Entry for February 15, 2007
Many of you might recall the legend of the little Dutch boy who, by putting his finger in the hole of the dike, saved the country of Holland. Now while this story I am about to tell is not quite parallel to the above, I am drawing a bit of poetic license to make the analogy. I was sitting out on the Bay of Pensacola one sunny afternoon, having finished my tour at the "Yoke" in an attempt to fly a large water craft called a PBY. I had already received my "wings" and was wearing them proudly after showing off my prowess by taking off and landing this monster three times with an instructor at my side and coaching me through my training. Now some of you, born after 1950, might ask what is a PBY? In reply, I tell you it was a twin engine flying boat. You may have seen some of the heroics on your television screen of these aircraft picking up Naval aviators that were in the water. Its two large engines were high above your ears on each side of the boat and their roar was significant. It was the darling of the Naval pilots because it was hinted that it would climb at 90, dive at 90 and you would live to be 90.---- not necessarily true, but it served the purpose of giving bragging rights to those that flew them. A stiff breeze had come up and the instructor had decided to sit a while to see if the wind would go down. I was sitting amidship when I could hear him say, "It's not getting any calmer, I'll go ahead and take off". As he began to increase the engine speed, we hit a large wave head on and the old boat shuddered, slowed and then proceeded forward. Gathering a bit more speed we hit another wave and once again the plane shuddered and moved forward some more. I thought to myself "If we hit another with that impact, I don't think this plane will staand it". Sure enough, another large wave once again burst on the bow of the vessel and with a crash, water began flowing into the nose of the ship. By way of explanation, in the nose of a PBY is a steel shuttered window with reinforced plate glass for added protection. It was commonly used for photography. Water is pouring in. The wind coming through what was practically a wind tunnel, was fierce. Trying to be of some assistance, not knowing what, I began to fight my way forward. The boat was close to flying speed but with about a 30 knot wind and airspeed now attaining about 40 knots. It meant I was fighting my way through a airflow of about 75 mph. I hung on to anything I could and gradually got up into the nose of the aircraft. Water was flowing through at a good amount and was now sloshing around my ankles. How do I help get the craft airborne? Then in a magnificent display of courage, I turned around and sat down in the broken window, thereby sealing off the water and allowing the instructor to get the plane in the air. We are now airborne. The wind is beating against my rear-end. The water, although sealed off, is still quite deep around my feet and my butt is being battered with the cold air. I can hear the instructor radioing the flight tower that he is going to put it up on the beach back at the air station. That gave me pause to think "Wait a minute. My butt is hanging out the window and he wants to put it on the beach??" I have visions of a not so pleasant ending to my tail bone. I now hear the engines being pulled back and feel the nose lifting up in preparation for a landing. I can see the pilot and I point to myself and then indicate "Should I jump out of the nose bay"? He shouts at me "No! Stay there." Once again visions of a scraped butt go through my head. Suddenly he shouts down to me "Out" and I leaped away. And that is how I was almost awarded the Order of the Purple Bottom".
Many of you might recall the legend of the little Dutch boy who, by putting his finger in the hole of the dike, saved the country of Holland. Now while this story I am about to tell is not quite parallel to the above, I am drawing a bit of poetic license to make the analogy. I was sitting out on the Bay of Pensacola one sunny afternoon, having finished my tour at the "Yoke" in an attempt to fly a large water craft called a PBY. I had already received my "wings" and was wearing them proudly after showing off my prowess by taking off and landing this monster three times with an instructor at my side and coaching me through my training. Now some of you, born after 1950, might ask what is a PBY? In reply, I tell you it was a twin engine flying boat. You may have seen some of the heroics on your television screen of these aircraft picking up Naval aviators that were in the water. Its two large engines were high above your ears on each side of the boat and their roar was significant. It was the darling of the Naval pilots because it was hinted that it would climb at 90, dive at 90 and you would live to be 90.---- not necessarily true, but it served the purpose of giving bragging rights to those that flew them. A stiff breeze had come up and the instructor had decided to sit a while to see if the wind would go down. I was sitting amidship when I could hear him say, "It's not getting any calmer, I'll go ahead and take off". As he began to increase the engine speed, we hit a large wave head on and the old boat shuddered, slowed and then proceeded forward. Gathering a bit more speed we hit another wave and once again the plane shuddered and moved forward some more. I thought to myself "If we hit another with that impact, I don't think this plane will staand it". Sure enough, another large wave once again burst on the bow of the vessel and with a crash, water began flowing into the nose of the ship. By way of explanation, in the nose of a PBY is a steel shuttered window with reinforced plate glass for added protection. It was commonly used for photography. Water is pouring in. The wind coming through what was practically a wind tunnel, was fierce. Trying to be of some assistance, not knowing what, I began to fight my way forward. The boat was close to flying speed but with about a 30 knot wind and airspeed now attaining about 40 knots. It meant I was fighting my way through a airflow of about 75 mph. I hung on to anything I could and gradually got up into the nose of the aircraft. Water was flowing through at a good amount and was now sloshing around my ankles. How do I help get the craft airborne? Then in a magnificent display of courage, I turned around and sat down in the broken window, thereby sealing off the water and allowing the instructor to get the plane in the air. We are now airborne. The wind is beating against my rear-end. The water, although sealed off, is still quite deep around my feet and my butt is being battered with the cold air. I can hear the instructor radioing the flight tower that he is going to put it up on the beach back at the air station. That gave me pause to think "Wait a minute. My butt is hanging out the window and he wants to put it on the beach??" I have visions of a not so pleasant ending to my tail bone. I now hear the engines being pulled back and feel the nose lifting up in preparation for a landing. I can see the pilot and I point to myself and then indicate "Should I jump out of the nose bay"? He shouts at me "No! Stay there." Once again visions of a scraped butt go through my head. Suddenly he shouts down to me "Out" and I leaped away. And that is how I was almost awarded the Order of the Purple Bottom".
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