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.

Profile 47 - "1" as flown by Lt. Ted Hutchins

Done!  Sort of.  I'm not happy with the wing and I might redo it.  But for now, I'm content to put "1" up for  readers to see/read about this machine and the man that flew her.

In case you're new to all-things-OS2U, the Chance Vought "Kingfisher" was a seaplane charged with the job of "Observation" hence the "O."  The particular airplane above, BuNo (Serial Number) 01487 flew from the battleship USS South Dakota.  Launched from a gun-powder charged catapult, this little machine buzzed above, serving as the Fleet's aerial eye, helping target the 'big guns' and spotting enemy submarines.

But, what I think is especially cool about this airplane is its additional role in recovering lost pilots.

I can vividly imagine the sensation of being adrift in the ocean, rising and falling with the swells of gray, working at keeping alive in an utterly unhuman environment.   Having been scared senseless by the movie Jaws, the Unknown swimming beneath my paddling feet adds to a feeling of helplessness.  Ok, terror.

Until...the blat of an airplane engine, bouncing across the water's surface provides the heart-leaping word that becomes everything in moments of hopelessness - Rescue.

I then think about Ted, alighting on the waves in a spray of salt water, motoring to the dirty yellow speck of life raft, or inflatable vest and cutting the engine, letting inertia, wind and wave push him to the once-lost man.  Rescue!

On one such mission, Ted had to step out onto the airplane's wing and haul up a pilot who had barely energy to stay afloat, let alone climb up into the rear cockpit.

Can you imagine how rewarding such work must have been?!  To be the heart, hands and face of one who saves another?!

An emergency room doc told me, "(my work) doesn't get any more 'real.'  It's the human experience in its most urgent."  I bet Ted felt the same way.  In fact, in a few days, I'll be interviewing Ted formally - and I'll ask him just that.   Of course, I'll let you know what he says on my website.

But in the meantime, I hope this airplane...and the photos below inspire you to think about those people who play the role of Rescuer in modern life.

Special thank you to Tom Fallon and Rick Lingberg for providing me the opportunity to document this airplane and her very cool pilot.

Also, do yourself a favor and visit the website of the USS South Dakota.  Rick Lingberg and his team have worked hard to create a satisfying digital monument to the most decorated capital ship in American history.


NOTE:  Airplane geeks will notice the gray rudder and think, "Hey!  That's not a standard paint job!"  Well, the USS South Dakota went through two Pacific storms in December of 1944, damaging the exposed airplanes.  The Kingfishers were repaired at the depot on the island of Ulithi using standard, primer-painted spare parts.  This illustration shows Ted's airplane in between repair and the point in time where the ship's maintenance crew found time to bring the airplane up to standard.

Progress - Profile 46 (Satan's Chille'n) and Profile 47 (#1 - OS2U Kingfisher)

Two airplanes at once is proving to be difficult and I don't quite like it.    I enjoy the feeling of focusing on one airplane - after finishing Rostrom's B-17 and Ted's Kingfisher, it's back to one-at-a-time.

However, a loyal reader has asked to see more of my sketchwork, so I'm attaching two pages from my journal - one from April 3 while I was at church, the other done yesterday while at one of those "all day" business training/management events.

So, here you go, Reader from Phoenix, Arizona - a "ballpoint pen" of Satan's Chille'n releasing her payload over a Nazi-held target and a pencil study of an OS2U-3 Kingfisher and some random notes that have nothing to do with the seminar.

And to another reader who is interested in Rostrom's B-17, it's below - the wing has yet to be masked in, the turrets are barely started and I haven't begun the Plexiglas at all.  I give it 60% finished.

"1" - Hutchin's Kingfisher - is still in sketch-phase.

But, I do have something to share about Ted Hutchins, Kingfisher pilot.  The photo below is of Ted (right) and an unknown (to date) pilot that Ted snatched* from the Pacific.

Imagine what it must have been floating in the expanse of the ocean, in a waterlogged flight suit, suspended above the unknown depths by the thin rubber of a life raft. Marine ace and Medal of Honor recipient Joe Foss described the sensation to me as feeling, "very small."

Judging from the smiles on the two pilot's faces, I have to think that Ted Hutchins had extremely rewarding work in WW2, don't you think?

Photo: U.S. Navy Archives, Ted Hutchins

*In case you're unfamiliar, the OS2U Kingfisher that Ted flew was a "float plane" able to be catapulted from ships and also able to land/take-off from the water.  Though designed to perform Observation work for the fleet, the Kingfisher was also used as a Rescue aircraft, picking up aircrew and seamen adrift in the ocean.

Profile 47 - Chance Vought Kingfisher

First, would I do this for a living?  I mean - real living?

Damn right.  Gawd, I love this part of American history and...you should too.

This morning, I started out having breakfast with a medic assigned to McArthur's "return" to the Philippines circa 1944.  Then, a new acquaintance let me know that a pilot assigned to the USS South Dakota (battleship) was not only alive but had sold his Harley last year.  Would he like to have his plane memorialized for all digital-eternity?

Hell yeah.

So, I guess Satan's Chille'n and Lt. Ted Hutchins' Chance Vought OS2U Kingfisher are now BOTH on the drawing board.

Put the coffee pot on "full throttle."  I'm not sleeping for a while.

Anyway, in the words of my buddy Lt. John Forrette who served in the Philippines circa 1944-45, "History doesn't sleep."

Watch this space - it's going to be awesome.

PHOTO:  National Archives


PS - no kidding, as this is being typed, my kid is scratching the American anthem on his violin.  It sounds awful but...is wonderful at the same time.


PSS - here's my first sketch!  

Profile 46 - More of Satan's Chille'n (update)

My call for help in capturing the half-naked pinup girl painted on Satan's Chille'n was as expected - so, thank you to those who helped with the "research."  (ha ha).  But suffice it to state, until we have a Time Machine, I'm confident enough that this B-17's nose art is going to be accurate.   Shown is my progress as of 10:32pm this evening.

I'm now giving the countdown for about 2 weeks.   One more progress post after this and I hope to have it finished!  

Did you watch the video of Dick - Satan's Chille'n's bombardier - describe a particularly interesting bomb-run?  If not, scroll down.

However, I thought you might like to see what Dick looked like back in 1944 when he was undoubtedly one of the best bombardiers in the 8th Air Force.  At least good enough to fly as lead bombardier in 15 of his 30 combat missions.

This is a good time for a bit of explanation.  Just because a young man sat in the nose and had his finger on "the button," it didn't mean he was a "Bombardier."  The term describes a Role more than a Function.

Bombardiers were men who had the gift of control over their Norden branded bomb sites, the ability to fly the bomber during the last twenty or so miles to the target and of course, put the pickle in the pickle barrel.  From 20,000+ feet.

These Bombardiers were the men who aimed for the Squadron.  The rest of the men in the noses of their respective B-17s watched the Lead Plane and waited until they saw the stack of death fall away, then punch their own buttons. These 'rest of the men' were called "Toggliers."

The reason?  For one, there weren't enough Norden bomb sites to equip EVERY bomber in combat. Plus, these bomb sites were considered a Top Secret weapon.  Bombardiers were commanded to shoot the eyepiece out of their Norden in the event they were to crash land - or even bail out - in case the device would end up in the hands of the enemy.

But also, the Army Air Force had spent a terrific amount of time analyzing bomb blast patterns and concluded that the best results were obtained with one man leading, the others following.  In short, the Bombardier was the guy, the master that signaled the Squadron to drop their terrifying load onto the target.  

I asked Dick why he thought he was such a good Bombardier and he replied, "I gave that task my all!  I wanted to!"  

One thing I've learned from talking with old guys, is this - a vital ingredient to success is Passion.  Today, Dick still gets animated describing how he would mentally prepare to lead the Squadron on the run, even when not flying.  To Dick, success isn't so much about Luck or Skill as it is Desire.

Anyway, back to that picture of Dick circa'44 - he's the second from the left.  When I see him, I see the same nervous energy, the same restless motion that I know today. He still walks faster than a few teenagers I know and last week, he let me know that his car will top 100mph, "easy!"

More to come...

Profile 46 - Satan's Chillen update

Regarding the picture above - on the left is my wretched pencil-work of the nose art of Satan's Chille'n.  The boxing "bomber-dude" didn't appear on the airplane - it's actually the 613th Bomb Squadron mascot - I just scribbled it for something to do.

On the right, however,  is a 401st BG photo of what the art really-might-have looked like.  No photo of the specific B-17 is known to exist; only this nearly-70 year old photo of someone's flight-jacket, which may or may not have been anything like what it actually looked on the bomber*.

The struggle for capturing the correct nose art for "Satan's Chillen" continues - I'm lost in the 21st Century haze of fading memories, lack of documentation and imagination.  This sucks because I understand that each post establishes itself into the digital record.

So, to the folks of 2050, I'm doing the best I can.  Sometimes I have to punt.  So, I'm moving forward on "Satan's Chillen'" knowing that no photograph of the actual bird is known to exist and likely will never come to light.

In the meantime, Satan's Chillen's bombardier has a story to tell.  In this time of bombing Libya, bear in mind that back in WW2, there were no "Cruise Missiles" or single-pilot jets guided by a team of digital genius.  Nope.  WW2 was low-tech, guys in windows, looking over the precipice of a bombsight with a finger on a mechanical switch.

I hope you listen to the bombardier tell (in the words of my kid), "A funny story." - click below:

*Dick said the jacket art was "very close" to what actually appeared on his B-17G.  But without a photograph, we just. Can't. Tell. For. Sure.

Profile 46 - "Satan's Chillen"

I couldn't bear the previous paltry sketch, so I fleshed out the study a bit tonight. These little pencil sketches are important to me because they help train my mind for the airplane's proportions.

Bombers have never been my 'thing.'  Temperament-wise, I can't imagine the idea of riding along in what is essentially a military bus, stuck to my office. Sitting or standing for a 3, 4, 5, 6 hour mission is hard to fathom, don't you think?

There's an interesting analog between a WW2 bomber and many people's work environment - their cubicle, their office, is their position.  Pilot, bombardier, gunner, navigator...CEO, Director, Sales, Marketing...  More than once, I've thought about this while driving the family in the mini-van; the grocery store is the target, the kids are the gunners (usually shooting each other) and my wife, the navigator and bombardier.

"We forgot the milk!  Back to Target!" (ha ha)

Amused?  I am.  Until I remember just how thin the aluminum skin on a B-17 was.  And I remember the recollections of those who remember seeing the telltale flickers of the wing and nose guns mounted on the German fighters.  And how holes would suddenly appear in the airplane as flak and cannon fire sliced out chunks the bomber's flesh.  Or crew's.

Maybe that's how some people feel about their offices these days - wondering if a layoff or firing is going to happen.

Maybe I'm being too philosophical.  But, as Satan's Chillen comes to life here, expect more as I share the story of her particularly successful bombardier as he describes his, well -  job - in a way you've never heard before.

That's him - far left, kneeling, first row.

Crew photo courtesy 401st Bombardment Group Association

Profile 46 - "Satan's Chillen"

The study sketch above is of a B-17G that flew with the 401st Bomb Group based at Deenethorpe, Northhamptonshire, England.  Specifically, the bomber belonged to the 613th Squadron.  But, if you're really, really into the details, her serial number was 43-37706 and was accepted into the U.S. Army Air Force inventory on May 13, 1944.

Today, all that's left of this bomber resides in the minds of her two surviving air crew, pilot Lt. William Mannix and bombardier, "Dick" Rostrom.

The closest I've gotten to the bomber's pilot was a scratchy phone call to Mannix's wife - her husband was not feeling well and she didn't want to wake him.  Life got haywire for me and...I've lost his phone number.  Damnit.  I have no idea if he's even alive right now.

But, I know Dick pretty well.  He and I have talked alot, traveled a bit... if you'd like to know more, stay tuned.  "Satan's Chillen" is about to crank -

CLEAR! 

Blue skies, Bob Goebel (Profile 25).

Yesterday, Lt. Col. Robert Goebel, double-ace (11 victories) of the 31st FG, died at his California home.

Bob was one of the first pilots I interviewed.  He gave me gracious encouragement as well as his time.

He was an unusually articulate guy - careful in speech, erudite, intellectual.  He absolutely shattered my prior (ignorant) ideal that an Ace was necessarily a tough-talking, brassy hot shot.  No, Bob Goebel was a right-minded gentleman of the first order.  He also possessed a strong positivity about the youth of America and their potential for growing our Nation.

Upon hearing of his death, I scrounged through my notes to find something worth passing onto readers and impressing into the digital archive.

The following was Bob's response to my question about what life was like before WW2.

The country in the late 30’s and early 40’s was a different place than it is today.   It was a slower paced, simpler life where one’s reputation and personal responsibility were very important.  Young people just didn’t bring disgrace to the neighborhood or to one’s family by getting kicked out of school or being talked to by the police.  Of course after Pearl Harbor, there was a kind of national euphoria among young people who knew they were poised on the edge of a great personal adventure in whatever Service they were destined for.

If you'd like to know more about Bob, click here.  In the meantime, wherever Bob has landed in the hereafter has just experienced a bump in property value...and no one is complaining.  


Oh - his book, Mustang Ace is available on Amazon.  Click here.

Profile 45 - "Flak Shak" as flown by many.

Flak Shak is done.  Almost.  I might mask in a Browning .50 cal in the waist-gunner's spot if I have time before I have to get it off to the printer.  But, "life" for me right now has sifted all of my available time right out from under.  Hopefully, tail gunner Robert Hickman will sign the prints some time in the next few weeks.  He's the surviving crewman of the airplane.

Throughout the research, working on the art, talking to family and learning from 485th BG historian, Jerry Whiting, my thoughts toward Flak Shak bounced between the dramatic extremes of loss and victory.  This big bomber is a small symbol of war's terror, horror, power and grit.

I'm at a loss for words to describe Flak Shak's combat life.  But I have to try.

You're looking at an airplane that, on June 28, 1944, was the last stand for ten men over Romania.  It's shown here for you to view as it was the morning of that day.  By days end, it would not be so pristine.

Over the course of it's mission - and its lead position in the formation - no fewer than eight Luftwaffe fighters would take their turn, spraying cannon and machine gun fire into the bomber, slicing skin of both man and machine.

The duel began en route to the target when bombardier John Dempsey took a hit (from flak or German fighters, no one is sure) in the leg, splitting the bone.  But, as lead plane in the formation, Flak Shak was the que for the others to toggle their payload.  Dempsey held himself together through the run to ensure that its job was successfully completed.

Having a crippled crewman totally changed the already charged atmosphere within the airplane - imagine ten people on an RV trip and one is on the floor, bleeding from such a wound, and the nearest hospital exit 90 minutes away.

Now imagine that RV being then pounced upon by raiders with cannon and machine guns, raking it from stem to stern...

For some reason known only to the Fates, eight German Bf-109s selected Flak Shak for destruction, making pass after pass, firing into the bomber - hot splinters, fist-sized holes appearing like demonic magic in the wing, tail, fuselage -  the howl of wind, the roar of engines and the muffled pain of two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine crewmen, clutching from their fresh wounds...

But.

The crew of Flak Shak fought back.

Six of the enemy fighters were shot down.  To get your head around this, that meant that the gunners stayed in their positions and held their resolve with enough cool to not only hit but destroy their attackers.

For those who may not be so familiar, the job of a gunner on a flying, bouncing WW2 bomber was especially challenging.  It wasn't like the Alamo where the defenders shot from stationary positions.  Instead, Flak Shak's gunners were firing at fast moving targets from a moving position.  Like duck hunting from a circling boat.

The only explanation for the high victory count I can conceive is that the Germans were coming in awfully close and were especially confident that THIS pass was the one that would finally - finally - bring Flak Shak down.

But.

Flak Shak didn't go down.  At least out of defeat.  The pilot and co-pilot brought the maimed bomber to a short strip, forward airfield in Bari, Italy where it skidded to a dusty halt.  Sweet Lord - those first few seconds of realization that "we made it home" must have been dead quiet.  A moment of unearthly silence before the clank of boots, opening bomb bay doors* and the clamor of medics rushing to do their work...

Over 500 holes were counted but the decision was moot - Flak Shak would never fly again.  Yet, every crewman survived the mission.

At the end of this post, you can read the official Silver Star Citation.  I hope you do - the austere military verbiage lends a certain air to the crew's deed that I can't.

Below, the crew of Flak Shak shortly after their Silver Star presentation circa Sept 2, 1944.  Ironically, they were posed in front another B-24 named after the magazine, LIFE.

Front Row, Left to Right:  Kenneth Leasure, navigator; Volney Wiggins, pilot, and Matthew Hall, copilot.  Back Row, Left to Right:  Ed Hartupee, ballgunner; Virgil Anderson, top gunner; Francis Brittain Jr., nosegunner, and Robert Hickman, tailgunner.  (Missing from the photo are John P. Dempsey, bombardier; Martin J. Caine, radio operator, and Wilson B. Shimer, engineer.)  The missing crew members were still in the hospital from wounds.  Matt Hall was later killed on a  9/13/44 mission to Oswiecim, Poland.

I'm still at a loss for words.



*Entry into a B-24 was commonly done through the bomb bay door.

Special thanks to Jerry Whiting, 485th BG, and the families of Virgil Anderson (top gunner)—specifically Virgil's grandson, Matthew Rabe—and Robert Hickman (tail gunner).

Profile 45 - "Flak Shak" as flown by Capt. V. Wiggins...and crew

Don't let the appearance of slow progress fool you - "Flak Shak" is coming along nicely!  However, the progress is not so much the artwork as it is the research.

Look at the tail.  See that cross of two yellow bands?  Aside from the fact that it looks like "Racer X" of the Japanese cartoon, "Speed Racer," it was also a major head-scratcher for me.  Judging from the handful of good photos of 485th BG B-24s, the position of the intersection seemed to jump forward and backward from plane to plane.

But, I noticed that some of the bombers had their de-icing panels removed (?!), leaving the aluminum leading edges.  This created an optical illusion, fooling the casual glance into thinking the "X" was off center when it really wasn't.  When Flak Shak is finished, you'll see how the extra foot or so of aluminum leading-edge puts the cross point in the middle of the tail, where any self-respecting ground crewman would have put it.

That discovery doesn't make Flak Shak any easier.  The airplane has a handful of other quirks relating to its markings that will bear themselves out.  As in no visible serial number.  Hmmm.

However, I thought you'd like to see another shot of Flak Shak after she landed her historic mission.  Look closely at the holes under the waist window and surrounding the American insignia.  They coorrespond with the firing angle of one of the ten or so Bf-109s that attacked the bomber - seven o'clock level.

Imagine this - you're crouched behind the black breech of a single .50 calibre machine gun, sweating so much, the nervous liquid weeps out of your fleece-lined gloves.


Someone just called out "Fighter - seven o'clock" over the intercom and you pick up on the slim black fingernail banking into the attack just under the left rudder.


Dry mouth, panting, you pull the blade-like trigger and the Browning shakes and roars, spewing spent casings onto the floor of your bomber and copper headed bullets like a garden hose at full crank.


Staccato flashes blink from the Messerschmitt's nose...


BANG!


An explosion at your feet sprays shards of supersonic metal...and for thinnest slice of time, you have no idea what on earth just happened...


...something feels warm, then cold upon your skin...

Just wait.

Photo courtesy of the family of Virgil Anderson, crewman, Flak Shak.

Profile 45 - "Flak Shak" as flown by Capt. V. Wiggins...and crew.

The dynamics of a bomber crew are life in microcosm.  Inside the metal-skinned tube, a team of people work, each with their role, their function - a flying cell in the larger organism (formation) of others like it.

Most people understand that the romance of a tightly bound "band of brothers" that live, breathe and die together is more Hollywood than Reality.  True enough, I've heard of fights breaking out inside cockpits, pilots 'firing' crew members and stories of plane old boredom on long, arduous flights.

Then, there are the rare stories - thankfully rare - that stop you cold; drama and determination that would be utterly exhausting for even the most imaginative script writer to convey to the reader.  "Flak Shak" is one such story.

This airplane came to my attention purely by accident.  Having met the surviving son of a 485th BG crewman, he described the legend of a particular airplane within the Group named "Flak Shak" and how each of her ten crew was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry on June 28, 1944 during a mission to Romania.

Right now, I'm in correspondence with family & crew, hoping to bring this particular B-24 H back to virtual life.  My sketch above is crude, but will form the basis of what I hope to be as close to perfect of a Profile as possible.

In the meantime, have another look at the picture in the post below.  See if you can discern the battle damage.  There's more to come...

Profile 45 - "FLAK SHAK"

I'm waiting for Harold Thune to bless my rendering of his Hellcat.

With my bit of free time, this morning, I responded to an email regarding a B-24 Liberator that caught my breath...

Watch this space.  "Flak Shak" is about to take life...and oh, what a life she had!

Photo courtesy of the family of Virgil Anderson, crewman, Flak Shak.

Profile 44 - Another update to Thune's Hellcat

Another update!  Perhaps this will hold some interest while waiting for help with the markings from the USS Intrepid Air, Sea and Space Museum.  Once I get those, there's probably another 2, 3 hours before it's finished and I can send it off to the printer.  Can you tell the difference between this one and the one in the prior post?

However, this Hellcat promises to be one of my best yet.   And still, time will reveal that there are parts to Harold's airplane that are plane wrong. Pun intended.  But for now, I'm pleased and am hoping to be close to Malcomb Gladwell's "10,000 hour" mark. (Read Outliers).

The picture below is Hamilton McWhorter, a Navy ace of 12 aerial victories.  He's holding a hastily printed copy of my version of the Hellcat he flew from the USS Randolph in 1945.  I did it in 2002 and frankly, the practice since then has improved my skill.  To that point, last month, a Florida collector purchased the formal print and I spent a half hour making little touchups with a soft lead pencil!  The collector was pleased but I sure wish I could do Mac's plane over.

Practice may make perfect, but the time in between is corrupt.  Mac died two years ago.

There are some very cool things about this avocation and some very cruel as well.

Profile 44 - UPDATED! F6F-5 Hellcat as flown by Harold Thune

Wow!  From pencil studies to nearly finished in five days - that's a record for me.

This 'Cat is going back into the hanger until I get info on markings - hopefully in the next week or so.  Then, I'll put them in, quite like the real process when a factory-fresh Hellcat obtained her squadron marks.

Something to think about in the meantime - Harold is about 88 years old now.  In the span of his life, he's experienced economic calamity and boom, world war, travel to outer space...and four BILLION people added to earth's current occupancy.

I don't want to wax philosophical here - I do it badly anyway.  But, in 1920, the earth's estimated population was 2 billion.  Today, it's over 6 billion.  What that means to us, at least to me, is this - soon  the cumulative wisdom and energy of Harold's Generation will likely be absorbed into humanity and dissipated.  Like steam.  And it seems so...much like a waste.

Today, Harold's son - a United States Senator - is tasked with representing his state in all issues of American policy, including the profoundly far-reaching issue of Social Security for the elderly.

Politically, my views are unimportant.  But I do believe in activism and I encourage my generation to become active in the Social Security issue by doing one thing - connect with them .  Invite, engage, consult, but know that relationships with people who've already trodden our Roads Less Traveled is vital to the social fabric.

On one hand, the above airplane is just a drawing.  But on the other, it's an excuse to ask deeper questions, interpret the past and cast a clearer vision of the future.

[laughs] I'll get off the soapbox. However, it's a good time to think about this stuff, especially if Grandma/Grandpa are going to be a part of your Holiday experience. With some good luck, the next post will be Thune's finished airplane, excerpts from my interview and a few cool artifacts, too.  I hope to make it worth your time. :)