Chapter 65

Of a Wednesday we continued to play hide and seek with our Engineers. We showed up early and sat in the back. The math was on the chalkboard and there was again a trick somewhere in it. The football team, along with the Women's Lacrosse members, hadn't come back, but the diehard hangers-on wouldn't leave. They weren't engineering students ... some of them weren't math majors ... but ... they came in for a second round of punishment.

This time, the message on the board said, Friday is the last day for DROP/ADD. Get on board or get out. It's going to be impossible next Wednesday. If you're still here when the lights go out you should find something else. Miss Austin

. Because of the unusual schedule our class had been allowed more time for the students to rearrange their schedules.

Again, it was Sarah Patel who was the first to spot this weeks error and tread the steps with a smile. She and Grace exchanged notes and Sarah left. This time Grace had twenty notes to exchange for correct answers.

Instead of the Student Union Building, the SUB, this time the gathering was at home. In the dark ... the really spooky ... deep ... deep ... dark, the main part of the warehouse was perfect for a game of Commando squirt gun. We had coveralls and high-powered squirt rifles for everybody. The concrete creek culverts and rail-ties, plus all the old trunks and cheap furniture stored on the main floor made a great place to play. Who said college kids aren't kids ... their games are a little faster and there isn't a lot of, "I got you!" "No you didn't. Ya missed!" When you are dripping wet there isn't a lot of leeway.

Still ... when it was over and everyone was sitting on the living room floor, I said, "You're all engineers ... figure out a way we can get more range out of the guns."

And Arnold Strong, proprietor of the newly minted Strong Bicycle Frames, said, "I have a bunch of tubing scrap and machine tools ... Friday night, come over and we'll see what comes up."

Early Thursday morning, the geologists called at the warehouse, the University geologists not the government Geologists. Then I had to report, sadly, that I hadn't finished up because our aircraft crashed..."Just after we talked to you, as a matter of fact." They were properly contrite, but wondered if they could get a look at the previously completed data.

I referred them to the Government Geologists and they left, probably to call the USGS.

The Suburban was parked back by the backdoor, the work bay was dark and silent, Grace was behind the wheel and SuperFly Strong opened the back door for me. He slid into the front next to Grace and she took out. Madison to Packard turn right on Packard and on to East Stadium with a left. Then straight to US-23 and merge with Washtenaw and M17. Ypsilanti and the east entrance to Willow Run. Arnold opened my door, let me out and reloaded. Grace drove away. I assumed they were going home and the Chief would be bringing me home.

I walked in the door of the Willow Run WW2 B-24 hangar to be greeted by the Chief and his minions. The two seat AD-2 minus the Q sparkled. That blue ... when tests proved beyond any shadow of a doubt that a shiny blue paint soaked up the sun like a sponge and therefore added at least 200 pounds of weight in SUNSHINE ... well, that was the end of shiny aircraft. But THIS ... this was that glorious blue that the Rear Echelon Mother Fucker Navy loved ... blue jackets for the men, blue aircraft, blue greatcoats for the officers. The traditional Navy loved it ... thank God those assholes were dead and buried.

"And?" I asked.

"Today, you fly."

So, I climbed my ass up the fancy little stairs that were decorated with bunting and walked up the wingroot. I started to swing into the rear cockpit and the Chief spoke up.

"Front seat, David."

So I put a leg over and the other one, too and a smattering of applause began.

Grace ... dressed in her HOT teenage chick outfit ... with the little hat and veil, white gloves up to the elbows, those three inch heels and silk stockings, was standing back with Arnold and applauding. Chief's minions joined in and he stepped in the back cockpit.

"TBT, David," said the Chief.

I put on the hard hat that had Pilot painted over the visor and plugged in.

"Good Morning, Mr. Austin. My name is Chief Brewster, Today is the first day of the rest of your life. I would appreciate it if today wasn't the last day of mine. Start up check list please."

Second nature ... I followed the procedures and was amazed when the engine turned over, caught, smoked a little, smoothed out and I lowered the wings. And they worked...

The hangar queen was an airplane. The Chief Brewster contacted the tower and we received startled permission to use the taxiway in front of the east end hardstand as out runway as long as we took off south to north. I'd rather not explain what happened as I hit the landing gear up after takeoff. Suffice it to say:

We flew.

We landed. We took off. We landed. We took off. We landed. We took off. We landed. We took off. We flew to Detroit-Wayne Major Airport, and landed and took off, Detroit City Airfield and used their facilities, Lansing City Airfield, Nan-Bar, Davis, Washtenaw and Young, all four grass strips but well within the capabilities of the Skyraider. They all got visits. Grosse Ile Naval Air welcomed us. That was a mistake. We were swarmed by pilots and aircrew alike. Everyone had stories about the AD-2 and we had to hear them all. My confidence grew with every landing and takeoff.

"Pilot to instructor."

"Pilot to instructor."

"Hey Chief?"

'Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.'