While hanging out in Melbourne (I really do need to try and get here in real life) I was walking home from an evening on the town when I heard some old, familiar music. (This music was not from http://www.plr.org/ by the way) I followed the sound into a small corner café where a group of old World War II pilots (and some of their friends and colleagues) were hanging out telling stories. I slipped into a table and before too long was a part of the conversation. I met Fighter pilots from the 86th Fighter Group in Italy. I met some B-17 pilots from the 8th and 12th Air Forces. I met former crew chiefs for Corsairs and P-38s. I met a B-24 Navigator as well as a B-26 Radioman/Gunner. Some of them had been POWs during the early 1940’s. One of the men seemed so familiar…he was quiet, soft-spoken and on the shorter side of stature. We talked…and I soon enough put the pieces together: It was Chuck Yeager - Only the first man to break the sound barrier! What an honor!
As is most often the case when pilots get together, the conversations quickly changed from war and bombing or shooting, to focusing on the aircraft - Now this was discussion I could follow with interest! I soon learned that there was to be a flight, from Melbourne over to New Zealand. The flight was over 1,200 miles but could include a fuel stop in Tazmania if needed. This would include B-17s, B-25s, B-24s, B-29s, P40s, P-47s, P-38s and P-51s. WOW! This was perfect as I hadn’t been to the Flight Club’s original HQs in many months. A couple rounds of drinks later I had myself a Bombardiers’ seat on an old B-17 Flying Fortress.
Two days later, at dawn, several of us loaded into the lumbering old Fort and cranked the big ol’ radial engines to life. We slowly taxied out to runway 34 and set off. We climbed to 9,000 feet and made a gradual turn about to 120-150* somewhere. A couple of hours later, with the fuel gauges barely twitching and the Tazman Islands clearly in sight we turned east keeping our heading between 090* and 100* magnetic. The flight was now trimmed out for comfy (if not freezing cold) flying at 16,000 feet. Along the way I met a specific P-47 pilot who had been shot down in Northern Italy in September 1943. I agreed to write down his story and submit that to a World War II preservation website. (I’m still working on that today)
As is most often the case when pilots get together, the conversations quickly changed from war and bombing or shooting, to focusing on the aircraft - Now this was discussion I could follow with interest! I soon learned that there was to be a flight, from Melbourne over to New Zealand. The flight was over 1,200 miles but could include a fuel stop in Tazmania if needed. This would include B-17s, B-25s, B-24s, B-29s, P40s, P-47s, P-38s and P-51s. WOW! This was perfect as I hadn’t been to the Flight Club’s original HQs in many months. A couple rounds of drinks later I had myself a Bombardiers’ seat on an old B-17 Flying Fortress.
Two days later, at dawn, several of us loaded into the lumbering old Fort and cranked the big ol’ radial engines to life. We slowly taxied out to runway 34 and set off. We climbed to 9,000 feet and made a gradual turn about to 120-150* somewhere. A couple of hours later, with the fuel gauges barely twitching and the Tazman Islands clearly in sight we turned east keeping our heading between 090* and 100* magnetic. The flight was now trimmed out for comfy (if not freezing cold) flying at 16,000 feet. Along the way I met a specific P-47 pilot who had been shot down in Northern Italy in September 1943. I agreed to write down his story and submit that to a World War II preservation website. (I’m still working on that today)
Some 6.25 hours later the welcome, glorious sight of New Zealand’s south island came into view. THANK GOODNESS! We actually made landfall somewhere in the northern half of the south island – not exactly Dunedin. (If I had been navigating in World War II we may have bombed Copenhagen rather than Berlin) We turned north and an hour later ATC was sending us on a vectoring goose-chase all around the skies over Wellington. The World War II pilots were busy telling me how they used to have to circle over their bases for up to an hour after a mission while injured or damaged planes landed (or crashed) first.
I had two problems: First was my bladder which was nearly ready to burst. One old veteran told of how his tail gunner urinated in his pants and then froze to his seat! Later, they’d go into their metal helmets and when the urine froze into a block they’d dump it out the waist gunner’s window. Man, that poor farmer! Okay, problem two was that I had been crammed into the nose of a loud, bumpy, bulking B-17 for over seven hours and I was about ready to take a gun to my own head! I finally crawled up through the hole into the cockpit, grabbed the pilot by the neck, pointed to an MD-83 on finals and shouted, “My name is Brad Quiring and if you don't follow that plane down to the runway you'll never fly again! Ehy.” Brad, if you were arrested upon your arrival to New Zealand I'm sorry.
Wellington was cloudy, rainy, wet, dreary, just like old England was in 1943 but my-oh-my, what a welcome sight it was gliding down onto finals. Until I realized that I was still holding the pilot’s neck and he was unconscious! Grabbing the wheel I struggled to keep the plane straight and level. I called for flaps and gear! I told the copilot to man the throttles, first we were too slow, then floating … was it windy? I won’t go into the gory details other than to refer you to the video ( http://media.putfile.com/WW2Music ) and say that this was the ugliest ON RUNWAY landing I’ve experienced!
After a week or so in Wellington I expected and planned to catch a ride, maybe in a TBM Avenger or a backwards ride on a Dauntless (as I had done to Hans back in April 2003), down to Dunedin. However, when I reported for my flight I was shocked to be handed the keys to... Chuck Yeager’s own (borrowed) P-51 Mustang, “Bring her back in one piece son.” OMG!
I don’t remember too much about the specifics of the flight. I survived. I haven’t had that much fun in … forever!
The plane didn’t get bent. I saw NZFC – I think? Somehow, reluctantly, I ended up in Dunedin. 
And ... That about covers it. So, having given you the brief, now you can see some photos here or tune in to my video at: http://media.putfile.com/WW2Music It's a big one, and with the music and all I had to dump some quality in order to save on size but it should still be fun to watch.
pretendpilot@yahoo.com
