A War We Don’t Want to Forget

In the darkest of times, military aviation came of age—leaving us with aeronautical masterpieces from both sides of the conflict.

World War II ended 79 years ago, but many continue to be fascinated by it—myself included. Perhaps the moral clarity of the conflict is what continues to command our interest. The war presented a stark choice between democracy and dictatorship, freedom and tyranny, good and evil. When a country sends its soldiers into combat, the cause should always be clearly defined. In World War II, it was.

The scale of the war is also impressive: battles waged on multiple fronts in Europe and across the Pacific. The reach and pace of World War II could not have happened without aviation. It was, after all, a surprise aerial attack on December 7, 1941, that drew the United States into the conflict. What started in World War I with open-cockpit biplanes flying low-altitude combat missions would profoundly alter the way we waged war two decades later.

The aeronautical industries in England, Germany, Japan, and the U.S. were under intense pressure to design and deliver effective warplanes on tight deadlines. The pressure paid off. Rolling out of factories were Supermarine Spitfires, North American P-51s, Messerschmitt Bf 109s, Aichi M6A Seirans, and Vought F4U Corsairs—some of the most iconic airplanes to ever take flight. Surviving examples of these and other World War II aircraft are highly sought by private collectors and museums alike.

At the National Air and Space Museum, we are fortunate to have an extensive collection of World War II-era aircraft. Like all museums, however, we have a finite number of buildings in which to display these treasures. As a museum director, I firmly believe that historic airplanes should be publicly seen and experienced whenever possible. Our solution to limited exhibition space is to loan aircraft to other institutions. On p. 16, we have published our second installment of “Smithsonian in Your Backyard,” which reports on seven of our World War II airplanes exhibited at museums in Arizona, California, Michigan, Ohio, Oklahoma, and Texas.

One of the airplanes featured in the story is the Vought V-173. Nicknamed the “Flying Pancake” for its disk-like body, the V-173 doesn’t look like it should be able to fly, but it did—and quite well according to Vought’s test pilots. If you like unusual airplanes, go see the Flying Pancake at the Frontiers of Flight Museum in Dallas; the aircraft went on display there after retired Vought employees spent eight years restoring the one-of-a-kind prototype.

For most of the airplanes in our collection, pilots flew them, but someone also designed them, built them, ferried them, and maintained them. It’s always the human stories behind such artifacts as the Flying Pancake that add to their historic value. And, yes, there are still World War II stories to be told. One of them is on p. 48, which tells the tale of an escape map issued to First Lieutenant John W. Maxwell to use if he was shot down over hostile territory in Europe. Maxwell never had to use the map, but it’s a reminder that he and other young airmen put their lives at risk while carrying out their missions. Maxwell’s map is by no means the oldest object we have nor does it represent an advance in technology, but it informs us of one man’s sacrifice in pursuit of a greater good—that is why it is part of our collection.

Christopher U. Browne is the John and Adrienne Mars Director of the National Air and Space Museum.

This article is from the Spring 2024 issue of Air & Space Quarterly, the National Air and Space Museum's signature magazine that explores topics in aviation and space, from the earliest moments of flight to today. Explore the full issue.

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