Skunk Works

Both companies were preparing quarter-size models of their designs for a “shoot-out” on an Air Force radar range in New Mexico to determine stealthiness. Wind tunnel tests would follow to determine the best lift-over-drag ratios and other aerodynamic characteristics. The winner would claim the big bomber contract, a high-stakes twenty-year B-52 replacement program.

Although the two designs were very similar, the big difference between them was that John Cashen was getting advice from a three-star general at the Pentagon to make the airplane as large as possible to extend its range, while I was listening to a three-star general at SAC headquarters in Omaha, who urged me to stay as small as I could get away with while still meeting the basic Air Force requirements for the new bomber. “I’m telling you, Ben, that small will win over big, because budget constraints will force us to go with the cheaper model in order to buy in quantity.” His strategy made sense. But it also created a few significant structural differences in the two models. Because our airplane was designed to be smaller, the control surfaces on the wing were smaller, too, which meant we needed a small tail for added aerodynamic stability. Northrop had larger control surfaces and needed no tail at all. So they had a slight advantage in lift-over-drag ratios, which meant a better fuel efficiency for extended-range flying.

In May 1981, we and Northrop contested on the Air Force radar range. Our results were spectacular; through the grapevine I heard that we beat John Cashen across the board, on all frequencies. A few weeks later I received a classified message from Wright Field questioning the figures we had submitted on aerodynamic wing efficiency. The message was addressed to Northrop, but mistakenly routed to me. So I saw that Northrop’s team was claiming an efficiency 10 percent greater than our own. Frankly, I would question that, too.

Our quoted price to the Air Force per B-2 was $200 million. I heard that Northrop’s quote was significantly higher, so I was shocked when we received formal notification, in October 1981, that Northrop had been awarded the B-2 project “on the basis of technical merit.” I was so outraged that I took the unprecedented step of trying to challenge the ruling. Lockheed’s CEO, Roy Anderson, agreed with me and marched on Verne Orr, then secretary of the Air Force, to protest. The two had an angry confrontation. Orr pounded on his desk and said, “Goddam it, not only was Northrop better than you, they were much better than you.” Anderson, barely in control of his own temper, just looked Orr in the eyes and responded, “Well, Mr. Secretary, time will tell.”

Yes, indeed. Truer words than Roy Anderson’s were seldom spoken.

A blue-suiter called me to explain that the Air Force had determined that Northrop’s B-2 had better payload and more range and therefore would be the better buy. While it was true that Northrop’s B-2 was more visible in most radar frequencies than our airplane and therefore more vulnerable, it would need to make fewer sorties because it carried more bombs than our model. Therefore, fewer sorties evened out our advantage in being less visible. “The bigger the bomber, the fewer the missions over hostile territory. Their loss rate would be no worse than yours, and might even be better,” Secretary Orr had insisted to Roy Anderson. I figured Orr must have had Jesuitical training.

Lockheed’s management was, of course, disappointed, but no one blamed me for the loss. To a man, we knew we deserved to win that contract. But the toss of the dice was out of our hands, and we found solace in our leadership in stealth technology, which had made the Skunk Works a billion-dollar enterprise for the first time in its history.