One of the dozen or so remaining B-17 Flying Fortresses came to our town this week and offered the public a chance to see the old war bird up close. For those more adventurous and better-heeled than I they offered rides---at about $450 per ticket. This particular plane, the “Aluminum Overcast” was built in early 1945 and never actually saw action. It has been modified, customized and tricked-out in various ways, but it’s most certainly a B-17, and it just bristles with .50 cal machine guns coming out at every angle.
Inside, the most jolting realization is just how small the thing is. Two big guys almost can’t pass in the main tube. The gun holes are ridiculous---a man over 5 feet tall and weighing more than 120 pounds would have a hard time oozing into the ball turret or the tail gun. There are no frills, no insulation, no padding, just bare metal. Cold air can come in through a hundred different openings.
When I took the picture of the old gentleman in the gray jacket, he was 10,000 miles and 60 years away. For the longest time, he was quiet and had a strange far-away look on his face. Turned out he was sitting in “his” seat---that of the radio/communications man. When he came out of his reverie he explained how he found his broadcast frequency, and how he tapped out a morse code message on the telegraph key on the radio ledge. He said you had to be able to key 50 five-letter words per minute to be qualified as the signal man.
My impression was that a long trip in this thing would be cold, uncomfortable and claustrophobic. Add the very likely possibility that you could be shot out of the sky at any moment and you really begin to appreciate what those old guys did. I had invited to go along with me an older friend of mine, who was a crew member in both B-24s and B-17s, and who was in two of these that were shot up. One went down on the good side of the English Channel, and he parachuted into the English countryside. He declined the invite, however.
As a nice touch to this setting, there were several B-52s lazing around in the background, shooting touch- and-goes at Barksdale AFB just across the river. I had hoped to catch one in one of my photos but they were a little too far away.
Inside, the most jolting realization is just how small the thing is. Two big guys almost can’t pass in the main tube. The gun holes are ridiculous---a man over 5 feet tall and weighing more than 120 pounds would have a hard time oozing into the ball turret or the tail gun. There are no frills, no insulation, no padding, just bare metal. Cold air can come in through a hundred different openings.
When I took the picture of the old gentleman in the gray jacket, he was 10,000 miles and 60 years away. For the longest time, he was quiet and had a strange far-away look on his face. Turned out he was sitting in “his” seat---that of the radio/communications man. When he came out of his reverie he explained how he found his broadcast frequency, and how he tapped out a morse code message on the telegraph key on the radio ledge. He said you had to be able to key 50 five-letter words per minute to be qualified as the signal man.
My impression was that a long trip in this thing would be cold, uncomfortable and claustrophobic. Add the very likely possibility that you could be shot out of the sky at any moment and you really begin to appreciate what those old guys did. I had invited to go along with me an older friend of mine, who was a crew member in both B-24s and B-17s, and who was in two of these that were shot up. One went down on the good side of the English Channel, and he parachuted into the English countryside. He declined the invite, however.
As a nice touch to this setting, there were several B-52s lazing around in the background, shooting touch- and-goes at Barksdale AFB just across the river. I had hoped to catch one in one of my photos but they were a little too far away.
![Crew.jpg" width="600" height="500" border="0" alt="Photobucket](https://i200.photobucket.com/albums/aa5/jameslloydhowell/Crew.jpg" width="600" height="500" border="0" alt="Photobucket)
