The F7U Cutlass burst onto the aviation scene like a visitor from the future straight into the 1950s. Its radical design, featuring a tailless silhouette and dramatically swept wings anchored to a short, robust fuselage, defied the conventions of the time, looking more like a starship than an aircraft.

This Cutlass boasted an uncommon twinengine configuration, a rarity for fighters during this period. It was powered by twin Westinghouse J34 turbojets flanking the fuselage, which not only provided blistering thrust but also endowed the F7U with a spacecraftlike visage. The power plants were ingeniously integrated, with air intakes boldly positioned at the forward sides of the fuselage, sharpening its aggressive, angular profile.

Moreover, the F7U was a trailblazer in incorporating powerboosted hydraulic controls, a groundbreaking advancement that enabled crisper handling and nimble maneuverability at soaring speeds and dizzying altitudes. It also came equipped with an ejection seat, a vital safety mechanism in the highstakes era of jet experimentation.

However, when this scifilike aircraft took to the skies, it turned into a nightmare. Its ambitious, tailless design caused dismal stability and control issues. Underpowered and unreliable engines, combined with severe structural deficiencies, earned the aircraft a notorious reputation as a deathtrap. Fatal accidents increased, including one where the pilot ejected, leaving the Jet to fly out of control around San Diego for half an hour. Whispers spread about the Cutlass’s problematic “Nazi DNA.”

The question loomed large: Had the seized German research, which laid the groundwork for the F7U, been the catalyst for its catastrophic failures? Could the Cutlass be redeemed?