Chapter 62

It was sitting all by itself in one of the Michigan Aeronautical Research Center WW2 hangars at Willow Run Airport. It had two longitudinal seats with two sets of controls. A long bubble canopy graced its dorsal side. and It had very wide-spaced landing gear and that was as far as its resemblance to a North American T-28 Trojan trainer went. To make matters worse ... it was blue ... and it had folding wings ... and they were folded.

"That fucker is huge," said David.

My language has not improved since the only female I hang with is my sister and her look of disgust and revulsion doesn't affect me as much as Lucy Lou and a bar of Fels Naptha ... or Lava. The thought made me spit.

The Chief Petty Officer agreed, "It is that."

"What in the name of the Gods of the airways is it?" David asked.

"Well, let me start out by saying that when I called in your charming sisters request, the Air Force said, 'Absolutely and unequivocally not happening. We've been selling them to every half-baked second and third world country and they're snapping them up like eating salted peanuts by the handful.'

"So we asked the Navy and they wanted their SNJ back, which, as I have explained already, is in Lake Erie. The Navy was not happy ... but ... they said they did have five of a batch of thirty 1948 Douglas two-seat trainer versions of the AD-2Q electronics countermeasures and dirty tricks bird left after it was decided by the Pentagon that the rear-seat systems operator had no business flying.

"To make matters even better, I went to Recip School with the MCPO (Master Chief Petty Officer) of Supply and he informed me that all five of the bastards had been stored in Michigan since 1949 at a place called Willow Run, wherever that was, but it sounded like something the Yankees would do during the War of Northern Aggression if things got a little hairy.

"He even nailed it down to one of several B-24 hangers that for some ungodly reason had been left after the war was over ... the Second ... not the War of Northern Aggression. He also said we could have them because we were talking about pocket change.

"Just send him a requisition and they were ours.

"We invaded the university and the Aeronautical Research Center admitted to seeing the planes in one of the hangers. Since we were in a hurry I sent two of my Airdales ... a First Class and a Third ... over here and they found them...

"Also, because we were in a hurry I had them check the aircraft out with a coarse bristled brush and we would check them over with a cooties comb if you decided to go for it. Will you?"

I spotted a phone over by the hangar door. The USGS Head said, "I don't care. We'll pay for the gas and oil. Just finish up before the November storms hit ... please." He hung up. So did I.

"I guess. Let's see if she'll start." I climbed up and figured out the outside release for the canopy, slid it back, climbed in the cockpit and sat down. The seat was very hard and I couldn't see out, but I got situated in the cockpit and had a look, "Hoe-Lee She-it!"

"Look complicated?"

"Is there a book?"

"Of course there's a book," there was just that little bit of hesitation in his voice that let me know that that statement should be followed up with, But We Can't Find It, or It's on order, but it wasn't ... he followed up with, "I wasn't always an enlisted man."

That stopped my show.

"I used to be a pilot and I flew these dinosaurs. I'd like to say that jets are more complicated but the AD is the LAST production propellor driven combat aircraft used by both the Army and the Navy and, as such, this is as complicated as military combat prop aircraft get." He sighed. "I really wish we could get another SNJ or even a T-28 but shit in one hand and wish in the outer and see which one gets full first.