In the before-times, we booked a flight on a B24 Liberator for Father's Day. My dad is a history buff and has been reading stories from ww2 throughout my life, and here was an increasingly-rare chance to experience what those men (boys) experienced, to a degree. However, maintenance requirements cancelled the flight. So we booked on a B29 instead! And then covid cancelled that flight. Fast forward a few years, and flights have resumed, maintenance is completed, and my dad informs us he's buying tickets!
So Sunday morning we woke up early and headed out to Hagerstown to finally ride a piece of history. We arrived around 8:30 and checked in, only to be told that - due to the weather (chance of rain, low ceiling), the flight would definitely be delayed, and might be cancelled altogether. Saturday's flights had already been cancelled and pushed to Monday, but it looked like the weather would continue to clear up.
So we wandered around the museum. Hagerstown actually has a great aviation museum, featuring a plane from the 1919, military trainers, and various other exhibits - all in a hanger built by Fairchild during ww2 (entirely out of wood, impressively) to house the pt-19 trainers and c-82 "Packet" cargo planes they were manufacturing to support the war effort. They have a lot of weird aircraft, including a SM-73, which was an experimental cruise-missile decoy - part of a project that was ultimately cancelled but provided a fascinating distraction while we waited for the pilot to make the call.
Ultimately, things were looking good! We got the safety briefing, which alternated between comically mundane "You must follow all requests of flight attendants, no smoking onboard" and the bizarre "Don't step on the tunnel hatch. The latch isn't reliable and there's a small chance you could fall to your death." Then they assigned us starting-seats based on the groups we arrived with and the weight of those groups. Ethan and I, being skinny, ended up in the Radio Operators seats. We didn't know it at the time, but these were the best seats in the house outside the cockpit. We then toured the outside of the plane and got some history lessons.
Finally, after a few hours, we got the go signal! We made our way out the plane, loaded up, and strapped in. The engines coughed to life, one-by-one, and FiFi (the b29 next to us) loaded up and headed out to the runway. We followed and went down a parallel runway, and got to see FiFi take off as we rolled past. At the end of the runway, we did a lot of tests. Engine spin-up tests, brake tests, aileron and flap tests - and the assistant flight engineer in the back of plane with us was on the radio relaying confirmations of each step up to the pilots.
Then, it was time for takeoff. We roared down the runway, thankful for our earplugs and the breeze that immediately cooled off the cabin (especially up top in the radio seats), and lifted off at what felt like an absurdly steep angle. Looking out the rear tailgunner, all we could see was the runway. The stepper crawled onto the staircase to make sure the landing gear retracted, and then set about moving the waist gun into position. I could definitely see why the ww2 pilot said "it flew like a dumptruck with wings" - it wasn't the smooth flight you expect on an airliner, it was a jostly flight where the plane would suddenly move a foot in any direction, at any time - there was the threat that airsickness was a real possibility. None was present, but I was aware that if I tried to read a book (not that I would) it would be a terrible choice.
Next up was the tail gunner. I climbed over the tunnel-window (Making sure not to step on the latch and take an unscheduled skydive), and kneeled in the tail. This was a great seat, with a panoramic view of the world passing by. And all wide open, if you squirmed past the gun you would easily fit out the window with no glass to stop you.
After that I went down to the bomb-bay. Luckily, half the racks had been removed (well, all of the racks had been removed after a training accident and a life as a trainer / executive transport, but half the racks had been returned!) which meant there was a fair bit of room. However, there wasn't much to do in the bomb bay. The windows were small, the room cramped, and I was very grateful that we got bumped to the radio seats for takeoff. So I chilled out, inspected the bombs, dangled a hand out the window. After a few minutes I rotated up to the cockpit. Just an overwhelming number of dials and switches, and a comically modern GPS unit stuck to the windshield. They even had a roof hatch which they left open, the ultimate skylight.
Back in the bomb-bay Ethan and I checked out the bombardier seat. To get there when in flight you have to squirm over the landing gear - without touching the cowling which was spring-loaded and would be happy to let your through. We agreed we would totally do it, but that was unfortunately (and understandably) not part of the tour. On his suggestion we headed back to the radio seats for a more comfortable view and a better ride. As the rotations wrapped up we took an extra rotation and looked down the tunnel gun. Basically just a window in the floor that would have a 50 sticking through it. I couldn't imagine trying to track an enemy plane while it dodged and we bounced, all while the ground flew by underneath. I guess it'd be easier at altitude, but still.
Our seatmate was a ww2 veteran, and his brother-in-law was actually KIA in a b24 in the war. Amazingly, he was just as spry as the middle-aged men, but his presence underscored the fact that in the war, a bunch of 18 year olds were climbing around this plane with it's lack of handholds, lack of insulation, lack of any comforts - in frigid conditions, surrounded by flack explosions, while being shot at, for up to 14 hours at a time. I took my earplugs out and while not painfully loud, it was super obnoxious and still impossible to talk anyways.
We took some impressively hard banks, the engineer crawled down the stairs to make sure the wheels were out, and we landed pretty uneventfully. As we taxi'd back to the hangar probably a hundred people took pictures of us, it was like being a stormtrooper turned up 500%. Once parked, we waited for the props to spin down before opening the flimsy door (the one with a half-inch gap when closed properly) and made our way onto the ground, grinning ear to ear.
Our seatmate was a ww2 veteran, and his brother-in-law was actually KIA in a b24 in the war. Amazingly, he was just as spry as the middle-aged men, but his presence underscored the fact that in the war, a bunch of 18 year olds were climbing around this plane with it's lack of handholds, lack of insulation, lack of any comforts - in frigid conditions, surrounded by flack explosions, while being shot at, for up to 14 hours at a time. I took my earplugs out and while not painfully loud, it was super obnoxious and still impossible to talk anyways.
We took some impressively hard banks, the engineer crawled down the stairs to make sure the wheels were out, and we landed pretty uneventfully. As we taxi'd back to the hangar probably a hundred people took pictures of us, it was like being a stormtrooper turned up 500%. Once parked, we waited for the props to spin down before opening the flimsy door (the one with a half-inch gap when closed properly) and made our way onto the ground, grinning ear to ear.
And if you'd like to see more, Ethan recorded our flight!
