The day I “crewed” a B-17

On my way to a hospital visit this week I noticed a sight that I had not seen in a long time, a Boeing B-17 was sitting on the ramp at the Cape Girardeau Regional Airport. After my visit was over I stopped back by the airport to investigate. It turns out the Arizona Wing of the Commemorative Air Force was making its final stop of the summer Flying Legends of Victory Tour right here in Missouri. There was a sign advertising rides and tours of the B-17G nicknamed “Sentimental Journey.”

While I certainly would like to have visited the Flying Fortress in person, their visit to Cape Girardeau coincided with a military drill weekend. I had to content myself with interviews and videos provided by the local television station. Even in the brief coverage I got to see after the fact it was possible to see the impact that the stopover had made on local veterans and their families.

Going on my own “Sentimental Journey”

Even though I did not get to visit this plane myself, the presence of the big bomber sent me on a trip down memory lane to my first ever encounter with a B-17 many years ago. Even though the exact details have become somewhat hazy over the years, the feelings I experienced that day are etched in my memory. It was an event that helped solidify my passion for aviation.

In the early 1990’s I was a high school student living in Creston, Iowa. Sometime during one of the summers in my high school career our community received a surprise when two WWII aircraft flew over town in formation. One was obviously a big bomber and the other a much smaller fighter. Although I did not know what they were at the time, I found shortly that one was a B-17 and the other was an F-4U Corsair. The planes were on their way to Oshkosh for the annual Experimental Aircraft Association convention and fly-in. The weather en-route had apparently begun to degrade and the VFR-only was being forced to divert. If it had been flying alone, the IFR certified B-17 could have finished the trip without any problem.

Because of the storm, Creston had become the site of an impromptu airshow. The planes did a low pass over the town and then turned toward to the airport which lays five miles to the south. Before the planes even landed there was a small entourage of Second World War veterans waiting for them on the ramp. One of the spectators had been on a B-17 aircrew during the war and he said that the sound of those four big radial engines was forever etched in his memory. He had not seen a B-17 in person since the war and was ecstatic to be able reconnect with that era of his life.

Hazy details, but lasting impact

To this day, I cannot recall how I got to the airport. I may have been old enough to drive. I may have had to rely on my parents or my friends’ parents to pick us up. What I do remember is feeling of absolute excitement I felt when we pulled up to the airport. The Corsair was vaguely familiar to me because of the old television show, Black Sheep Squadron. We walked around the fighter and I overheard some of our local aviation geeks chatting with the pilot. They were talking about aerobatics maneuvers  and airspeeds. Those were concepts that did not mean much to me at that age, other than to prove how inherently cool airplanes were.

What really caught my attention was the B-17 sitting about fifty yards away. In my memory it was a big polished aluminum airplane. I have no idea if that recollection is accurate, or which organization was flying the plane. What I do remember is getting invited aboard along with some of my fellow students. One of the crew gave us a tour of the airplane. We got a chance to sit in the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. We handled the big .50 caliber machine guns and got to try and squeeze ourselves into the ball turret.

Putting myself in their shoes

What fascinated me the most was the navigator’s station with its small table and assortment of charts and equipment. At that age I had already learned that my glasses would prevent me from becoming a military pilot. However, many recruiters had assured me that I could still qualify as a navigator/weapons system operator, just like Goose in the movie Top Gun. With that idea in the back of my mind, the navigator station in the B-17 became the place that I assigned for myself on the bomber crew. The fact that mid-century navigation looked nothing like the computer driven computations performed by a modern WSO never even crossed my mind.

Most of my classmates quickly lost interest in the airplane and gradually made their way back to town. Not me. In my fantasy world that was going to be my job, and that was where I was going to work. I stuck around as long as I could and repeatedly peppered the crew with questions. Although I do not remember a thing that they said anymore, the crew patiently answered my inquiries and made me feel incredibly welcome. For a brief moment I was a part of their world and it felt good to be a member of the club.

At some point that afternoon we had to go. The local airport bums took the visiting fighter and bomber crew out to dinner. Eventually the weather broke and the two plane formation made its way on to Oshkosh. Later that week a brief article came out in the local paper detailing their journey. In that pre-internet era, the local paper was the best method I had to learn about the world. The article mentioned where they came and who  they were a part of. Two and half decades later I cannot remember anything about them other than the somewhat somewhat fuzzy image of a royal blue airplane sitting next to a gleaming polished-aluminum bomber. It was a beautiful sight, although I am sure that I am dealing with a little bit of nostalgia after all these years.

Making a difference they never intended to make

Looking back on that experience, what I now realize is that just getting a chance to get hands-on with history helped reinforce my nascent love of flying. The seed had already been planted elsewhere, but getting to climb aboard that bomber and imagine myself in that seat helped encourage me to pursue aviation in later in life. During some periods in my life that pursuit involved actually being in the airplane. Other times it involved radio control, simulators, visiting museums, or simply reading whatever books I could find.

The takeaway is that none of us ever realize what may cause someone else to get hooked on aviation. The pilots and crew of that Flying Fortress and Corsair had no idea who I was or that I was already interested in joining their world. They simply welcomed a wide-eyed student and answered whatever questions I had. They were not even planning to stop in Creston that night. To this day, I have no idea who they were and probably never will know. However, their unplanned stopover to avoid a storm has stuck with me and helped change the trajectory of my life.