What a difference a day makes! We had a truly beautiful day Saturday and woke up to a dismal drizzle and low clouds. We had planned to take W7 up to Fulton County/Oswego Airport for an event but safety first says not today. We will reach out to people who had purchased rides to reschedule if possible. The event organizers are all airplane people so are disappointed but gracious and we will be there soon! ... See more
And also the US Navy Blue Angels!
Beautifully day in Geneseo!
A little "Jet Noise" for you! The USAF Thunderbirds!
Live from Joint Base Andrews!
Come aboard for landing last weekend for the wedding!
(Poem and thoughts published here with permission of the author-NWM) *Old B-17G* A battle bird she - - Silver, scarred, old: Yet, standing there deserted, She seemed somehow new and young Majestic, beautiful - - Step next to her and glide Away to spinning heights, Hemmed in by Hurricanes, Roaring Thunderbolts, and Spitfires Headed for fear, heroism, Terror, and tragedy - - Touch her and soar With Valkyrie Mustangs Through countless billowing miles Past oceans, islands, and coastlines - - Over fields, factories, and bursting shells - - Close your eyes and see, Cradled within her - - Men - - Young and valiant - - sons and fathers - - With sweaty brows and flaming guns, Battling 'gainst freezing cold, Snarling Messerschmitts, And flashing Folk-Wulfs at 20,000 feet - - Lean against her and feel The throbbing, pulsing rumble As she lumbers back in the darkness, Shuddering - - nursing an engine - - Straining with the labor - - Of bringing home - - her wounded - - Then open your eyes And look up at the sun As it shines sparkling - - From her smooth skin, her turrets, Her gleaming windscreens, The gentle lines Of her curving wings - - And you'll fight back tears As I did, my friend - - Raymond Scott Ormond, Cpt. UtANG (Ret.) (comments by the author-ed.) Dear War Bird Folk: Back in 1984, I took my 4 young boys (the youngest is now 35) to Salt Lake Airport #2 to see an air show put on by the CAF, to give them some clue of the type of planes their grandfather had trained and flown in during a distant piece of history called "World War II." Dad had been dead for 3 years, but I was still missing him, despite our many disputes. He had trained as crew chief on B-25s, B-17s, B-24s, and B-29s. He also ended up as crew chief over five P-51Ds with the 47th Fighter Squadron, going in to Iwo Jima in the first week of April 1945. He helped get damaged B-29s back into the air, loaded P-51Ds with bullets and bombs for Tokyo and survived Banzai attacks screaming down in the dark from Mt. Suribachi - - Cutting to the chase, as we entered the crowded airfield, huge groups of people were gathered around several vintage and restored aircraft, but almost ignored, sitting out by the taxiway was a B-17G, silhouetted like your picture. A chill ran through me despite the fact it was a very hot May day. It was as if Dad were there by me. I took my wife and four sons towards it. The pilot, co-pilot, crew chief were there - - middle aged guys. "My dad trained in one of these," I said. I think they already sensed it. They let us look around as they prepped for takeoff - - Anyway, when I got home, I wrote this poem. I've done time in the Army and Air Force both (22 years), so my imagination is well charged from a combination of Dad's stories, infatuation with WW II literature and film, and personal experience. The poem was for the kids. They've gone their ways. Two eventually went in the Air Force. Being able to touch that plane that day meant a lot to me - - rso ... See more
The MMB at Andrews AFB outside Washington DC for the big show this weekend! If you are in the area stop by and say hello!!