The Men that actually flew these planes in war. THANKS

~Dave

Thanks for the ride report, Dave! Made my afternoon.

I had a similar ride in Nine-O-Nine with my grandfather on June 17, 1995.
He had not ridden in a B-17 since being shot down over Schweinfurt in
October of 1943. He was a waist gunner and opted to ride in the nose for
most of the trip. At one point, they feathered #1 and when I noticed it I
pointed it out to him (like you said, you there's no casual chatter in a
B-17) he looked at it for a moment and then shrugged and grinned. Not a
second of doubt that the old horse would make it home; ("Hell," he said
aftwerward. "It wasn't even on fire.")

Afterward, the family asked how he handled it and I responded honestly: I'd
never seen him smile so broadly in his life. After the flight, he quietly
asked the crew to autograph an airplane photo, which visibly moved them. He
told them his friend and pilot had won the DFC for crash-landing a burning
airplane with three engines out and an airfield of Germans swarming at them,
but he supposed that the Collins Foundation guys might be the best B-17
pilots he'd ever seen. (Promised not to elaborate on that one. ; )

Shortly after he died I did some volunteer work for Evergreen and got to
ride around two or three times in their B-17. Spent many hours in the quiet
hangar while others were poking around, just sitting in the pilot's seat and
absorbing the smell, the instrument layout, the checklists and the view over
the nose. Cracked main spar; she doesn't fly anymore and they want $7 just
so I can walk through from the waist to the bomb bay. I rode in every
position but the ball (taxiied in the ball) and hand-disassembled every .50
belt, hand-Brassoed the bullets and reassembled and installed them. Washed
the whole bird two or three times...fished out investor litter; stuff like
pop cans and candy wrappers in the ammo boxes, strapped people into the nose
while they bitched 'cause they couldn't ride the Tri-Motor. ("Is this one
the B-29 or the Tri-Motor." I'd say count the friggin' engines but they'd
-still- be wrong.) Guided WWII vets and their families through. Some
vets, they'd get to the hangar, look at the plane and shut down. You'd
offer to let them inside, they wouldn't do it. The War was Over. We learned
however that swinging up through the front hatch properly (without a ladder)
garnered great respect from the old-timers.

It kills me that some fatass volunteer just glazes over and looks at me
when I ask if they've put the site together in the ball turret, etc.

On the other hand, I am always moved when I read a ride report like
yours--somebody who gets it, who understands that it's not just another
pretty airplane with four engines and a million guns poking out of it.
$400 to ride, it ain't nothin'. Ten years later people don't miss the money
but they sure never forget the ride. Like the old man said, you never
forget it. Years down the road, you'll close your eyes and you'll be able to
hear it, to smell it, to remember the rivets and the rudder cables, the
reflection of the nose on the polished prop hubs...

Thank you again, Dave.
-c