The Convair B-58 Hustler could be the most daring aircraft in the Cold War era, a carrier that not only outpaced enemy fighters but also climbed to great heights and bypassed everything the Soviets had thrown at it. Still, in the end, the saga of the Hustler is largely a tale of failing expectations and the bitter lessons of over-hastening, over-indulgence, and premature application of technology.
The B-58 history dates back to the late 1940s, when the U.S. Air Force, buoyed by the success it had enjoyed in WWII, initiated what had been dubbed the Generalized Bomber Study (GEBO II). The plan was to construct a bomber that would outfly and outclimb any of the Soviet Union’s current fighters or missiles.
It was, however, at the time more theory than practice, and even before it took to the skies, the potential price tag was already making eyebrows rise. Nevertheless, the Air Force pushed ahead, requesting proposals from the likes of America’s premier aerospace concerns. Convair, in 1952, won the deal with a streamlined, delta-wing plane that drew heavily upon post-war research, some of which had been “borrowed” from German research.
The B-58 was built to impress from day one. With aggressively angled delta wings, a thin, extended fuselage, and four GE J79 engines hung beneath the wings, the aircraft resembled something out of a science fiction film. Those J79 engines were revolutionary, meant to produce power specifically at sustained supersonic velocities. Its airframe was equally sophisticated, constructed of honeycomb sandwich panels to accommodate the hot flight at Mach 2.
Perhaps the Hustler’s most distinctive feature was the huge external pod carried under the fuselage. This pod contained additional fuel as well as a nuclear bomb, because the aircraft’s narrow body left little room for anything within. Later models even featured external hardpoints to hold more than one nuclear weapon.
The inside was no less unusual. Rather than sitting together, the three-man crew—pilot, navigator/bombardier, and defensive systems operator—sat in a line, each with his own covered cockpit. Communication was so difficult that some crews allegedly used a string-and-pulley system to pass notes. Instead of standard ejection seats, each crewman had his escape capsule. These capsules were also tested on animals—chimpanzees and bears—to see if they were capable of withstanding ejection at supersonic speeds and even serving as flotation devices in case of necessity.
The B-58 lived up to its performance promises as well. It set nineteen world speed and altitude records, such as a coast-to-coast run over the United States in less than five hours, and a Mach 2 dash from Tokyo to London. These accomplishments won the plane a variety of aviation awards and established it as the fastest bomber of its era. According to one aerospace historian, the J79 engine itself was a wonder, cutting-edge technology that broke records and set the standard for jet propulsion to come.
That same cutting-edge design came at a cost—literally and financially. The B-58 was exorbitantly costly to produce and maintain. In comparison to the B-47 and B-52, the flight-hour cost per hour was astronomical. Better yet, the aircraft had a dismal safety record: over a quarter of all the B-58s were destroyed in accidents, and 36 personnel died in crashes attributed to structural and system failure. One researcher noted that of the 116 planes built, 26 were destroyed—somber figures for any aircraft, much less one armed with nuclear weapons.
The next big step came when the USSR shot down the Lockheed U-2 with the S-75 (SA-2 Guideline) missile. When a U-2 spy plane at 70,000 feet got hit, the thought that speed and height could keep planes safe was fully shot down. The Air Force tried to move the Hustler to fly low to hide from radar, but the plane was not made to fly like that. It ran into air troubles, couldn’t go as far, and needed more fuel. The once-valued Hustler’s skill set now had big downsides.
By 1970, only ten years after entereddry into service, the B-58 was withdrawn from service. It never delivered a single combat flight. Its responsibilities were transferred to the FB-111A, a more flexible aircraft more attuned to the changing exigencies of nuclear war. Now, there remain just eight B-58s on display in museums throughout the U.S., reminders of an era when speed and height were the measures of victory. As one aviation authority described it, the B-58’s achievements—particularly in shattering speed and altitude records—are still worth noting, even though the service life of the plane was short.
The B-58’s legacy is a bittersweet one. It demonstrated what was technologically possible, but also the danger of rushing ahead without complete consideration for practical requirements and overall strategy. While its flight was brief, the Hustler left a lasting mark. It demonstrated the power of ambition to drive innovation, but also the speed with which that innovation can be overthrown as the strategic environment changes.