Chapter 35

Nine hundred miles from Columbia I flew the approach to Panama City Bay County Airport. The field is surrounded by the city on three sides and it’s close if the wind is wrong. Windshear could put an aircraft in among the houses. The wind was with us and we landed over the water.

And there were people meeting us. But not like I was expecting. It was the VFW and they were having a party! The guest of honor was the former pilot of the SNB ... Lieutenant J.J. Foster ... and the crowd was celebrating his heroic endeavors during the war. Two whales and some tuna?

I invited him to sit behind the controls ... on the Right hand side. I wasn’t taking any chances. This was the fella who “sunk” German subs ... and got a medal for doing it. Nope ... wasn’t going to give him a chance to wreck my airplane.

He looked wistfully at the controls.

“You current?” I asked.

“I am,” he said.

“Wanna go for a ride?” I suggested. He had received the Navy Cross for his exploits and they don’t take medals away if the circumstances don’t fit the reports.

“Got your card?”

“Always,” he took out his wallet ... sure enough ... current license.

“Hilda?” I shouted out the side sliding window.

“What?”

“Get these folks moved back. J.J. and I are taking a hop.”

I had him do the check list ... I read, he did. “Wow ... thirty seven years.” He didn’t miss a thing. He even vetted the fuel truck... “Yeah ... avgas.”

900 miles is a lot of fuel ... and fifteen gallons of engine oil. Nice thing about a tanker ... they pump ... it’s not gravity feed. He finished the walk around and started on the cockpit. They finished the fuel and he slid out of the front hatch and checked the gas caps. When he climbed back in, I was sifting right seat.

“You did it right. I wasn’t going to ... but it’s your choice.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll sit right, if you don’t mind.”

We switched.

In an SNB the pilots are sitting on the ‘chutes. “Buckle up. Sorry about the hot seat,” I said.

“I’m good,” he chuckled, “You’re what? 18... 19 ... just don’t tell my wife.”

We both laughed.

At the last minute, one of the newspapers volunteered to send along a photog. I put her in the bomb bay ... with a ‘chute. Buckled her in it.

“There are a couple of things you don’t grab in here. This is the most important.” I pointed at the emergency bomb bay door release. “The bottom will fall out and you with it if you pull that.

“You stay put until we’re up ... you can come take pictures after we’re up.”

By now everybody had a clue and moved back.

“Your aircraft. I’ll just follow along on the yoke ... just in case.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep ... you’ve done everything else right ... don’t stop now.”

I can’t say I wasn’t nervous ... I was ... but he even had the taildragger weave right. Lined up ... he called the tower. His protocol was World War Two but they knew, away we went. Not too rough ... pretty good, in fact. When we were out of the pattern I called the photog up and she took pictures and a little 16mm movie of him flying.

“What’s up front?” she asked.

“The ride of your life.” I said, “Go on up.”

“Umh. My God! It’s glass. Can I stay here?”

She took pictures and a movie of the landing ... we didn’t tell her I was flying for that part.

Lieutenant Foster had a great time. I signed his logbook for the “Refresher” on the SNB.

“Lieutenant. If you don’t tell anybody ... I’m going to have your submarines painted under the cockpit window.”

“You know about the whales?”

“And the tuna.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You know the guy that won the DFC for sinking the battleship?” I asked, “It wasn’t until after the war that it was known he didn’t.”

“I heard that ... but don’t.”

“Your call.” I thought, my respect for this guy just jumped a hundred points.

“Thanks for letting me relive old memories. It was a terrible war.”

“They all are, war reminds we’re savages at heart.”

We took our photo opportunity with local high mucky mucks, shook hands all round, spoke to the TV camera. The girls made a last trip to the potty ... see ... you can teach a new dog old tricks.

We had half the distance of yesterday, 200 miles to Lake City and 297 miles from Lake City to Fort Lauderdale. The direct line wasn’t worth the hassle with the Border Patrol. I made sure the IFF was on for this flight. A straight shot to Lake City, right turn and straight down the peninsula to Fort Lauderdale. We were met ... but the INS was disappointed ... Wyoming is NOT part of Canada. I rented a tiedown for a week ... I have an idea.

Nobody would rent me a car, I started flipping through Auto Trader and found the perfect car. a 1934 Cadillac Cunningham 10 passenger ... so ... it used to be a hearse ... so what. Now it’s a woody shooting brake and not another like it. Battleship grey, with a 454 chevy and a four speed. I bought a limo. A surfers limo ... it wasn’t perfect, a few scratches, but the guy delivered. I paid cash. 2400 bucks. Seriously ... it was in Auto Trader, had been for months. Way cool car. The girls loved it.

Once home and introductions all around. “They’re not servants, guys. They’re family ... treat ‘em like you treat your rich uncle. The one who is going to leave you millions.”

With everybody settled, I called Jacksonville Naval Air Station. They have a museum.

“Hi. I have an early SNB I’d like to LOAN you for the month of March.”

“Yes sir, it flies. A certified warbird, completely restored ... guns and bomb racks intact. Norden Bombsight, and the Naval sextant.”

“How about I bring it up ... if you don’t like it ... I’ll try Tampa ... or Key West.”

“I don’t know ... it’ll take me longer to drive to the airport than the flight will take.”

“Fort Lauderdale.”

“Yeah ... close.”

I went back to the airport ... the girls were sacked out ... even Amy and Hilda. Sawing logs.

“Essie, is there someone available to run me to the airport?”

“Yes, Miss Karen. Which car?”

“There’s more than one?”

“Miss Karen, you didn’t even look in the garage.”

“Am I going to be unhappy I bought the Cunningham?”

“I doubt it, I’ve never seen the like of that. Why don’t you take Mel out to the garage and have a look. I’ll call her.”

“Will it be a problem?”

“No, ma’am.” Essie said, “She’s done with her duties. My husband and I decided you would be happier with a driver more your age.”