In the days following the attack on Pearl Harbor, the United States reeled from the shock and braced for war. At the same time, the leadership of the American Foundrymen’s Association (AFA)—the precursor organization to the American Foundry Society—got to work, joining in an industry mobilization effort unlike any that had come before it.

An association board meeting that had already been scheduled for December 1941 quickly changed the agenda to start focusing on how the industry could support the war effort. Association President Herbert S. Simpson, then president of National Engineering Co. (which became Simpson Technologies Corp.) reached out to government officials to help define that role. 
When the Modern Casting staff recounted the association’s history in 1996, it emphasized the industry’s importance to the WWII effort through the words of an Army colonel who addressed the St. Louis District Chapter: “The side that maintains the highest production will win the war.”

From small-town ironworks to major industrial players, foundries became the backbone of wartime logistics, manufacturing everything from bomb casings to tank components. And at the center of it all was AFS, quietly orchestrating standards, sharing knowledge, and ensuring that the thousands of parts pouring out of American foundries could be trusted to perform under fire.

A Society of Standards

Before the war, foundries operated with a patchwork of specifications and practices. But as military demand surged, consistency became critical. “You couldn’t have 57 flavors of cast iron out there,” said Greg Miskinis, who previously worked for Brillion Iron Works and AFS Corporate Member Waupaca Foundry. “If you ordered a Class 30 gray iron from one foundry, it had to match what another foundry produced.”

AFS helped unify material specifications and testing protocols, creating a shared language for quality and performance. The association’s technical committees developed standards for sand control, dimensional accuracy, and metallurgical integrity, ensuring that castings met the rigorous demands of combat and logistics. 

“They were the connective tissue,” Miskinis said. “They helped create order out of chaos.”

This wasn’t just about paperwork. It was about trust. When a casting arrived at a depot in Europe or a flight line in the Pacific, soldiers needed to know it would work.

Casting for Legacy

For AFS Past President Mike Lenahan, who is executive vice president of industrial sales for Badger Mining Corp. and a board member at AFS Corporate Member KB Foundry Services LLC, the story of WWII foundries is deeply personal. “I didn’t even know my dad had been a foundryman until I got into the industry,” he said. “Then he told me he had a patent. He’d owned a company called Foundry Equipment Company in Cleveland. And he’d flown 35 missions in a B-17 over Nazi Germany.”

Lenahan’s father was part of the 96th Bomb Group, one of the most heavily hit divisions in the war. His aircraft—nicknamed “5 Grand”—was the 5,000th B-17 to roll off Boeing’s production line. 

“The entire plant signed the plane,” Lenahan recalled. “It looked like someone’s cast after they broke their arm, covered in signatures.” 

That moment—when personal legacy met industrial pride—crystallized Lenahan’s understanding of the foundry industry’s role in wartime. “Castings were everywhere. And they mattered.”

Foundries on the Front

The American industry’s participation in the war effort actually predated Pearl Harbor. It had already begun supplying war material to the United Kingdom, and in November 1940, reports noted that the castings industry was operating at its highest rate in a decade.

But once bombs fell on home soil on December 7, the ramp-up took on new urgency. Foundries, like Wisconsin-based Brillion Iron Works, stepped into the breach. Brillion produced cast iron screw-on caps for bombs, components that protected the fuse until it was installed on the flight line. 

Arien’s, which is also based in Brillion, Wisconsin, built para-caissons, two-wheeled wagons designed to be dropped with paratroopers to transport 75 mm howitzer rounds. 

Lauson, which was later absorbed into Tecumseh Power, supplied engines for field equipment. 

In Michigan, CWC Textron—now AFS Corporate Member Textron—produced engines that went into the Landing Ship Tanks that brought tanks and troops to the beaches of Normandy, as well as tank tracks for use across the European theater. The town of Muskegon rivaled Detroit’s “Arsenal of Democracy,” according to Lenahan. It’s now home to USS LST 393, one of the last remaining landing ships and a veterans’ museum.

“Every foundry had a role,” Miskinis said. “Whether it was brake drums or wheels for carts, they all contributed.”

Turning the Tide

WWII also saw a significant uptick in the amount of metal needed to support American forces, with soldiers requiring “an average of 4,900 (lbs) of steel in supporting or carried equipment.” In World War I, that figure was only 90 lbs.

That increased demand meant foundries had to increase production—and when raw material shortages struck, they pivoted and produced the needed castings out of other available materials. 

By 1945, American industries had produced 30,000 airplanes, 400,000 pieces of artillery, 86,000 tanks, and 6,500 ships.5  While not all of that was produced by foundries alone, an innovation presented by using castings as opposed to weldments provided a significant in-theater advantage: the ability to repair and replace equipment at the depot level.

For example, the Sherman tank’s transmission casing—a massive front-end component—was a casting designed for rapid production and field replacement. Damaged tanks could either be repaired or used for salvage to repair other vehicles, while German tanks had to be sent back to factories to be mended.

“We could swap parts in the field. That made a huge difference,” Miskinis said.

Transition to Peace

The industry was quick to ramp up its war support efforts, with AFA even changing the name of its Casting Congresses to War Production Congresses and priority given to papers related to the military mobilization. In 1943, the executive secretary of the Foundry Equipment Manufacturers Association, Arthur J. Tuscany, noted: “The foundries of this country have made a much larger contribution to the war effort than they themselves appreciate or realize.”

But even as war efforts were underway, the day-to-day business of foundries wasn’t far from mind for AFA. After all, the war would eventually end, and the industry would have to convert back to peace-time operations. 

That shift wouldn’t be easy. In 1945, the company newsletter for the National Engineering Company, provided to AFS by Bruce Dienst, the great-grandson of Simpson and himself an AFS Past President, both celebrated the end of the war and raised the question about what was to come next:

“Most of us—business men [sic] and workers alike—find it difficult to think of other factors now that the shooting has stopped and our brothers, sons and friends, so far spared, will return to us. … As businessmen, however, we must, for the futures of our company and country, consider seriously the problems facing us in this early part of what is undoubtedly a new era.”

Those challenges included rebuilding sales staff as guaranteed government transactions dissipated, reconverting facilities to produce everyday castings as opposed to specialized military components, and reforming a workforce as men returned stateside. 
AFA/AFS stepped up for this role, as well, continuing its focus on innovation and improvement through its Casting Congresses and publications. In addition, the lessons learned in the face of scarcity allowed for more efficient production at many foundries. 

Echoes of the Past

The story of the American Foundry Society’s role in World War II is not just one of technical achievement; it’s a testament to the power of coordination, resilience, and quiet leadership. From the rapid mobilization following Pearl Harbor to the standardization of casting specifications, AFS helped transform a fragmented industry into a unified force capable of supporting one of the most ambitious wartime production efforts in history.

But the legacy also endures in the personal stories of those who followed. As the foundry industry faces new challenges, the spirit of collaboration and ingenuity that defined its wartime contributions remains a guiding force. The castings may have changed, but the commitment to service, precision, and community endures.