Waypoints: Rising above tragedy

The tragic landing gone wrong in Connecticut claimed the lives of seven of the 13 on board and injured one on the ground (see “Pilot Briefing: Catastrophe in Connecticut,” p. 33). Through those lives and the many, many who loved and supported that wonderful old warbird, thousands more were affected by the loss. The ripple effect is amazing. Indeed, thousands more have flown in that B–17G over the decades as the foundation has barnstormed it around the country, giving people of all generations a glimpse into what the Greatest Generation used to stop the tyranny in Europe in the 1940s.

After such a tragedy, some are quick to suggest that it’s time to retire such warbirds from public service. Place them on poles at airports or in museums where people can look at them from behind velvet ropes. There, they will be protected forever. After all, there are fewer than 10 B–17s left flying in the world. Perhaps we shouldn’t risk losing any more.

And, really, we shouldn’t be going outside on rainy days because on average 50 people a year are killed by lightning. And countless more slip on wet sidewalks and leaf-covered driveways.

Golf? One of our staff members fell off a golf cart last year and severely broke his arm. He was not able to work for nearly six months. Well, at least he didn’t get struck by lightning on a golf course.

What about getting out of bed in the first place? Some 450 people in the United States die from falling out of bed each year.

And then there’s coffee. It’s really hot. People get burned. It’s terribly risky, as Thom Richard pointed out in a commentary posted shortly after the B–17 accident on Warbirdnews.com.

“With little concern, most of us—willingly and regularly—handle a liquid so hot it could leave us with third-degree burns—maimed for life—even blind, or far worse. You do this without any protective gear or measures or burdensome regulations to prevent such injury or death. And why? Because it’s worth it to you…The reward overshadows the risk.”

And isn’t that why we all fly general aviation airplanes? Because we enjoy the challenge and rewards of piloting an airplane ourselves? I in no way mean to make light of the terrible tragedy in Connecticut. The loss is stunning and needs to be investigated so we can learn how to prevent such accidents. But we shouldn’t stop flying warbirds—or any other aircraft—because of the occasional accident.

What we do carries more risk than some other choices we make in life. But when I fly myself, I am in control of almost all of the risk. That can’t be said for driving a car or especially for riding a motorcycle, for example.

No doubt flying in or flying a 75-year-old warbird is riskier than flying on the airlines. Those paying for flights on such airplanes should be made to clearly understand that, and I think most do. But thousands every year choose to do it anyhow, because they want that experience. They don’t want to just look at a B–17; they want to feel, smell, and hear it and that is what we lose when the only way to experience these aircraft is from behind a velvet rope.

Years ago, I had the chance to fly in the Collings Foundation’s B–24 Liberator. And although I knew there was a risk in flying in an airplane older than my father, I accepted it without much thought—even walking the 12-inch-wide bomb bay catwalk in flight.

A couple of years ago I was privileged to get to earn a second-in-command type rating in B–25 Panchito through the Delaware Aviation Museum. Larry Kelley is the passionate owner, and he tears up when describing the effect the old airplane can have on those who once flew it or those whose close relatives did so. Here’s what I wrote after flying the Mitchell: “Kelley believes that seeing it in flight—and hearing it—are what connects people across the generations to the aviation effort of World War II, and reminds them of the great sacrifice made by so many. ‘When I go to the zoo, I don’t want to see a stuffed bear. I want to hear it roar,’ he explains.”

Thanks to Kelley and his volunteers and countless others at the Collings Foundation, Commemorative Air Force, EAA, and other groups, we can still hear, smell, and feel what it’s like to pilot these airplanes from a bygone era—and experience all they have to teach us about history and perseverance. An occasional accident, no matter how tragic, is not a reason to silence them.

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@tomhaines29