Click photos to enlarge.	Greetings From Hollywood Spike Gets His Wings
	The Collings Foundation's 1945 B-17G greets the dawn during her tour stop at Burbank Airport (CA), May 12, 1999

Hey, Kids! - Yes, Johnnie joined the airforce for a day - the aerial recon data was recorded by yours truly (right before I blowed it all up!) This 1945 Boeing B-17G bomber, restored by the Collings Foundation to resemble the "Nine-O-Nine", which flew 140 missions without an abort or loss of a crewman, recently visited nearby Burbank Airport. I heard it was arriving - literally - when it flew directly over my house on its approach. Armed with my digital camera, I wasted no time in launching a direct assault on the airfield. As it turned out, for a slightly less than astronomical sum, an actual flight could be had aboard this proud and venerable ol' Gal, so my buddy Bryan and I enlisted without hesitation, and were rewarded by an experience without parallel. I had expected to fly sedately to a lofty altitude and descend serenely, without putting any strain on the airframe, but what a surprise I was in for, along with the other five paying passengers, when about a minute into the half-hour flight, we were allowed to unbuckle our seat belts, get up and run over the whole length of the aircraft! - And you can believe we did, from the bombardier's seat in the glass-surrounded nose, to prostrate on the deck in the tail, gaping rapturously down through the opening around the tail gear, a space big enough to squeeze out through, with nothing preventing that potentiality but a stiff breeze, all the while contending with all the 'Gs' the Wild Bunch up front could generate for us. My heavy jacket turned out to be unnecessary, as we can't have ever exceeded much more than 3,000' of altitude - and over some pretty rugged terrain, at that. Even at a leisurely 160 knots, things go by rather quickly that close to 'the deck', which made it a challenge to overcome sensory saturation, and squeeze off the occasional photo of familiar landmarks - Travel Town; the Greek Theater; Griffith Observatory (I swear I almost stubbed my toe on that one) - streaking by ( -and not always below, it seemed, my equilibrium having some fun with me, as we banked hard past Mount Hollywood and the famous sign thereon). The crew consisted of Pilot, Co-pilot, and Flight Engineer, the latter of whom was free to move about with, and assist us as necessary. Astonishingly, he had before take-off slid the canopy over the radioman's station amidships open, which was low enough to allow for (standing on 'tip-toes,' in my case) poking ones head up out of the aircraft and fully into the 160 knot 'breeze'! As we streaked over the unsuspecting swimming pools and immaculate tennis courts of Brentwood and Beverly Hills (I had never realized that everyone in those neighborhoods has one or the other, if not both), I was unable to repress a full-blown 'Rebel Yell' from escaping me, which I honestly don't think the Engineer, standing right next to me was the least bit aware of. I made my way forward to the nose 'bubble', from wherein the Bombardier would guide the craft during the nerve-wracking and doubtless, seemingly endless moments of the final bomb run, during which the crew was powerless to maneuver, and were even more than usual, 'sitting ducks' for enemy fighters, capable of far greater speed and agility. As I settled in, I suddenly noticed, with some confusion, that we were on final approach to a runway, that in a panic I assumed was Burbank; and how did we get back so fast; and Holy Crap! - I'm supposed to be belted in for this, and.... I ducked, and grabbed for hand-holds to brace myself for the impact - which didn't come. Curious, I moved forward and glanced tentatively out through the nose again, to realize that we were climbing steeply away from Santa Monica Air Port!-A 'touch-and-go!'- We skimmed the runway, and were outta there! - A surprise attack so fiendishly executed that it was as much a surprise to the crew as to the saps below!! (Yes, I mean me - no mere passenger, I - I was crew, Baby!) I climbed back out of the nose, emerging behind the cockpit, where turning around, I stole a glance over the shoulders of Pilot and Co-pilot as they shared a fleeting, utterly priceless instant of child-like exhilaration at their successfully executed mischief, and I knew absolutely, that there was nowhere else in the world I would have wanted to be at that moment, and that made the sum of money paid for the experience utterly inconsequential. On we wheeled - over the Getty Museum, so close that I giddily imagined the placid serenity of that stately, expansive monument to the over-priced shattered by the roar of our four radial engines - and then yet another wonder, 160 m.p.h. over the 405 Freeway at 10:00 a.m. on a Thursday - not too many members in that club - Whooooie!!! In an instant, we were back over Hollywood, and the hills of Griffith Park, where I could clearly see hikers threading their way along the trails, looking up (with disgust - or awe!? - it can be such a fine line!) There went the zoo, the 134 and 5 Freeways, the L.A.'River'- is there a fully concrete-lined, swill-filled ditch anywhere else in the world referred to as a 'river'? – As we ambled off the old plane and across the tarmac, our gaits were just a bit more youthful, our senses subtly sharpened; we had shared in a rare camaraderie known only to a lucky few - we had flown a hazardous combat mission, and lived to tell about it - cheated death! - came through it all unscathed. We knew that we would never be the same again. We now had a certain subtle look discernible only to those of our elite ranks. We would recognize that look - be able at a glance to detect one of us in a crowd, and acknowledge merely with a nod, and be on our way. But what kept gnawing at me was - if we had eagerly shelled out as much cash as we had just to ride in a bomber, what would guys be willing to part with to, say, ...bomb some trains!!!     Read an informative article about the Collings Foundation and their Bombers by Lance Thompson at the Smithsonian's Air & Space Magazine on line.   [ Graphics Index | Home | Samples Index ] © 2000 J P Hirtle jphirt@bellatlantic.net