Maybe one of the most daring airplanes of the Cold War era was the B-58 Convair Hustler—a really fast bomber that was able to outrun, outflank, and even deceive almost all of the enemy’s radar and missile defenses. On the other hand, the history of the Hustler is, to a large extent, a story of the fading of bright expectations and the coming of the lessons of the unanticipated consequences of quick action.
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.
While being a state-of-the-art design, the B-58 was a disaster made of metal, both in terms of providing and financially. Exorbitantly expensive to make and maintain, the B-58 was, compared to the B-47 and B-52, the cost of one flight-hour per hour reached the sky. The aircraft, unfortunately, also ranked low on the safety scale: over a quarter of all the B-58s were wrecked in accidents, and 36 personnel were killed in crashes due to structural and system failure. One researcher emphasized that out of the 116 planes that were built, 26 were destroyed—numbers that speak for themselves and are quite depressing, not only for an aircraft but also for those armed with nuclear weapons.
Afterward, the situation was changed entirely and was non-negotiable: the Soviet Union’s introduction of the S-75 (SA-2 Guideline) surface-to-air missile system. The incident when the missile brought down the high-altitude U-2 spy plane, which was flying at 70,000 feet, was a turning point that basically put an end to the idea that speed and altitude could save bombers from being shot down.
The Air Force then tried a different approach, moving the Hustler to low-altitude missions where the radar could not pick it up, but the plane was not designed for that type of flying. It battled the wind, and its range was cut significantly, which meant it had to be refueled more often. Thus, the performance that had been honored before the Hustler’s arrival now had severe limitations.
By 1970, only ten years after entering 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. Ultimately, the B-58 is both an icon of Cold War audacity and a reminder that even the greatest machines can be made obsolete nearly overnight.