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!