Profile 57 - FINAL - "192" as flown by Don Erickson

Note:  8-21-11 - something about this post has struck a nerve.  This post has received more unique views from around the world than any this year.  Any insight?


Have a look at "192"!

That black tail really does it for me - menacing, sleek; it's a mean machine.  Though I do have a certain loyalty to yellow tails and blue noses, this single P-51 of the 75th FS, 23rd FG  is my best to-date. 

But in comparison to some of the more colorful birds of the past, it's rather unremarkable.  No victory markings, no pin-up girls, no clever name painted across the cowl - just the black tail and the last three numbers of the machine's serial number stenciled onto the nose.

And, pilot Don Erickson isn't sure how many times he flew "192."  As a replacement pilot to the squadron, he didn't have the kind of seniority or rank to warrant his own plane.  "Erickson.  Today, you're flying XX."  "Yes sir."  

Did he fly 192 only once?  Twice?  Three, four times?  Who knows.  It was just a rank-and-file airplane assigned to the grind of shuttling bombs to bridges and blowing bullets at trains.

When I met Don, we were at the Air Force Memorial in Washington D.C.  When I asked him about his service in WW2, he replied matter-of-factly, "Nothing much" - hence the name I gave it during the prior posts.  "I've only got twenty one missions," he stated dryly.  "I saw a Zero once but fired way too far away.  I'd have never have hit it."  He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

In comparison to the swirling dogfights over Europe, or crashing into retaining barriers atop heaving aircraft carriers or dramatic bail-outs over enemy territory, Don's missions were rather lackluster.   When I was introduced as "an aviation artist and historian, Don's immediate reply was polite, but terse. "You don't want to interview me.  Really.  I didn't do that much."  

In comparison, Don was right.  He was simply one of thousands of pilots in WW2 who, in their vernacular, "...did their job."  Truly, the mythic deeds of men like Joe Foss, George Preddy, Joseph Priller and Douglas Bader were much rarer than popular entertainment would have you believe.  

Yet, to focus attention only on the mountain peaks means you miss the valley, the forest, the stream, the trees...  That being stated, I think you might find Don's story of "Nothing much" more interesting than he might lead you to believe.

In July of 1942, Don answered the Call (i.e. Draft) in typical future-fighter pilot fashion  - he took matters into his own hands and decided to be a Naval Aviator.  Airplanes were "interesting," there was a challenge, a bit of fun, sounds good!  So, he went to the nearest Naval recruiter in Minneapolis.  The Land of a Thousand Lakes served the Midwest with the next best thing to ocean, I guess.  Anyway, during the examination, Doctors detected a hernia and rejected him.  

"You'll never pass.  Next!"

And that was it.  Idea, plan, rejection.  Next!

With that dream dashed and the War Machine just beginning to whet its appetite for flesh, Don reported shortly thereafter at Fort Crook, Omaha for induction into the Army.  Again, Doctors detected the hernia and rejected him.  "1B" was his classification.  That meant he was potentially suitable, but only for limited service.  

This degradation didn't make sense to a guy who'd played football and handball.  And growing up sharing his bedroom with two other siblings AND grandparents,  Don learned a thing or two about cooperation and compromise.

Sure he'd had an appendectomy, but that'd been fixed long before and it was far worse than any hernia.   Don decided to petition the Draft Board for another examination.  This time, another doctor passed him on but not without the caveat, "When this bothers you, go on sick call and request limited service."

Three times, The System rejected Don.   Three times, the experts, working within their well-tried process, found Don unsuitable for combat, let alone Flight.   Instead, Don was lead to the realization that the Military believed his best service would be to study (drum roll) Teletype Maintenance.    I'm chuckling as I write this - can you imagine having your sights on flying fighters only to have it suggested that you're only fit to fix the FAX MACHINE?!?


Don Erickson swallowed this fate in September of 1942 at Chanute Field, Rantoul, Illinois. 

What would you do?   

Don't hold it against Don when, after doing outside calisthenics in October's frigid spit, he remembered that he could, "...go on sick call and request limited service." Right now, my mind is conjuring the soft-faced South Dakotan grinning wryly at his miserable buddies doing jumping jacks in the rain while he trots off to get his get-out-of-gymnastics card punched by the base doctor. 

I'll tell you what I'd do - if I knew the die was cast that I'd be ordered to handle screwdrivers while my heart was in the sky, I'd feel condemned.  Darned right I'd ditch Drill!  

Yet, that visit to the doctor turned into a strange twist of fate.  It lead to a quick conversation with a surgeon who commented that the hernia could be repaired.  A two week recovery, 30 day leave and...maybe...just maybe...that 1B could be reclassified and maybe, just maybe...

Of course you saw what-happened-next coming.   Notice the type under my artwork that reads, "...as flown by Don Erickson."   Equipped with his born-in sense of determination and maybe even a skill or two picked up via Teletype Repair Training, Don went on to make the highest selection-cuts of all and graduate to flying fighters.

Don's story is - to me - the classic American story of what happens when the individual is free to move freely within the confines of destiny.   Great societies and bold works happen when individuals are strong enough to question the system and follow their own compass in order...well, to form a more perfect union.

Don, you're anything BUT "Nothing much" to me.  You're an ordinary example of how it's done.

PS - I almost forgot to mention that Don was Class 44A's highest scoring pilot in aerobatics.  He put this skill to good use when after WW2, he joined Congressional Medal of Honor holder Joe Foss's fledgling South Dakota Air National Guard.    While with the SDANG, Don flew aerobatic displays at airshows.  However, he "settled down" and became the Warden of the South Dakota State Penitentiary. I am grateful to the Erickson family for their help in getting this project put together and completed and look forward to hearing of a wonderful time at Don's upcoming 90th birthday.  


PSS - note to self;  Ask Don if he ever repaired the Squadron's teletype.

Profile 57 - UPDATE - "Nothing Much" as flown by Don Erickson

Don flew two models of the P-51 - the C model and the D model.  He asked that I do "The D."  And so it will be.

Did you have a look at the photo in the post below?  The black-tailed Mustangs look more like sharks than they do their horse namesake.

Funny about the sharks, however - a Shark was the squadron's mascot.  The shark is a logical choice, too.  Most people have seen the white-toothed P-40 fighters of the "American Volunteer Group" (AVG) - that group was originally a bunch of mercenary pilots who were hired by the Chinese government to help repel the Japanese invaders.

After Pearl Harbor, the U.S. politicos took a dim view (rightly) of Americans flying for foreign powers against a common enemy and 'appropriated' the AVG into the Army Air Forces.  Naturally, there was a rebellion - the mercenaries vs. the bureaucrats - and for the most part, the bureaucrats won.  There's a saying - "Be careful of the guy who sits in the plushest chair."

So, the shark-toothed P-40s lost their Chinese nationalist markings and became the 23rd Fighter Group...but kept the shark motif as a mascot.

I'll be publishing parts of my interview with Don in the next update.  But until then, I thought you'd appreciate the patch he wore on his leather jacket.

Interesting stuff's a'comin.

Profile 57 - "Nothing Much" as flown by Don Erickson

Today is August 15, 2011.  

In case you're not the history geek that I am, this date marks 66 years since the surrender of the Japanese forces.  Can you believe it?!  And WW2 continues to hold a fascination over people worldwide.  And get this - every day, the more and more of those people will never have known anyone who experienced those critical months between September 1, 1939 and August 15, 1945.

But there's also additional significance to this date - albeit small significance.  See that photo on top?  It's possible that the photo was taken pretty close to that August 15 date.

They're four P-51 Mustangs of the 75th Fighter Squadron, 23rd Fighter Group and if you want to read between the wings, there are at least five pilots there that know their work is basically done.  

I'd like to introduce you to Don Erickson, fighter pilot.   For the next few weeks, while I finish up some loose ends hanging over Ken Dahlberg's P-47, I'll be attempting to bring Don's P-51 Mustang back from those last days of WW2, China.

And maybe along the way, we'll figure out what the hell is in that bottle he's holding.

Profile 56 - ????? as flown by Ken Dahlberg

Today was the first time in two weeks where I could really sit down and indulge myself in this particular airplane.  I'm sorry I can't report more details at this time, but I hope to shortly.

In the meantime, this gorgeously brutal P-47 Thunderbolt of the 354th Fighter Group will likely be finished this weekend.  I just have to mask-in the tail and even out the lighting on the hard-worn fuselage.  And redo the skull.

Not too many photos of Ken's P-47 exist, but enough do of the 353rd Squadron's flying-skull nose design.  As a little kid - geez, maybe 5 years old - the photo below made its way into my memory.  The specific book is forgotten, but the image of the page on the kitchen table remains vivid.  But one of the strangest recollections of that time was that I somehow assigned construction sounds to the photograph.

Of course, I'd never heard a taxiing P-47.  But mentally, I could imagine clanks, whirrs and strains of metal, gears, engines.   And that logo!  Brilliant!  I'd like to meet the mind that created it - today, that winged-skull trademark could launch a million dollar clothing line...

Anyway, in hindsight, that childhood audio memory makes sense - America was in the construction business.  The Axis needed to be demolished and the scene made anew to build it back up again.

The American nation's sense of cooperation, of shared responsibility, of compelling vision is - in a tiny way - portrayed in the photo of the soldier laying on the pilot's wing, guiding him through the taxiway of a foreign land...

I look at the photo and feel very, very proud to be an American.

Maybe it'll do the same for you today, too.

The airplane above was flown by Maj. Glenn Eagleston, 354th FG, 353rd FS.   If you'd like to know more about Eagleston, I suggest you click here to learn more about his military career.  He died in 1991.

Profile 56 - "?????" as flown by Ken Dahlberg

Busy week, it's Friday and I've got a little time...and a pencil.  Hence the Study of the P-47 above. It's a 'Bolt from the 353rd Fighter Squadron of the 354th Fighter Group.

A few years ago, I was a guest to a demonstration of low-level flying, featuring a P-47.  We were at a place called "Bodney" in East Anglia, England; our hosts were pilots, crew and staff of the 352nd Fighter Group. My vantage point was one that wouldn't have flown here in the States.  The P-47 came down low and the action was not 'out there' over Airshow Center but 'right here', over our heads!

'You know how jets seem to approach in silence?  The P-47 was similar - I vaguely recall her engine's mid-timbre rumble bouncing around in our little tree-lined field...then VwwwwMMMMPHH!  We ducked, a quick slap of wind and the Jug slingshot into the opposite horizon as if attached to the sun by a rubber band.

Of course, I thought about what it must have been like to have been a German soldier who's life is marked by retreat, looking up and seeing...

Profile 55 - "Little Horse" as flown by a damn good friend

Presenting Little Horse - not as she fought in WW2 but as she rides today.  


Just to be clear to readers - this is not the airplane Ken Dahlberg flew in WW2.  It's close, but not...perfect. Lot's of little details aren't quite right - and that's no biggie considering "D-5" Mustangs aren't exactly found on street corners these days.  


Instead, it represents one that was restored and flown by an aviation enthusiast a few years ago.  Though I've never stated that my art was ever 100% historically perfect*, this Little Horse will be my only exception to the principle of "Old guys and their airplanes."


Hear me out.  Over the years, I've been so fortunate to get to know men of great accomplishment and character that I can't possibly express my gratitude.  Many of the pilots in this blog have been more than gracious with their time - they've become the grandparents I never had...and our families have become interconnected.


It's huge.


And mostly?  The  fun, fellowship and guidance I've received has changed how I view aging and the role of the elderly in life.   60's activist Jerry Rubin is reported to have made the quote, "Don't trust anyone over 30."  Hell. I've learned not to trust anyone under 80!


(I know one WW2 pilot that probably just blew his martini through his nose laughing).


Now...this Little Horse has nothing to do with Ken Dahlberg, the 354th FG or even WW2.  It's solely a gift for a guy as a thank you for years of business support and loyal friendship.   And the guy just happens to be the man who restored, flew - then sold, the Little Horse as shown above.


The patron and I met for coffee to talk over the project and I asked him why he would want the restored version and not the historically significant one. "This one is significant.  I knew Little Horse meant a lot to him.  He's meant a lot to me and my family."  


Facts and data are one side of History.  The other side are the improbable connections and relationships we collect.  Together, they make up reality.


And...it looks like we might end up getting Ken involved ANYWAY!


Stay tuned.


*True story.  I had a pilot and independent experts bless a plane I did years ago only to have a long-lost photo pop up (years later) to reveal that the nose art wasn't exactly as shown.  Every time the presses start up or I hit "post" for my website, I hold my breath just a little bit...

Profile 55 - "Little Horse as flown by Ken Dahlberg (sort of)

The nose!  And a fine nose at that.

Did you ever read that story, "The Blind Men and the Elephant"?    In case you haven't, a number of blind men stumble across an elephant.  One finds the trunk, another finds the tail, another a leg, another...and they all attempt to describe what they've found.  One says, "It's a snake!" Another exclaims, "It's a tree!" "It's a rock!"  You get it.

Though they're experiencing the same thing, it's also clear they're not.

History is like that, too.  To understand what history is saying, you must step back, feel around in the dark for another perspective, step back, do it again and again...  Eventually a truer picture emerges.  But the perceptions are never complete. 

I hate that.  I want to know.

When Little Horse came around, the commissioner was passionate; his energy for the project was surprising even for a WW2 warbird enthusiast.  "This will be great!" he enthused.  "And you shouldn't have any trouble with references because there's a lot on the internet!"

Well, two minutes into the research and I knew "we" had a problem.  Those internet photos were of the modern restoration. Gorgeous, immaculate.  But it wasn't Little Horse.

Why not?  To me, the real Little Horse that Dahlberg flew was actually assigned to another pilot.  And she was a D-5 version that didn't have a tail strake, unlike the modern-day copy.  And the horse?  Likely red.  Not black.  And...

I felt like one of those nerdy buzzkills who show up and ruin the conversation by interrupting with a, "Well, actually the real Mustang..."

Please know - I don't use the word 'real' without a tinge of terror.  Stop in my office some time and I'll show you a print that was blessed by the pilot and independent experts only to be revealed to be in err when a previously unknown photo popped up years later.  (laughs)  Granted, the world would be a much better place if this was the worst of our problems, eh?

Anyway, I explained the complication - "Which Little Horse do you want?  The real one or the...other 'real' one?"

That's when I learned that this wasn't a typical Commission.  In fact, it had very little to do with Ken Dahlberg, the 354th Fighter Group, WW2 or even Little Horse.

Stay tuned.

Profile 55 - "Little Horse" as flown by Ken Dahlberg (sort of)

You'll have to "google" Ken Dahlberg for yourself.  He's too big for this little outpost.  Suffice it to state, years ago, Joe Foss gave me his phone number and I called him.  He answered.  We talked - great guy.  THEN...I found out who he was outside of being a WW2 fighter ace.  That was about ten years ago.  I'm ashamed that I didn't follow up - Joe's death and life's circumstances got in the way.   "Little Horse" was put out to pasture in my mental corral of, "old guys and airplanes that I really should try to get done one day."

Fortune, however, is impatient. "Little Horse," one of Ken's WW2 mounts, is now on the fast-track.

The pencil study above is an  attempt to get my head around the challenge.  See, there are two Little Horses.  One is restored and hangared, awaiting her next steeplechase in the sky. She is new and perfect.  The other is long-gone and buried in time, awaiting no one.  She is a gray memory of war.

Which one to do?

Watch this space.

The black Sharpie™/ pencil sketch below is my Study of the horse that graced Little Horse's tail.   I'm rather proud - it's pure luck that it didn't turn out looking more like a jellyfish.  I simply can't draw animals.  Before I began this project, I believed, "Little Horse" was going to be "Big Hours."  But I caught the vibe on the first try - like I should have done ten years ago with my call to Ken.

Profile 54 - "105" as flown by the SDANG

There's a bitter-sweet tinge to this bird.  At once, it's an F-16; arguably the definitive dogfighting jet.  At the same time, it's...well...probably the definitive dogfighting jet.  In other words, the F-16 may be the apex of the breed.

A conversation I had last week will explain my opinion better.  An aviation enthusiast asked me, "So.  In the future, are you going to start drawing Predator Drones and Control Trucks?"  We had a good laugh.  But he may be right.  Technology has advanced to the point where we don't need butts in cockpits any more.  Instead, we may end up with butts in comfy chairs and faces illuminated by monitor screens, controlling the 'action' from thousands of miles away.

First flown in 1973, 4,500-some F-16s have since been built and they're still in force; obviously the SDANG is flying them today.  With nearly 40 years of flight, it may be tempting to think of the Falcon as 'old.'  Yet, think about this fact - the F-16 remains a first-line fighter.  It's not so much 'that old' as it is 'that good'.

I remember, as a little kid, getting my monthly (I think it was Airpower magazine) rag and seeing the prototype YF-16 in Bicentennial colors.   The grainy color spread was promptly taped onto my wall.  Even now, when I see F-16s in the air, I open the sunroof of my car to hear the crackle of her engine and get another glimpse of the familiar shape arcing overhead.

Back to me as a kid; there was nothing I wanted to do more than fly fighters.  Unfortunately, I also remember the December day when I learned that Genetics had a hand in Fate - an optometrist slid coke-bottles over my nose.  He whistled, "No Air Force for you!"  What?!  "Can't have eyes like that in a fighter plane!"  Bastard.

Today, I wonder if technology is giving its version of coke-bottle glasses to Fighter design.  Putting the expense of cutting-edge technology AND a highly trained pilot in the air is becoming prohibitive on all levels - money, time, energy...and people we love more than life itself.

To this paradigm, I have to call this progress "good."  One fruit of my time with combat veterans is this - any boyhood glamorization of war is dead gone.  I've held those dreaded WW2 Telegrams, "We regret to inform you..."  I remember WW2 pilot Robert "Punchy" Powell pointing to a place at his Bodney, UK airfield, "That's where Frascotti was killed."  Or when Ray Mitchell said, "I remember when Preddy was killed..."

Or when...ad nauseum.  Remotely piloted Drones?  Damn good idea.  I look forward to the day when a battlefield is littered with circuit boards and batteries.  Especially knowing that two of my kids are eyeing cockpits.

But you know what?

I still have that F-16 poster.  Can't throw it away.

(sigh)

Next up - another P-51!

Profile 53 - "236" as flown by the SDANG

Recently, an A-7 came up for sale in the civilian market.  And I missed it.

It's just as well as I don't think I could have flown it smoothly with only one arm and leg.   But I would have tried.  Yes, indeed, I would have tried.

Though the airplane bore the name "Corsair II" in honor of her great uncle, the F4U Corsair, the nickname the A-7 took in practice was "SLUF."   Short for, Short Little Ugly...Feller.   Yet, I distinctly remember seeing A-7s in service and to me, there was nothing ugly about them. The thick-set, high-winged machine was an unmistakable shape that said, "I'm in for the fight."  Of all the SDANG jets, the A-7 is my favorite.

In practice, the A-7 was not a fast aircraft.  In fact, the most widely used versions were subsonic.  As a dogfighter, it didn't particularly excel either.  Though maneuverable enough, her high-wing is designed to bring the airplane the stability necessary for weaponry.  In this role, SLUF did her job admirably.  With 8 hardpoints (6 under the wings, 2 on the fuselage) the little beast could shoulder over seven tons of weaponry into the air.  Iron bombs, laser-guided weaponry, air-to-air missiles and even nukes.  

For the SDANG, the F-16 replaced the A-7.  That had to be a strange moment for the pilots - to go from thick & muddy to sleek & clean.  As a role-airplane, there's no doubt the F-16 is a leap ahead.  Yet for me, the prospect of sitting out there in front, with a burner in the back...like I wrote in the intro, if another comes up for sale, I'll be the happy guy hobbling on the ramp in crutches.

You know what's next...

Profile 52 - "754" as flown by the SDANG

"Gawd what a miserable airplane!" he cried.  "Those brakes were so bad, they had boards of nail strips to stop the things!"

I'll leave his name out, but the quote above came from an FAA Controller buddy who, in the course of decades of experience, has an opinion on nearly every airplane that's taken to the sky since 1950.  F-100s were based at a field he Controlled during the mid-60s.  Clearly, he saw one-too-many F-100s roll off the runway and made his judgement.

Airplanes "do that" to people - they give rise to such emotion and logic, dichotomies often result.  "Best airplane the Air Force every had.  Worst piece of crap ever forced on our armed services."

"I love flying.  I hate flying."

Not having flown the F-100, nor having any reasonable prospect EVER TO fly the F-100, I'm left with my own dichotomy. And, I think the F-100 is simply awesome.  Not necessarily just because of the airplane itself but also because of what the airplane represents.

As a machine, it was the first American jet to fly supersonic in level flight.  It represents achievement.  As a warrior, it was the first American jet to fly combat in Vietnam.  It represents work.  As a tool, it served the armed Air Forces of many nations and obviously the highly, highly, highly respected South Dakota Air National Guard.  The F-100 represents success.

I looked forward to doing the F-100 because it posed a particular challenge.  See the exposed metal underneath the tail?  That's an area that became so hot, the camouflage paint burnt off, leaving distinct scorch marks of heat-distressed metal.  To me, this made The Hun* seem to say, "I'm here to get something done.  Get me ready and let's go!"

There's a purposefulness to the Super Sabre that is particularly appealing to me.  Grit.  Sweat.  Effort.  Risk.  Reward.

For the South Dakota Air National Guard, their reward was especially so - having "inherited" one of their F-100s from the famed USAF aerobatic team, "The Thunderbirds," the SDANG returned her to T-bird colors upon retirement in 1977.  Today, the South Dakota Hun resides at the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson AFB today.

Brakes?!  Who needs brakes when you're designed to GO!!

(Photo:  SDANG F-100D being escorted to Wright-Pat by next-gen T-38 Thunderbirds, circa 1977, courtesy South Dakota Air National Guard via Lt. Colonel Christopherson).

Profile 51 - "61114" as flown by the SDANG

NOTE:  I'm taking a short break from WW2 planes to focus on a special Commission to do the aircraft of the South Dakota Air National Guard.  I hope you enjoy this diversion.

At the risk of being smashed under the weight of my own irony, "the internet" is a middling place for research.  The cut-and-paste tendencies of fact-gathering can quickly distort reality.  The study of history, especially military history, is no exception.  Try this sometime - pour a tall glass of your favorite libation and Google "Hitler's Spacecraft."  But be careful - you'll never get that time back...

But, when I started research into the F-102, I started with the web (duh) and was surprised to find so much negative about the airplane.  Fortunately, having three older sisters made me value skepticism. In other words, I don't believe everything I read, see, hear... (thanks, girls).

So, regarding the Delta Dagger, I figured it'd be best to ask someone who actually FLEW the airplane.

A couple nights ago, I called up my buddy Col. Bill Creech and asked him about his time in the F-102.  Bill's a qualified guy.  He flew A-36s and P-51s in WW2, then F-100s in Vietnam.  He's flown pretty much anything that the Air Force had up to the end of green camo paint jobs.  Including "The Deuce" of course.

He described how he'd orient new pilots in the two-seat version called a TF-102.  At about 15K, he'd pull the nose up and throttle back to where the airplane would be mushing through the air at around 85kts.  In case you're needing a reference, 85 knots is Cessna 150 speed.

Anyway, Bill articulated how the F-102 would be near vertical but completely steady and within the pilot's control, "...a sweet dream!" he enthused.  "Of course, we were sinking around three thousand a minute, but she was as smooth as ever. A little push of nose and we'd be on our way again.  What an airplane!"

Bill went on to explain the why's of the Deuce's remarkable maneuverability and flight control - the giant delta (triangle) wing provided wing-loading that was more like an early war WW2 prop fighter than a 60's supersonic interceptor.

In case you don't know what "wingloading" is, it's essentially the weight the wing carries per square foot*. Think about two hikers - one has a heavy backpack, the other none.  Which one will be more agile?   Here's some context:

                        Airplane                                  Wingloading

                

                        Sopwith Camel (WW1)            6lbs/square foot

                        Mitsubishi Zero (WW2)          23lbs/square foot

                        P-51 Mustang (WW2)             40lbs/square foot

                        Mig-15 (Korea)                       50lbs/square foot

                        F-100 Super Saber ('nam)       70lbs/square foot

                        Boeing 747                            130lbs/square foot

                        F-102 ('nam)                           32lbs/square foot

Suffice it to state, the F-102 could be jinked around like a housefly.  And these numbers become all the more remarkable when considering the thing is nearly 70feet long and could have a dirty-weight of nearly 30,000lbs!

In the SDANG series, the Delta Dagger is the big awkward kid at the school dance, but certainly deserves a deeper look past any hand-me-down criticism.  Of all the planes, I've learned the most about The Deuce and am happy to have new-found respect towards her designers, crew and pilots. 

However, the state-of-the art changed when the SDANG hangared their 102s in 1970.  Stand by - The Hun is in the pattern!

Fortunately in my research, I was able to spend some time up-close and personal with a real F-102.  I went through my photos and thought you might like this shot showing the radically sharp-edged canopy.

*Recognizing that the topic of wingloading is a completely different issue and entails complexities far beyond my skip-the-surface analogy, let's keep the discussion on The Deuce for now and pick up the aerodynamic engineering over Christmas break. 

Profile 50 - "11419" as flown by the SDANG

NOTE:  I'm taking a short break from WW2 planes to focus on a special Commission to do the aircraft of the South Dakota Air National Guard.  I hope you enjoy this diversion.

As a little kid, I have a distinct memory of the F-89 Scorpion.  I remember being utterly disappointed by it.

Page flip, P-80 Shooting Star.  Cool name, cool looking plane.  Page flip, F-84 Thunderjet.  Cool name, sorta cool looking airplane but with bombs. Cool!  Page flip, F-86 Sabre.  Holy of Holy - the crown jewel of all-things-jet fighter. I WANT ONE!!

Then the page flip, F-89 Scorpion.  Thud.  Not even the cool name could help this thing get past its Japanese sci-fi model-airplane aesthetic.  From the 1930's passenger-plane tail to the dunce-cap nose, this airplane wasn't designed by lovers of airplanes - it was designed by a committee of retirees and first-year engineers!  I sooo wanted this thing to have a red star painted on it instead of our star-n-bar.

I turned the page.  F-100.  Now we're truly cool again.  See how the mind of a ten year old boy is?

And today, my mind was no different.  Of the seven South Dakota Air National Guard airplanes I needed to do, I started with the F-89 to get it out of the way.  Poor old bird.  Even today, she gets no respect.

Yet, like her F-94 cousin, the Scorpion was the product of an era - a transition of technology, of tactics, of strategy, of culture.  In Northrop and the Air Force's defense, the F-89 represented a challenge as difficult - if not MORE difficult - than today's stratospheric technology of Stealth and Remote Piloting - just what would World War Three look like?!

Working on this big beast's lines, it was easy to visualize the F-89's paired crew, huffing rubber-scented oxygen, knifing through the thin air of 50,000 feet, sweating out the miles between it and the formation of Tupolev Tu-4s as they crossed the Mid-Canada Line...

If - and the "if" is rather horrifying to think about - WW3 would have made it to the USA circa 1959, the F-89 would probably have been remembered as a savior rather than the big clunky thing.

And I would have probably saved the Scorpion for last.

Oh - eagle-eyed readers will notice the subtle differences in markings behind the photo and my artwork.  My artwork represents 11419's an earlier paint job.

Profile 49 - "01010" as flown by the SDANG

NOTE:  I'm taking a short break from WW2 planes to focus on a special Commission to do the aircraft of the South Dakota Air National Guard.  I hope you enjoy this diversion.

Aside from being a rather ugly airplane, the F-94C "Starfire" represents - at least to me - the raging optimism that pervaded the 1950s.

The idea behind the F-94C was that radar would guide the jet behind the marauding Commie bombers and fire off a batch (24 or 48) of smallish* missiles into the attacking bomber stream.   These are unguided missiles, by the way.  Spray, and pray.  Like a kid with a mouthful of watermelon seeds.

In reality, the concept was never tried in combat.  Thankfully so because the airplane was obviously designed to fight World War Three.  But in practice, the flash from the launch blinded the pilot and the instant plume of smoke had a tendency to cause the jet engine to flame out.

Today, the idea of a fighter plane getting close enough to spew supersonic baseball-bats into a formation of Ruskis is kind of ridiculous. However, AT THE TIME, the decision wasn't so silly.  The Red Threat was real - Russia was franchising Communism at a furious rate and post-WW2 economies were willing to try anything that seemed to make cents.  If you're bored, look up Curtis LeMay - he's a fascinating leader that seemed to have been minted for the moment.

From the vantage point of today - in 21st Century America - I take-away the confidence, courage and hubris of a nation unafraid to try and champion new ideas to meet perceived threats.  I imagine the pilots of the South Dakota Air National Guard, scrambling into their cockpits, spooling up their ancient engines, taking way-to-much runway to take off and climbing to the deep blue.

There's something about that vision that stirs the emotion of patriotism and power.  Had I been alive back then, and the Nuke sirens wailing, I know I would have stood up from my Duck & Cover and watched the silver birds climb into the sky...  "Hell yeah!"

And therein lies the wisdom of studying history - it forces us to think as we were not as we are.  And of course, Today will become the Past soon enough.

*They were called "Mighty Mouse" missiles.  Cool name, eh?  Here's a photo of 01010 in flight.

Profiles 49-54 - the defenders of the plain

In the business world, second, third, fourth...generation leadership is weighty stuff.  There's a cynical axiom that runs its way around cocktail talk that goes something like, "Well you know, Grampa built it..."

Everyone in earshot knows what's being said.  "Grampa built it, Dad drove it but the kids wrecked it."

Then, the listeners nod their head in silent understanding and take another sip of anesthetic.  Gulp.  There is indeed a penalty to leadership.  It's the Followership.   Many businesses, organizations - even families - don't survive the inevitable transitions.  The culture doesn't take root, the wisdom doesn't nourish and the vision withers...

You've heard it before, right?

Anyway, typically, my artwork revolves around one person's airplane, one person's story, one person's perspective.  But, late this past Winter, I received the Commission to document a suite of warbirds that cover, not just a few months of service, but nearly seventy years and thousands - thousands - of people.  From stick'n rudder to fly-by-wire.  Legendary personalities to part-time clerks.

Over the next month or so, I'll be posting elements of that project here.  I hope ya'll will find them interesting - it's an American success story that is both stunning in its passing of the baton and also humbling in how they do it.

And I bet you haven't heard this one before.

And of course, there's a WW2 airplane wound up in it too - a black-tailed one flown by guys who wore what I believe to be one of the top-5 coolest squadron mascots ever.

That in mind, Lt. Erickson, in case you're reading this and wondering if I'll ever get to your airplane, have another cup of coffee, sir.  I have to get these birds off the ramp first.  I know you understand. :)

Profile 48 - 511417 as flown by Lt. Col. Joe Foss

Done!  The F-51 Joe flew while pioneering the South Dakota Air National Guard (circa 1947) is now aloft in the internet's data pool.  And then, to press...but that aspect of production is not important right now.

Every airplane I do embodies some single positive element.  In 511417's case, it represents the word "accomplishment" and for good reason.  Joe accomplished much in his life.  Compared to most people, Joe's resume is so disproportionately huge, it begs the questions, "Why?"

Yesterday morning, I was having coffee with a friend who - and I have to be cagey here - is very much involved in public education and the topic of predicting a student's future success came up. Like many business leaders, he believes that an organization's Culture is the greatest barometer of whether it will encourage people to greatness or failure or mediocrity.

Though dichotomies are often too simplistic, the conclusion was thus:  A culture either teaches that success comes or success is achieved.   Or, in other words:  "Build it and they will come"  versus   "Go out there and get it."  One is more passive, the other more active.

Argue the merits of both perspectives as you wish, but there's no doubt that Joe Foss achieved. He determined to be bold at whatever he did.  Though some aspects came easy (audacity) and others came harder (his Faith), Joe never rested, wringing the utter life out of, well, Life.  I find that kind of earnestness to be refreshing and inspirational.

This in mind, I thought you'd all find Joe's perspective on his WW2 military service interesting.

Profile 48 - UPDATE

Joe Foss's F-51 is about...hmmm.  I'll call it 45% complete.  There's too much to improve/do that I won't list it all, but so far, so good.

That all being stated, I'm surprised at the amount of interest building in this particular airplane.  For one, it's an F-51.  By the time these glorious birds got passed down the line to the South Dakota Air Guard, the Mustang's day in the sun had long set.

Can you imagine those days?  The war behind, the future ahead, the whine of jets spooling for thrust...and the ancient F-51s crouched in their row on the hot August tarmac...

But most importantly, the legend and lore of Joe Foss persists.   When I work on this airplane, I think of the man's persistence, his utter authenticity and the startling humility of his spiritual faith.  This past week, I actually had a "What would Joe do?" moment and took the course of action that I could best "hear" in Joe's unmistakable, matter-of-fact South Dakota clip...

"You've got to tell'em.  If you don't, you'll leave the guy hang'n and that does ya'both no good."

So I did just that.  Thanks, Joe.  Wherever you are, I hope you like the way this is coming along.

Profile 48 - 511417 as flown by Joe Foss

Oh man, if I could do it over...!

Recently, I was fortunate enough to get a rare Commission - to do the suite of aircraft flown by the South Dakota Air National Guard.   If there's one dominant feature of the gig, it's that WW2 ace and Medal of Honor winner Joe Foss started the unit back in 1946.

For those who aren't familiar, Joe was a bigger-than-life person who lived a life so full of superlatives, I won't even try to list them.  In fact, just click here.

However, in 2002, I asked Joe for an interview and he cheerfully agreed with the caveat that I provide prints of his Grumman F4F fighter plane to be used as a fundraiser for the NRA.  Sure.  Easy enough.

When given the Air Guard commission, I dug up the tape from the interview and was at once thrilled to relive the moment and astonished at what I didn't think to ask the man.  (sigh)  Oh, I've got the combat stories.  But now, nearly ten years later, there's so much more that I want to know about life, business, America, history...and who better to ask than a guy who lived it all to the HILT.

And all I could think about was dogfights.  Like I wrote, if I could do it over!*

Each new day, I grow more convinced that our nation, our society isn't so much in an economic or cultural crisis as we are in a Wisdom crisis.  We've done it to ourselves with things like "retirement" and the franchising of the family to ridiculous schedules and urgent expectations...

Oh well.  Watch this blog because I'll be posting progress on Joe's F-51 fighter plane - the one he flew while pioneering South Dakota's aerial force.  And, in spite of my amateur attempt, I have a few more clips to share, too.

*Joe died shortly after this interview on January 1, 2003.  He aged pretty well from his auspicious start in 1942.

Profile 46 - "Satan's Chill'en" as flown by W. Mannix and "Dick" Rostrom

Satan's Chill'en is alive.  I have much to write about this airplane, but the bulk will wait.

Two weeks ago, Dick Rostrom was leaning over a draft of his old aerial office, trying - at least to me - to hold back a wry smile and perhaps the satisfied laugh that comes from seeing something good.

My artwork "good"?  No.  It was the memory.  Next to the airplane was a printout of an unpublished photo of the crew - Dick's finger tapping on the jackets of each man, recalling his name and the role he'd played aboard the bomber.  "...and there's Thompson. Radio Operator.  He saved my life.  And there's..."

Until he got to the man in charge - Satan's Chill'en's pilot, William C. Mannix.  There, Dick's finger hovered for a moment, then tapped. And tapped. A few seconds passed, the bombardier's eyes fixed on the photo, momentarily lost to the present... "and that's Mannix.  He was our pilot.  And he..."  Tap tap tap tap.  "And he was a good one. A good leader.  A good..."

You know, I started this blog post fully intending on writing about the half-naked girl on the nose but Dick's distinct memory of Mannix took precedent.

And therein lies the incredible experience that the study of History provides those who care.  Watching Dick go back in time over a forgotten photo, remembering the positive influences in his life, sharing them with me, is gawd-damned priceless.

I fear our culture's reliance on entertainment has perforated our value of History, punching out the human substance, leaving a skeleton of dates and places.  Thanks to Dick and so many others, I can never look at a WW2 warbird without thinking of the pilots, the crew, what happened 'after the war'...

And there I go off on a tangent!  Let's focus on the pinup! (laughs)

When I started this bird, I had poor photographic reference of the topless devil-woman - a small black and white photo with no color, no definition, no detail.  Darn. ;)

Well, the response to my call for help in figuring out what "she" really looked like was fantastic.  Little bits from around the world trickled, adding suggestive peeks until a relative of one of the gunners emailed, "My wife still has her dad's bomber jacket with the girl on the back."


SCORE!


The only thing worse than my artwork of airplanes is my artwork of PEOPLE.  Especially nude women. Remember, I started sketching airplanes as a pre-schooler.  Having teachers crab about my doodling of warbirds on homework was bad enough.  Practicing pinups as a 3rd grader would have undoubtedly charted a different history for me!


Anyway.


With the jacket photo and the new crew photo, I was able to piece together a plausible rendering of Satan's girlfriend enough to finish the piece.  For those of you who are interested in purchasing a signed print, realize this - most of her is hiding behind the engine cowling.  I know, I know...


To Dick, the prurient parts are all but forgotten.  But the memories of those he served alongside remain clear.  "Let me tell you another story about Mannix.  What kind of a guy he was.  See, we were..."


Tap tap tap.

Thank you to R.C. for taking the time to photograph the jacket.

Oh.  One more thing.  Mannix is the short guy, middle of the back row, under the engine.  Dick is on the left, squatting down, first row.

Profile 44 - "28" as flown by Harold Thune

And there it is.  "28" - a workaday F6F-5 as flown by Lt. Harold Thune of the USS Intrepid, circa Fall, 1944.

Yesterday morning, Harold signed prints of my hack, passing them down the table to his son, a US Senator, where he too penciled his name.  

But the star of this moment was not Senator John Thune.  Nor was it me.  Nor was it Harold.  It was the camera man from the local TV station who had shown up to document the event.  For whatever it's worth, I dedicate this print of Harold's Hellcat to...him.

If you were there, you would have seen what you'd have expected from the office of a US Senator - polished people of profession and poise - laughing at the right places, shaking hands with appropriate grip and confidence.  It was all authentic, but still tinged with the superficialities that come from position and power.

Then the TV guy showed up.  One man, carrying two heavy tripods, a camera and a day full of other stops to make.  He set up, turned on the camera and documented every moment of my self-importance and Harold's self-effacing recollection of his part in history.

Though it was a short interview, Harold articulated the values of his time & tide with the wisdom that can only come from 91 years.  He signed his prints, "thanks" were sprayed liberally around the room...

...and the camera guy said "Thank you.  For winning."

Sweet jimminy, his words stopped me cold.

Thank. You. For. Winning.

If I'd been a little less star-struck by having a US Senator and his WW2 Fighter Pilot father signing my paltry art, I would have turned the camera on him.

See...about twenty minutes before, Harold began describing an aerial victory.  His hands pantomiming the dogfight - the Japanese fighter speeding under Harold's stall-climb and the split-second push of the control stick that dropped the Hellcat's nose, bringing 6 .50 cal machine guns to bear with predictable result.  Machine aflame, the enemy pilot climbed out onto the wing and prepared to leap clear of certain doom.

Harold had a choice to make and you know what that choice was.

If anything comes from my time with these old guys it will be this - that the study of human History is a mystery. I have a more satisfying time wondering what color dinosaurs were than reconciling human behavior.

Harold said the oft-quoted line, "War is hell."  But he said it with the choke and gulp of someone who's earned the right to say it.  Hollywood can script it, but Harold knows.  As a History teacher himself, Harold knows full well the in-congruencies of things like American Freedom and the expansion that ruined Native America.  Of Western empire building versus Japanese empire building.  Of two guys who happened to be fighter pilots, one flying a plane with a white star on its wing, the other a red circle.

Kill him?  Kill the - as the line goes - "yellow bastard"?*

Nope.  Harold did not fire.  The Japanese pilot tumbled away, snatched from momentary death by the snap of a parachute while his defeated machine arced to its doom, trailing smoke and fire.

Every day, I become more of a Patriot. I'm in awe of the American Constitution, Bill of Rights and Declaration of Independence.  And every day, I become more convinced that the soul is far sharper than the sword.

I too am thankful that Harold "won."


Are you?


*Harold never used the term.   In fact, I've never heard an American WW2 pilot call the Japanese "yellow bastards." I think the line was used more in propaganda films than anywhere else, save for hand-to-hand combat and anyone who survives that can say anything he/she wants.


If you find this stuff half as fun as I do, we're all having a ball.