Thursday, September 22, 2011

Twelve Days with Wings



Friday, August 26th

After a disappointing setback at the airport, and many tears, I found the encouragement and blessings from those I love to forge ahead and seize the chance to again join the Wings of Freedom crew. Chip captured his feelings beautifully in a poem:

Dewy-eyed she returns home,
Due to Irene's eye advancing north
to ground her flights of fancy.
She alights for an unknown time;
like an apparition she tarries.
Sanctuary here my friend until you soar again.

I acknowledged feeling doubtful about my decisions, surprisingly patient in waiting for the opportunity to get on the tour again. The weekend at home in waiting was full of blossomings within my family, and I am so glad I was present to witness that! I was told that my family gains strength and enrichment in seeing me live life to the fullest and take risks. That means so much to me.

On Sunday I got word that the three aircraft and crew were venturing from their giant hangar in White Plains where they were forced to wait out the storm, and would be arriving in Coatesville, Pennsylvania on Monday as scheduled. I checked into last minute flights, but finally chose the cheaper and more straight-forward approach, renting a comfy Toyota Camry and driving fifteen hours to Coatesville. Call me crazy, determined, passionate - and ecstatic! It was really happening -- again!!!

Crawling north on 57 along pristine Rend Lake, slicing through the crisp blue sky and trees wearing red in honor of their change of life, I was on the road, in my element, without doubt. I get into a groove when driving, talking and listening to God, often singing at the top of my voice, flying my left hand through the wild and powerful wind. Messages from friends cheered me on and provided a big boost of reassurance. It was a great drive that went very smoothly. It was only the final two hours that were tough!

The Coatesville stop brought many magical moments. I had the privilege to talk with many veterans who served in the bombers, but there was one story that really touched my heart. Charlie Ferich described in vivid detail his experience on that final "half mission," from which eight of his ten crew members did not return. He was the tail gunner in the B-24 Liberator, viewing the oncoming enemy fighter planes through a newly designed turret bubble made of sections of thick plexiglass. When the plane was hit and caught fire, his only chance for escape was in kicking out a portion of the glass to jump free. He had taken two pieces of hot metal flak in the thigh, and when he pulled the cord to open his chute, he found it to be dotted with burnt black holes. He managed to slow his fall by landing in treetops, where he dangled as an easy target for the German troops waving rifles and yelling in an indecipherable language. The troops took anything of value and then hauled Charlie to a barn containing over twenty other prisoners. Each day Charlie lay on that plank of wood, he feared the infection that would take his life. He showed the German officers his leg wounds, gesturing the need for medication, but received nothing. On the third day, a storm of Russian Underground soldiers commanded all prisoners to get down as they opened fire on the German troops. They led the prisoners through the forest to a road bed, near an open meadow. Flares along the ground guided a plane in, to collect the men and carry them to safety in England. Charlie remembers seeing the English-speaking leader of their rescuers waving as the plane lifted out of sight. Charlie recognizes the miracle that allows him to share his story with others to this day. He generously treated his family and friends (including my aunt Bonnie, whom he had just met hours before,) to flights in the B-24J Liberator that the Collings Foundation brought to Coatesville that day.

The move from Coatesville to Cape May, NJ brought me a long-awaited thrill. Aeroshell Acrobatics pilot Mark Henley took me up in the P-51 Mustang! This particular Mustang is a custom machine with a dual cockpit. We got up first, and made some hard turns to buzz the field as we waited for the bombers to take off and join us. Mark demonstrated some rolls, then invited me to take the stick and push it as far left as it would go. Of course I did, and over we went! We later caught up to the B-17 inflight. We crept up to fly just off the starboard wing. I got some great pictures! The views of the Jersey beaches were amazing.

The crew spent that evening at an Irish Pub near the boardwalk in Wildwood, in celebration of Otter's birthday (and having the best volunteer gig in the world!)

New friend Joey taught me the many duties as flight engineer for the B-24. He walked me through the pre-flight ground check, pulling props, removing jacks and chocks for taxi, signaling engine startup, navigating from the upper hatch during taxi, the run-up checklist, closing bomb bay doors, communication with passengers inflight, and preparing for landing. I served as co-engineer with Joey for several flights in Belmar, not going solo until my final day out. Our visit in Belmar was the busiest stop of the tour, with a record 33 flights in three days! Thanks to Mike and Kitty, I was given the gift of a flight in a Stearman biplane! Over the beaches and ocean waters, Mike looped and rolled and did a free-falling hammerhead! Yeehaw!

The twelve days with the crew brought much hard work and endless contact with enthusiastic visitors, but the end of the day always brought the best kind of fatigue, with the acknowledgement of a job well done and celebration of a day well spent. We even took in some of the novel attractions, with a frolic in the Atlantic, rollercoasters and carnival games on the boardwalk, and post happy-hour shenanigans!

The post-Labor Day move brought spitting rain and low cloud cover. In anticipation of this debilitating weather, Mark flew the Mustang on to Bridgeport Connecticut the evening before. I hitched a ride in the B-17, never considering that Joey and the B-24 crew would be delayed, first due to a minor mechanical issue and then the persistent low ceiling.

Our B-17 move was also interrupted by a stop in Republic, to wait for a break in the clouds in which to continue to Bridgeport. I took this time to nap in a very comfortable pilots lounge in the accomodating FBO. We were relieved to arrive in Bridgeport later that afternoon, but had very few supplies to scrape together as a PX, as it had all been loaded on the Liberator. It was a day and a half before the rain moved on and the Liberator caught up to us. Meanwhile, the five of us spent the days in the hangar, welcoming a handful of visitors, with Otter and I polishing the Mustang til it gleamed. I never got the chance to say goodbye to Joey, who had to adjust his plans to make his flight home.

Doggedly, the day came to say goodbyes and accept Aaron's offer to drive me from beautiful Oxford to the New Haven airport. On a Dash 8 to Philly, I hummed over a sea of soft whiteness, over airfields I have visited, over cities I have met, people we have touched, friends we have made. I was missing the tour and the crew already. I feel a part of me belongs here, in the air, with these new friends who have welcomed me, taught me, respected me. It's the best gig ever! I would be crazy not to do this as often as I can. Here I can educate, connect, touch the lives of veterans and their families, travel with all basic needs provided, learn new skills, fly every day, and serve as a valuable member of a talented team.

Sometimes living a dream seems strangely more real than the real world.

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