Fresh Start 2002: Nonstop Flight

Atomic bombs got smaller, but the bomb bay made the plane an intimidating way to deliver conventional weapons. The B-52 is the original "carpet bomber." The bomb bay is big enough that it is fitted with rotary launchers that can carry eight cruise missiles. The B-52, in fact, can deliver a wider variety of weapons than either of its younger counterparts, the B-1 or the B-2.

The B-52's generous dimensions also mean that it is relatively easy to work on, compared not just with cramped fighters but also with the B-1 and the B-2. There is room in the B-52 for all kinds of "black boxes" (computers that control weapons systems) and room for the cabling to connect those boxes. Mike T. uses the air-conditioning system to illustrate the plane's agreeable nature. The B-52's air-conditioning unit is located in the forward wheel well, bolted to the left wall. You can stand underneath the plane and see it. Walking along the right wing of the swept-wing B-1, Mike points into the slot where the wing slides against the body. "See all of that structure in there? Those ribs and the cabling on top of them? You have to remove all of that before you can even get to one-half of the air-conditioning unit. You can have the unit out of the B-52 before you can even see the one on the B-1."

There's No Substitute for Experience

Al C. is an engineer and an American Indian with a silver ponytail that reaches below his shoulder blades. Al has been thinking about B-52s since 1976, and he has been in charge of B-52 airframe engineering for the Air Force since 1992. That kind of longevity is typical among the plane's staff. More than 80% of those who work on B-52s are civilian defense employees with 15 to 20 years of experience.

And although the people who work on B-52s regularly list one of the plane's appealing qualities as its "simplicity," that experience is crucial. The B-52 is simple only on a relative scale. Inside the big hangar where B-52s are worked on, Building 2121, is a display case of fasteners that are used on the plane. Actually, there are four cases. Each has 38 rows of fasteners; each row has about 14 different fasteners. That's 2,128 fasteners, just for this one plane. And those are just the ones kept in stock.

So the kind of experience that Al C. brings to thinking about where new problems might develop pays big dividends. On a hunch a couple of years ago, he went to the B-52 boneyard. "We tore down the cockpit, looking for corrosion," he says. "It turned out that a sealant had failed at the top of the cockpit, and moisture was working its way down the window pillars. We found corrosion at the bottom of the window post where it joined the fuselage. Condensation was getting down there, and there was nowhere for the moisture to go." Al and his colleagues examined dozens of retired B-52s and found that 80% of them had the same corrosion. "If that window post failed in flight," says Al, "well, that would be catastrophic."

Back in Oklahoma, in Building 2121, they peeled back the skin over every similar window post on every B-52, fixed the ones that had corrosion, and drilled a carefully designed drain hole so that the moisture wouldn't be trapped anymore. "We had just never looked there before," says Al.

Such intuition is impressive -- and cost-effective. Sustaining the B-52 was not the military's first choice. Until very recently, the Air Force wanted to have enough B-1s and then enough B-2s produced to allow it to retire the B-52. When Congress wouldn't provide the money, the Air Force was left with little choice but to re-embrace the B-52.

But as weapons become smarter -- with flying and guidance capabilities that allow bombers to stay out of harm's way -- the economies imposed on the Air Force make the B-52 not only a viable way to deliver bombs, but also an inexpensive one. It costs $4.1 million to overhaul one B-52. The Oklahoma City B-52 facility costs $80 million a year. The Air Force pays Boeing another $100 million a year to provide upgrade support. The Air Force has spent $5 billion on hardware to upgrade B-52s since 1980. But with a much-reduced fleet, that cost is now running $70 million a year. So keeping 94 B-52s flying costs about $250 million a year -- less than half the cost of one new B-2. (The last B-52 cost $9.3 million -- in 1961 dollars.)

The pride surrounding the B-52 is palpable. The plane has long had the nickname "Buff" -- the polite translation of which is, "big, ugly, fat . . . fellow." Sending the lumbering Buff into battle alongside the modern bombers provides a sense of satisfaction -- especially because the B-52 often proves easier to keep combat ready than its fussy high-performance sisters.

For the B-52's 40th birthday in 1992, when the planes weren't expected to last the decade, the Air Force produced a patch. It shows the classic top silhouette of the plane against the stars and stripes. The text says, "40 Years -- Freedom By Buff."

Planning for Buff's 50th birthday celebration, set for April 13, 2002, just before the anniversary of the plane's first test flight, was underway six months in advance. And these days, no one is betting against a 75th birthday.

Charles Fishman (cnfish@mindspring.com) is a Fast Company senior editor.