Friday, October 4, 2019

B-17 crash. October 2019.

The Time I jumped out of the Nine-Oh-Nine and sprained my ankle. :

I'd like to share an experience I had with Nine-Oh-Nine, long ago.

About 23 years ago the Nine-Oh-Nine came through our town. I was just out of college. I worked at a fast food place and didn't get off until 6. I stopped at my apartment to get my camera and drove straight to the airport. These were the days before 9/11, there was no security.

When I got there, the pilot's were standing around and a large group of people had shown up to welcome them. I blended in and took pictures as the sun lowered.

Soon the crowd dispersed and I was alone with this wonderful bird from two generations before my birth! I was communing with this fabulous flyer. It was a religious experience. I could touch her. No one called me out. I took pictures of her without other people in the way. The Western Sunset just made her prettier.

I circled the aircraft several times. Finally I neared the rear starboard side near the door. I knew it would be locked, but I reached out anyway. It was unlocked. I pushed it back into place lest I get caught. I then withstood a mental battle between the proverbial angel and demon sitting on my shoulders. The demon won...I don't think the angel put up that much of a fight.

I reached again for the door handle. I quickly jumped into the now darkened fuselage.

I made my way forward. I battled imaginary Me-109s and Fw-190s from the waist guns. I crept forward around the ball turret marveling at the brave men who once battled there. I stepped into the radio room and looked up.

I moved further and squeezed, even then, with my slightly over 20 year old physique it was a squeeze...perhaps it was my camera...through the bomb bay. I could have squealed like a school girl when I saw the 250lb GP bombs! That bomb bay catwalk was so awesome! I had read about men walking through it! How did I not know it was so small?

I continued. By now it was too dark for my camera, it was the 1990's and I carried ISO-400 film. I came to the top turret! OH! Another chance to shoot down enemy fighters! OH! I could have been an ace! Another Me-109 fell to my guns. Reluctantly I stepped down and marveled at the cockpit, that complicated mess of dials and gauges. Jeez, how was it so small an cramped? How was I able to be having this religious experience? How was I so lucky?

I bent own an began to crawl to the bombardier's place in the nose...only to find a small chain across the entrance. Now, what in my 20 year old brain said, "No, you can't cross this gossamer barricade," I'll never know. Probably the same one that didn't let me cross the similar chain keeping me from sitting in the pilot's seat above. Oh, those pathetic obstacles of youth. I turned and crawled back to the cockpit.

I looked once again at the top turret. I stood back up between the twin fifties, an something caught my eye. A pair of headlights pulling into the parking lot! Oh my lord! I was caught! the Night Guard had arrived to protect this war relic! I would be found out and arrested and my life would be ruined!

Immediately I left the top turret and hurried back through the bomb bay. I ran through the radio room. I was more careful descending next to the ball turret. Back again past the waist guns, what lurked outside was worse than Me-109s!

Finally, I was at the door! I can't even remember what the inside handle looked like. I opened it and sat down on the floor. There were no steps. My feet were merely inches above the pavement! I pushed off!

...and twisted my ankle upon landing. I limped, tears rising! OH GOD it hurt, but the guards! I clamped down on the pain. I straightened and made a valiant effort to look unharmed. I put my camera up taking imaginary pictures and inched around the nose so I could see the guards walking up.

But there were no guards. The car, who's headlights I had seen, was now pulling out of the parking lot. ARGH! I could have spent more time with this phantom flying lady from generations ago, but now my ankle was swelling. Reluctantly, I bid her farewell an limped back to my car. When I got home minutes later, my ankle was the size of a grapefruit and my girlfriend wanted to know what I had done. She's now my wife an I regret nothing.

this summer, I took my daughters to see the colling's Foundation's offerings! A P-40, a P-51, a B-17, a B-24, an a B-25! Oh, the joy I had showing my beautiful daughters around these fine birds. My 10 year old stopped to listen as I regaled them with tales told before I was born. She asked pertinent questions and I answered. She listened and appreciated these beasts of war. They both enjoyed the experience. I appreciated the man at the door telling me the stamps we got upon entering would let us in for the following three days.

It breaks my heart that lives were lost. It hurts my soul that other daughters and sons won't be able to share the wonders and experiences I've had with the Nine-Oh-Nine over multiple decades. Thank you.

~Jim R. Huffman, Moxee, Washington.

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