Warbird Information Exchange

1940's era PC-ism

Having grown up in the 1940s (born '36), trust me, there was no such thing.

You've lost me.

Once upon a time, long ago, when his tribe was at war, a young Indian brave was called to the tepee of his eldest uncle.

"My son," said the uncle, who wks one of the chiefs of the tribe, "you are needed to join our warriors in the fight. You haven't many years, but you are strong of body and quick of mind. And you are greatly needed.

"So I have decided to bestow upon you a great honor," continued the uncle. "You are to have the finest stallion in my herd—that beautiful young mustang from the western plains!'

The boy's face glowed with delight. For well he knew that only the luckiest among the tribe were privileged to go forth to battle on the speedy, spirited, and durable little mustangs.

"But it will take time to master this stallion," warned the uncle. "You will have to work hard and long and patiently with the animal. And you will not be allowed to join your elders against the enemy until you have proved well that you can handle him."

In the days that followed, the young brave was the envy of all eyes, for the mustang was a beauty to behold and one of the fastest horses of the tribe.

Now this made the young brave all the more eager. So in just a few weeks he returned to his uncle saying, "I am ready to join the fight."

The chief took the young brave, proud upon his fiery mustang, to a great clearing in the wood to see how well he and his newly broken stallion could perform.

In the very first test where the going was rough, the boy landed in a heap on the ground.

"My son," said the uncle, "you have disregarded my warning. There is no finer horse in all our herds than the one I have given you. But it is fast, and full of power and destruction. And it must be made to know that you are its master. Or, as you have learned, you will not be riding the animal long."

In the days that followed, the chastened young brave worked diligently with his stallion. He now respected its speed and daring which were his to command. And though con-fident, he never bragged of his prowess.

In due time, the uncle, wise in the ways of the world, put the boy once again to the test. On this occasion the young brave had the mustang completely under his control. He had worked hard and long, because he really wanted to succeed. Man and animal performed as one, the beautiful stallion itsponding to the slightest command of the rider in a manner that warmed the heart of the aged uncle.

In the years that followed, the young brave, with his unrivaled mustang under perfect con-trol, performed brilliantly in fight after fight. Enemy braves, riding lesser animals, could never match his masterful performance. None could outride him; none could outwit him.

The young brave's deeds became legendary. And he lived to be a very old man and had many offspring—who never tired of relating the heroic deeds of their famous forebear.

A new branding iron, one that will help scorch the hides of Hitler and Hirohito, was added to Texas' famous collection this week.

It is the Flying T, symbol of the Texan, the name which North American Aviation, Inc., has chosen for its combat trainer in honor of America's air heroes of this war, many of whom received their advanced flying instruction in this plane before they set out to bomb Tokyo, sink enemy vessels and knock Stukas and Zeros out of the air.

Choice of the name Texan for the AT-6 series of combat trainers was announced by the company, whose Dallas Division has set a "plains to planes" production record. The first blackout plant of the Dallas Division, constructed in 120 days, delivered its first AT-6 on April 7, 1941. Manned by Texans, it has remained consistently ahead of schedule since that date.

The talented and inventive Schmued, by now a citizen of the United States, was employed by North American Aviation (NAA) in Dundalk, Maryland. In 1935, North American was relocated to Los Angeles, California, by General Motors. When his wife Luisa proved reluctant to relocate from the east coast, Schmued joined Bellanca but his time there was short-lived. While traveling to California to work again for North American, the Schmueds were involved in a head-on collision on Route 60. Schmued's wife was killed, while he himself was seriously injured.

It seems that the question has resolved itself.

If you go back to page 1 of this thread, a couple of posters were adamant about the A-36 should bear the Mustang name.

Reading some posts, including one from myself, it it apparent that at one time the NMUSAF called the A-36 the Apache.

I just went back to their website, which as you might expect been revised a few times since 2012....it now reads:
A-36 Mustang
Also nicknamed the "Apache” or “Invader," the A-36A dive bomber was the first US Army Air Forces version of the Mustang, officially developed for Britain in 1940. The first A-36 flew in September 1942, and North American Aviation completed production of 500 A-36As in March 1943".

In April 1942 the USAAF ordered an attack version equipped with dive brakes and bomb racks, the A-36 Apache. A-36s entered combat in June 1943 and served in North Africa, Italy and India.

It seems that the question has resolved itself.
...
One interesting point, back in 2012 I mentioned I had a 1944 book which mentions the "Invader" name for the A-36. Australian author James Knightly (not seen here as often nowadays), asked for a scan, which I sent.
Until this thread resurfaced, I had completely forgotten about the topic, scan or the old book I mentioned.
It prompted me to get out the book again.

The group I was with had been in combat six months. During that time
they had flown ten thousand sorties, fired more than a million rounds of 5O-
caliber ammunition, and dropped three million pounds of bombs. That’s more
than the entire Eighth Air Force in England dropped in its first year of
operation.
Our dive bombers were known as A-36 Invaders. Actually they were
nothing more than the famous P-51 Mustang equipped with diving brakes. For
a long time they didn’t have any name at all, and then one day in Sicily one of
the pilots of the squadron said, “Why don’t we call them Invaders, since we’re
invading?”
The name was carried home in newspaper dispatches, and soon even the
company that made them called them Invaders. The pilot who originated the
name was Lieutenant Robert B. Walsh, of Felt, Idaho. I didn’t meet him
because he had completed his allotted missions and gone back to the States.
His younger brother was then a replacement pilot in the same squadron.

TL:DR-the USAAF didn't officially name their planes until after entry into WWII referring it just as the P-51.

I am only in my 20s but someday I will fly it at airshows. I am getting rich really fast writing software and so I can afford to do really stupid things like put all my money into warbirds.

I'm amused thinking about future aviation enthusiasts debating if the B-1 was a "Lancer" or a "Bone". If the F-16 was a "Fighting Falcon" or a "Viper". ad nauseam.

I'm amused thinking about future aviation enthusiasts debating if the B-1 was a "Lancer" or a "Bone". If the F-16 was a "Fighting Falcon" or a "Viper". ad nauseam.