angles.16

Still another means of transonic 

investigation included test runs in the Annular Transonic Tunnel, which, in essence, was a whirling arm with a 

method of evaluating the transonic regime. Experiments could be made upon large (even full-scale) models, more accurate information collected, and then repeated to verify initial results. But researchers attempting to increase wind tunnel speeds encountered a phenomenon known as “choking.” As airflows increased to near the speed of sound, shock-wave interference patterns would form, thereby skewing the results of tests.18 Fortunately, a Langley team led 

by John Stack and Ray H. Wright discovered that the placement of slots along wind tunnel walls reduced or eliminated the interference. The development of this “slotted-throat” wind tunnel was an important advance. Writing with Richard Corliss in Wind Tunnels of NASA, Don 

Baals elaborates on the significance of the find:

Nowhere in the annals of aeronautical history can one find a more convincing argument supporting fundamental 

research than in the success story of the slotted-wall tunnel. [It was] a breakthrough idea... a long-sought technical prize [which]... ultimately led directly to 
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

4

Langley’s slotted-throat breakthrough was made public in the early 1950s, and transonic researchers worldwide quickly altered their wind tunnels to incorporate the modification.19

Unique transonic-design, aerodynamic, and propulsion research conducted at Langley was in part responsible 

for the October day in 1941 when Chuck Yeager briefly broke through the barrier of sound in the rocket-powered X-1, the first of a series of high-speed research aircraft. (The 1947 Collier Trophy went to Yeager, Langley’s John Stack, and Bell Aircraft Corporation president Lawrence Bell in recognition of their research accomplishments in faster-thansound flight.) But Langley had not yet finished its work. There remained a good deal to learn about achieving supersonic flight; breaking the barrier did not mean that aircraft were automatically and immediately able to fly supersonically. The sound barrier was broken by brute force, with rockets, but no aircraft manufacturer in its right mind was going to build commercial or military planes that used high cost, limited-range rockets. Other means would have to be found

The Bell X-1 supersonic airplane in the slotted test section of the 16-Foot HighSpeed Tunnel.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1997-00131

John Stack with a model.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00372

NACA Flight Test Unit XS-1 team members and USAF pilots. Chuck Yeager is third from the left.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

solution, an idea that thereafter became known as the “area rule.”

“We had a transonic wind tunnel and 

a big drag problem. I was going to use the tunnel to find out what happens to the airflow as it goes around an airplane near or at the speed of sound,” says Whitcomb, who began working at Langley in 1943 and who, in 1980, retired as head of the Langley Transonic Aerodynamics Branch. “In 1950 there were no theories to explain it, and yet we had to figure out what was going on. So I collected data and sat there with my feet propped up on my desk and said, ‘What the hell’s going on?’ The shock patterns around the plane were not what you’d expect. There was a shock wave on the wing that came all the way across and hit the fuselage. I had [German aerodynamicist] Adolf Busemann’s data in front of me and it suddenly came together, just like the light bulb that lights up in a comic strip.

“The basic idea was to consider the 

airplane as a whole, a total entity. It can not be looked at as a collection of separate components. That’s what the shock 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00388

Two models of the Convair F102 sit poised for launch from the Langley Wallops Island facility. Note the application of the area rule on the model in the lower picture.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

4

visual consequence of the area rule’s application.

Because of its military significance, 

the area rule proved a national security hot potato, and so was initially kept secret. Its revelation triggered a blizzard of publicity. The National Aeronautic Association awarded Whitcomb the 1954 Collier Trophy, saying, “Whitcomb’s area rule is a powerful, simple, and useful method of reducing greatly the sharp 

lated aspects of high-speed flight. But the Laboratory’s accomplishment was not simply the straight-line result of wind tunnel investigations and flight tests under rigorously controlled conditions. Rather, it was the associative power of human intellect and intuition that, com- bined with an exacting scientific method, enabled fundamental advance. “Both the slotted tunnel and the area rule derived largely from pictures in the 

Model of a Bell X-2 in the 9-Inch Supersonic Tunnel in 1947.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00474
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

A Need for Speed

A Langley model maker examines the molds used to make a model of the variable wing sweep Bell X-5.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

Faster than Fast

4

FASTER THAN FAST

By late spring of 1944, shortly 

before D-Day and the Allied invasion of Normandy, even the Nazi High Command realized that the prognosis for Axis victory was poor. In an attempt to recapture the initiative, the Germans unleashed the first of their secret weapons: the “Velgeltungswaffe Ein”—or, in English, “Vengeance Weapon Number One,” the world’s first cruise missile. The subsonic V-1 and, later, the supersonicV-2 rockets screamed down upon British cities and countryside in what proved to be a vain attempt at intimidation.

One year later, as the “Thousand 

Year” Reich disintegrated before the relentless Allied onslaught and the advancing armies overran the German rocket-research town of Peenemunde, the true significance of Germany’s undeniable technological triumph became chill- ingly clear. Nazi engineers had intended to design long-range ballistic missiles, two of which—the A-9 and A-10—were planned for aerial bombardment of the eastern United States. The Allied discov- ery of the German rocket-research facil- ity had tremendous psychological impact. If the Germans had succeeded with their ambitious undertaking, World War II might well have had a different outcome. The victorious Allied powers realized full well that no spot, however remote, would be safe from military attack if rockets, wedded to atomic war- heads, were only minutes away from delivering their deadly cargo. Over the next few decades, those countries that could developed their own ballistic missile arsenals to guard against 

A one-tenth scale model of the X-15 is prepared for tests in the Langley 7- by 10-Foot Tunnel.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

Faster than Fast

real or perceived threat. The embrace of rocket technology would make possible humanity’s leap into space. It would also create new weapons of mass destruction, thereby altering the course of world military and political history.

Long before World War II, Langley 

researchers had been aware that jets, missiles, or rockets traveling at high-Machnumber speeds would one day be built. But at that time the problems confronting would-be designers were formidable. Hypersonic speeds appeared too much for even the most advanced aerodynamic devices. Rapid passage through the atmosphere generated an enormous amount of frictional heat, heat well beyond the structural tolerance of most metals or metal alloys. But with speeds in Mach multiples a foregone conclusion, new ways to put missiles or proposed 

hypersonic aircraft together had to be considered.

Research on how to do so was 

undertaken in facilities like the Langley 11-Inch Hypersonic Tunnel, which began operations in the fall of 1947 and was the first of its kind in the United States. Built as a pilot model for a larger hypersonic tunnel—the Continuous-Flow Hypersonic Tunnel, itself built 15 years later—the 11-Inch Tunnel operated for 25 years. In 1973, it was dismantled and given to Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, Virginia, for educational uses. In 1951, another of Langley’s hypersonic facilities came online: the Gas Dynamics Laboratory. There, hot, highly pressurized air released in short bursts from huge storage tanks was funneled to test cells to simulate speeds up to Mach 8.21 

11-Inch Hypersonic Tunnel, which was built in the shop of the Propeller Research Tunnel.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

Faster than Fast

4

Hypersonic research at Langley in 

the late 1940s and early 1950s focused first on the difficulties that long-range missiles would encounter during intercontinental flights. There were many. A successful intercontinental ballistic missile would have to be accelerated to a speed of 15,000 mph at an altitude of 500 miles and then guided to a precise 

in the 1940s concentrated on aircraft flutter and vibration problems, took on the materials question. In 1950, the Dynamic Loads Division replaced the Physical Research Division and continued the work that eventually led to successful reentry designs for space capsules.22

The aerodynamic heating issue was 

dd

d b

f

l

l

H. Julian Allen and his blunt body concept.

NASA Ames photo no. A-22664
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

Faster than Fast

Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo astronaut capsules.23

The Langley-led X-15 project, a joint 

effort undertaken by the NACA and the military, was initiated in 1954 to tie together all supersonic research then underway. North American Aviation pilot (and former NACA test pilot) A. Scott 

The Shuttle’s reentry characteristics—the transition from the reaction 

controls used in space to aerodynamic controls, the use of high angles of attack to keep the dynamic pressures and the heating problems within bounds, and the need for artificial damping and other automatic stability and control devices to aid the pilot—are similar in all important 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00458

The X-15 launch techniques were investigated with a onetwentieth-scale model.
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

Sputnik Shock

4

Aerodynamics Division. “Up until 1952 or ‘53, there was almost no realization that we were on the verge of the Space Age. Then, suddenly, we realized we had the propulsion to get up to hypersonic speeds and also to get out of the atmosphere—at least for a while—and out into space. When that began to sink in, it became a very exciting period.”SPUTNIK SHOCK

Alone among the four major Allied 

powers, the infrastructure of the United States emerged unscathed from World War II. Protected from sustained attack by two vast oceans, the United States had not suffered the terrible devastation experienced in Europe and Asia. Its industrial base vigorous, America prospered, becoming the world’s most powerful nation. By the time Dwight Eisenhower became the 34th president in January 1953, and despite fears of Communist infiltration or aggression sponsored by the Soviet Union, American technological dominance was taken for granted. So it was a profound shock when the Soviet Union beat the United States into space 

payload planned for Vanguard, the first American satellite.

Renowned American scientific and 

technological know-how suddenly seemed second best, overshadowed by an ascendant Communist space science. The beep-beep-beep of the orbiting Soviet satellite took on ominous overtones and was amplified by national doubt and embarrassment until it reverberated across the political landscape like the characteristic boom produced by an airplane going supersonic. Scarcely a year after the Sputnik scare, the NACA was no more—replaced by another agency, NASA, whose implicit priority was to make America number one in space. It had not been too long before, as one observer dryly commented, that the NACA stood “as much chance of injecting itself into space activities in any real way as an icicle had [surviving] in a rocket combustion chamber.”

At first, things did not go smoothly as 

the United States played space catch-up. James Hansen explains:

... On the sixth of December [1957], 
SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

Sputnik Shock

satellite “Kaputnik” and “Stayputnik.” Cynical and embarrassed Americans drank the Sputnik cocktail: two parts vodka, one part sour grapes.

At the United Nations, a Soviet delegate even asked sarcastically if the 

United States would receive aid as an underdeveloped country. But the ridicule was short-lived. Six weeks later, on January 31, 1958, an Army team headed by former German rocket scientist Wernher von Braun managed a successful launch of the 31-pound Explorer 1. 

At long last, America was in space.

Nationally, changes in aerospacerelated government policy were under 

way. One of the biggest came in the changeover from NACA to NASA management. Although certainly not a major change in the eyes of employees—nearly everyone retained the same job and responsibilities—over time, the transformation would prove significant. NASA would undertake projects on a scale unheard of in NACA days. As perceived masters of space technology, the new agency would also be held to standards few (if any) government agencies could 

“Conjure the scene from The Wizard 

of Oz: the wicked witch flies over the Emerald City spelling out ‘Surrender Dorothy,’” James Hansen writes, “and all NASA Marshall photo no. MSFC-0100074

Launch of Explorer 1 on a Jupiter-C rocket.
NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00001
Crafting Flight 93

5

BEYOND THE HOME PLANET

Something about a beach soothes the soul. The rhythm of seawater falling on sand, the 

nearly constant wind, and the sight of a vast ocean vanishing over the horizon relaxes and 

comforts. For the Wright brothers, an oceanside test site was eminently practical: steady 

winds could keep research gliders aloft for many minutes. Landing on sand would also 

prove gentler on the flimsy structure of the Wright Flyer. Also, the Wrights could carry on 

their work far from the prying eyes of the press.

For a later generation engaged in rocket research, surf side was also the place to be. 

The secluded Wallops Island range where Langley began testing rocket models in the 

mid-1940s suited NACA officials just fine, especially since, as part of its overall program, 

the Laboratory was providing research assistance to the military for a highly classified 

guided-missile program. In addition, working on the island kept inherently dangerous 

devices away from population centers. In the event of explosion or in-flight destruction, it 

was far better to have a rocket break up over the ocean than over a city. Not that Langley 

researchers wanted to see their work go up in smoke. On the contrary, successful researchrocket firings from Wallops would furnish much useful information, information that in 

time would prove invaluable in the American exploration of the high frontier of space.

By 1944, small teams of Langley Wallops Island researchers were launching rocket 

models that weighed about 40 pounds. Instruments placed inside relayed information via 
94 Crafting Flight

systems to fly in and through the transonic range. Rocket-model tests helped 

to improve high-speed research methods 

and devices. Langley scientists and engineers developed new ways of measuring, 

transmitting, and recording accurate data 

even as their small rockets changed 

speed, altitude, and attitude in a matter of 

a few seconds.1

For the individuals working at 

Wallops in the 1940s and 1950s, Eastern 

Shore isolation created a sense of fellowship, in part because of the rugged surroundings. The island was difficult to 

reach; once there, researchers could 

expect to stay as long as six months. 

Housing was primitive, a choice of spartan prefabricated metal huts or, for the 

adventuresome, tents pitched on the 

beach. Food was plentiful and good, but 

entertainment was limited. There was a 

shortwave radio to listen to, card games 

after dinner, spirited conversation, and 

the camaraderie of the like-minded. All 

in all, report former Wallops rocketeers, 

it was one of the most enjoyable experiences of their lives.

After the Wallops complex was 

administratively transformed in June 

1946 into a separate Langley division, 

it began to attract attention from other 

Laboratory departments because of the 

sheer number of models sacrificed in the 

name of science. In the period from 1947 

to 1949, more than 380 plunged to a 

watery grave in the Atlantic Ocean. 

Langley wind tunnel personnel complained that such an expenditure was 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00258

The launching of the first 

rocket at the NACA’s Wallops 

Island Facility on June 27, 

1945.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00254
Crafting Flight 95

research.2

Whatever the technical or other merits, those working at Wallops were energized by their labors. “The environment 

at that time was something. I remember 

thinking, ‘You pay people to do this?’” 

recounts W. Ray Hook, former Langley 

director for Space. “There was great freedom to make mistakes. People did not 

fear trying something new. The attitude 

was, if you think you can do it, try it. We 

were flying things on rockets at a good 

clip fairly early in our careers. And we 

built nearly everything ourselves. You got 

your own model, assembled your team, 

lit the fuse, and graded your ‘paper’ in 

front of God and everybody. It was tremendous sport.”

researchers had gone to the trouble of 

designing a special couch for their 

would-be porcine passenger, it was determined that pigs can die if they lie on their 

backs for too long. But an animal finally 

did make it into space from Wallops. On 

December 4, 1959, a successful suborbital test of the Mercury capsule boosted 

Sam, a rhesus monkey, to an altitude of 

about 53 miles.3

One important project that was initiated in the late 1950s at Wallops was the 

Solid Controlled Orbital Utility Test 

Program, otherwise known as Scout. The 

program officially began in 1957 with the 

stated intent of building an inexpensive 

sounding rocket to carry small research 

payloads to high altitudes. In May 1958, 

those goals were further refined: Scout 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00457

A five-stage missile-research 

rocket takes off from Wallops 

Island 

in 1957.
96 Crafting Flight 

spheric-density measurements. Scout 

thus became the first solid-rocket booster 

to lift a payload into orbit, and the first 

vehicle to do so from Wallops Island.

Scout would eventually assist the 

Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs 

by testing reentry materials, evaluating 

methods of protecting spacecraft from 

micrometeoroids, and examining ways of 

overcoming radio blackouts as a space 

capsule reentered the atmosphere. The 

Department of Defense used Scout to 

launch the U.S. Navy’s highly successful 

Transit navigation satellites, which pass 

600 miles overhead every 80 minutes 

broadcasting positioning information 

used by warships, fishing vessels, pleasure craft, cars, and hand-held devices. 

For the Air Force, Scout launched inspace targets that were used to test antisatellite weapons fired from F-15 fighters. Scout scientific payloads also examined how water vapor and other aerosols 

have affected Earth’s atmosphere, 

mapped the planetary magnetic field, and 

made the first observations of a suspected 

black hole at the center of a collapsed 

star.

“I do not think there’s ever been 

another project where government and 

contractor personnel worked together as 

closely as they did on Scout,” says 

former Scout Project Manager Roland 

English. “Partly, I guess, it was the 

nature of the program. The goal we had, 

the job we were charged to do, [was 

make] an inexpensive rocket that could 

between success and failure. Langley 

rocket researchers kept at it and in the 

process accumulated valuable experience 

that could not be gained in any but the 

school of hard knocks. The skills of 

Wallops’ rocketeers would be put to a 

bigger test as the United States took its 

first steps across the borders of the space 

frontier. TO THE MOON BY NOON

?

On July 29, 1958, President Dwight 

Eisenhower signed legislation that would 

spell the end of one federal agency and 

mark the beginning of another. In 

remarks made at the signing, Eisenhower 

said that “the present National Advisory 

Committee for Aeronautics with its large 

and competent staff and well-equipped 

laboratories will provide the nucleus for 

NASA.... The coordination of spaceexploration responsibilities with NACA’s 

traditional aeronautical research functions is a natural evolution....” That evolution was finalized on October 1, 1958, 

when the NACA officially became 

the National Aeronautics and Space 

Administration.

The substitution of the “C” in NACA 

with the “S” of NASA (or, as some 

pundits suggested, the replacement of 

a cents sign with a dollar sign, referring 

to the higher cost of bigger projects) 

did not at first seem likely to cause much 

of an uproar at Langley. After all, those 

who left work on Tuesday evening, 
Crafting Flight 97

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00445 NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00368

measurement of drag of 

rockets, at Wallops Island.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00446

Launch Area 3 on Wallops 

Island where Scout rockets 

were launched.
98 Crafting Flight

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00069
Crafting Flight 99

change spelled the true end—the first 

phase of which was the large-scale 

expansion during World War II—of the 

small-scale, tightly knit brain trust that 

had concentrated on specific aeronautical 

problems since the Laboratory’s formation in 1917. There was also a name 

change: to the NASA Langley Research 

Center.

The degree of project difficulty 

would increase as well. The requirements 

of space travel, crewed and uncrewed, 

presented unprecedented challenge. The 

ranks of middle-level management grew, 

aided by the need to organize and carry 

out large-scale programs.

In the span of a few years, NASA’s 

entire effective work force included thousands of outside contractors hired to 

assist in research and to build the complex machines that would chart and 

travel the solar system. But perhaps the 

most significant effect of the NACA-toNASA transition, seen most clearly in 

the new agency’s large-scale space effort, 

was on the public imagination. Generally 

speaking, the public idolized NASA, seeing its scientists and engineers as heroes 

and high-tech warriors doing great deeds 

in a new age. NASA became the one 

government agency that could do little 

wrong, in the race to put Americans into 

space.

A few of Langley’s aeronautical 

engineers, enthusiastic about all things 

related to flight, were dismayed by the 

newfound dedication to space. Some 

would opt for retirement or seek employment in the private sector. Others stayed, 

but felt that the space race was nothing 

more than political posturing, (one prominent Langley staffer was contemptuous 

of what he called “to-the-Moon-bynoon” philosophy). Still others gave 

newborn NASA its grudging due, but 

more out of loyalty to the NACA technological track record. In any event, when 

President John F. Kennedy declared in a 

May 26, 1961, speech before Congress 

that before the decade was out Americans 

would land on the Moon, there did not 

seem to be a shortage of doubters.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00421

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00094

Mercury space capsule in the 

Langley Full-Scale Tunnel 

for tests.
100 Crafting Flight

it was crazy to embark upon a project we 

know we can not do. I sat there and listened to a long litany of problems. But I 

was thinking, ‘Most of us are engineers 

trained in the old-fashioned way. We 

have a lot of new things to learn.’”

New things learned would blur an 

already fuzzy line between matters relating to aircraft and those regarding space 

travel. There were various degrees of 

technical and administrative separation 

between the two areas, but often the very 

people working on spacecraft had wrestled with the transonic problem, or fretted over issues regarding aircraft instrumentation, or were laboring to improve 

Confident in their own abilities, 

proud of the NACA’s achievements, most 

NASA researchers were sure they could 

put American spacecraft into orbit. But 

they were used to relatively small-scale 

endeavors. Could NASA carry off its 

expanded mission with the same skill 

that the NACA had expressed in admittedly more limited arenas? Former 

NASA engineer Richard E. Horner, in a 

May 1972 interview, outlined some of 

the management problems NASA 

encountered: “The NACA cadre had the 

typical technical man’s disease at the 

time: the virus of wanting to do too 

much, the ‘reach exceeds my grasp’ 

John H. Glenn performs a 

training exercise in the 

Mercury Procedures Trainer 

at Langley.

GRIN photo no. GPN-2002-000044
Crafting Flight 101

have to eliminate an awful lot of things 

that we were trying to do in the process.... In making the transition [from 

NACA to NASA] some management 

mistakes were made. On the other hand, 

the way the program evolved, they 

were able to bridge the managementexperience gap very successfully.”

An in-house researcher-led program 

at Langley that aimed to put astronauts in 

space as soon as possible led directly to 

the formation, in August 1958, of the 

Space Task Group (STG). Comprised of 

Langley rocket-research veterans and 

others from various Langley divisions, 

as well as personnel from then Lewis, 

now Glenn, Research Center in Ohio, the 

STG was the 36-person nucleus around 

which the entire U.S. human space 

flight program ultimately condensed. 

Researchers well-known to insiders—

such as Max Faget, Robert Gilruth, 

Caldwell Johnson, and Christopher 

Kraft—were among the handful of leaders responsible for mounting the successful U.S. assault on space. At the time of 

the STG’s formation, most of these 

individuals were working at Langley. 

Langley would remain the STG headquarters site until the formation of the 

Johnson Space Center in 1962.4

Even before the Space Task Group 

was formally organized, the Langley 

members had begun to develop the 

concept of the “Little Joe” test 

vehicle, which became the workhorse 

of the Mercury program. In pre-STG 

days, Center researchers had also 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00412

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00068

The “Little Joe” ascends on a 

plume of exhaust.
102 Crafting Flight

demonstrated the feasibility of a crewed 

satellite program by using existing ballistic missiles as launch vehicles, and originated the contour couch concept, which 

was adopted for use in all subsequent 

U.S. space flights. Once it crystallized, 

the STG began to address additional 

technical issues, among them proof of 

the feasibility of a heat-dissipating shield 

for astronaut-carrying capsules and the 

development of astronaut “procedure 

trainers,” later called simulators.

A number of Langley-based programs were assigned to support the work 

of the task group. One such was Project 

FIRE (Flight Investigation Reentry Environment), which investigated the intense 

heat (several thousands of degrees Fahrenheit) of atmospheric reentry and its 

effects on would-be spacecraft materials 

(shown on the right).

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00427 NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00395

Echo I was the first U.S. 

passive communications 

satellite.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00369
Crafting Flight 103

One involved the heating, to 4,400°F, of 

a bed of pebbles made from the metallic 

element zirconium. Another method created a brief but intense flame from the 

action of an electric charge upon a compressed test gas. A third involved the 

launch of multistage sounding rockets 

from Wallops, a means by which reentry 

speeds as high as Mach 26 were attained.

In this same time period, Project 

RAM (Radio Attenuation Measurements) focused on how to transmit radio 

waves through the plasma sheath that 

formed around spacecraft reentering the 

atmosphere. Also undertaken was Project 

Echo, which led to development of the 

Nation’s first passive communications 

satellite. Made from aluminized Dupont 

MylarTM plastic, the 100-foot-diameter 

Echo I was a giant, automatically inflated 

balloon off which radio signals could be 

bounced. Launched on August 12, 1960, 

into an equatorial orbit approximately 

1,000 miles high, Echo I could be seen 

with the naked eye—a graphic reminder 

of the American effort to effectively 

compete with the Soviet Union in space.5

Of the many notable achievements of 

the early years of the Space Task Group, 

one of the most important was the 

establishment of the Mercury Tracking 

Network. For the first time, spacecraft 

and their human operators were to be 

actively monitored while in orbit. By any 

standard, it was a gargantuan and unprecedented undertaking. Organized and 

managed out of Langley, the tracking 

network’s successful implementation 

underscored that the Center engineers 

had what writer Tom Wolfe would later 

characterize as “the right stuff.”

The work of the STG was absolutely 

essential to the U.S. space effort. The 

STG later left Langley to found the 

Johnson Space Center in Houston and to 

NASA Headquarters photo no. 64-H-2487

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00409

Mercury capsule model in 

Langley Spin Tunnel.
104 Crafting Flight

would listen that exploration of space 

and flights to the Moon were no longer in 

the realm of science fiction.

“No Albert Einstein was required. 

Everything we did at the time was 

doable,” says Israel Taback, who upon 

his retirement in 1976 was chief engineer 

on Project Viking, the Mars exploration 

program. “We understood trajectories. 

Developing new boosters, new spacecraft, coming up with rendezvous 

techniques—it was basically an enormous engineering challenge. The only 

intimidating thing was the size of the job: 

thousands and thousands of people working all over the country to put two men 

the 1960s with spacerelated matters, at 

Langley aeronautics research continued. 

Much had been accomplished in the previous decade, particularly where subsonic flight was concerned. Langley’s 

aeronautics work in the late 1950s and 

1960s began to include a focus on supersonic transport technologies.

One such area involved the concept 

of the variable-sweep wing. Simply put, 

the notion was a variation of swept-wing 

theory with this refinement: an airplane’s 

wings could be mechanically adjusted to 

different sweep angles to conform to 

either sub- or supersonic flight. At times 

of takeoff, climb to altitude, and landing, 

the wings ideally would extend almost at 

One-tenth scale model of a 

variable wing F-111A being 

readied for a wind tunnel test.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00477
Crafting Flight 105

to mid-1950s as a potential means of 

improving a military airplane’s operating 

efficiency, variable sweep as an application proved difficult. Tests made on variable-sweep models indicated that they all 

suffered from major—and in the real 

world, deadly—changes in stability as 

the wings were rotated through various 

angles. Langley-led studies indicated that 

properly positioning the point at which 

the wings pivoted would provide the 

needed stability; it was a notable 

advance.

To validate the discovery, Langley 

researchers built four scale models and 

observed. One of the most astonishing 

things about the venture was its speed: 

Project Hurry Up took little more than 

two weeks from start to finish. As a direct 

result of the Langley tests, in 1961 the 

Defense Department gave the go-ahead 

for production of the Nation’s first variable-sweep fighter, the F-111. Built by 

General Dynamics, the F-111 first flew in 

1964 and entered operational service in 

1967. It has retired from U.S. service, but 

is still operated by the Australian Air 

Force. Variable sweep was subsequently 

incorporated in the design of many of the 

fleet of advanced U.S. military aircraft.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00399

A tilt-wing prototype used in 

vertical takeoff and landing 

studies.
106 Crafting Flight

particular concern to the Air Force, 

which was relying on low-flying bombers as part of its strategic plan in case of 

war. As a result of tests conducted at 

Langley in the late 1950s and early 

1960s, structural modifications were 

made to one model series of the B-52 

bomber. (The commercial aircraft industry found little use for the concept.)

An active boundary-layer control 

system was installed on a prototype 

Boeing 707-80 airplane in 1964. Large 

quantities of air were injected parallel to 

the wing surface and over the leading 

edge of the flaps to increase the amount 

of lift at low speeds. The demonstration 

proved that safe landings could be made 

with more efficient use of the aircraft 

power-plant and speed-control systems.

Building on autogyro research that 

began in the late 1920s and reached substantial levels during the final years of 

World War II, Langley undertook evaluation of a variety of V/STOL approaches 

in the 1960s. V/STOL designs permitted 

aircraft to rise vertically, helicopter-like, 

and then fly horizontally. In following 

years, these designs would be further 

refined, with the goal of producing a 

short-hop commuter aircraft. A V/STOL 

craft needs less runway area in which to 

operate, which may be useful in easing 

chronic airport congestion that is predicted to worsen. The V/STOL technology is used in the Harrier jump jet, 

deployed by the U.S. Marines on aircraft carriers. While seemingly ideally 

suited to business transportation, the 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00442

A duct-fan method of 

propulsion was tested with 

wind tunnel models like this 

one.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00447

Smoke flow visualization 

shows the flow of air around 

model air foil at 

100 feet per second.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00461
Crafting Flight 107

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00425

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00452

Model of a supersonic 

transport (SST) variablesweep version prior to tests in 

the Full-Scale Tunnel.
108 Crafting Flight

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00478

A SCAT model awaits 

aerodynamic evaluation.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00400
Crafting Flight 109

By the 1960s, Langleys area rule 

originator Richard Whitcomb had made 

another discovery, this one related to the 

shape of an airplane wing. Whitcomb 

was looking for ways to delay the onset 

of the high wing drag caused by localized supersonic flow occurring at high 

subsonic speeds. Since the basic airfoil 

shape was responsible, in his mind’s eye 

Whitcomb visualized an alternative: a 

wing with a flat top and curved bottom. 

This “supercritical” wing—supercritical 

referring to that speed at which a large 

amount of drag is first encountered by an 

airplane traveling near Mach 1—delayed 

the formation of shock waves. The supercritical concept, when applied to thicker 

airfoils, results in no drag increase relative to thinner airfoils at high subsonic 

speeds. As a result of this aerodynamic 

advantage, designers could use the 

thicker airfoils to build more efficient 

structural wing designs. The practical 

result of the adoption of the supercritical 

wing was an increase in performance—

improved fuel efficiency and greater 

range. The advance was quickly adopted 

by commercial airlines. Although incorporation of supercritical wings can 

increase speed, nearly all commercial 

airlines have used the design to improve 

performance, thereby decreasing operating costs.

In retrospect, a significant focus of 

the aeronautical effort at Langley in the 

1960s was research into a supersonic 

transport, or SST. After Langley X-15 

project was canceled in 1963. 

In 1959, as part of a joint NASA and 

Federal Aviation Administration effort, 

Langley had undertaken an SST technology-development program known as the 

Supersonic Commercial Air Transport 

program, or SCAT. The aim of the SCAT 

studies was to identify ways in which a 

commercial supersonic transport could 

become part of the daily lives of American airplane passengers as subsonic aircraft had.

The array of imperatives facing SST 

designers was intimidating. The SST 

would have to be structurally sound, fuelefficient, cost-effective, have a cruising 

speed of between Mach 2 and Mach 3, 

and not harm the environment. These 

difficult-to-meet and competing requirements were, ultimately, to prove too 

much for the then-current level of aeronautical technology to overcome, particularly in light of the ensuing political 

debate that sharply questioned the need 

for an American SST. In late May 1971, 

the U.S. Congress canceled the program, 

citing high cost of use, operational problems, and environmental concerns.

Nevertheless, the effort brought 

together for the first time a number of 

space-age technologies: new metal 

alloys, new approaches to structural 

design, new engines, computercontrolled instrumentation, and 

computer-driven aircraft-design and 

environmental-impact modeling. In one 
110 Crafting Flight

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00008
Crafting Flight 111

French Concorde became the world’s 

first commercial supersonic transport in 

regular service. An undeniable triumph 

of late 1960s engineering, the Mach 2 

Concorde is still flying but has never 

turned a profit, limited as it is by passenger-carrying capacity, high operating 

cost, and restricted landing rights.

Shortly after the SST cancellation, 

Langley was directed to put its supersonic and hypersonic technology efforts 

into hibernation. That the Center kept the 

research alive (if barely) was tribute to 

the stubborn foresight that 20 years later 

would come in handy as the Nation 

thought once again about propelling 

ordinary citizens faster than the speed of 

sound.

nauts. Under the tutelage of the Space 

Task Group, Scott Carpenter, Gordon 

Cooper, John Glenn, Virgil “Gus” 

Grissom, Walter Schirra, Alan Shepard, 

and Donald “Deke” Slayton were trained 

to operate the space machines that would 

thrust them beyond the protective envelope of Earth’s atmosphere.

The locals took keen note of 

Langley’s astronaut-induced prominence. When Mercury proved successful, 

and ultimately evolved into Project 

Apollo, respect for the Center grew even 

greater, especially among the young. 

Adults, too, were caught up in the wave 

of enthusiasm. Hamptonians were so 

pleased with the attention that the space 

programs were bringing to their city that 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00070

The original seven Mercury 

astronauts, from left front 

row: Virgil “Gus” Grissom, 

Scott Carpenter, Donald 

“Deke” Slayton and Gordon 

Cooper; back row: Alan 

Shepard, Walter Schirra and 

John Glenn trained at 

Langley until the Space Task 

Group moved to Houston.
112 Crafting Flight

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00385

A full-scale model of the 

Gemini capsule in the 

Langley Rendezvous and 

Docking Simulator.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00397

Practicing lunar orbit 

rendezvous with an Apollo 

capsule in the Langley 

Rendezvous and Docking 

Simulator.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00439
Crafting Flight 113

moving forward determinedly with its 

space program. On April 12, 1961, 

cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin soared into a 

108-minute orbit aboard the 5-ton Vostok 

rocket, thus officially becoming the first 

man to orbit Earth. Three days later, the 

world’s attention was refocused on Earth, 

as the U.S.-led Bay of Pigs invasion of 

Cuba was repulsed by soldiers loyal to 

Fidel Castro. Following that event, 

President John Kennedy sought to repair 

the damage done to the national prestige 

and his own political fortunes by intensifying American commitment to space 

flight. The result: the end-of-May 1961 

speech during which the U.S. lunar mission was proclaimed.

Now that such an ambitious goal had 

been defined, the question was whether 

or not the United States could engineer 

its way to the Moon. Suborbital, even 

orbital, flights were doable. But by what 

method would a lunar landing be accomplished?

To meet President Kennedy’s end-ofdecade deadline, NASA considered three 

separate options. First studied was direct 

ascent, followed by Earth-orbit rendezvous (EOR), and finally, lunar-orbit rendezvous (LOR). Direct ascent involved 

the launch of a battleship-size rocket 

from Earth to the Moon and back 

again—basically the method popularized in Hollywood movies and science 

fiction novels. EOR entailed launching 

two spacecraft into Earth orbit, the payloads of which would be assembled into 

a command module, a service module 

(with fuel cells, a control system, and the 

main propulsion system), and a small 

lunar lander (called the lunar excursion 

module, or LEM, which also bore the 

more formal name lunar module, or 

LM)—would be boosted into Earth orbit 

on top of a three-stage rocket. Once in 

Earth orbit, the third stage of the rocket 

would then propel the craft’s three-person crew into a lunar trajectory. Reaching lunar orbit, two of the crew members 

would don space suits, climb into the 

LEM, detach it from the mother ship, and 

maneuver down to the lunar surface. The 

third crew member would remain in the 

command module, maintaining orbital 

vigil.

If all went well, after lunar exploration was concluded, the top half of the 

LEM would rocket back up to dock with 

the command module. After disembarking from the craft, astronauts would then 

separate the lander’s top half from the 

command module. The LEM would subsequently be cast adrift into deep space 

or deliberately crashed into the lunar surface to measure seismic disturbances. 

The three astronauts, safe and secure in 

the command module, would head for 

home.

LOR eventually prevailed over the 

direct ascent and EOR methods, mainly 

because of the efforts of a group of 

Langley researchers. In the opinion of 

many historians, LOR was why the 

United States, in less than a decade, was 
114 Crafting Flight 

p

Langley researcher William H. 

Michael, Jr., wrote an unpublished 

paper that briefly sketched the benefits 

of “parking” the Earth-return propulsion 

portion of a spacecraft in lunar orbit on a 

Moon-landing mission. Two separate 

groups of Langley researchers—the 

Lunar Mission Steering Group and the 

Rendezvous Committee—began to 

examine Moon-mission mechanics in 

1959 with Michael’s work as a point of 

departure. Working at first independently, 

then together, the two groups became 

convinced that lunar-orbit rendezvous 

was NASA’s best shot at lunar landing. 

NASA headquarters management, however, was not persuaded.

When Langley engineer and Rendezvous Committee head John C. Houbolt 

and a few of his colleagues initially 

approached NASA headquarters officials 

with the LOR idea, it was rejected as 

being unnecessarily complex and risky. 

Critics cited the danger: if the procedure 

should fail while the astronauts were 

orbiting the Moon, then they would be 

marooned forever in a metallic tomb. At 

least in the EOR scenario, if something 

went wrong, the astronauts could return 

home simply by allowing the orbit of 

their spacecraft to decay, reentering the 

atmosphere and then splashing down 

somewhere in an ocean.

Houbolt insisted and persisted, and 

after two years of sometimes heated discussions, NASA officials conceded his 

point: LOR was the way to go to the 

lightweight LEM would have to land on 

the Moon. Part of LOR’s appeal was also 

design flexibility; NASA could independently tailor all of the Apollo modules to 

suit mission requirements. In July 1962 

NASA administrator James Webb formally approved the LOR concept.

At a critical point in the early 1960s, 

Langley researchers were the only ones 

in NASA fighting for LOR. It is difficult 

to say what the outcome might have been 

had the concept not been adopted. But 

the fact remains that, in less than a 

decade after President Kennedy’s to-theMoon directive, American astronauts 

were strolling on the lunar surface.

There was a great deal of preparation for NASA’s inaugural Moon shot. 

The Mercury program was the start. 

Astronaut Alan Shepard was the first 

American into space, although briefly; 

his suborbital mission lasted 15 minutes. 

John Glenn was the first American to 

orbit Earth, in February 1962, elating an 

American public eager for in-space success. After Mercury came Gemini, the 

project that would put to the test the 

maneuvers that would be required if 

Apollo was to be successful.

In particular, the Gemini astronauts 

would have to practice the rendezvous 

and docking techniques necessary to link 

two spacecraft. Accordingly, Langley 

built the Rendezvous Docking Simulator 

in 1963. Full-scale modules of the 

Gemini and Apollo spacecraft hung 
Crafting Flight 115

Neil Armstrong, the first human to step 

on the surface of the Moon, at the 

Langley Lunar Landing Research 

Facility.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00223
116 Crafting Flight

NASA Langley Photo Nos. EL-2001-00396 (inset) and EL-2001-00401
Crafting Flight 117

Because the Moon is airless and its 

gravitational field is only one-sixth the 

strength of Earth’s, there are no direct 

parallels between atmospheric flying and 

the piloting of a lunar lander. Some distinctly unusual problems would have to 

be overcome for the first manned lunar 

landing. For example, the firing of rockets in vacuum in order to hover above the 

lunar surface could not be precisely 

duplicated by a similar maneuver in 

Earth’s atmosphere. Also, the thrust of 

control rockets could produce abrupt 

up-and-down, side-to-side, or rolling 

motions. The light would be different, 

too; the harsh glare of sunlight on the 

Moon’s surface was unsoftened by passage through an atmosphere, thereby 

throwing off depth perception.

To address these and other practical 

Moon matters, Langley built the Lunar 

Landing Research Facility (LLRF) 

in 1965. Twenty-four astronauts—

including Neil Armstrong, the first 

human to walk on the Moon—practiced 

landings at this facility. Overhead cables 

supported five-sixths of the weight of a 

full-size model LEM, and thrust was 

provided by a working rocket engine. 

The LLRF base was modeled with fill 

dirt to resemble the Moon’s surface and 

dark shadows were painted around the 

“craters.” Floodlights were erected at the 

proper angle to simulate lunar light. A 

black screen was even installed at the far 

end of the gantry to mimic the lunar 

“sky.” Neil Armstrong later said that 

tor. There, suspended on one side by a 

network of slings and cables, an astronaut’s ability to walk, run, and perform 

the various tasks required during lunar 

exploration activities was evaluated.

The Center built other equipment to 

imitate lunar conditions. A simulator 

constructed at Langley in the early 1960s 

helped researchers determine the ability 

of a pilot to control vertical braking 

maneuvers for landings, starting from an 

altitude of about 25 miles above the lunar 

surface. There was also a special facility 

that improved one-sixth-scale models of 

the lander to gauge the impact of landing 

loads. Another laboratory apparatus 

probed the anticipated and much feared 

problem of blowing dust caused by 

rocket blast, which could obscure the 

lunar surface and prevent the LEM pilot 

from locating a safe landing spot. In 

addition, the Dynamics Research Lab 

was built to construct and test models of 

space vehicle systems, including a onetenth scale model of the Saturn V rocket. 

Other studies there involved the analysis 

of fuel-sloshing dynamics in differently 

shaped tanks, including cylinders, ellipsoids, and toroids.

In 1959, specialists in the Dynamic 

Loads Division, who had researched 

problems in helicopter dynamics for 

10 years, redirected their expertise to 

support the space program. The Dynamics Research Laboratory was designed, 

funded, and constructed as a fiscal year 

1961 budget item. Plans were made to 
118 Crafting Flight

of this succesful program, Martin 

Marietta requested that similar dynamics 

tests be conducted of a one-fifth-scale 

model of the Titan rocket, supplied by 

them. Other studies involved the analysis 

and experimental test of fuel sloshing 

dynamics in numerous shapes of propellant tanks.

One of Langley’s most noted 

achievements during this period was the 

design and management of the Lunar 

Orbiter project. Third in a series of 

NASA-sponsored programs designed to 

choose the most suitable landing spot for 

Moon-landing missions, Lunar Orbiter 

photographed nearly all of the lunar surface in a series of spectacular close-ups. 

Some of the lunarscapes of the far or 

“dark” side of the Moon had never before 

been seen by the human eye.

On April 16, 1964, NASA signed 

with prime contractor Boeing Corporation to construct Lunar Orbiter. Just 

28 months later, on August 10, 1966, the 

first Orbiter blasted off on its ambitious 

trek. Eventually, five Lunar Orbiter 

spacecraft were launched. All five were 

successful. (The final launch occurred in 

August 1967.)

The craft essentially consisted of 

an 850-pound platform on which was 

mounted a built-to-order two-lens camera that took photos of the lunar surface 

on rolls of 70-mm aerial film. The film 

was actually developed on board the 

vehicle, pressed into contact with a 

web that contained a single-solutionprocessing chemical before it was read 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00398

Lunar Orbiter 2 took this 

photo of an area of the Moon 

the size of Massachusetts, 

Connecticut, and Rhode 

Island.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00371

The floor of the crater 

Copernicus, which dominates 

the upper left quadrant of the 

Moon as viewed from Earth, 

photo taken by Lunar Orbiter 

2.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00450

Earthrise photographed by 

the Apollo 8 crew while in 

lunar orbit.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00365
Crafting Flight 119

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00402
120 Crafting Flight

chosen as the place for the Apollo 11

landing.

At the time, Israel Taback was chief 

engineer and spacecraft manager for the 

program. He recalls an international conference in Prague, late in 1967, attended 

by astronomers from all over the world 

eager to see the photographic results of 

the Orbiter project. Taback was equally 

eager to oblige. Assisted by his wife, 

Taback unrolled large photo sheets of the 

lunar surface and covered them with 

transparent plastic. Then, on a gymnasium floor in a renovated 16th century 

school, and in their stocking feet, Taback 

and his colleagues went for a stroll on the 

Moon. “Sending off five spacecraft to 

orbit the Moon,” Taback observes, “and 

then have them map the entire lunar surface... well, it was an astounding thing at 

the time. And every one of them worked! 

It was thrilling.”

The Center space race efforts also 

extended to wind tunnel and general 

space-science research. Studied in 

Langley facilities were the effects of buffeting by wind, structural integrity, heat 

resistance, and the durability of instrument design. Systems engineering personnel worked with other NASA Centers 

on cooling, heating, pressure, and wastedisposal systems. “We were working 

beyond the state of the art,” says 

Barton Geer, retired Langley director for 

Systems Engineering and Operations. 

“Nobody had done things like this 

before.”

NASA Langley photo no. 68L08308

Alan Shepard with the Lunar 

Excursion Module at 

Langley. He was the first U.S. 

astronaut in space and fifth on 

the Moon.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00219

The Apollo Command and 

Service Modules 

photographed from the Lunar 

Module while in orbit around 

the Moon.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00483
Crafting Flight 121

watched Neil Armstrong take those first 

tentative steps upon another world. As he 

did so, Langley’s entire staff could take 

justifiable pride in the indispensable role 

the Center played in a seminal event in 

human history.

“We had a target and a goal. 

Congress was behind it. Funding was 

available. The entire Nation mobilized 

for a common goal,” says John Houbolt, 

retired chief aeronautical scientist. “The 

landing on the Moon was undoubtedly 

mankind’s greatest technological and 

engineering accomplishment. We started 

essentially from scratch in 1962 and 

seven years later we were on the Moon. 

It was a remarkable achievement and 

remains unsurpassed.”

Apollo’s revelation to the earthbound was of a home planet of great 

beauty, a world that, compared with the 

barren inhospitality of the rest of the 

solar system, was a vivid reminder of the 

fragility of life. Seen from a distance, 

Earth appeared as a startling oasis of life, 

a bubble of animate color afloat in the 

ebony void of space. With astronauts 

walking on the lunar surface and planetary probes opening human eyes to otherworldly landscapes, perspectives were 

beginning to change. A larger, more 

exciting, more wondrous universe beckoned. What other marvels awaited 

humankind as it audaciously roamed 

beyond the planet of its birth?

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00427
Space Shuttle scale model during wind 

tunnel tests.
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In the aftermath of Apollo 17, the final lunar landing mission in 1972, it was sometimes hard to believe that a scant generation earlier interplanetary travel seemed the wildest fantasy. But even as humans took on the cosmos, there remained any number of vexing 

terrestrial problems. Those who lived during the 1960s will recall conflict of all sorts: political, social, cultural, and economic. The space program was not exempt from its share of controversy. Critics blasted Apollo as a flight of technological fancy that wasted precious dollars that otherwise could be spent bettering the lives of the disadvantaged. Supporters admitted that the space program was expensive but argued that the future payback, in terms of a deeper scientific understanding and improved technology, was enormous. 
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By the mid-1970s, the American public did not seem that interested in space. 

After the wrenching national pain of Vietnam, an embargo imposed by oil producers in the Middle East, and the arrival of “stagflation,” it looked as though the United States might retreat from the space beachhead it had established. To be sure, there were impressive projects such as Skylab, a joint United States and Soviet Union rendezvous of the Apollo 18 and Soyuz 19 spacecraft, 

and the development of the Space Shuttle. However, few proposed any crewed program on the huge scale of the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs.

At Langley, there was a period of 

belt tightening, staff cuts, and reduced budgets. In 1966, the Center employed some 4,300 civil servants, a figure that decreased by approximately 130 a year beginning in the early 1970s. By 1980 the staff work force numbered 2,900. Smaller, more focused programs with short term objectives were emphasized. 

The role of contractors, made important during the Apollo years, increased. With less money to manage, Langley would have to establish priorities and decide how to balance the demands of aeronautical research with those of space science.

Characteristic of the more back-tobasics approach was an aeronautics program that began in 1972, when Langley 

joined with industry, university, and U.S. Air Force representatives in a study of ways to incorporate composite materials into new aircraft design. With the 1973–74 energy crisis, this effort was redirected and renamed. The resultant Aircraft Energy Efficiency (ACEE) program sought to identify any and all ways to use airplane fuel more efficiently. The broad aim was to provide an inventory of then-available and future technologies that could be used by aircraft manufacturers. The ACEE research was more specific and 

Full-scale model of the HL-10 Lifting Body mounted in the Full-Scale Tunnel in 1964.
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concentrated in the areas of materials, structures, and aerodynamics.

The U.S. crewed space program was 

given a post-Apollo boost by development of the first Space Shuttle, models and prototypes of which underwent extensive testing in the late 1970s. With a long history of winged-vehicle experimentation including research on lifting bodies in the 1950s and 1960s, Langley took on primary design and aerodynamic research duties as the project went forward. In particular, Langley researchers were responsible for a crucial Shuttle design decision.

It was initially thought desirable to 

equip the Shuttle with jet engines that would drop into position as the craft reentered Earth’s atmosphere and maneuvered for landing. But Langley researchers argued in favor of a deadstick landing, during which the Shuttle would glide, unpowered, to a runway touchdown. Center personnel pointed out that a dead-stick landing would be less 

complex, would reduce weight, and would be safe besides. Researchers cited the experience of 300 pilots of Boeing jet transports, trained in dead-stick landings, all of whom validated the concept. Although there was initial opposition to the Langley effort, NASA officials conceded the point as it became clear that the inclusion of jet engines would indeed increase the Shuttle’s weight beyond acceptable limits. They were omitted from the final craft design.

Langley also initiated a major 

Shuttle support effort in its wind tunnels. There, Shuttle scale models spent more than 60,000 occupancy hours undergoing tests to verify aerodynamic soundness. Langley researchers conducted structures and materials tests, investigated and certified the thermal protection system of glued-on tiles, developed simulations to solve problems in the Orbiter’s flight control and guidance systems, conducted landing tests on tires and brake systems, and later participated in the redesign of 

Full-scale nonflying mock-up of HL-20 lifting body studied as a possible personnel l

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Space Shuttle and booster configuration (left) in the National Transonic Facility at Langley in 1985.A computational fluid dynamics (CFD) computer generated Space Shuttle model (right).

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00411 NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00567

Model of the Space Shuttle in the Langley 16-Foot Transonic Tunnel in 1978.
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Meeting Mars

solid-rocket booster components. Thus, when Space Shuttle Columbia soared to orbit on its April 12, 1981, maiden flight, Langley researchers could take considerable pride in the Center’s contributions to the development of a new generation of spacecraft.

By the mid-1980s a new president, 

Ronald Reagan, had announced several aerospace initiatives, two of which—the building of a space station and the creation of the National Aero-Space Plane—would involve Langley Research Center directly. Reagan’s successor, George H. W. Bush, had by 1990 outlined other ambitious plans, which included an increased American spaceresearch presence in near-Earth orbit and a possible crewed mission to Mars by the end of the second decade of the 21st century. These, too, would call upon the research expertise of the Center.

In the last decade of the 20th century 

a new chapter in astronautics was being written. Faster, safer, more environmentally benign aircraft were on the drawing boards, and there were plans to make 

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appeared little prospect of technological retreat from 75 years’ worth of amazing aeronautical advances.

MEETING MARS

In the 1870s and 1880s Italian astronomer Giovanni Virginio Schiaparelli 

identified features on the planet Mars that he believed to be an extensive system of canals. Schiaparelli and others theorized that Martians used the channels for irrigation, as aqueducts, or like the Italian island city of Venice, for transportation. In later years the Martian “canals” were shown to be the result of poor stargazing equipment and fanciful imaginations.

The question still persisted. Is there 

life of any kind on Mars? That was the primary question the Langley-led Project Viking hoped to answer. Begun in the late 1960s, and the largest space-science undertaking at the Center since the crewed space efforts, Project Viking’s goal was a soft landing on the surface of Mars followed by limited exploration.

The ambitious project would conf

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Meeting Mars

6

Martian surface and then undertake a series of studies on Martian geography, weather, chemistry, and biology.

The Center asked for and received 

authorization to directly oversee the design and construction of the Viking Lander. In addition, Langley became the lead for Project Viking

Langley coordi

ment as well. “One of the most critical things was the sterilization of everything on the spacecraft,” says Langley researcher Eugene Schult, who came to Langley in 1949 and who retired as deputy chief of the Center’s Terminal Configured Vehicle Office in 1980. “That included all electrical components

every 

Viking I under assembly in clean room.

NASA Headquarters photo no. 74-H-325
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Meeting Mars

technical ingenuity and resourcefulness because of budget constraints.

In the minds of a few Langley dissidents Viking was more of a research 

curse than blessing. Some of those on the aeronautics side were especially resentful of the resources sucked up by the 

Project Viking was not fated to 

answer all the questions posed by planetary scientists, but the fact that it addressed them was tribute to the engineering skill acquired at Langley after years of practice on such programs as Mercury, Lunar Orbiter, Gemini, and Apollo. On July 20, 1976, on the seventh 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00220

Launch of the Viking 2 on a Titan III Centaur rocket on September 9, 1975.
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Meeting Mars

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The first photograph taken by Viking 1 on July 23, 1976.

NASA Headquarters photo no. 76-H-624

Closeup of Martian moon Phobos (left) taken by Viking Orbiter 1 on February 20, 1977.The planet Mars (right) as seen from Viking Orbiter 1 on June 18, 1976.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00411 NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00567

Rock called “Mr. Badger” being lifted by Viking collector arm (left) and moved to left of original position (right).
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Meeting Mars

shape, Mr. Badger was one of four rocks named in honor of the book The Wind In The Willows. (Other rocks in the Willows Formation were given the titles Mr. Rat, Mr. Mole, and Mr. Toad.) Researchers were curious: would the soil under Mr. Badger be moister than the surrounding, exposed soil? If so, perhaps there would be evidence of organic chemical processes, processes that could indicate the presence of primitive life. Unhappily for those hoping to find definitive proof of extraterrestrial existence, the outcome was not conclusive.

Designed to function for 90 days, 

all four Viking craft exceeded manyfold their intended operational lifetimes. Orbiter 2 was the first to fail, on July 24, 1978. Lander 2 ceased operation on April 12, 1980, followed four months later by Orbiter 1 on August 7. Lander 1 stayed alive seven years past its design lifetime, until November 13, 1983, when it finally fell silent.

“To that day—maybe to this day—

Viking was the most difficult unmanned space project ever undertaken. It brought Langley to the forefront of spacecraft 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00438

Boulder-strewn field on Mars’ Utopian Plain viewed from Viking Lander 2 camera.

The first evidence of Martian frost, the white patches around the rocks, photographed by Viking Lander 2.
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Revolutionizing Information Exchange

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REVOLUTIONIZING

INFORMATION EXCHANGE

Remembering that there was a time 

when American society did not enjoy a widespread dependence on computers has grown difficult for a generation that relies on computational machines for the most ordinary of tasks, from banking to bill paying. Few realize that the idea of computing machines was introduced as early as the 17th century and that working models were on the drawing boards during the 19th century. For a number of reasons, it was not until the 1930s that the first practical computers were introduced. Another 40 or so years would pass before room-filling, power-hungry early models gave way to smaller, more compact designs. By 1974 with the introduction of the personal computer, there began a momentum to miniaturization that today seems unstoppable.

For researchers engaged in scientific 

inquiry, the advent of the computer has been a godsend, revolutionizing the way information is transmitted, stored, and used

enabling the rapid

cross

connected 

field of aerospace, the impact has been great.

At Langley, computers have forever 

changed the way that aerospace scientists and engineers do research. Langley researchers have used successive generations of ever more capable supercomputers to create models of airflow around assorted aerodynamic shapes flying at varying speeds and to gauge an aircraft’s structural response to differing flight regimes. These studies in computational fluid dynamics (CFD) aim at predicting what will happen to a proposed aircraft design under real-world flight conditions. By evaluating variables long before a model is mounted in a wind tunnel test section, computers dramatically accelerate the entire design-and-test process. “The whole design can be looked at to see how one change in one area affects all the others,” says Frank Allario, a former Langley director for Electronics. “In the past an aerodynamicist designed a particular shape. Then the structures people came in and built a structure around it. Then the controls people came in and fitted their instruments. Now the idea is to tackle the whole thing together
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Revolutionizing Information Exchange

Computer generated model of air flow around the National Aero-Space Plane.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00433
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Revolutionizing Information Exchange

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gations, thereby permitting ongoing adjustments to studies in progress.

At Langley, computers are also used 

to control the Center’s simulators, which vary from full-motion devices to advanced versions of air traffic control systems. Langley’s computer-controlled flight simulators create uncannily realistic in-flight conditions for pilots training on advanced fighter aircraft or for researchers testing modifications to flight systems, both under controlled laboratory conditions and at much lower costs than actual flight testing.

Digital avionics are among the most 

ambitious aeronautical applications of computer power. Whether as part of flight control systems, navigation and guidance systems, or employed to better orchestrate takeoffs and landings, digital avionics are changing the way aircraft fly. Small television-like screens are a 

primary advantage enjoyed on avionicsequipped aircraft. A wealth of easy-toread information on flight conditions can be displayed for quick evaluation by pilots. “On-board computers can take real-time data and actually tell a pilot what can or should be done, especially if something goes wrong,” says Jeremiah F. Creedon, Langley Center Director from 1997 through June 2002, and now Associate Administrator for the NASA Office of Aerospace Technology in Washington, D.C. The rapid evolution of digital avionics is making for safer, easier-to-operate, and in the case of military craft, more maneuverable aircraft. From the early 1970s through the present, Langley has initiated or participated in a number of programs designed to evaluate these promising systems and their appropriate roles in military and commercial aviation.

Former Center Director Dr. Jeremiah F. Creedon (left).A research flight deck simulator (right).
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Strong Lightweight Materials

STRONG LIGHTWEIGHT

MATERIALS

Beginning in the 1960s and continuing through the present, the Center has 

worked to develop new composite materials, already supplementing and perhaps even eventually replacing metals and metallic alloys. One composite is composed of small rod-like fibers embedded in a binding substance, or matrix (similar to the way steel rods reinforce concrete). The material has demonstrated a considerable improvement in performance over typical aircraft materials. Many aircraft flying today have composite parts. Center researchers are seeking ways of employing composites in other aircraft structures and are working with aircraft manufacturers to identify the best means to do so.

“In 1970 there was no—not one—

college course on composite materials at any university in the country,” says Charles Blankenship, formerly the Center’s director for Structures. “Langley was the lead in getting these courses at universities. We’ve had to educate our engineers in a whole new field

mercial sources demonstrate strength and stiffness as high as steel but at one- fourth the weight. Applied to full-body aircraft—wings, fuselage, and control surfaces—the structural weight reduction can be as much as 25 percent, which would generate enormous savings in fuel costs alone. According to a NASA- commissioned study done in 1991, if cur- rent composite-materials technology would then have been applied to the entire commercial U.S. aircraft fleet, the 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-000018

LaRC Macro Fiber Composite actuator for buffeting alleviation for 1/6 scale F/A-18 model.
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Strong Lightweight Materials

6

A corrugated shell made from graphite rods embedded in an epoxy matrix.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00404

A full-scale segment of a graphite-composite wing undergoing tests in the Langley Structures and Materials Research Facility.
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Science In Space

permitting designers to routinely massproduce at moderate price what today would be called custom-made airplanes. The use of composites is not yet widespread, at least in airplane manufacture. The price of the materials remains high, in large part because of labor-intensive manufacturing methods. Much also remains to be learned about the materials’ durability over time and under adverse conditions. Langley is among those in the public and private sector looking for ways to reduce compositematerials costs while validating realworld performance.

Ultimately, future generations of aircraft may incorporate intelligent machine 

systems technology, also know as IMS. Such systems—computer-directed, built from composite materials and outfitted with sensors connected by fiber-optic “nerves”—would mimic the human body’s own network of nerves and sense organs. Like humans, “smart” systems would be able to respond and adapt to a changing environment, to extremes of temperature and pressure, for example. One day, IMS-equipped devices may even be capable of limited self

repair

If 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00468

Tomato seeds are prepared for launch in the Long Duration Exposure Facility.

The Long Duration Exposure Facility being deployed by the Space Shuttle Challenger on April 7, 1984.
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Science In Space

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The Langley-designed ACCESS helped determine the feasibility of in-space construction.
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Science In Space

extraterrestrial debris, like micrometeoroids? Do living systems fare well or poorly in almost total weightlessness? What are the effects of temperature extremes on organisms and structures?

Langley Research Center designed 

and built the Long Duration Exposure Facility, LDEF, to begin answering such questions. Completed by 1978, tested for structural soundness in 1979, LDEF was shipped to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida in mid-1983 for a 1984 deployment by the Space Shuttle Challenger. 

The bus-size LDEF structure was outfitted with 57 experiments developed by more than 200 researchers, both in the United States and abroad. The investigators represented universities, private industry, and government laboratories, including Langley and other NASA centers. Experiments fell into four broad categories: materials and structures, power and propulsion, science, and electronics and optics. LDEF was planned to orbit Earth for ten months as a passive satellite; those experiments needing power received it internally from already affixed batteries or solar cells. No telem

them from micrometeoroids, space debris, and degradation. Once on Earth, another LDEF experiment also bore fruit, so to speak: individuals and students worldwide were able to produce normal tomatoes from tomato seeds exposed to cosmic and solar radiation.

At the end of November 1985, an 

important Langley engineering experiment was put through its paces courtesy of the crew of the Space Shuttle Atlantis. 

Space-suited astronauts, working from Atlantis’ cargo bay, snapped together a 45-foot-long ACCESS (Assembly Concept for Construction of Erectable Space Structure) truss tower. The structure, which consisted primarily of tubular aluminum struts connected by joint-like nodes, was designed by Langley researchers and constructed by Center technicians. The purpose of the exercise was to determine the feasibility of future in-space construction techniques and materials. The ACCESS experiment, concluded in about an hour, went smoothly and validated the practicality of in-space construction The experience l

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Understanding the Atmosphere

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UNDERSTANDING THE

ATMOSPHERE

Even as efforts continued in space, in 

the 1980s scientists were only beginning to understand Earth’s atmosphere and the complicated processes that maintain, renew, and change it. Langley’s atmospheric sciences researchers are among those attempting to better comprehend the fundamental workings of the lifegiving ocean of air that girds the planet. Formally organized in the 1970s, by the 1980s the Atmospheric Sciences Competency (ASC)—as the former Atmospheric Sciences Division was renamed in the late 1990s—had begun to examine the effect of clouds and cloud formation on global climate, the nature and extent of upper atmosphere ozone depletion, the dispersion patterns and effects of trace gases (those that influence the greenhouse effect), the atmo- spheric impact of large-scale burning of wood and vegetation (known as biomass burning), and the processes of global atmospheric chemistry in Earth’s lower atmosphere. “We can take an idea, a glimmer in the mind,” says Don Lawrence, former Atmospheric Sciences chief, “take it all the way through to building a device, fly- ing or orbiting that device, and process- ing and then analyzing the data that results. At Langley we’ve built, I think it’s fair to say, a world-class atmospheric sciences program.” Langley’s atmospheric investigators have designed a wide array of sophisti- cated instrumentation, including custom- ized combinations of lasers, telescopes, and sensors that are flown on aircraft to measure extremely small concentrations 

The Earth Radiation Budget Experiment (ERBE) satellite prior to launch.
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Understanding the Atmosphere

of gases, small particles, and water vapor. ASC scientists have fashioned satellite-based devices that gauge heat energy, have designed helicopter-borne instruments that analyze gaseous and solid emissions from fires, and are working on advanced sensing packages that will be orbited on future generations of satellites. ASC researchers have also devised software programs to analyze the enormous amount of data generated from ongoing global atmospheric experiments.

One principal ASC endeavor has 

been the design and management of the Earth Radiation Budget Experiment (ERBE), conceived to measure and analyze fluctuations in the amount of heat energy emitted by the Sun and reflected or absorbed by Earth. Determining the whys and wherefores of Earth’s thermal equilibrium enables investigators to better understand the factors that drive 

world weather patterns and influence large-scale climate shifts.

The ERBE project was instituted in 

1979, when Langley scientists first began to outline the program’s scientific objectives and devise the requirements for the instrumentation to accomplish them. From the outset, Langley scientists managed the efforts of an international team of ERBE scientists and researchers, a team that is now some 60 members strong. One pivotal find was that clouds have a net cooling effect on global temperatures. “It really was a major scientific breakthrough,” Lawrence says. “Now when climate modelers take clouds into account, they have quantifiable data to plug into their predictions.”

Langley’s atmospheric scientists in 

the 1990s also examined how humans have modified the atmosphere that 

Artist’s concept of Upper Atmosphere Research Satellite in orbit.
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Understanding the Atmosphere

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surrounds and nurtures life on Earth. Will human destruction of vegetation and trees by burning have catastrophic consequences for this and succeeding generations? To answer such questions, teams of Center researchers have traveled all over the world to investigate the types and amounts of gases produced by human-induced burning of grass, vegetation, and trees. The emissions produced by such biomass burning are thought to add large amounts of carbon dioxide and other gases to the atmosphere.

Stratospheric ozone depletion has 

captured headlines, piqued the curiosity of average citizens, and generated intense scientific effort. In 1985, a team of international scientists confirmed the existence of an ozone hole in a large region directly over the continent of Antarctica. Additional experiments have shown that ozone depletion is also occurring over the North Pole. Langley researchers have worked with colleagues all over the world to assist in plotting ozone-hole fluctuations. Indeed, a Langley study was the first to explain the mechanism by which ozone depletion is intensified.

Atmospheric Sciences at Langley are seeking to understand how we interact with our planet.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00155

Satellite image showing Pacific Ocean temperatures during El Niño/La Niña study.

NASA Jet Propulsion photo no. PIA01528

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atmosphere. Other projects, like the Sounding of the Atmosphere using Broadband Emission Radiometry project, or SABER, and the Stratospheric Aerosol and Gas Experiment, or SAGE, are enhancing scientists’ understanding of the fundamental processes governing chemistry and dynamics at middle and upper levels of the atmosphere.

Practical spinoffs from basic scientific research, such as improved instrumentation, faster computers, and a 

maturing space industry, are fueling further research into the complicated functioning of the atmosphere and its interaction with Earth’s vast oceans. Studies such as those conducted by and with Langley aim to identify, in unmistakably quantitative terms, the impact on the atmosphere of an ever-burgeoning human population. It is only through such studies that reliable information can be gathered, information that can be made available to citizens and policymaking boards for the regulatory decisions that will undoubtedly have to be made in the future.

way to help aircraft tires maintain firm contact on wet pavement was to cut thin grooves into that pavement. The grooves would allow excess water to be forced away by the tire pressure on the pavement, which results in more direct contact of the tire with the pavement and better control of the aircraft. After tests in the late 1960s and early 1970s validated the concept, safety grooving was adopted for use on hundreds of airport runways around the world.

The practice also seemed appropriate for highways. Every state in America 

has since grooved at least part of its highway system. Safety grooves also have been cut in pedestrian walkways, ramps, and steps; food processing plants; work areas in refineries and factories; swimming-pool decks; and playgrounds. In 1990, the advance was selected for inauguration into the Space Technology Hall of Fame in Boulder, Colorado.

“It seems mundane when you think 

of it,” says Cornelius Driver, who arrived at Langley in 1951 and retired in 1986 as chief of the then Aeronautical Systems 
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Transferring Technology

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At the Langley Aircraft Landing Dynamics Facility, a jet of water propels a test carriage at aircraft landing speeds to measure stresses on aircraft landing gear and tires. Aircraft tire after tests is shown in the inset.
EXPERTISE APPLIED

Transferring Technology

Division, “but grooving affects more people, and has saved more lives, than anything NASA has ever done. The amount of money put into [grooving research] was piddling, but the savings in human life and resources from highway grooving alone could probably pay for every one of the NASA budgets from day one. In the broadest sense, such an accomplishment shows that governmentsponsored research can have a tremendous payoff.”

When such programs as the one that 

resulted in safety grooving are described to Langley researchers as a “breakthrough,” many are made uneasy by the word. They feel that it is too exaggerated a term to properly describe the Center’s precise application of engineering science. The word “spinoff” is considered more appropriate in describing programs that result in innovative devices or procedures that have application in areas well beyond their original purview.

Take the case of the Center’s “riblet” 

research. Building on marine-science studies into sharks’ streamlined shapes, in the mid

1980s a Langley team found 

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00453

Projections on a shark’s skin, dermal denticles, magnified 30 times revealing grooves.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00426

A shark’s dermal denticle magnified 3000 times.
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Transferring Technology

6

There have been other Langley 

spinoffs as well. Project FIRE in the late 1950s and early 1960s led to the development of a furnace capable of melting metals for recycling. Nondestructive materials evaluation led to an ultrasonic device that uses sound waves to aid in the treatment of burn victims. Other notable examples of dozens of products that have b

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in 1998. PETI-5 can be used in parts and structures for reusable launch vehicles, subsonic commercial and military aircraft, missiles, space planes, electronic components, jet engines, and automobile engines.

By 1993, Langley had set up a formal 

commercialization effort. First known as the Technology Applications Group

the 

NASA's new two-in-one laser technology may eventually replace the dentist's drill for preparing fillings and the dentist's scalpel for gum surgery.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00138
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Transferring Technology

In 1996, a Langley technology that 

might make everything from speakers to heart pumps smaller and more efficient was recognized as one of the year’s 100 most significant technological advancements by Research and 

Development Magazine. Selected by a 

panel of distinguished scientists and engineers, the R&D 100 awards are pre

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which generate mechanical movement when subjected to an electric current or generate electrical charge in response to mechanical stress. Langley researchers created a piezoelectric material that was tougher, more durable, allowed lowervoltage operation, had greater mechanical load capacity, and could be easily produced at a relatively low cost, lending it

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NASA Johnson photo no. PIA02991

Picture from weather satellite data showing areas of nighttime illumination on Earth.
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Transferring Technology

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more flexibility in choosing methods of manufacturing, and increased amenability toward mass production. THUNDER wafers could range in size from a few square millimeters to several square meters and thicknesses of fractional millimeters to several millimeters.3

In 1999, a thermoplastic hailed as a 

breakthrough in solar propulsion and power won the same recognition as had THUNDER. The thermoplastic was adapted for use on solar-powered satellites by SRS Technologies, Huntsville, Alabama, and should eventually be incorporated in aerospace and consumer products. When cast as large thin films, the thermoplastic material serves exceptionally well as solar-thermal concentrators for space-based propulsion and power concepts and, potentially, for inflatable large space antennas. Langley researchers developed the thermoplastic technology—actually, two similar polyimide chemical compounds—in a successful effort to improve the solar energy absorption and reflectance of existing space-based systems. Either compound can take the form of a highly transparent 

in optics for space telescopes or spaceborne lasers; antennas for communications, surveillance and positioning; solar shielding; and aircraft and missile cabling. Commercially, the technology may be applied to many products, such as ultraviolet-resistant additives to paint and in components in flexible, printed circuit boards and liquid-crystal displays.5

In 2002, Langley researchers worked 

with Baby Beats, Inc. and Washington State University’s Small Business Development Center—both based in Spokane—to transfer and develop aerospace technology originally created to better understand airflow over airplane wings into a portable, noninvasive, easyto-use fetal heart monitor. “Because the material we used for wing-surface measurements is flexible, it’s ideally suited to fit over the curved surface of a maternal abdomen for fetal testing,” says Dr. Allan Zuckerwar of the Langley Advanced Measurement and Diagnostics Branch.6

The existing fetal heart-monitoring 

devices generally work well but cost 

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Dr. Baker’s newly formed company, planned to begin manufacturing and marketing the monitor by the end of 2002.7

Baker’s concern for tiny hearts began 

more than 25 years ago when he noticed the need for a portable heart rate monitor during obstetrics rounds in medical school. He watched as an unborn baby’s heart rate, monitored by a fetal heart monitor strapped to the mother’s belly, suddenly became dangerously irregular

office and may not have the financial resources to travel quickly or often. Inner-city mothers who have difficulty making it to a clinic could benefit from the monitor as well, as can most women with high-risk pregnancies. “Whether they are rich or poor, mothers love their babies,” the Spokane physician says. “They want to take care of their baby but, when they are hours away from health care, it’s very hard. This helps dignify 

Langley Office of External Affairs photo archives

Prototype of a fetal heart monitor.
The International Space Station 

photographed during shuttle mission STS-106.
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Just after World War II, German-born Wernher von Braun, brought to the United 

States to work on the space program after the Allied victory in World War II, foresaw rapid technological progress, particularly with space launch and exploration. Clearly, humans would reach assertively and rapidly into and beyond Earth orbit. It would only be a matter of decades before people would routinely live outside the earthly biosphere. Colonists would reach their homes through a combination of ingenuity, hard work, and, of course, brand new hardware that would make such sojourns routine.

A halfway point, a kind of orbital train station, was envisioned, wherein arriving and 

departing rocket flights would either deposit or pick up cargo and passengers. Historian 
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for a Moon landing. Three decades would pass after von Braun’s remarks before the United States committed to building the International Space Station. Langley’s contributions to the Station included design and materials studies, as well as Center-developed structural components incorporated during on-orbit construction.

“To do the things in and out of NASA 

that NASA wanted NASA to do requires money. No bucks, no Buck Rogers, as they say in the movie The Right Stuff,” says Tom Crouch, author of Aiming for the Stars: The Dreamers and Doers of the Space Age and senior curator of aeronautics for the Smithsonian Institution’s Air and Space Museum. “What the space station became was a way to turn to another page. It was a minimum goal 

NASA had to shoot for. Without it, you’re not building toward the future of a human space program. You’re simply sending up the Shuttle. But once the space station got going, the budget got out of hand.”

In general in the 1990s, money was 

hard to come by for the agency. In the absence of a clearly defined geopolitical threat (abruptly redefined on September 11, 2001, by terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington, D.C.)—such as that thought to have been posed by the Soviet Union in the 1960s, or a clearly defined national goal such as a mission to Mars—NASA’s budget was subject to conflicting forces, including pressure in the early to mid-1990s for all government agencies to substantially reduce costs.

A concept model for a space station in 1961.
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A report issued in February 1995 by 

the NASA Advisory Council Federal Laboratory Review Task Force starkly spelled out the challenge facing the agency. “NASA is currently undergoing dramatic and necessary change,” asserted the report’s authors. “The first factor is a major change in anticipated budget, [currently] $14.5 billion [and] increasing at the annual rate of 14 percent from fiscal year 1988 through fiscal year 1992. It is now projected to decrease to less than $11.5 billion in purchasing power by fiscal year 1999.”1

There would be less “big” science 

and engineering and more focused commercial application.2 Modest, but often 

ambitious in cost return, programs and projects like the missions to Mars, Earthobserving systems, and robotic flybys were a priority. All agency centers were expected to find ways of accomplishing their research missions more efficiently, even with relatively anemic budgets. Langley was no exception.

“It was no more the ‘give us some 

money, we’ll go off and do good things, and the world will be a better place as a 

Mars Pathfinder Lander at Ares Vallis on Mars in 1997.
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figures, overall employment by 2002 dropped nearly 30 percent from the 1994 level of 6,000, down to 2,365 civil servants and 1,935 contractors. Several wind tunnels were closed, or in the case of the Full-Scale, or 30- by 60-Foot Tunnel, transferred to educational use in the form of a partnership with Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia. It would be a time of cautious incrementalism, of managing changes in staffing and money while attempting to keep key programs intact.

“To my mind, the biggest single story 

[in the 1990s] is how the institution was 

tory, Langley generally has not shaken the paradigm, but extended understand- ing in this normal-science realm, filling in big blocks of understanding.” Langley, Douglas believes, has unique research facilities that do not exist anywhere else in the world. But there are no calls for construction of any new wind tunnels or major refurbishment of exist- ing facilities. In part that’s because com- puters are assuming a greater role in aerodynamic modeling and forecasting. But it’s also in part because NASA, under former Administrator Daniel Gol- din, emphasized the third letter in the agency’s title. That is, space-related research trumped aeronautics research, at least in terms of funding. “Bright people who used to work on aero[nautics] projects are now working on space,” Douglas says. Even so, she believes Lan- gley made gains in technology programs in the 1990s. Such advances included development of sensors to detect and guard against clear-air turbulence, which can damage airplanes and injure passengers. Center engineers developed all-composite struc- 

Image of Jupiter’s moon lo obtained by the Galileo spacecraft during a flyby. NASA JPL photo no. PIA01667
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Langley Office of External Affairs photo archives

Replica of the Wright Brothers’ 1902 glider undergoing investigation by Old Dominion University students in the Langley FullScale Tunnel.

Computer-generated image of aerodynamic forces acting on a possible nose design for a fighter aircraft.
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7

F-16 model undergoing tests in the Langley Basic Aerodynamics Research Tunnel for the NASA High-Speed Research Program.
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High-Speed Research Redirected

“The path from idea to potential marketplace position had to be clearer. We’ve moved into an era that requires a definite demonstration of a technology’s usefulness. That’s true in both aeronautics and space transportation.”

Perhaps no one program would 

exemplify such realities more than highspeed research, whose greatest success would ironically be the cause of its demise. Begun just after World War II, high-speed research (HSR) focused on the ambitious technological goal of putting into the air faster-than-sound, environmentally friendly, economical jetliners that could shave hours of travel time between destinations in Asia and Europe. HSR was intended to serve two masters: technology and the economy. But a changeable global economy, the cost of advanced technology, the unexpected end-of-millennium explosive growth of the Internet, the rapid spread of cellular phone service, and the popularity of teleconferencing would combine to make rapid, long-distance travel seem less necessary.

HIGH

SPEED RESEARCH

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1999-00150

High-Speed Research technology concept airplane model in the Langley 16-Foot Transonic Dynamics Tunnel.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1998-00162

A supersonic model in the Unitary Plan Wind Tunnel.

A hypersonic aircraft undergoing tests in a wind tunnel.
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High-Speed Research Redirected

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of paying for it all with reasonable ticket prices and high passenger volumes.

Historian James Hansen is collecting 

information and conducting interviews for a six-volume documentary history of aerodynamics in America. Hansen says that what was then called the High-Speed Civil Transport program, or HSCT, was formally inaugurated in 1989 and looked to develop supersonic transport technology compatible with such environmental concerns as atmospheric impact and emission reduction, community noise, sonic boom, and radiation. By 1990 NASA had organized this endeavor into a two-phase technology program—dubbed, in general, HSR for high-speed research—in partnership with the U.S. aircraft industry (Boeing, McDonnell Douglas, General Electric, and Pratt and Whitney). Phase I was designed to develop technology concepts for environmental compatibility and was completed in 1995. Phase II then began to further 

define HSR concepts and demonstrate their economic viability. But matters were already beginning to go awry, as Hansen elaborates:

Much of the store had already been 

lost. Since 1985 Boeing’s share of the global commercial aircraft market fell from 90 percent to less than 50 percent, resulting in some serious financial difficulty for the American giant—even though Lockheed was by that time out of the market and McDonnell Douglas was ailing (and later merged into Boeing). At the same time, France’s Airbus moved from zero percent control to about 50 percent control of the global market share. With these concerns in mind, what advocates of the HSCT lobbied the Congress to do in 1999, rather than keep cutting the federal R[esearch] & D[evelopment] budget for aeronautics R[esearch] & D[evelopment], was restore it to the level of 1989, which 

NASA pilot Michael Wusk makes a “windowless” landing aboard a NASA 737 research aircraft.
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High-Speed Research Redirected

would require an increase of $500 million (or 8.5 percent).3

Despite significant progress, the 

HSCT program was essentially eliminated by May 1999 when former NASA Administrator Daniel Goldin announced a budget cut of $110 million, along with significantly reduced funding for other key research projects such as noise reduction and lower aircraft emissions. “What forced this decision was the growing cost of the International Space Station, to which the aeronautics funds were to be redirected,” Hansen says. “In his announcement, Goldin said that another $500 million to $1 billion would be required to be found in future years to fund ISS, due chiefly to shortfalls in what the Russians were supposed to be contributing.”

For those convinced that research to 

advance crucial new aeronautical concepts such as the HSCT was critical to 

enhancing the national security and economic interests of the United States, the lack of commitment to funding aeronautics was more than disappointing. Hansen points out that since 1989, federal aeronautics research and development spending had already fallen from $1.3 billion per year to $640 million per year. This spending reduction happened even though aeronautical products represented the second largest export category in the U.S. balance of trade—valued at $69 billion, second only to agricultural products. At the same time research and development money was falling at home, the governments of Great Britain, France, Japan, Taiwan, China, South Korea, and Indonesia were all investing more heavily in aeronautics and building strong partnerships with their privatesector aeronautics companies. Much of Japanese attention, in fact, was on the future of high-speed transport. Their government announced in early 1999 that 

Researcher monitoring instruments on Langley Aries flight research aircraft.
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High-Speed Research Redirected

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$20 million was being spent as a firstyear installment to establish a five-year program of supersonic transport research and development, the very activity that budget cuts were forcing NASA to abandon.4

“By the end of the century, the best 

aeronautic R[esearch] & D[evelopment] 

backer was withdrawing financial commitment, Langley felt it had no choice but to back out as well. “Industry was bringing a lot of money to the table,” says Wallace Sawyer, former director of the Langley High-Speed Research Project Office. “When your primary industry partner steps back, you need to rethink at what rate and how much 

Synthetic vision flight systems during test.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2002-00059
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Aviation Technology Moves to Industry

fell. And the perils of an undiversified portfolio were visited upon the Center.”

Despite cancellation by NASA Headquarters, the HSR program did advance a 

number of technologies. Windowless or synthetic vision, for example, would later end up incorporated into all-weather, computer-aided views of aircraft sys

formulations developed by Paul M. Hergenrother, Dr. John W. Connell, Dr. Brian J. Jensen, and Dr. Joseph G. Smith. Chosen as a NASA Commercial Invention of the Year in 1998, PETI-5 endured operational temperatures at 350°F for 15,000 hours, roughly equivalent to five years of continuous HSCT service

If the program had continued

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00068

Cockpit of research aircraft configured for synthetic vision flight test.
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Fiber reinforced composite materials.
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Aviation Technology Moves to Industry

the 777. The Boeing 777 aircraft was designed for medium- to long-range passenger flights and is the largest twinengine jet to be thus far manufactured, with first passenger-carrying flights conducted by United Airlines in May 1995. The Boeing 777 airframe incorporates durable lightweight composite aircraft structures, including graphite-epoxy floor beams, flaps, and tail assembly.

Software created by Langley experts 

was used in Boeing 777 product development, including fundamental mathematical procedures for airflow images, which enabled advanced computer-based aerodynamic analysis. The Center also conducted wind tunnel tests to evaluate flutter and vibration characteristics of the 777 aircraft’s wing structure and to confirm the structural integrity of wing and airframe integration. In addition, Langley provided advice to Boeing on techniques for reduction of engine and 

other noise for passengers and terminal area residents.

Radial tires like those used on the 

777 underwent strength and durability testing at the Langley Aircraft Landing Dynamics Facility. Hampton researchers can also claim credit for advances that led to the aircraft’s modern glass cockpit, a system that uses computer technology to integrate information and display it on monitors in easy-to-use formats; a digital data system, an easily reconfigurable computer network that allows aircraft computers to communicate with one another; a fly-by-wire system for control of wing and tail surfaces, replacing bulkier and heavier hydraulic control systems; and more frequent use of lightweight composite structures for increased fuel efficiency and range.8

“In the past decades we’ve moved 

well beyond the original Boeing 707. The 777 aircraft is an excellent example 

Semispan model mounted in the National Transonic Facility at Langley.
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of that,” says acting Center director Delma C. Freeman. “Within NASA the role Langley is uniquely qualified to play is that of atmospheric flight: all vehicles, all atmospheres. As long as the country is serious about aeronautics research, Langley will have the expertise to address a variety of issues across all speed regimes. One of the questions we have a tradition of asking is: what are the next generation of aircraft going to be?”

Part of that answer may lie with the 

Advanced General Aviation Transport Experiment (AGATE), a consortium of more than 70 members from industry, universities, the Federal Aviation Administration, and other government agencies. AGATE was created by NASA in 1994 to develop affordable new technology, as well as industry standards and certification method, for airframe, cockpit, flight training systems, and airspace infrastructure for single-pilot, next-generation, near-all-weather light airplanes. AGATE partners worked to make airplanes as easy to use as cars.

Along with a parallel program, General Aviation Propulsion, or GAP, which 

display system includes a computerdrawn aerial road map that the pilot follows to a preprogrammed destination. This highway is drawn on a highly intuitive, low-cost flat-panel display intended to displace decades-old “steam gauge” instrumentation. The system also includes a multifunction display of position navigation, a terrain map, and weather and air traffic information. In addition, digital radios will send and receive flight data, and a solid-state attitude and heading reference system will replace gyroscopes. Together, the displays and other equipment will provide enough information for a pilot to fly safely with reduced workload in nearly all weather conditions.10

In addition to transforming cockpits, 

the technology developed by the team is expected to redefine the relationship between pilots and air traffic control, fundamentally changing the way future general aviation pilots fly. This technology is expected to significantly increase freedom, safety, and ease-of-flying by providing pilots with affordable, direct access to information needed for future 
REDEFINING ROLES

Aviation Technology Moves to Industry

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00463

Full-scale general aviation aircraft undergoing crashworthiness tests.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00464
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apply the techniques that have been successfully applied in military helicopters, race cars, and modern automobiles to improve survivability in crashes of small composite airplanes. A further goal was to reduce injury severity in survivable crashes. The program used a combination of analysis, subscale quasi-static testing, and full-scale crash testing to achieve these goals. In the final crash 

lished the partnerships that collectively produced the most significant advance- ments in aviation technologies in the his- tory of this industrial sector. The out- come of these Langley-led investments has been to lay the industrial, regulatory, and research foundations for the possibil- ity that in the 21st century, smaller air- craft and smaller airports will play a vital role in public transportation.” 

Synthetic vision systems in flight tests.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2002-00058
REDEFINING ROLES

An Emphasis On Safety

consortium members with NASA research. In a cost-sharing partnership between the federal government and the consortium, NASA and other federal agencies are expected to contribute up to $40 million to support the jointsponsored research agreement.12AN EMPHASIS ON SAFETY

Safety remained a major preoccupation of Langley aeronautics research in 

the 1990s. In response to a report from the White House Commission on Aviation Safety and Security, in 1997 Langley began leading NASA aviation safety research. The $500 million NASA Aviation Safety Program (AvSP) is a partnership with the Federal Aviation Administration, the Department of Defense, and the aviation industry. AvSP is working to develop advanced, affordable technologies to help make travel safer on commercial airliners and smaller aircraft. To meet the NASA goal of reducing the fatal aircraft accident rate by 80 percent in 10 years and 90 percent in 25 years, the safety program is focusing on three areas recommended by a national team of 

traffic controllers. The FAA is assisting in defining requirements and actions to enact many of the safety standards. The Defense Department is expected to share in technology development, applying safety advances to military aircraft.

Initially AvSP identified eight technology strategies:• Make every flight the equivalent 

of clear-day operations.

• Bring intelligent weather decision-making tools, including 

worldwide, real-time moving map displays, to every cockpit.

• Eliminate severe turbulence as an 

aviation hazard.

• Continuously track, diagnose, and 

restore the health of on-board systems, leading to self-healing and “refuse to crash” aircraft.

• Improve human and machine integration in design, operations, and 

maintenance.

• Monitor and assess all data from 

every flight for both known and unknown issues.

• Increase survivability when accidents do occur.
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In The Aftermath Of September 11, 2001

7

landings. A related goal is to devise sensors that will replace or exceed the capabilities of human vision, permitting an increase in the number of flights in poor weather, with the prospect of reduction in terminal delays and less costs for the airline industry and passengers.14

Aviation safety experts are also 

looking at the human side of accidents, developing models to better predict human error and working to improve training and other procedures for maintenance and flight crews. Accidentmitigation researchers are working to make accidents more survivable. AvSP drop tests of full-scale airplanes help engineers determine how to make aircraft seats, restraining systems, and structures better able to withstand crashes. Researchers are also developing new technologies to prevent in-flight fires and minimize fire hazards after an accident. Engineers are also developing on-board technologies to help planes monitor their own systems, including engines and airframes. The idea is to detect and diagnose abnormalities, then fix them before they become critical.15

nels, images of the destruction were replayed constantly, amplifying emotions and fears. But this was a new kind of war: hard to define, hard to escape, and hard to fight. Different in kind and scope from World War II, or the uneasy decades-long period that followed it, the antiterrorist campaign seemed unlikely to spur the development of large air- or spacecraft as a means of defense or deterrence. Presi- dent George W. Bush warned that this was a conflict likely to last for years, albeit with secret victories and hidden costs. Given the decentralized nature of the ongoing threat, the technologies most likely to see deployment appeared more personal: smaller sensors to detect tradi- tional or nuclear munitions; automated lightweight reconnaissance aircraft to track the movement of guerillas and con- traband; and equipment or gear that could sniff out, discourage, or prevent biological and chemical attack. Given its experience and expertise, NASA could play a role in creation and refinement of such technologies. “Langley does not exist indepen- 
REDEFINING ROLES

In The Aftermath Of September 11, 2001

which NASA will focus in the years ahead: refinement of digital airspace, so that private aircraft will be easier and safer to fly; the development of revolutionary vehicles able to transit easily between air and space, with minimal environmental impact; strengthened security and safety technologies; and contributing to a state-of-the-art, educated workforce.

The OAT believes that an enhanced 

digital airspace will provide precise knowledge to pilots and controllers of air traffic, access to detailed terrain maps, and up-to-the minute weather forecasts to make flying as safe as possible. Creation of revolutionary vehicles should enable unprecedented levels of mobility and safety while safeguarding the environment and quelling the noise usually associated with airports. New security technologies are intended to protect life and property from hazards and malicious intent, while support of science and mathematics education at all levels should enable workers to more rapidly adapt to the use of complex technology in a world of rapid advancement.

ASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00581

Biologically inspired aircraft in the Basic Aerodynamics Research Tunnel.

Biologically inspired micro air vehicle wing.
The blended wing body model mounted 

in the Compact Range Facility for antenna pattern measurements.
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BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Perhaps the bird-loving Saracen of Constantinople, who died in the 11th century while 

trying to fly with a stiffened cloak, or Abbot Damina of Tungland, injured in an attempt to fly with cloth wings from the walls of Stirling Castle in Scotland in 1507, were simply too enthusiastic too early. According to NASA planners, future aircraft may evolve into more bird-like craft, able to quickly adapt to the constantly varying conditions of flight, rapidly responding to differing conditions with unprecedented levels of aerodynamic efficiency. Embedded sensors will act like the nerves in a bird’s wing and will measure the pressure over an entire wing surface. The response to these measurements will direct the craft’s actuators, which will function similarly to a bird’s wing muscles. Just as a bird instinctively uses different feathers on its wings to control its flight, the actuators will subtly 
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Practical Space

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To explore these advanced vehicle 

concepts and exploit next-generation technologies, Langley researchers are using advanced computer analysis to model and predict the best locations for sensors and actuators. Specific technology areas of study include ground-toflight scaling, reliability-based designs, 

PRACTICAL SPACE

One of the riskiest technologies 

may be that of hypersonic flight or traveling over five times the speed of sound. At altitudes flown by jetliners, sound travels at close to 660 miles per hour, or Mach 1. A hypersonic plane could fly from New 

Morphing Project Manager Anna McGowan examines actuators on a model.

Langley Office of External Affairs photo archives
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Practical Space

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1997-00036

Model of Hyper-X on Pegasus booster rocket being installed in the 20-Inch Mach 6 Tunnel.

Large scale scramjet concept demonstration model in the 8-Foot High-Temperature Tunnel.
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Practical Space

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the Langley 8-Foot High-Temperature Tunnel. Langley engineers had previously validated the concept of hypersonic propulsion in Center tunnels: a scramjet, or supersonic combustion ramjet, with no moving parts that uses the speed of the 

Corp.) to acquire enough speed to trigger combustion. But in an initial X-43A test flight over the Pacific Ocean off the California coast in June 2001, an apparent catastrophic structural failure in the booster caused the range safety officers 

John Simmons checking a hypersonic inlet prior to testing in the Arc-Heated Scramjet Test Facility.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-1998-00229
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Practical Space

exploration of the Red Planet. Mars launches typically are scheduled every 26 months, when the alignment of Earth and Mars in their orbits around the Sun allows spacecraft to travel between the two planets with the least amount of energy. The 2001 Mars Odyssey

launched on April 7, 2001, and arrived at Mars on October 23, 2001.

Odyssey’s primary science mission 

began February 2002 and is slated to continue through August 2004. For the first time, the mission will map the amount and distribution of chemical elements and minerals that make up the Martian surface, and record radiation 

levels in low-Mars orbit to determine the risk to any future human explorers. In an initial and significant find, announced in late May 2002, the spacecraft detected what appears to be large subsurface amounts of hydrogen, most likely in the form of water ice, near the planet’s surface. If the presence of water is indeed confirmed by future missions, either robotic or human, the discovery could prove momentous for the nascent field of astrobiology.

During and after the science mission, 

the Odyssey orbiter will also support 

other missions in the Mars Exploration program. It will act as a communications 

Third stage of Mars Pathfinder is attached in a clean room (left).Model of probe for 2001 Mars mission tested by Langley researchers (top right).Mars viewed by the Hubble Telescope in June 1999 (bottom right).
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Practical Space

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relay for American and international landers, including the next mission in the NASA Mars Program, the Mars Exploration Rovers, which are slated to launch in 2003. Scientists and engineers will also use Odyssey data to identify potential landing sites for future Mars missions.5

Langley participation enabled the 

spacecraft to literally surf the waves of the Martian atmosphere in a process called “aerobraking,” a technique wherein an orbiting spacecraft brushes against the top of an atmosphere. The friction of the atmosphere against the surface of the spacecraft slows down the craft, lowering its orbital altitude. Attached solar panels are used to provide the maximum drag in a symmetrical position, allowing some additional control as the spacecraft passes through the atmosphere.

Instead of using onboard jets and 

propellant to adjust a spacecraft’s orbit, aerobraking uses the atmosphere as both a brake and a steering wheel. The technique, however, shares more elements with sailing than with driving: successful 

An image of the Mangola Fossa, a deep trough on the Martian surface taken by Mars Odyssey in May 2002.
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Practical Space

read measurements, and estimate the height and density of the atmosphere, predict the atmosphere’s effect on the spacecraft’s structure, and determine the best entry and exit points to achieve the orbital geometry required for the mission.4

Aerobraking is extremely challenging but worth it

say mission engineers

determine how deeply the orbiter should penetrate the Martian atmosphere on each pass. If the passes are too deep, the solar panels could burn up; if the passes are too shallow, the mission could end up in a useless orbit.

“These are very challenging and 

exciting missions,” said Dick Powell, 

l

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NASA Langley photo no. EL-2002-00270

The Langley Aerobraking Team on day 75 of vehicle aerobraking.
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond Expectations

8

BEYOND EXPECTATIONS

Throughout its history, Langley has 

made a habit of going beyond the technologically expected. In over three-quarters of a century, the Center’s methodical precision has brought about beneficial change to both aircraft and spacecraft. Langley led or was a major participant in aerospace innovation amidst an astonishing century-long explosion of science and technology.

Despite a growing focus on applied 

research, former Center Director Creedon believes the coming decade could offer Langley more rather than less opportunity. Although large programs on the order of Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, or Viking do not seem to be in the cards, modest ones aimed at significant technological impact may indeed have the desired results. It may be of greater benefit, he believes, not to be constrained by large, complex programs with endpoints too carefully defined.

“For my first three years as a 

researcher I did not really talk to anybody. They shoved problems under my 

however, miss the research point. The movement away from basic to more focused research could depress and not encourage innovation. “One might wonder whether NASA engineers and scientists of the 1960s and 1970s, if situated in such a strict service-oriented environment so imprisoned by proprietary interests and an accountant’s bottom line, could ever have been thoughtful enough to conceptualize a machine as revolutionary as National Transonic Facility [at Langley Research Center] in the first place,” Hansen points out. “Without a more adventurous approach to attacking fundamental problems, aerodynamic progress through the 20th century could never have advanced the state of the art nearly as rapidly—or as incredibly successfully—as it has actually done.”8

One field of study within Langley 

that may blur the distinction between basic and applied research is atmospheric sciences. Although strictly speaking, atmospheric sciences research is not applied; its results can be, as in contributions to actions taken to reduce the threat from chlorofluorocarbons to Earth’s proBEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond Expectations

Dr. Larry B. Petway makes final adjustments to an instrument for the Lidar Atmospheric Sensing Experiment (LASE).
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond the Beach

8

radiation comes in and warms Earth and how much is reflected out,” says Leonard McMaster, director of Langley’s Atmospheric Sciences Competency. “Our atmospheric research began as an attempt to understand the fluid in which airplanes flew. Now we’re making major contributions in terms of understanding the mechanisms of climate change. With the 

their systems-engineering and electronics-research colleagues at Langley are playing a prominent and ongoing role in the development of complex EOS instrumentation.

BEYOND THE BEACH

Wh

t 

i

ht 

“

” NASA L

l

Model of Boeing 777 in the National Transonic Facility at Langley.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00041
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond the Beach

and inventions, as well as those of its partners.

Langley is also engaged in several 

programs to bring its expertise directly to classrooms, from elementary schools to universities. The Center, for example, manages an instructional television series that joins classrooms with NASA researchers in support of national math

everything that comes out of NASA is great? No. But NASA in the 1990s did continue to set the aerospace agenda. The result was support for areas of great value to American society.”

In this millennium, the issues confronting NASA and Langley appear 

likely to be those more resistant to shortterm resolution

Improving the speed

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00342

Langley staff members share the excitement of science.
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond the Beach

8

Hyper-X model undergoing tests in a wind tunnel at Langley.

Langley Office of External Affairs photo archives

Hyper-X model and rocket 

d 

h 

i

f
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond the Beach

predecessors, this generation of Langley engineers and theoreticians will be confronted by seemingly intractable difficulties. Perhaps they will be the ones who figure out how to beat the gravity-well problem—the difficulty of inexpensively boosting payloads and people into orbit.

Budget cutting and program cutbacks 

have also taken a toll, as talented younger researchers abandon government service for more lucrative and potentially more rewarding work in the private sector. The danger of continued anemic budgetary support for NASA aeronautics research, warns Robert Ash, eminent scholar of aerospace engineering and associate vice president for research and graduate studies at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia, is that core expertise may be irretrievably lost. Although new hires may be bright and motivated, they must earn their experience—a process around which there are no shortcuts. Still, Ash believes, aeronautics research can and will offer much to the Nation. He agrees that research-driven technological convergence could usher in an entirely new era.

need to understand and to explore seems just as strong as ever.

The results of basic research tend 

eventually to be applied in practical realms—as were, for example, explorations of quantum physics in the 1920s and 1930s that led eventually to the development of personal computers, compact and digital video disk players, and the Internet. Often the practitioners themselves have a hard time understanding or predicting the ultimate use of their ruminations. Take Langley researcher Richard Whitcomb, for instance, whose aircraft area rule helped to make practical jet flight a reality with trailblazing research into supersonic flight effects on airplane designs.

“Nobody in the United States in the 

1930s realized that the jet would be the vehicle on which people would eventually fly. Nobody,” says former NASA chief historian Roger Launius. “It takes a unique person in a uniquely appropriate situation to pick the innovation that will revolutionize things. It’s almost impossible to institutionalize it. But it has happened, as with Dick Whitcomb 
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond the Beach

8

A Cirrus SSR-20 cockpit with advanced general aviation technology.

NASA Langley photo no. EL-2000-00009

Langley research aircraft Aries during Synthetic Vision Systems test in Colorado in 2001.
BEYOND THE FIRST ONE HUNDRED YEARS

Beyond the Beach

NASA JPL photo no. PIA02550

Active volcanic eruption on Jupiter’s moon lo in an image taken by Galileo spacecraft in 2000.
Langley Office of External Affairs photo archives
Crafting Flight 187

Vinc. HarperCollins Publishers, New York, NY, 1991.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Walter Boyne, Terry Gwynn-Jones and Valerie Moolman. How Things Work: Flight. Time-Life 

Books Inc./St. Remy Press. Alexandria, VA, 1990.

6. Ibid.

7. Reginald Carpenter, Peter Kalla-Bishop, Kenneth Munson and Robert Wyatt. Powered Vehicles: A 

Historical Review. Crown Publishers Inc. New York, NY, 1974.

8. Walter Boyne, Terry Gwynn-Jones and Valerie Moolman. How Things Work: Flight. Time-Life 

Books Inc./St. Remy Press. Alexandria, VA, 1990.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. Ibid.

13. Ibid.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid.

16. Microsoft® Encarta® Encyclopedia 2001. © 1993-2000 Microsoft Corporation.

17. Ibid.

18. Walter Boyne, Terry Gwynn-Jones and Valerie Moolman. How Things Work: Flight. Time-Life 

Books Inc./St. Remy Press. Alexandria, VA, 1990.

19. Ibid.

20. Ibid.

21. Microsoft® Encarta® Encyclopedia 2001. © 1993-2000 Microsoft Corporation.

22. Tom D. Crouch. The Bishop’s Boys: A Life of Wilbur and Orville Wright. W.W. Norton and Company. 

New York, NY, 1989.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid.

25. Ibid.

26. Ibid.

27. Ibid.

28. Ibid.

29. Ibid.

30. Ibid.

31. Ibid.

32. Ibid.

33. Ibid.

34. Ibid.

35. Ibid.

36. Ibid.

37. Ibid.
188 Crafting Flight

g

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Tom D. Crouch. The Bishop’s Boys: A Life of Wilbur and Orville Wright. W.W. Norton and Company. 

New York, NY. 1989.

6. James R. Hansen. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. NASA /Scientific and Technical Information Office. Washington, D.C., 1987.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. Ibid.

13. Ibid.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid.

16. NASA Langley Library tape archives

17. Ibid.

18. James R. Hansen. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917-1958. NASA /Scientific and Technical Information Office. Washington, D.C., 1987.

19. Ibid.

20. John Becker. The High-Speed Frontier: Case Histories of Four NACA Programs 1920–1950. 

U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-445, 1980.

CHAPTER THREE: REINVENTING THE PLANE

1. Hansen, James R. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4305, 1987.

2. Ibid.

3. Smithsonian Institution: National Air and Space Museum. Milestones of Aviation. Hugh Lauter Levin 

Associates, New York, N.Y., 1989.

4. Hansen, James R. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4305, 1987.

5. Ibid.

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid.

8. Becker, John. The High-Speed Frontier: Case Histories of Four NACA Programs, 1920–1950. 

U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-445, 1980.

9. Hansen, James R. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4305, 1987.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. Ibid.
Crafting Flight 189

20. Ibid.

21. Ibid.

22. Ibid.

23. Loftin, Laurence K., Jr. Quest for Performance: The Evolution of Modern Aircraft. U.S. Government 

Printing Office: NASA SP-468, 1985.

24. Ibid.

25. Ibid.

26. Hansen, James R. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4305, 1987.

27. Ibid.

28. Ibid.

29. Ibid.

30. Ibid.

31. Smithsonian Institution: National Air and Space Museum. Milestones of Aviation. Hugh Lauter Levin 

Associates, New York, N.Y., 1989.

32. NASA Langley Library archives.

CHAPTER FOUR: SWORDS AND PLOWSHARES

1. Hansen, James R. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4305, 1987.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.

6. Loftin, Laurence K., Jr. Quest for Performance: The Evolution of Modern Aircraft. U.S. Government 

Printing Office: NASA SP-468, 1985.

7. Hansen, James R. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4305, 1987.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. Ibid.

13. Ibid.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid.

16. Ibid.

17. Baals, Donald D. and Corliss, William R. Wind Tunnels of NASA. U.S. Government Printing Office: 

NASA SP-440, 1981.

18. Ibid.

19. Ibid.
190 Crafting Flight

24. Smithsonian Institution: National Air and Space Museum. Milestones of Aviation. Hugh Lauter Levin 

Associates, New York, N.Y., 1989.

CHAPTER FIVE: BEYOND THE HOME PLANET

1. Hansen, James R. Engineer In Charge: A History of the Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 

1917–1958. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4305, 1987.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.

CHAPTER SIX: EXPERTISE APPLIED

1. Henry, Keith and Nolan-Proxmire, Don. NASA Langley/Headquarters news release 96-154. 

October 1, 1996.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Henry, Keith and Patrick, Hal. NASA Langley news release 99-068. September 10, 1999.

5. Ibid.

6. Braukus, Michael; Hinz, Sue and Rink, Chris. NASA Langley/Headquarters news release 02-014. 

February 21, 2002.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

CHAPTER SEVEN: REDEFINING ROLES

1. NASA Advisory Council’s Federal Laboratory Review Task Force. February 1995.

2. Ibid.

3. Hansen, James. E-mail notes to author. February 1, 2002.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.

6. Schultz, James. “HSR Leaves Legacy Of Spinoffs.” Aerospace America. September 1999.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. NASA Langley fact sheet FS-1996-05-01-LaRC. May 1996.

10. Henry, Keith. NASA Langley news release 97-095. August 2, 1997.

11. Ibid.

12. Braukus, Michael; Henry, Keith and Sheehan, John. NASA Langley news release 02-23. 

May 14, 2002.

13. Finneran, Michael. NASA Langley news release 97-042. June 3, 1997.

14. Ibid.

15. http://avsp.larc.nasa.gov/

16. Braukus, Michael, NASA Headquarters new release 0223. Feb. 5, 2002.
Crafting Flight 191

4. http://mars.jpl.nasa.gov/odyssey/overview/index.html

5. http://mars.jpl.nasa.gov/odyssey/mission/aerobraking.html

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid.
NASA Langley photo no. EL-1996-00130
Crafting Flight 193

g, , 

How Things Work: Flight, by Walter Boyne, Terry Gwynn-Jones and Valerie Moolman. 

Time-Life Books Inc./St. Remy Press. Alexandria, VA, 1990.

Leonardo: Discovering the Life of Leonardo da Vinci, by Serge Bramly, with translation 

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Powered Vehicles: A Historical Review, by Reginald Carpenter, Peter Kalla-Bishop, 

Kenneth Munson and Robert Wyatt. Crown Publishers Inc. New York, NY, 1974.

The Bishop’s Boys: A Life of Wilbur and Orville Wright, by Tom D. Crouch. W.W. Norton 

and Company. New York, NY, 1989.

The High-Speed Frontier: Case Histories of Four NACA Programs 1920–1950,

by John Becker. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-445, 1980.

Spaceflight Revolution: NASA Langley Research Center From Sputnik To Apollo, 

by James R. Hansen. U.S. Government Printing Office: NASA SP-4308, 1995.

Wind Tunnels of NASA, by Donald D. Baals and William R. Corliss. U.S. Government 

Printing Office: NASA SP-440, 1981.
NASA Langley photo no. EL-1998-00167.
Crafting Flight 195

Grimwood, James M., and Barton C. Hacker, with Peter J. Vorzimmer. Project Gemini 

Technology and Operations: A Chronology. (NASA SP-4002, 1969).

Link, Mae Mills. Space Medicine in Project Mercury. (NASA SP-4003, 1965).

Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1963: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy. 

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Ertel, Ivan D., and Mary Louise Morse. The Apollo Spacecraft: A Chronology, Volume I, 

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Morse, Mary Louise, and Jean Kernahan Bay. The Apollo Spacecraft: A Chronology, 

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Ertel, Ivan D., and Roland W. Newkirk, with Courtney G. Brooks. The Apollo Spacecraft: 

A Chronology, Volume III, January 21, 1966–July 13, 1974. (NASA SP-4009, 1978).

Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1968: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy. 

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Newkirk, Roland W., and Ivan D. Ertel, with Courtney G. Brooks. Skylab: A Chronology. 

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Van Nimmen, Jane, and Leonard C. Bruno, with Robert L. Rosholt. NASA Historical Data 

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Ezell, Linda Neuman, NASA Historical Data Book, Volume II: Programs and Projects, 

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Levine, Arnold S. Managing NASA in the Apollo Era. (NASA SP-4102, 1982).

Roland, Alex. Model Research: The National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, 

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Fries, Sylvia D. NASA Engineers and the Age of Apollo. (NASA SP-4104, 1992).

Glennan, T. Keith. The Birth of NASA: The Diary of T. Keith Glennan. J. D. Hunley. 

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Seamans, Robert C., Jr. Aiming at Targets: The Autobiography of Robert C. Seamans, Jr.

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PROJECT HISTORIES, NASA SP-4200

Swenson, Loyd S., Jr., James M. Grimwood, and Charles C. Alexander. This New Ocean: 

A History of Project Mercury. (NASA SP-4201, 1966; rep. ed. 1998).

Green, Constance M., and Milton Lomask. Vanguard: A History. (NASA SP-4202, 1970; 

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Hacker, Barton C., and James M. Grimwood. On Shoulders of Titans: A History of Project 

Gemini. (NASA SP-4203, 1977, rep. ed., 2002).

Benson, Charles D. and William Barnaby Faherty. Moonport: A History of Apollo Launch 

Facilities and Operations. (NASA SP-4204, 1978).

Brooks, Courtney G., James M. Grimwood, and Loyd S. Swenson, Jr. Chariots for Apollo: 

A History of Manned Lunar Spacecraft. (NASA SP-4205, 1979).
198 Crafting Flight

Ezell, Edward Clinton, and Linda Neuman Ezell. The Partnership: A History of the 

Apollo-Soyuz Test Project. (NASA SP-4209, 1978).

Hall, R. Cargill. Lunar Impact: A History of Project Ranger. (NASA SP-4210, 1977).

Newell, Homer E. Beyond the Atmosphere: Early Years of Space Science. (NASA 

SP-4211, 1980).

Ezell, Edward Clinton, and Linda Neuman Ezell. On Mars: Exploration of the Red Planet, 

1958–1978. (NASA SP-4212, 1984).

Pitts, John A. The Human Factor: Biomedicine in the Manned Space Program to 1980. 

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Butrica, Andrew J. To See the Unseen: A History of Planetary Radar Astronomy. (NASA 

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Crafting Flight 199

g, yygg(

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(NASA SP-4402, 1976).

Anderson, Frank W., Jr. Orders of Magnitude: A History of NACA and NASA, 1915–1980.

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Williamson, and Dwayne A. Day. Exploring the Unknown: Selected Documents in 

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Logsdon, John M. Editor, with Dwayne A. Day and Roger D. Launius. Exploring the 

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Program, Volume III, Using Space. (NASA SP-4407, 1998).

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Accessing Space. (NASA SP-4407, 1999).

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Siddiqi, Asif A. Challenge to Apollo: The Soviet Union and the Space Race, 1945–1974.

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Crafting Flight 201

Chambers, Joseph R. Partners in Freedom: Contributions of the Langley Research Center 

to U.S. Military Aircraft in the 1990s. (NASA SP-2000-4519, 2000).

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NASA Langley photo no. EL-2001-00260.
Crafting Flight 203

A-9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

Advanced General Aviation Transport Experiment (AGATE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164

aerobraking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176, 177

aerodrome 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Aerodrome A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12, 13

Air Force . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77, 96, 106, 124

Air Force Association . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Aircraft Energy Efficiency Program . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124

Aircraft Engineering Conference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38, 55

Aircraft Landing Dynamics Facility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144, 163

airfoil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii, xv, 18, 54, 63, 75, 

76, 77, 81, 109

Allario, Frank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132

Allen, H. Julian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88

Ames Aeronautical Laboratory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv, 69, 88

Ames Research Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

Annular Transonic Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

Antarctica . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142

Apollo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11, 17, 120, 123

area rule . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv, 42, 43, 81, 83, 84, 

109, 183

Armstrong, Neil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, 115, 117, 121

Ash, Robert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

Asia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63, 90, 157

Assembly Concept for Construction of Erectable Space Structures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138, 139

Assistant Secretary of Commerce for Aeronautics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55

Astronaut . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89, 91, 101, 103, 113, 

114, 117, 120, 121, 

127, 139, 151

Atlantis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvi

Autogyro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

Aviation Safety Program . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166, 167, 168

Axis Powers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70, 86
204 Crafting Flight

Back River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

Baker, Donald . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148, 149

Bay of Pigs, Cuba . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

Becker, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42, 51, 52, 89, 100

Bell Aircraft Corporation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

Bell, Lawrence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

biplane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9, 11, 17, 18, 60, 181

Blacksburg, Virginia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87

Blankenship, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135

Boeing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48, 120, 125, 158, 160, 

163

Boeing 707 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77, 163

Boeing 707-80 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106

Boeing 737 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68

Boeing 757 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68, 184

Boeing 777 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii, 161, 163, 180

Boeing P-26A Peashooter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

Boulder, Colorado . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

Bramly, Serge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1, 2

Brewster XF2A Buffalo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70

Busemann, Adolf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83

Bush, George H. W. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

Bush, George W. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168

Bushnell, Dennis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172

C

Carpenter, Scott . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111, 113

Challenger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

Chicago . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10, 45

China . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5, 159

China Clipper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64

choking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

civil aviation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Cleveland, Ohio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
Crafting Flight 205

Continuous-Flow Hypersonic Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . l 87

Convair . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

Convair YF-102 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83

Cooper, Gordon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111, 113

Corliss, William R. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55, 81

Cortright, Edgar M. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii, 131

cowling, aircraft engine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix, xiii, xiv, 25, 41, 43, 

57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 63, 

64, 73, 77

crashworthiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27, 165

Creedon, Jeremiah F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vi, 134, 153, 160, 168, 

178

Crossfield, A. Scott . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89

Crouch, Tom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12, 14, 19, 28, 152

Curtiss . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Curtiss AT-5A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41, 58

Curtiss Bleeker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

Curtiss Jenny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31, 44, 59

D

da Vinci, Leonardo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1, 2

de Havilland DH-4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

de Honnecourt, Villard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Department of Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96, 106, 166, 167

Detroit, Michigan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Deutsche Luftreederei . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Douglas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Douglas D-558-2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79

Douglas DC-3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60

Douglas YO-31A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62

Douglas, Deborah . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii, 154, 181

Driver, Cornelius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

drop bodies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

Dryden Flight Research Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

Dynamically Soaring Vehicle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
206 Crafting Flight

8-Foot Transonic Pressure Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105

8-Foot Tunne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . l 51

11-Inch High-Speed Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

11-Inch Hypersonic Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87

Earth Observing System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180

Earth Radiation Budget Experiment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140, 141

Earth-orbit rendezvous . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113, 114, 151

Echo I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102, 103

Edison, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

Eisenhower, Dwight D. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90, 96

Engineer In Charge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix, 31, 47, 51, 60, 69, 

84

English, Roland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96

Europe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi, xiii, 5, 10, 21, 77, 

90, 157

Explorer 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

Explorer 9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96

F

15-Foot Spin Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

F-111 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104, 106

F-15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96

F6F Hellcat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72, 73

Faget, Max . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Federal Aviation Administration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109, 164, 166

Fedziuk, Henry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42

Flathead Indian Reservation, Montana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

flying boats . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47, 67

Fokker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60, 61

France . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, 6, 21, 158, 159

Freeman, Delma C., Jr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, 154, 164

Full-Scale Research Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
Crafting Flight 207

General Dynamics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106

Germany . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, xi, 45, 86

Gilruth, Robert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Glenn, John H. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100, 111, 113, 117

Goldin, Daniel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154, 159

Great Britain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, 159

Grissom, Virgil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111, 113

Grumman F4F Wildcat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71, 73

H

Halogen Occultation Experiment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142

Hampton, Virginia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi, 23, 28, 32, 39, 41, 

70, 91, 104, 113, 131, 

163, 166

Hansen, James . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv, 31, 47, 48, 52, 60, 

69, 84, 89, 90, 91, 151, 

158, 159, 160, 178

Harrier jet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

Hawks, Frank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

Hearth, Donald . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

helicopter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1, 5, 7, 33, 57, 70, 109, 

118, 141, 166

High speed research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156

High-Speed Aerodynamics Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89

High-Speed Civil Transport . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157, 158, 159, 161

highway grooves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143, 145

Hilton, W. F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78

Holloway, Paul F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4, 38, 129

Hook, W. Ray . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

Horner, Richard E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101

Houbolt, John C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53, 114, 121

Houston, Texas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104, 111

human “computers” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69, 70

Huntsville, Alabama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148

Hyper-X . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 172, 173, 174, 182
208 Crafting Flight

J

J. G. White Engineering Corporation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Jacobs, Eastman N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii, 37, 54, 75

Japan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159

Jet Propulsion Laboratory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128, 174, 177

John H. Glenn Research Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv, 38, 69, 101

Johnson Space Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39, 102, 104

Johnson, Caldwell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Johnson, W. Kemble . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

Jones, Robert T. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78

K

Kantrowitz, Arthur . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Keller, Michael . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Kennedy Space Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

Kennedy, John F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100, 113, 114, 123

Kitty Hawk, North Carolina . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, 10, 14, 17, 18, 19, 

46

Korea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

Kraft, Christopher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

L

Lakehurst, New Jersey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Langley Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . x, 49, 51, 67

Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix, xi, 23, 29

Langley Research Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, vii, ix, 24, 35, 43, 

91, 99, 117, 127, 139, 

143, 178

Langley, Samuel Pierpont . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10, 12, 23

Launius, Roger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

Lawrence, Don . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140, 141

Lewis, Dr. George . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27, 28, 37, 38

lighter-than-air craft . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Lindbergh, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix, x, 38, 46

Little Joe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101, 102
Crafting Flight 209

London, England . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45, 64

Long Duration Exposure Facility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 26, 137, 139

Los Angeles, California. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46, 59, 172

Low-Turbulence Pressure Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Lunar excursion module . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113, 114, 117, 118, 

120

Lunar Landing Research Facility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36, 37, 92, 115, 116, 

117

Lunar Mission Steering Group . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Lunar Orbiter Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118

Lunar-orbit rendezvous . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113, 114, 151

M

Mace, William D. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Mach number . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78, 87, 132

Mach, Ernst . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78

Manly, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Mariner Program . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

Mars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii, 43, 104, 127, 

128, 130, 131, 152, 

153, 174, 175, 176, 

177, 185

Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Mattson, Axel T. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30

McDonnell Douglas Corporation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33, 158

Michael, William H., Jr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Michigan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10, 11, 67

Military . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

Moon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, 43, 96, 100, 104, 

111, 113, 114, 115, 

117, 118, 120, 121, 

151, 183

Moon landing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 114, 118, 121, 152

N

19-Foot Pressure Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37, 62, 63

NACA cowling number . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 58, 59
210 Crafting Flight

29, 30, 32, 33, 35, 37, 

38, 39, 41, 43, 44, 46, 

47, 49, 52, 53, 54, 55, 

57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 64, 

65, 67, 69, 70, 73, 76, 

81, 82, 89, 90, 91, 93, 

94, 96, 99, 100, 101, 

104

National Aeronautic Association . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

National Aeronautics and Space Administration, NASA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, vii, ix, xv, xvii, 24, 

25, 35, 38, 63, 90, 91, 

96, 99, 100, 101, 103, 

104, 109, 113, 114, 

117, 118, 120, 121, 

123, 125, 128, 134, 

135, 139, 142, 145, 

146, 149, 152, 153, 

154, 156, 158, 159, 

160, 161, 164, 166, 

167, 168, 169, 171, 

172, 174, 176, 178, 

180, 181, 183

National Aero-Space Plane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127, 133

National Consortium for Aviation Mobility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166

National Historic Landmark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

National Institute of Aerospace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180

Navy Bureau of Aeronautics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55, 57

New York City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48, 152, 168

Newport News, Virginia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67, 68

North American Aviation P-51 Mustang . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiv, 74, 76, 81

O

O’Keefe, Sean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168

Oberth, Hermann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Old Dominion University . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39, 63, 154, 155, 183

Ozone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140, 142, 161, 178

P

Pan American Airlines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64, 77

Paris . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7, 45, 46

Peenemunde, Germany . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
Crafting Flight 211

117, 120, 121, 123, 

124, 125, 127, 129, 

153, 178

Project Echo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103

Project Fire (Flight Investigation Reentry Environment) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102, 103, 146

Project Gemini . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 89, 96, 104, 112, 

117, 121, 124, 129, 

178

Project Hurry Up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106

Project Mercury . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 88, 95, 96, 98, 99, 

100, 102, 103, 104, 

111, 113, 117, 121, 

124, 129, 178

Project RAM (Radio Attenuation Measurements) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103

Project Viking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104, 127, 128, 129

Propeller Research Tunnel (PRT) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix, xi, xiii, xiv, 57, 58, 

87

R

Reagan, Ronald . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

Reduced Gravity Simulator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117, 120

Reeder, John P. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68, 82

Reid, H. J. E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . x, 51

rendezvous and docking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 112, 117

Rendezvous Committee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Rendezvous Docking Simulator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 37, 117

riblet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145

riveting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

Rodert, Lewis A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55

Root, L. Eugene . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

S

7- by 10-Foot Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81, 86

16-Foot High Speed Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii, 81, 82

16-Foot Transonic Dynamics Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64, 157

16-Foot Transonic Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34, 42, 126

16-Foot Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix
212 Crafting Flight

p, , , , 

Sikorsky, Igor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

Skylab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124

Slayton, Donald “Deke” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111, 113

slotted-throat transonic wind tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43, 81

Small Aircraft Transportation System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164

Smithsonian Institution Air and Space Museum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152

Solid Controlled Orbital Utility Test Program, Scout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95, 96, 97

sound barrier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 76, 78, 81, 82, 84

South Korea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159

Soviet Union . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, xv, 90, 103, 113, 

124, 137, 152

Soyuz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 124

Space Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24, 68, 84, 90, 91, 152

Space Shuttle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 89, 122, 125, 126

Space Shuttle Atlantis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

Space Shuttle Challenger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137, 139

Space Shuttle Columbia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89, 90, 127

Space Task Group (STG) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101, 102, 103, 104, 

111, 113

Space Technology Hall of Fame . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

Sperry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Sperry M-1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiv

Sputnik . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv, 90, 91

Sputnik 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90

Stack, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42, 81, 82

staff . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xii, xv, 27, 29, 31, 32, 

33, 39, 41, 42, 43, 48, 

51, 52, 57, 69, 70, 77, 

96, 121, 124, 153, 181

Stratospheric Aerosol Gastropheric Experiment (SAGE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142, 143

Structures Laboratory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xviii, 60, 61, 136

Sun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141, 151, 175

Sunnyvale, California . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

supercritical wing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108, 109

Supersonic Commercial Air Transport . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii, 107, 108, 109
Crafting Flight 213

T

12-Inch Slotted-Throat Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

24-Inch High-Speed Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

30- by 60-Foot Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii, 37, 49, 63, 70, 

154

Taback, Isreal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42, 104, 120, 121

Taiwan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159

technicians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 32, 37, 69, 98, 102, 

139

The High-Speed Frontier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42, 51, 52

Thin-Layer Composite-Unimorph Piezoelectric Driver and Sensor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147, 148

Towing Tank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

Transonic Dynamics Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64

Tricycle landing gear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 53, 64

U

U.S. Army Air Service . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

U.S. Congress . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35, 76, 111

U.S. Department of Interior . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

U.S. Marines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

U.S. Navy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35, 46, 73, 96

United Nations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

Upper Atmosphere Research Satellite . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141, 142

V

V-1 rocket . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

V-2 rocket . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

Vanguard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90

Variable Density Tunnel (VDT) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi, xiii, 35, 36, 37, 54, 

55

Venneri, Sam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169

Vertical/Short Takeoff and Landing (V/STOL) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106, 109

Victory, John F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27, 29

Viking Lander . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127, 128

Viking Lander 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
214 Crafting Flight

Vought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Vought F4U . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67, 77

Vought VE-7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

Vultee, Gerry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

W

Wallops . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38, 93, 94, 95, 96, 101, 

103

Wallops Island . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97

Washington State University . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148

Washington, D.C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi, 27, 29, 38, 134, 

152, 168

Webb, James . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Weick, Fred E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . x, 47, 58, 59, 64

Wenham, Frank H. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

West Area . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117

Whitcomb, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv, 42, 82, 83, 84, 108, 

109, 183

Willows Formation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131

Wilson, Herbert A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70, 76

Wilson, Woodrow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28

wind tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . -i, xi, 18, 19, 29, 31, 

32, 33, 35, 37, 48, 52, 

55, 59, 63, 68, 75, 78, 

81, 82, 83, 84, 94, 95, 

104, 119, 121, 122, 

125, 129, 132, 154, 

157, 163, 182

Wind Tunnel Number One . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi, 29

Wind Tunnels of NASA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55, 81

wing flow technique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

Wolfe, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23, 104

World War I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v, xi, 21, 29, 45, 47, 65

World War II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii, xv, 42, 57, 63, 65, 

68, 69, 70, 73, 75, 76, 

77, 78, 86, 87, 90, 99, 

109, 151, 157, 168

World Wide Web . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
Crafting Flight 215

X

X-1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76, 77, 81, 82, 84

X-15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86, 89, 90, 109

X-2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

X-20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

X-3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

X-4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

X-43 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172, 174

X-5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66, 84, 85

Y

Yeager, Charles E. (Chuck) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76, 77, 82

Z

Zero, Japanese aircraft. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Langley Office of External Affairs photo archives