Dad and his crew picked up their brand new B-24 at the San Diego Ford plant, and after check-out flight loaded up for the run to North Africa, the crew chief (who was a gruff old German from Wisconsin … he named the plane, apparently after one of the bomb releases that hung up on a regular basis) spotted a Schwinn on the ramp, rode it over, and threw it up into the bomb-bay. They flew across country to Florida, diverting through, and I do mean THROUGH (Dad flew down Main Street lower that the clock tower on the county courthouse) my Dad's home town of Cleburne Texas, south of now DFW.
At Tampa (slogan: One a day in Tampa Bay), shortly before departing for the Azores, and on to North Africa, an MP rode up on a Harley scout bike and asked if they knew of the whereabouts of a bicycle that went missing from San Diego? After some discussion the bike was surrendered, and the MP climbed up on it and rode off. The Harley was quickly slid under the hull, hoisted up into the bomb-bay and the bomb-bay doors closed. Nobody came back to claim it, and after a few days, they flew across the Atlantic and Mediterranean with the motorcycle.
At the field in Benghazi (yes, THAT Benghazi) another crew chief offered them a Jeep in trade for the Harley, and since the whole crew could pile on a Jeep, they traded. Some time later a B-25 came in with an engine out, and the Jeep was commandeered for higher service. After staring at the B25 for a few days a bunch of the crew chiefs got together and fixed the engine. Dad and his co-pilot checked themselves out in the B-25. Dad figured that since it was only ½ of a B-24, it should be twice as easy to fly! Now, whenever a beer ration was issued they would stack in it the B-25, climb up from the screamingly hot desert to freezing altitude (somewhere around 20,000'), fly around until it was almost frozen, and make a screaming dive back down to the field where everyone would be waiting for a COLD beer, unheard of in Libya in 1943.
One day a T-6 landed, and a highly polished chicken colonel departed and marched over to Dad's plane. "Lt. I understand that you possess a B-25", Dad, "Well sir, we do put that one over there to use" The colonel had Dad give him a walk-around, and satisfied said "Lieutenants don't own B-25s, Colonels own B-25s", climbed aboard, fired up and flew it off.
this story is from http://hismiths.kinja.com/
http://foxtrotalpha.jalopnik.com/squadron-cars-the-amazingly-painted-rides-of-fighter-o-1608196145/all
If you've got a great story, share it! You can put it in the comments section, or email it to me at jbohjkl@yahoo.com
At Tampa (slogan: One a day in Tampa Bay), shortly before departing for the Azores, and on to North Africa, an MP rode up on a Harley scout bike and asked if they knew of the whereabouts of a bicycle that went missing from San Diego? After some discussion the bike was surrendered, and the MP climbed up on it and rode off. The Harley was quickly slid under the hull, hoisted up into the bomb-bay and the bomb-bay doors closed. Nobody came back to claim it, and after a few days, they flew across the Atlantic and Mediterranean with the motorcycle.
At the field in Benghazi (yes, THAT Benghazi) another crew chief offered them a Jeep in trade for the Harley, and since the whole crew could pile on a Jeep, they traded. Some time later a B-25 came in with an engine out, and the Jeep was commandeered for higher service. After staring at the B25 for a few days a bunch of the crew chiefs got together and fixed the engine. Dad and his co-pilot checked themselves out in the B-25. Dad figured that since it was only ½ of a B-24, it should be twice as easy to fly! Now, whenever a beer ration was issued they would stack in it the B-25, climb up from the screamingly hot desert to freezing altitude (somewhere around 20,000'), fly around until it was almost frozen, and make a screaming dive back down to the field where everyone would be waiting for a COLD beer, unheard of in Libya in 1943.
One day a T-6 landed, and a highly polished chicken colonel departed and marched over to Dad's plane. "Lt. I understand that you possess a B-25", Dad, "Well sir, we do put that one over there to use" The colonel had Dad give him a walk-around, and satisfied said "Lieutenants don't own B-25s, Colonels own B-25s", climbed aboard, fired up and flew it off.
this story is from http://hismiths.kinja.com/
http://foxtrotalpha.jalopnik.com/squadron-cars-the-amazingly-painted-rides-of-fighter-o-1608196145/all
If you've got a great story, share it! You can put it in the comments section, or email it to me at jbohjkl@yahoo.com
Nothing beats war stories.
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