Anyone else fly in a B-17?

dbzeag

Wants to kiss you where it stinks
Jun 9, 2006
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So my dad and I and a couple of friends went to Port Clinton to look at and ride inside a B-17 for a half hour. Honestly one of the smoothest rides in a plane I have ever had.

We were allowed to roam all throughout the plane while in flight, except for the bottom turret and the tail gunner position. The views were breathtaking and the flight was awesome. If there is any interest, I can post up some pics later.

For some information the plane itself, the Liberty Belle, here you go.

http://www.libertyfoundation.org/index.php
http://www.alexisparkinn.com/b-17_liberty_belle.htm

PS - I paid $395 for my 30 min flight
 
Get any pictures from the nose? I've wasted more on a bottle of scotch, I can't argue. It looks like fun.
 
Bishop is busy hitting his switches and levers preparing to release our load the instant after we see the bombs tumble out of Hartak's ship. At bombs away I mark the log: Flak - sparse to meager, though I know it was heavy and accurate enough for the poor guys in LL-P. They're the only ship lost out of our group as far as I can tell, but it's hard to know for sure in this botched up formation with all the extra ships we have flying around today. A gaggle of mixed 17's, too many for a squadron and less than a group, bundle together in a halfass formation less than a mile ahead and a thousand feet above us.

Earl calls in that bandits are reported in the area - jet jobs. I see thin contrails up ahead zigging and zagging, twisting and turning back across the straight broader contrails of our bomber stream. Signs of bandits. A 17 spins out of control from that loose formation above us followed by another falling with its wings on fire. Seven or eight chutes open up. I move stiffly to my gun position. My nose is pressed up to the glass as I scan for enemy German fighters that I pray won't show up near us.

Bishop swings his turret back and forth scanning the sky above and below. He points downward in jerky movements to where a chute is wrapped around the tail stabilizer of one of our ships in the low squadron. I see the figure of a guy tangled in the shroud lines and dragged behind like a tow sleeve for a second or two before he is torn loose and falls down and away. Large white chunks of his chute remain behind, draped on the tail of the 17. I hope the poor bastard was nobody I know.

Bishop fires his guns at the same time as Skiles calls from his turret, "Bandits! Two o'clock level, closing fast!" Our ship shakes and vibrates as every gun fires at the German fighters streaking by. About a dozen black Focke-Wulfs and five or six brown Me-262 jets. One of the F-W's rams into a 17 in our low squadron. We bounce from the explosion of the fireball.

Skiles cries out again. "More coming! One o'clock!" I see twenty of them with their guns blazing bullets with orange tracers straight at us. Our ship jumps as if it has run into a wall. Blasts of frigid air tear through a jagged gash where the bullets have ripped through the ship's aluminum skin. Earl yells, "Fuck! I'm hit!"

We drop away from the formation. I feel immersed in the paralysis of fear, but I plug in an oxygen bottle and drag myself up to the passage where I can see Earl. Skiles and I reach him at the same time. Earl is holding the wheel in his left hand. His right arm droops loose from his shoulder where blood is spreading down a torn leather sleeve. Parsons is slumped over, bent and twisted in a pool of blood coursing from an open gap of organs and shattered bone where his chest used to be. I go blank, lose complete track of what's going on, until I see Earl struggling to keep the ship level, flying with one arm. I snatch at the medical kit while the plane bobs and weaves all over the sky.

We're still being hit by fighters as I hear our gunners firing away. My trembling hands can hardly tear open the envelopes of sulfa powder and bandages in the medical kit. I manage to scatter the sulfa around and into the hole below Earl's collar bone, and press the patch bandages over it while Earl screams with pain under his oxygen mask. Skiles and I struggle to heave and tug Parsons' body out of his seat. I'm soaked in his blood and he keeps slipping from our grasp until we drop him in the passageway behind his seat. I can't catch my breath and feel like I'm blacking out until I remember to replace my empty oxygen bottle. I call Fearless to come up from the waist quick to take over Skiles' position in the top turret, and to also bring up some blankets. Skiles climbs into the co-pilot seat and tries to wipe away Parsons' blood spread on the spattered windshield. He stops when it becomes mostly frozen smears.

Fear and panic spread through me as real as pain. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I must get away from here. I clip on my chest pack to bail out. I'm about to kick the door open to jump when I look up at Earl. The patch bandages have fallen off, but the freezing air has helped staunch the flow of blood from his wound. His teeth chatter out of control, his body quivers and his right arm still hangs useless, but he's conscious enough to coach Skiles who is gripping the wheel for all he's worth. I jam more patch bandages with sulfa to Earl's wound. I unclip my chute. We're alone over Germany, down to 16,000 feet. Our gunners have stopped firing for now. It's a break, but it won't last long. We haven't seen the last of those German bastards. We're alone up here and they'll be picking us up as a straggler as soon as they've finished with their attack on the group. I drape one blanket over Earl's shoulders, and cover Parsons with the other. "Can you make it, Earl?" I ask. He nods slowly. I turn to Skiles in the co-pilot seat. "You O.K., ?" He nods slowly. I won't bail out.

I ease my way past Parsons' body when I crawl back to my position. The freezing wind whizzes and whistles through the bullet torn gash in the ship's skin. My chart and maps have been blown around and stomped on. I go through the motions of scanning dials but it's all a blur. I look again for my chute but can't find it. I tell Earl to maintain our present heading until I can figure just where the hell we are. I look out the window for possible landmarks and all I see through holes in the heavy undercast are snow covered empty fields and trees. My watch shows only six minutes since Earl called out that he was hit. I've no idea how the guys in back made out. I force myself to call for a long overdue oxygen check. There's a long pause when it is Parsons' turn to answer until Skiles calls in "Co-pilot, O.K. check."

I go numb again when Bishop points at a pair of fighters closing in on us fast. I hold up my hands to shield the sun from my eyes and a red smear of Parsons' blood spreads across my goggles. The bitter acrid taste of bile rises in back of my throat. I stumble over my chute which has slid from where I stowed it behind the cartridge links. The two fighters are almost in range now. My stomach knots and retches as I drag myself over to my gun position. I pull my oxygen mask aside to shake out the puke. Lopez hollers, "Little friends! Two Mustangs coming our way." They pull up beside us and wag their wings. I crumple to my knees with relief. My hand quivers on the call button. I speak in a voice I don't recognize, "Hey Earl, follow them babies home."
 
BeeRad said:
That would be amazing, I always wanted to be the bottom gun turret guy when I was growing up. I guess I always had a wish of death, hmmm

I'd like to think it would be awesome if I hadn't watched that blasted Amazing Stories movie when I was young.

I would if I could be garaunteed some cartoon landing gear and a cool bomber jacket.

On second thought the plane ride does sound pretty cool. It'd be like touching a piece of history.:)
 
InnerMuse said:
I'd like to think it would be awesome if I hadn't watched that blasted Amazing Stories movie when I was young.

I would if I could be garaunteed some cartoon landing gear and a cool bomber jacket.

On second thought the plane ride does sound pretty cool. It'd be like touching a piece of history.:)


That was my first thought too. That was such an awesome show.

My luck I would get the gremlin on the wing from The Twilight Zone movie.
 
InnerMuse said:
I'd like to think it would be awesome if I hadn't watched that blasted Amazing Stories movie when I was young.

I would if I could be garaunteed some cartoon landing gear and a cool bomber jacket.

On second thought the plane ride does sound pretty cool. It'd be like touching a piece of history.:)

hah, I remember that!
 
BeeRad said:
That would be amazing, I always wanted to be the bottom gun turret guy when I was growing up. I guess I always had a wish of death, hmmm

There were some landing gear issues when these things were damaged. A lot of those guys were trapped inside and crushed on landing.

I can't imagine the tubs of lubricant it would take to jimmy you into one of those turrets.