To All,
Good Tuesday Morning October 8, 2024. .
Good morning to all. Well the windows are all in now we are waiting for the painters that may or may not show up tomorrow. My wife had to put blue painter's tape on the sliders because the dogs kept running in to them because they are very clear. The three Classes last night were completely full with right about a hundred total so it was very busy and a lot of fun. I hope that your week is off to a good start. I did get some needed sleep last night and that is why this is late today. More than 6 hours is a real treat anymore.
Regards,
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Make it a good Day
I sent out a note on the Bubba List the other day on the passing of Chip Meyers but since many of you are not on that List I am passing it on. Chip was a good friend with a perpetual smile and a great sense of humor and he will be missed.
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This day in Naval and Marine Corps History (thanks to NHHC)
Here is a link to the NHHC website: https://www.history.navy.mil/. Go here to see the director's corner for all 83 H-Grams
Today in Naval and Marine Corps History.
October 8
1812 During the War of 1812, a boat party under Lt. Jesse D. Elliott captures HMS Detroit and Caledonia at Fort Erie in a night attack. Detroit is burned and Caledonia is purchased by the U.S. Navy in 1813 and placed in commission as USS Caledonia.
1842 Commodore Lawrence Kearny, commanding the East Indian Squadron, sends a letter to the Viceroy of China urging American merchants in China be granted the same treaty privileges as the British. As a result of his letter, Chinese ports are opened to American ships. These agreements are formalized by Caleb Cushing in the Treaty of Wangxia in 1844.
1915 Light cruiser Chester (CL 1) transports British, French, and Russian refugees to Alexandria in Egypt from Jaffa, Israel.
1943 USS Guardfish (SS 217) sinks Japanese army cargo ship Kashu Maru north-northwest of the Admiralty Islands while USS Gurnard (SS 254) sinks the Japanese army cargo ship Taian Maru and transport ship Dainichi Maru off the northern tip of Luzon.
1955 The sixth USS Saratoga (CV 60) is launched. In 1972, she is reclassified as a multi-purpose aircraft carrier and receives the designation (CV-60). After nearly 40 years in service, Saratoga is decommissioned in 1994.
1960 The third USS Constellation (CVA 64) is launched. In 1975, she is reclassified as a multi-purpose aircraft carrier and receives the designation (CV 64). In 2003, Constellation is decommissioned.
1990 Two Marine UH 1N Iroquois disappear with eight men during routine night training operations from the amphibious assault ship USS Okinawa (LPH 3) in the Gulf of Oman.
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Today in World History October 8
876 Charles the Bald is defeated at the Battle of Andernach.
1690 Belgrade is retaken by the Turks.
1840 King William I of Holland abdicates.
1855 Arrow, a ship flying the British flag, is boarded by Chinese who arrest the crew, thus beginning the Second Chinese War.
1862 The Union is victorious at the Battle of Perryville, the largest Civil War combat to take place in Kentucky.
1871 The Great Chicago Fire begins in southwest Chicago, possibly in a barn owned by Patrick and Katherine O'Leary. Fanned by strong southwesterly winds, the flames raged for more than 24 hours, eventually leveling three and a half square miles and wiping out one-third of the city. Approximately 250 people were killed in the fire; 98,500 people were left homeless; 17,450 buildings were destroyed.
1897 Journalist Charles Henry Dow, founder of the Wall Street Journal, begins charting trends of stocks and bonds.
1900 Maximilian Harden is sentenced to six months in prison for publishing an article critical of the German Kaiser.
1906 Karl Ludwig Nessler first demonstrates a machine in London that puts permanent waves in hair. The client wears a dozen brass curlers, each wearing two pounds, for the six-hour process.
1912 First Balkan War begins as Montenegro declares war against the Ottoman Empire.
1918 US Army corporal Alvin C. York kills 28 German soldiers and captures 132 in the Argonne Forest; promoted to sergeant and awarded US Medal of Honor and French Croix de Guerre.
1919 The U.S. Senate and House of Representatives pass the Volstead Prohibition Enforcement Bill.
1921 First live radio broadcast of a football game; Harold W. Arlin was the announcer when KDKA of Pittsburgh broadcast live from Forbes Field as the University of Pittsburgh beat West Virginia University 21–13.
1922 Lilian Gatlin becomes the first woman pilot to fly across the United States.
1932 Indian Air Force established.
1939 Nazi Germany annexes Western Poland.
1956 Don Larsen of the New York Yankees pitches the first perfect game in World Series history against the Brooklyn Dodgers.
1967 Guerrilla Che Guevara captured in Bolivia.
1968 U.S. forces in Vietnam launch Operation SEALORDS (South East Asia Lake, Ocean, River and Delta Strategy), an attack on communist supply lines and base areas in and around the Mekong Delta.
1969 The "Days of Rage" begin in Chicago; the Weathermen faction of the Students for a Democratic Society initiate 3 days of violent antiwar protests.
1973 In the Yom Kippur War an Israeli armored brigade makes an unsuccessful attack on Egyptian positions on the Israeli side of the Suez Canal.
1978 Ken Warby of Australia sets the world water speed record, 317.60 mph, at Blowering Dam in Australia; no other human has yet (2013) exceeded 300 mph on water and survived.
1982 The musical Cats begins a run of nearly 18 years on Broadway.
1991 Croatia votes to sever its ties with Yugoslavia.
2001 US President George W. Bush establishes the Office of Homeland Security.
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ROLLING THUNDER REMEMBERED Thanks to the Bear … Bear🇺🇸⚓️🐻
OPERATION ROLLING THUNDER (1965-1968)…
Thanks to the Bear
. From the archives of rollingthunderremembered.com
This following work accounts for every fixed wing loss of the Vietnam War and you can use it to read more about the losses in The Bear's Daily account. Even better it allows you to add your updated information to the work to update for history…skip
Vietnam Air Losses Access Chris Hobson and Dave Lovelady's work at: https://www.VietnamAirLosses.com.
(To remind folks that these are from the Vietnam Air Losses site that Micro put together. You click on the url below and can read what happened each day to the aircraft and its crew. .Micro is the one also that goes into the archives and finds these inputs and sends them to me for incorporation in the List. It is a lot of work and our thanks goes out to him for his effort.
From Vietnam Air Losses site for "for 8 October
8-Oct: https://www.vietnamairlosses.com/loss.php?id=23
.
Vietnam Air Losses
Access Chris Hobson and Dave Lovelady's work at: https://www.VietnamAirLosses.com.
This is a list of all Helicopter Pilots Who Died in the Vietnam War . Listed by last name and has other info https://www.vhpa.org/KIA/KIAINDEX.HTM
. The site works, find anyone you knew in "search" feature. https://www.vvmf.org/Wall-of-Faces/ )
Wall of Faces Now Includes Photos of All Service members Killed in the Vietnam War
By: Kipp Hanley
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From the archives
This is timely as all of us can relate since most no all of the airplanes we flew are in boneyards or museums. Thanks again to Micro for passing this on almost 14years ago.
A couple weeks ago we had another F-8 Crusader reunion here in San Diego and it was great seeing old friends with a common bond of flying that wonderful aircraft. The call signs come to mind quicker than the names but the feelings are still there and I can't wait for the next one.
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From: David E. Lovelady
Sent: Friday, October 01, 2010 4:26 AM
Subject: EXTERNAL: Here is a story to moisten your eyes
Read from the bottom up (an article I sent around earlier, followed by some rhetoric, including the below):
From: Thomas Vance [
Sent: Thursday, September 30, 2010 6:40 PM
To: Joe & Janet Edwards; Dave Lovelady; Doug Durning; Nels Petersen; Andy Watson; rontheroquer@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Here is a story to moisten your eyes
Eh? What's that sonny? Slick who?
Actually, I wouldn't mind one more time, strapped in forward of the island, canopy open, listening to the engines spool up and watching the gauges and instruments all come to life as internal electrical power came online; and the anticipation of taxiing into the shuttle on the catapult and feeling the resounding "clunk" as the throttles were advanced to military power and the tow bar took tension on the holdback bar; the final wipeout of the controls and the salute to the catapult officer before the shot down the deck and the sudden release at the end of the stroke, gear up, flaps and slats up and climbing to go play in the clouds over an endless, blue sea, sparkling with a million points of light from the sun. Yeah, that would be okay. Notice I am not mentioning the push from marshall on a black and stormy night, 700 nautical miles from the nearest divert field with the ship wallowing in sea state four and the call from the LSO of, "BOLTER, BOLTER, BOLTER" as the fighters ahead of us were trying vainly to catch a wire on the first look; or joining with a couple of dozen airplanes overhead for an alpha strike on a target near Hanoi.
Eh? What's that sonny?
Picture attached of the PV-2 and one of Amelia Earhart's Electra, which it reminds me of. Perhaps an upgraded version? Thanks for the story, Bud. OBTW, let's go exercise 6399R soon. Probably can't get in the T-28 like someone we know.
---- Nels Petersen <nelsp80@gmail.com> wrote:
Sounds like Slick.
This will take you a few minutes, worth it, touching......Jerry
Recently, there was a titanic air show at Genessee, New York. This "gathering of eagles" brought in WWII aircraft from all over the United States and Canada. Aircraft from all American military branches were there, along with combat fighters and bombers from the RAF, the Soviet Air Force, the Luftwaffe, and the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy. It was warbird heaven.
Try as I might, I couldn't adjust my schedule to attend. Feeling somewhat like the kid who didn't get picked for the team, I helped get our bomber tuned up, spit-shined, and polished. I was pretty dispirited when they left. I smiled and waved when they took off, never telling anyone how disappointed I felt. I watched until they flew out of sight, then quietly went home.
When our crew returned several days later, they brought with them a story that put my misery in its proper perspective. Just when you think that you have troubles, you always seem to hear about someone who is facing a real trial.
He was an old man, suffering from serious depression and an incurable illness. His future, such as it was, looked grim. Just a few weeks earlier he had been diagnosed as having Hodgkin's disease.
In an effort to cheer their father up, his sons had driven him from Massachusetts to the great air show taking place in Genesee. Their dad had been a Navy combat pilot in WWII. He'd often told them stories about his days as a younger man, a man they'd never met and perhaps never really believed existed. But they knew how is eyes would light up when he talked about his wartime experiences. Dad became young again, if only for a moment, as he remembered being strong and healthy, fighting against fascism so many years ago. The boys hoped that being around the old warbirds would lift his spirits for at least a day.
His sons, loving and attentive, helped him out of the car somewhere on one of the fields reserved for parking. He'd been glancing up more frequently as they go closer to the airfield. With a veteran's practiced eye, he identified the aircraft as they wheeled and banked over the field or taxied to the parking positions. He'd already told his boys that "his" plane wouldn't be there. They weren't saved after the war like the more glorified Flying Fortresses or Liberators. Still, young men by the thousands had flown and fought in "his" type of aircraft, and not all of them had made it home. He knew that the model he flew was only a memory shared by a dwindling band of old men like himself. His own sons had never even seen one of the planes that carried him to war. For the most part, no one knew they ever existed. The old planes, like the old man himself, were fading away.
Once they had been young, the hope and pride of a nation. But now…no one cared anymore.
They walked slowly along the crowded flight line. Over the rumble of the engines, Dad gestured for his boys. "That one's a B-17," he'd explain, "we had those in the Pacific, too. There's a P-38 Lightning. You can always tell by the twin tail booms. They were good escorts. They went in with us sometimes. We were glad to have them around."
Further down the line they passed a Japanese Zero. The old man glared at it silently for a moment, some strange emotion passing briefly across his face. His sons didn't know if it was grief, fear, anger, or a combination of all. He turned and without a backward glance continued his slow walk.
The memories were becoming stronger for him. The breeze carried the scent of rubber, aviation gas, and hot oil, just like his base used to smell. Planes jockeying into position along the line revved their engines, sending gale-force prop wash blowing across the tarmac as people clutched at their hats and leaned into the wind. Overhead was the deep-throated roar of ancient propeller-driven fighter formations passing in review, a sound unlike any other. Air show announcers all over the country call it the same thing: The Sound of Freedom.
The father and his sons ambled along, pausing occasionally to look up at whatever was flying over. After one particularly low pass by a British Spitfire, the boys turned to remark to Dad and saw him standing as if he were frozen in place. He had walked around the aircraft they'd been looking at and was staring like a man possessed with the next plane in line. A look of incredulous wonder began to spread across his face…
"My God," he whispered. "My God, there it is. It's…someone…how…I never thought that I'd ever…"
"What is it, Dad? Are you okay?"
He seemed to stand taller and his shoulders squared. "Okay? Hell yes, I'm okay! THERE'S MY PLANE!"
It just so happed that "his" plane was also "our" plane. Lockheed PV-2 "Harpoons" were never immortalized by Hollywood like the Flying Fortresses of "12 O'Clock High," the B-25 Mitchells of "Catch-22" or any of a score of other films. Why this is so remains a mystery, for the missions they flew were some of the most heroic—and harrowing—of the war. Flying out of New York, Norfolk, and Pensacola, PV-1s and 2s scoured the Atlantic for Nazi U-boats. The WWII cliché "sighted sub, sank same" is attributed to a PV-1 crew. In the Pacific theater, astonished Navy pilots soon realized that the PV-1 could actually outrun the dreaded Japanese Zeros, a feat unheard of for a medium bomber. The Lockheed's phenomenal speed saved scores, perhaps hundreds, of American lives.
With the debut of the heavier and more stable PV-2, Marine Corps pilots and ground crews, as usual, made a few non-standard "field modifications." This normally meant torching extra holes in the nose and welding in as many .50 machine guns as they could cram into the forward bay. The Marines also tore out the torpedo and depth charge racks in the somewhat pregnant-looking bomb bay and installed hooks for500 pounders and napalm. As if this wasn't enough, industrious gunneys even bolted rails under each wing and loaded them with air-to-ground rockets! Aeronautical engineers were appalled when they heard this, but soon reports came back from the combat zones of Harpoons taking on everything from subs and fighters to tanks and heavy cruisers, all with disastrous results to the enemy. The Harpoons could—and did—fight anything. And somewhere amidst the fire and fury, somewhere between the Philippines and the Aleutians, there was a young Navy pilot who would live to be taken to Genesee, New York by his sons…
The old man stood at the front of the plane and, after a long moment, simply reached up and placed his hand on the underside of the nose. "I never knew they saved one," he said softly. "I never thought I'd see one again." To his sons, the man sounded as if he had suddenly found something priceless that he had lost many years ago.
One of his boys slipped around to the port side of the harpoon. He'd seen an open hatch and one of our crewmen standing near it. The younger man had decided to ask, plead—beg if he had to—for permission to let his father climb aboard a Harpoon just one more time. Please, please…
To his surprise and delight, he was informed that we welcome visitors aboard our plane. In fact, we encourage them to climb in and take a look around. It's no fun having a bomber if youcan't show it off once in a while, right? Besides, we're maintaining a living piece of American history, and we're rather proud of that fact.
The fellow who climbed into the hatch did so with the grace and familiarity of a young naval aviator, not an old man suffering from Hodgkin's disease. Our crewman offered to show the old gent around and point out objects of interest in the plan, a courtesy we perform for all visitors, but one of the man's sons tugged at his sleeve. "Dad knows his way around in here. Can we talk outside for a moment?"
Our crewman was somewhat bewildered, but he was beginning to realize that something out of the ordinary was going on. He'd seen that eerie look in the old fellow's eyes and it was plain that these other two guys wanted to explain his behavior. He hopped out of the hatch and listened to them. They told our man about their dad's crushing depression upon learning of his incurable disease, how they had hoped to just cheer him up a little, and how overjoyed he was to see that a bunch of characters from Indiana were actually flying around the country in a plane that he thought no longer existed.
Our man knew there was more to it than that. There was a lot of happiness and relief in these men, too. Their mission was accomplished: against all odds, they'd broken the black spell on their father.
While the old aviator was still merrily poking about in our plane, a couple more of our crew strolled up munching on hamburgers. "What's up? Anything going on?"
"Yeah. Wait'll you hear this…"
Within minutes, two of our crewmen set out to round up the rest of the gang. The old man was still climbing in and out of the plane, kicking the landing gear and inspecting the bomb bay, when they all arrived. Our whole "away team" shook his hand and took pictures of him and his boys. The old fellow's joy was infectious, and our guys were glad to be a part of it. Then someone in the crew cam up with abrilliant idea. It was whispered from man to man and a hasty conference was held under the huge wing. Heads nodded all around. Yeah. It was agreed. They had to do this…
We were scheduled to make a flight the next day for "Aviation Classics" magazine. They wanted some pictures of our rare Harpoon doing its stuff. A photographer had been sent, a swift chase plane had been reserved, and takeoff was set for the following morning.
As is always the case, every seat available was already spoken for. Despite its size, and not counting the pilots and flight engineer, there are only five seats aboard our plane. She was designed as a combat aircraft, not a passenger plane. Even among the members of our organization, a flight is a rare treat. To be honest about the matter, at a fuel consumption rate of nearly two hundred gallons an hour we can't afford much joyriding. At air shows, our fuel and other expenses are paid for by the promoters of the show so every time we lift off five lucky people get to take a "free" ride. These seats are always reserved well in advance, usually for our own people who've spend countless hours of hard work and a lot of their own money to "keep 'em flying." It's a privilege we all look forward to every summer.
Our crew looked at the ancient Navy pilot standing beside the Harpoon. He constantly touched the aircraft as if to assure himself that it was really there and not just a dream. There was a haunted look about him, as if he were surrounded by the ghosts of his former comrades. He had survived the Zeros, but there would be no escape from the disease that now had a grip on him. The old veteran was fighting his last battle even as they watched…
"He can have my seat," one of our guys said softly.
"Naw. You haven't gone up for a while. Let him take mine."
Soon there was a near fight among all five over who would give up their seat. It was a point of honor. Besides, people who fly and maintain old warbirds are slightly crazy anyway.
The argument was settled and, beaming delightedly, the whole crew marched over to the man and his sons. They told him about the photo run that was scheduled for the next day and that we just, ahh, happened to have a spare seat available. Would he like to ride along on the flight?
The question stunned him. "Are you serious?" He looked from man to man, and their faces answered for them. They were all grinning like idiots and nodding their heads in encouragement.
The aged Harpoon pilot blinked a few times and cleared his throat. Then, with his sons standing beside him, helifted his chin and answered. "Yes," he said. "I'd love to go. Thanks…thank you very much."
His sons didn't comment on our crew's invitation. For some reason they were suddenly having trouble with their voices. But the way they looked at our people spoke volumes on the subject of heartfelt gratitude. The men from Massachusetts stood with the men from Indiana on an airfield in New York state, and the axiom of a brotherhood among airmen demonstrated its truth once more.
The old aviator arrived at dawn the next day. Only a couple of our people were up and at the aircraft at that time, groggily sipping coffee and still yawning. One of our guys commented that the veteran pilot looked surprisingly wide awake for that early hour. He replied that most of his combat missions had begun at dawn or even earlier. Besides, he admitted sheepishly, he had been unable to sleep the whole night. "I felt like a kid waiting for Christmas morning," he grinned.
Someone reached into a tool box and produced a thermos of coffee. The old fellow accepted a cup and sat a package down on the work bench. "I thought some of you might be interested in this." He carefully unwrapped a tattered and patched photo album.
"My boys talked me into bringing it from home when we came up here. I'm glad I have it with me now." He opened the cover .
Our crewmen took one glance inside and snapped completely awake, nearly choking on their coffee. They stared at the book, then at each other.
The album was a gold mine. The then-young Navy pilot had taken dozens of black and white photos of his aircraft, both inside and out. Equally important, he'd taken many close-ups of the mechanics at work on his forward island bases. We had only been able to guess at where some of the equipment was mounted in the interior of our plane, and how some of the field-expedient repairs had been accomplished under combat conditions. This book could allow us to rebuild and refurbish our plane to her exact wartime appearance, the goal of all military aircraft restorers. We have a thick manual for the bird, but it's no longer possible to do everything "by the book." Lockheed hasn't made parts for this aircraft for over fifty years.We knew that Navy and Marine mechanics had accomplished wonders with baling wire, tin cans, and friction tape: the big question was how? Which backyard repairs could we get away with and which ones could cause a crash? What do you do when a control cable snaps at 12,000 feet or the port engine starts blowing oil or the landing gear jams halfway down?
Our crewmen suddenly realized that the fellow sipping coffee and looking calmly back at them was not merely an old man suffering from Hodgkin's disease. He was also a retired United States Navy officer, a combat experienced aviator, and a government-trained expert on Lockheed PV-2 Harpoons. A few hours earlier, they felt as if he needed them. Now it dawned on our crew that they needed him—badly—and the knowledge he had carried for nearly half a century.
"Sir, when the rest of our people get here, would you consider giving us a, uhh, briefing?"
He sat his cup down and smiled. "Be glad to."
Later that morning they were assembled around the elderly pilot, hanging on his every word. His constant touching and staring at the aircraft had not been the ghostly reminiscences of days gone by, but a careful and professional examination. Instinctively, he'dbeen giving our Harpoon a pre-flight inspection. He'd been quietly "grading" us on our reconditioning, maintenance, and craftsmanship. He'd noted where we had done well—and where there was need for improvement. Our crew jotted down page after page of memos on everything from how the navigator's table folded up to which hydraulic lines to inspect frequently. To no one's surprise, he said that some portions of the manual were nonsense, then went on to tell us how to do things the right way.
He gave our pilots detailed information on how to crash-land the plane in the event of total power failure. Harpoons are not noted for crash survivability, something we all keep in the back of our minds. His crew in the Pacific had been lucky to have him at the controls. He ran out of fuel once and had to belly in on a beach. The plane was a total loss, but the young Navy flyer saved his crew. Someday—God forbid—we may have to try it ourselves.
The veteran continued on for some time without any apparent fatigue or effects from his illness. Presently a civilian aircraft noisily taxied up to the Harpoon and braked to a halt. Two men clambered out of the plane, the photographer and his pilot. They exchanged information with our pilots on how the photo flight was to be handled, shook hands, and hopped back in their plane. The Cessna turned and began to taxi back out to the runway.
Flight line workers began to circle the Harpoon, warning spectators away from our bomber and clearing a path for it to roll out from the parking area. Our pilots and engineer climbed up into the cockpit and began their pre-flight checklist. Two of our people, one at each engine, stood guard outside with fire extinguishers while four more eagerly entered the plane.
For the first and only time in their lives, the old man's sons watched him climb into a PV-2 Harpoon. Just inside the hatch, he turned and looked at his boys for a long moment. Something seemed to pass between them for an instant, then he gave them a "thumbs up" and shut the door.
He never thought that he'd see another of "his" planes and certainly never dreamed he'd fly in one again, if even only as a passenger, but fate had reserved him one more takeoff, just one more time.
The last flight was under way
Our pilot shouted out his window. "Clear!" The ground crewmen stood by with the fire extinguishers, just in case. The number one starter motor engaged the fly wheel, causing that eerie high-pitched whine that quickens the blood of anyone whoever heard it. Then the pistons fired, coughed, and fired again, blowing out rapid puffs of smoke as the Hamilton-Standard prop began to spin. The engine smoothed and revved to a high idle, pounding out a sound like nearby thunder. Number two engine whined, backfired, and blew out a great cloud of white smoke. Its prop remained motionless. Doubtless cursing under his breath, the pilot initiated a restart while the ground crew eyed the engine suspiciously, extinguishers at the ready.
The flywheel built up speed again, the switch was thrown, and this time the mighty Pratt & Whitney radial roared into life, fairly bellowing strength and defiance. The whole aircraft shook visibly as the great 2,000 horsepower engines warmed up. The brakes strained to hold the ship in place while the preflight was completed, then they were gradually released and the bomber started to roll.
As always, she gained speed rapidly. Halfway down the strip, the barn-door sized tail lifted and the plane seemed to balance on her main gear. Then, with the awesome sound of a warbird—the Sound of Freedom—the Harpoon thundered into the sky.
They circled the field once, gaining altitude. The chase plane fell into formation with them, the photographer taking advantage of a beautiful cloudless day. The Harpoon banked gracefully, easing back over the airfield. Together the two aircraft made repeated passes giving the cameraman every shot he could wish for. When the photo run was over, both planes slowed and dropped into a landing glide path,flaps and gear down. The smaller plane led the way, touching down well ahead of the big blue Navy patrol bomber.
It was the moment our crew had been waiting for. The airspace was now clear.
The Harpoon's gear went back up and the engines throttled forward. She picked up speed, streaked over the runway at a breathtaking fifteen feet, and rocketed back up in a tight climbing turn.
One of our ground crew grinned at the old pilot's sons. "I think your dad is in for a little treat. "The Harpoon was now going in excess of two hundred fifty knots. The bomber stood on one wing, whirled around in a high-stress turn, and dove like a falcon—straight towards the field. Her engines were audible for miles, and the vast crowd of spectators looked up as one. "What the hell are they up to?" Hot dogs and soft drinks were dropped by the score as people snatched for their cameras. The plane shrieked over the flight line, a blue streak above the Mustangs and the Liberators and that thrice-damned Zero. In the wink of an eye they blew past the throng of spectators as babies cried, women covered their ears, and children howled with delight. The slipstream sent hats, programs, and paper cups flying in every direction.
The plane rocked back on its tail and flew into the sun. The crowd squinted and tried to follow it. Eventually even the sound of the engines grew faint. The plane was gone—but to where? A few minutes passed, then someone shouted, "There! To the north!"
They'd gone for altitude, and were now diving back in again. But this time something was different. The planwas flying strangely. A teenager asked his father, "Are they in trouble?"
The Harpoon was dodging rapidly left and right and flinging itself up and down in the dive. Experienced combat pilots—and there are many at air shows—knew at first glance what the Navy bomber was doing. "Jinking" is how pilots are trained to avoid ground fire in combat. The plane was coming in under evasive action and gaining speedat an alarming rate. Two hundred sixty knots, two seventy, two ninety…Then the aircraft straightened and flew with determined precision, seeming to aim itself at a point just opposite from the crowd on the other side of the runway.
The bomb bay doors snapped open and half dozen dark oblong shapes spilled out.
Spectators gasped as the objects tumbled and fell, whistling loudly as they came. The missiles hit the field and exploded into a spectacular red and green spray. The crowd sent up a mighty cheer as they realized what they'd seen, and the sons of our passenger laughed and cheered loudest of all.
Gennessee, New York had just been bombed by a planeload of Indiana watermelons.
After pulling up from its surprise "bomb run," the Harpoon slowed to cruise speed, circled, and came back for a final pass before landing. She swooped in low and slow, one wing tipped in salute to the crowd while cameras clicked and video recorders whirred. Then the great flaps lowered, the gear came down, and the tires screeched on contact with the tarmac. The bomber taxied to the parking apron, turned, and rolled slowly to her assigned area.
Flight line workers held back the crowds who surged in around her, waving, applauding, and holding children on the shoulders. The old aviator's sons stood with our ground crew, shielding their eyes from a final wind blast as the port brake was locked, the starboard engine revved, and the plan ground-looped perfectly into exactly the same spot she had left. The engines were cut, number two giving its characteristic doubleback fire, and the props clattered to a halt. The elevator surfaces on the huge tail lowered and thumped softly down to their rest positions. The flight wasover, the bomber now silent.
Our crew formed a semicircle around the hatch, the veteran's sons standing expectantly in the front. For along moment the hatch remained closed. Then the handle rotated, the door swung slowly open, and a figure appeared at the top of the access ladder. The sons looked up solemnly, as if seeing their father for the first time, He paused there, returning their gaze. Then the emotion became too great for even him to control, and his loving, joyous smile became framed by streams of tears that rolled down both cheeks. He hopped down the short ladder and into the arms of his boys. Our crew surrounded them as they gripped each other, laughing and weeping, in an impassioned, back slapping, three-way hug.
The scene was best described to this writer by one of our female crew members.
"Oh, you should have seen it! These macho guys of ours in the plane came out and they were all crying. They were embarrassed by it, but they had to keep wiping their eyes. The old man was the happiest person I've ever seen in my life. He kept on laughing and crying at the same time and asking his boys if they saw the bomb run. They were nodding and hugging him. The ground crew was sniffing and snorting and looking at everything except each other. I finally gave up myself and said 'What the hell?' So I started crying too."
The aviator told everyone within earshot how happy he was to have been with us, even if only for a short while. Another of our ladies appeared at his side and asked if he would like to join our organization. Before she could even finish the question he exclaimed, "Yes!" She pulled an application out from behind her back and, grinning, handed the old fellow a pen. He quickly read the document and signed it on the offered back of our flight engineer. After handing the paper back, hereached inside jacket. "I have my checkbook with me. I can pay my first annual dues right now and…"
There was a cry of outrage and our "recruiting officer" steadfastly refused to take a cent. Shelooked around threateningly at the rest of the team and called for a forum. By immediate and unanimous voice vote, the veteran was made a life member of our crew on the spot, all dues waived forever.
Addresses and phone numbers were exchanged. The retired naval officer was told that he could expect our first organizational newsletter within a week and that we'd stay in touch by mail, keeping him abreast of developments with the plane. He replied that he had many photographs and notes pertaining to PV-2 Harpoons that he'd send us,as well as personal observations and letters answering any questions we might have in the future.
After some time, they had to leave for the long drive back to Massachusetts. Our men shook his firm hand for the last time, our wives and girlfriends each gave him a kiss, and it was time to leave. One of the sons kept repeating to our crew, "You don't know. You don't know what this has done for Dad. This has brought him back. He's his old self again. You just don't know…"
Well, maybe we don't. But we have a pretty good idea. We know what he did for us.
Whatever else life may have instore for him the veteran will always know that one of his planes is still flying, crewed by a new generation. And we will know that we have a friend, our senior member, who we can turn to when the skies grow dark and we need advice.
Sometimes people ask me why I love air shows.
I never know what to tell them.
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This Day in U S Military History
October 8
1812 – Boat party under Lt. Jesse D. Elliott captures HMS Detroit and Caledonia in Niagara River. Adams-a newly constructed 200-ton brig-was purchased during the summer of 1812 by General William Hull, the Army commander at Detroit (now in Michigan) to add to the defenses of that forward outpost. However, before the ship could be armed Hull sur rendered her along with Detroit on 16 August 1812. The British armed the prize and commissioned her as HMS Detroit. She and HMS Caledonia gave the British undisputed control of Lake Erie. All changed early in the morning when a boat expedition commanded by Lt. Jesse D. Elliott captured the two vessels right under the muzzles of the guns at Fort Erie. Caledonia made it safely to the temporary American base at Black Rock, but Detroit, owing to light wind, was swept away by the Niagara River's strong current and was forced to anchor within range of British guns. An artillery duel ensued. Elliott brought all his guns to his engaged side and continued the cannonade until his supply of ammunition was exhausted. Thereupon, he cut the cable; and the brig drifted down the river. She grounded on Squaw Island within range of both British and: American batteries. Elliott and his men abandoned her, and almost immediately, some two score British soldiers took brief possession of the brig. American guns soon drove them out with great loss, and both sides began pounding her with gunfire. The Americans finally set fire to and destroyed the battered hulk.
1918 – Sgt. Alvin C. York almost single-handedly killed 25 German soldiers and captured 132 in the Argonne Forest in France. Corporal Alvin C. York's platoon was advancing toward the Decauville railway when they were hit with machinegun fire from all sides. The doughboys captured one gun, but the noise drew the fire of the remaining German emplacements, killing six and seriously wounding three Americans. As the most senior of the remaining doughboys, York went out alone to engage the enemy with just his rifle and service revolver, picking off the machinegunners one by one. When the fighting was over, York had single-handedly eliminated 35 machine guns, killed more than 20 Germans and taken 132 members of a Prussian Guards regiment as prisoners. A modest man, York shrugged off his heroic actions, saying, "It's over; let's forget it."
1944 – The Battle of Crucifix Hill occurs just outside Aachen. Capt. Bobbie Brown receives a Medal of Honor for his heroics in this battle. The Battle of Crucifix Hill took place on Crucifix Hill (Haarberg) (Hill 239), next to the village of Haaren in Germany and was a part of the U.S. 1st Division's campaign to seize Aachen, Germany. The Battle of Aachen was part of the Drive to the Siegfried Line. The hill was named after a large crucifix mounted on the top of the hill. The objective of the battle was to gain control of the hill, which was laced with a maze of pillboxes and bunkers, so that the main objective of encircling Aachen could be completed. The hill was held by units of the German 246. Volksgrenadierdivision.
1960 – USS Constellation (CV-64) was launched, a Kitty Hawk-class aircraft carrier, was the third ship of the United States Navy to be named in honor of the "new constellation of stars" on the flag of the United States. The contract to build her was awarded to the New York Naval Shipyard, Brooklyn, New York, on 1 July 1956, and her keel was laid down 14 September 1957, at the New York Navy Yard. She was sponsored by Mary Herter (wife of Secretary of State Christian Herter), delivered to the Navy 1 October 1961, and commissioned 27 October 1961, with Captain T.J. Walker in command. At that time, she had cost about US$400 million. On 19 December 1960, fire swept through the USS Constellation while it was under construction at a Brooklyn Navy Yard pier, injuring 150, killing 50, and doing $75 million worth of damage. When deployed to the Middle East as part of the 2003 invasion of Iraq, Constellation carried nine squadrons: VF-2 Bounty Hunters (ten F-14D Tomcats); VFA-137 Kestrels, VFA-151 Vigilantes, and VMFA-323 Death Rattlers (each with 12 F/A-18C Hornets); VAW-116 Sun Kings (four E-2C Hawkeyes); VAQ-131 Lancers (four EA-6B Prowlers); VS-38 Red Griffins (eight S-3B Vikings); HS-2 Golden Falcons (two SH-60F Seahawks and six HH-60H Pave Hawks); VRC-30 Providers Detachment 2 (two C-2A Greyhounds). In early 2003, plans are for Constellation to go into mothballs after she completes her deployment. Connie will be replaced by Ronnie, USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76)
How many of you know that the Constellation and Kitty Hawk are like Siamese Twins. There are places on Connie from the hanger deck on down that are Kitty Hawk and Kitty Hawk is the other way around as a result of a major fire during construction. There was a memorial on the Hanger Deck of Connie that honored those that died.
Medal of Honor Citations for Actions Taken This Day
WARD, CALVIN JOHN
Rank and organization: Private, U.S. Army, Company D, 117th Infantry, 30th Division. Place and date: Near Estrees, France, 8 October 1918. Entered service at: Morristown, Tenn. Born: October 1898, Green County, Tenn. G.O. No.: 16, W.D., 1919. Citation: During an advance, Pvt. Ward's company was held up by a machinegun, which was enfilading the line. Accompanied by a noncommissioned officer, he advanced against this post and succeeded in reducing the nest by killing 3 and capturing 7 of the enemy and their guns.
YORK, ALVIN C.
Rank and organization: Corporal, U.S. Army, Company G, 328th Infantry, 82d Division. Place and date: Near Chatel -Chehery, France, 8 October 1918. Entered service at: Pall Mall, Tenn. Born: 13 December 1887, Fentress County, Tenn. G.O. No.: 59, W.D., 1919. Citation: After his platoon had suffered heavy casualties and 3 other noncommissioned officers had become casualties, Cpl. York assumed command. Fearlessly leading 7 men, he charged with great daring a machinegun nest which was pouring deadly and incessant fire upon his platoon. In this heroic feat the machinegun nest was taken, together with 4 officers and 128 men and several guns.
BROWN, BOBBIE E.
Rank and organization: Captain, U S. Army, Company C, 18th Infantry, 1st Infantry Division. Place and date: Crucifix Hill, Aachen, Germany, 8 October 1944. Entered service at: Atlanta, Ga. Born: 2 September 1903, Dublin, Ga. G.O. No.: 74, 1 September 1945. Citation: He commanded Company C, 18th Infantry Regiment, on 8 October 1944, when it, with the Ranger Platoon of the 1st Battalion, attacked Crucifix Hill, a key point in the enemy's defense of Aachen, Germany. As the leading rifle platoon assaulted the first of many pillboxes studding the rising ground, heavy fire from a flanking emplacement raked it. An intense artillery barrage fell on the American troops which had been pinned down in an exposed position. Seeing that the pillboxes must be neutralized to prevent the slaughter of his men, Capt. Brown obtained a pole charge and started forward alone toward the first pillbox, about 100 yards away. Hugging the ground while enemy bullets whipped around him, he crawled and then ran toward the aperture of the fortification, rammed his explosive inside and jumped back as the pillbox and its occupants were blown up. He rejoined the assault platoon, secured another pole charge, and led the way toward the next pillbox under continuous artillery mortar, automatic, and small -arms fire. He again ran forward and placed his charge in the enemy fortification, knocking it out. He then found that fire from a third pillbox was pinning down his company; so he returned to his men, secured another charge, and began to creep and crawl toward the hostile emplacement. With heroic bravery he disregarded opposing fire and worked ahead in the face of bullets streaming from the pillbox. Finally reaching his objective, he stood up and inserted his explosive, silencing the enemy. He was wounded by a mortar shell but refused medical attention and, despite heavy hostile fire, moved swiftly among his troops exhorting and instructing them in subduing powerful opposition. Later, realizing the need for information of enemy activity beyond the hill, Capt. Brown went out alone to reconnoiter. He observed possible routes of enemy approach and several times deliberately drew enemy fire to locate gun emplacements. Twice more, on this self -imposed mission, he was wounded; but he succeeded in securing information which led to the destruction of several enemy guns and enabled his company to throw back 2 powerful counterattacks with heavy losses. Only when Company C's position was completely secure did he permit treatment of his 3 wounds. By his indomitable courage, fearless leadership, and outstanding skill as a soldier, Capt. Brown contributed in great measure to the taking of Crucifix Hill, a vital link in the American line encircling Aachen
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AMERICAN AEROSPACE EVENTS for October 8, FIRSTS, LASTS, AND SIGNIFICANT ACCOMPLISHMENTS. THANKS TO HAROLD "PHIL" MYERS CHIEF HISTORIAN AIR FORCE INTELLIGENCE, SURVEILLANCE, AND RECONNAISSANCE AGENCY
8 October
1909: Pilot instructions with the Wright Flyer began at College Park. (18)
1912: The Bureau of Medicine and Surgery published the Navy's first physical examination for pilots. (24)
1914: Capt H. LeR. Muller used a Curtiss J with a Curtiss OX-5 90-HP engine to set a 16,789-foot official American one-man altitude record. (24)
1919: The Army conducted reliability and endurance testing from New York to San Francisco and back, with 44 planes making the westbound leg, 15 the eastbound, and 10 the complete round trip. Lt B. W. Maynard in a DH-4 had the best east-west and round-trip times, while Maj Carl A. Spaatz in a DH-4B had the fastest west-east flight. (9) (24)
1940: The Royal Air Force formed 71 (Eagle) Squadron, the first of three Fighter Command squadrons composed principally of volunteer US pilots flying with the RAF. On 29 September
1942, pilots in this unit formed the 334th Fighter Squadron, 4th Fighter Group. (8: Oct 90)
1950: KOREAN WAR. Two F-80s accidentally strafed a Soviet airfield near Vladivostok on the coast northeast of the Korean border. Razon bomb missions resumed after reliable radio-guided bombs arrived from the US. The 162 TRS moved from Itazuke to Taegu, becoming the first night reconnaissance squadron stationed in Korea. (28)
1952: KOREAN WAR. In support of the amphibious hoax, ten B-29s of the 98th Bombardment Wing conducted a rare daylight visual bombing mission on the supply area at Kowon in eastern Korea in coordination with USN fighter-bomber attacks. (28) A Soviet MiG-15 fired warning shots at a C-47 MEDEVAC aircraft. The C-47 took evasive action into cloud cover and continued on to Berlin. (4)
1955: Maj Arthur Murray flew the Bell X-1B on its first powered flight above Edwards AFB. (3)
1956: Since 1948, MATS and DoD aircraft made over 100,000 ocean crossings to carry 400,000 passengers and 700,000 tons of mail and freight to overseas bases. (16) (24)
1969: Through 4 November, after severe flooding in Tunisia, the 58 ARRS from Wheelus AB, Libya, flew relief supplies to that country. Some 2,500 civilians were removed from flood-threatened areas. (2) (26) General Bruce K. Holloway accepted SAC's first FB-111A (No. 67-7193) at Carswell AFB for the 340 BG. (1) (12)
1975: McDonnell Douglas Corporation received the contract to develop the navigation-guidance equipment for the ALCM. (6)
1993: Operation PROVIDE PROMISE. The effort to airlift relief supplies to Bosnia surpassed the Berlin Airlift in duration, but not in tonnage or missions. This made PROVIDE PROMISE the longest sustained relief operation in USAF history. (16) (26)
2001: Operation ENDURING FREEDOM. Two C-17s also airdropped about 35,000 humanitarian rations over eastern and northern Afghanistan. The two airdrops were the C-17's first combat missions, first combat airdrops, and first humanitarian airdrops of ENDURING FREEDOM. The C-17s flew from Ramstein AB more than 6,500 miles in a 22-hour round trip and were air refueled multiple times. (21) (22) Operation ENDURING FREEDOM. Four EC-130E Commando Solo aircraft from the 193rd Special Operations Wing (Pennsylvania ANG) began broadcasting music and information to the Afghan people as part of the operation. (32)
2005: Operation LIFELINE. A 7.6 earthquake devastated parts of Pakistan, especially the Pakistani controlled portion of Kashmir, leaving nearly 80,000 dead and many more injured in its wake. Airmen moved to Chakala AB, near Islamabad, Pakistan, to receive humanitarian relief supplies. Less than 48 hours later, the first C-17 from McChord AFB arrived with nearly 45 short tons of food, water, blankets, and medicine from Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan. The 24th Air Expeditionary Group (AEG), with a 46-member team, deployed from McGuire AFB to provide operational support on two C-17s loaded with nearly 100 short tons of equipment. US Army CH-47 Chinook helicopters flew the cargo from Chaklala to the areas of greatest need. By late December 2005, AMC had initiated 169 missions and 510 sorties from and between US, Europe, and the US Central Command area of responsibility to transport 6,929 short tons of cargo and airlifted 2,427 passengers. (22)
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