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Answer: The biplanes you mention—Stearmans, Kaydets, and Navy SNJs—were mostly likey trainers.

They were yellow because if they went down on a training mission—as they often did—they were easier to spot from the air.

• READ MORE: How Can an Aircraft Get Struck by Lightning Without a Close Thunderstorm?

Often the trainees made unscheduled off-airport landings in hayfields, swamps, forests, and the desert. Having an aircraft painted to look like terrain would have made it more difficult to find them.

The post Why Are Some Military Airplanes Gold? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The weather briefing we had reviewed a half hour earlier promised a 20-knot headwind that would require two fuel stops on the 130-mile trip from our home airport in Kennett, Missouri (KTKX), to Little Rock Air Force Base (KLRF) in Arkansas. The windsock promised that getting the little yellow bird into the air would be a white-knuckle affair. We knew the flight would be anything but smooth.

The J-4 differs from its more recognizable cousin, the J-3, in that it features side-by-side seating instead of the tandem arrangement more commonly found in tailwheel aircraft from the prewar and postwar era. It went through several variations between 1938 and 1942 before the attack on Pearl Harbor brought to an end any future iteration. The J-4’s cockpit is wider than the more common J-3, and the second generation brought about the replacement of the open cowl with exposed exhaust ports with a fully enclosed cowl.

I watched the stick flutter to and fro in sync with the rudder pedals as Wilkins fought to maintain the centerline, all the while pushing in the throttle. The little plane leapt into the air almost immediately as the wind seemingly swirled from every direction along the 5,000-foot runway. Wilkins guided the craft along the invisible roller coaster, working to keep the wings level while maintaining a crab as the Cub climbed the first 500 feet. Once there, he put us in a slight right turn toward our first fuel stop 60 miles ahead, continuously fighting the stick as the gusting left crosswind did its best to push us off course. 

Twenty minutes into the flight, he called, “Your plane,” and I gripped the stick, doing my best to maintain 2,500 feet, where we had found just a slight respite. The sun had already reached its apex, creating invisible waves of air as the flat farmland of southeast Missouri gave way to the forested hills of northeast Arkansas. We were delivering the J-4 to Little Rock, where it would be on static display throughout the weekend at Thunder Over the Rock, an airshow that had been dormant since the COVID-19 pandemic three years prior.

In its early life during World War II, NC32775 had served as an industrial courier with the Civil Air Patrol at Reading Courier Station in Pennsylvania and was owned by Frances Nolde, who would go on to become station commander and one of the first female colonels in CAP. Nolde, the wife of wealthy hosiery manufacturer Hans Nolde, was fascinated with flying and set out to earn her certificate with her husband’s encouragement. She was completely seduced by aviation, and when the U.S. entered WWII, Nolde joined the CAP, ferrying cargo and personnel around the country. Efforts like this freed male pilots for combat missions, and her dedication led to her appointment as commander of Reading Station. After the war, she remained active with the group and was promoted to the rank of colonel, having logged some 4,500 hours of flying for CAP.

It was because of this CAP history that the plane we were now flying had been invited to participate in the airshow where it would share ramp space with more modern glass panel Cessna 172s and 182s operated by the Air Force’s civilian auxiliary. Wilkins, a captain in the Civil Air Patrol, had shared photos and history of NC32775 with Lieutenant Colonel Marchelle Jones, who immediately began making preparations for the J-4’s appearance at the upcoming event.

The discovery of the aircraft’s pedigree almost did not happen. The J-4, also known as a Cub Coupe, had been dropped off in Kennett for annual in 2008 by its then-owner and ended up becoming a permanent resident when Hurricane Ike stretched inland all the way to the Missouri Bootheel, lifting it from the ground and depositing it on top of the FBO’s maintenance hangar. Airport manager Sam Jewell agreed to purchase the damaged plane and set about fully restoring it. Both wing’s spars had been damaged, requiring them to be stripped down to the skeleton for repair. Fabric on the fuselage also had to be replaced. (In more recent years, the original 65 hp engine had been replaced by a Continental 85 hp engine with Stroker conversion that provides 100 hp, and an electrical system had been added to eliminate the need to hand-prop.) 

By the time it was ready for the paint shop, its previous CAP lineage had been discovered, and the CAP livery was affixed to the fabric body, but little else was known about its service in WWII. That is, until Colonel Frank Blazich, former CAP national historian, discovered it was the same aircraft flown by Nolde. In his book, An Honorable Place in American Airpower, Blazich chronicles the legacy of the Civil Air Patrol and how the use of civilian aircraft in the war effort was the first step in the organization becoming a vital component of the country’s air power. 

Arranging for the delivery of civilian aircraft to a military airbase takes considerable time, but that would not stop Jones, who cut through the layers of red tape with the efficiency of someone familiar with the inner mechanisms of bureaucracy. Further complicating matters was the fact that the plane would be delivered by civilian pilots. Wilkins’ service with CAP proved valuable in that he would not have to provide anything other than his credentials. His copilot (me) had to be properly cleared before the Air Force granted permission for a nonmilitary pilot to land at a military installation.

Nearly an hour and a half after takeoff, having traveled only 60 nm, I turned the controls back over to Wilkins as we plodded through the prelanding checklist for our first fuel stop in Newport, Arkansas (M19). The plane has no internal radio, so cockpit and external communications were running through a portable intercom plugged into a portable radio. The single push-to-talk button had been mounted onto my control stick so that I could handle communications while Wilkins focused on landing the tailwheel plane in the expected gusty crosswinds.

Hearing no other traffic in the area, Wilkins opted for a relatively straight-in approach to Runway 22, once again dancing on the rudder pedals and wrestling the ailerons as the gusty winds threatened to shove us off the pavement. Knowing that even a favorable forecast could change quickly, Wilkins had spent several weeks preparing for the worst, practicing takeoffs and landings at our home airport on days when most pilots in more modern aircraft chose to stay on the ground. The landing was uneventful, and we were soon taking on fuel for the second leg of the journey.

I announced our departure intentions, receiving well wishes from the airport attendant who had come out to admire the plane, and Wilkins once again pointed us down the runway and into the blue sky. Such would be our routine for the next three hours. Wilkins would handle takeoff and landing duties, and I would, thankfully, only handle cruise. 

The remainder of our flight would follow U.S. Highway 67, a four-lane divided route boasting a 75 mph speed limit. We joked as we watched the traffic below zoom past us, wondering whether we might actually be moving backward. With an average cruise speed of 70 mph while sipping 5 gph, the Cub was barely making 50 across the ground as it struggled against the headwind. Due to our limited speed and the fact that we had an assigned 15-minute window in which to land at the Air Force base, we made plans to make one final fuel stop at Searcy, Arkansas (KSRC), which was only 30 miles from the airbase.

Once again, Wilkins mastered the landing, ballooning once before settling down on Runway 19 and taxiing to the fuel pumps. We took a much-needed 20-minute rest and then briefed the final leg. Our plan was to fly to the eastern edge of the restricted airspace surrounding the airshow center and hold until contacted by the tower. Knowing a B-52 was scheduled to land behind us, we were abundantly aware of the need to precisely time our arrival.

As the sun began its descent, we began the final leg of what would end up being a four-hour trek. The afternoon turbulence had subsided a bit, making it easier to maintain a holding pattern over the town of Cabot, located 6 miles from the approach end of Runway 25. We notified the tower of our location, mainly for the benefit of the two F-35s practicing maneuvers nearby, conscious of the fact that we would never be able to avoid them—and that they would never see us—if they did come our way. Without a transponder, we were hiding in plain sight, all other aircraft oblivious to our presence, a sobering fact that became all too apparent when we noticed the KC-135 passing 3 miles in front of us as we circled counterclockwise around the town.

Just before our appointed entry time, a privately owned performance jet somehow missed the approach to the 12,000-foot-long runway and then declared a low-fuel emergency. We were asked to hold our position a few more minutes before finally being cleared to begin our approach after the jet made a successful landing on the second attempt. Not knowing the B-52 had arrived ahead of schedule, the four minutes that passed during the 5-mile final seemed like an hour, and when the mains touched down just inside the threshold, we both let out a sigh of relief. It was only after exiting the runway that we noticed the B-52 ahead of us awaiting its own taxi instructions.

Finally, after being marshaled to parking and completing the shutdown checklist, we exited the aircraft for the last time that day with big smiles and a high-five, euphorically congratulating each other on completing the exhausting mission.

Throughout the weekend, the little canary-yellow airplane with a wooden propeller proudly posed for photos with old and young admirers alike, her much younger and far more advanced siblings in the background. Little girls, especially, were enamored with the aircraft after hearing Jones tell stories and show photos of the woman pilot who flew it in WWII. 

The monstrous cargo planes and nimble fighter jets soaring overhead could no doubt travel faster, but only the little Cub could offer a journey back in time.  

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared on Plane & Pilot.

The post When Flying a ‘Little Yellow Bird’ Became a White-Knuckle Affair appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In 1947, however, WACO’s designers and engineers went a little crazy.

Like so many other manufacturers of the era, the company became motivated to introduce a new “personal aircraft,” targeting the scores of pilots returning from World War II. This customer base, with a unique blend of pilot qualifications and disposable income, tantalized the marketing departments of aircraft manufacturers across the country.

To stand out from the rest, WACO designed a four-place aircraft with a front-mounted single engine that drove a pusher propeller in the tail and named it the Aristocraft.

Predictably, the company touted a long list of performance advantages.

It claimed that the unique engine/propeller arrangement reduced drag, minimized propeller noise in the cabin, and eliminated the variation between power-on and power-off flight characteristics. It also promoted the ability to load and unload the airplane with the engine running without having to fight propwash, as well as the increased safety margin with the propeller positioned at the extreme aft end of the aircraft.

The airframe construction was traditional, with a metal wing, tail, and control surfaces, and a fabric-covered tubular steel fuselage. WACO subcontracted the still-novel tricycle landing gear to Firestone. It was partially retractable, sacrificing aerodynamic efficiency for utility—should the pilot land with the gear retracted, the airplane would still roll on the wheels, limiting damage to the airframe.

More notable was the powertrain. WACO utilized a 215 hp, 6-cylinder Franklin engine linked to the aft controllable-pitch, reversible propeller through a long driveshaft that extended through a shroud in the cabin. The driveshaft incorporated multiple constant-velocity universal joints with individual pressure-lubricated housings.

Because there was no propeller in the nose to provide cooling air over the engine on the ground, a blower attachment was used to do so.

Naturally, all of these design alterations added weight and complexity, resulting in an empty weight of 2,046 pounds—several hundred pounds heavier than the 1,600- to 1,800-pound range of similarly powered types like the 182, Debonair, and Comanche. Claimed performance wasn’t terrible, however, with a cruise speed of 135 mph at 5,000 feet, a 960 fpm rate of climb, and a 17,500-foot service ceiling. Maximum gross weight was listed as 3,130 pounds, which, when accounting for the 60 gallons of fuel capacity, returns a payload of 724 pounds.

WACO reportedly secured some 300 orders for the Aristocraft, but no production aircraft ever materialized.

Details are scarce, and some sources mention WACO’s inability to cope with a shrinking market. But, considering how unsuccessful other manufacturers were when faced with managing the vibration inherent in similar aircraft designs incorporating long driveshafts, it’s likely the company encountered the same problem, and it shelved the program entirely.

In the early 1960s, the Aristocraft was briefly resurrected, albeit in a different form.

Homebuilder Terry O’Neill converted it into a simpler version that utilized a traditional propeller arrangement for the front engine, intending to market it in two varieties—one certificated and another experimental. Despite flying the redesigned version, his plans progressed no further, and the Aristocraft story came to an end.

The post That Time When WACO Designers Went a Little Crazy appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Today’s Top Pick is a 1945 Stinson L-5G Sentinel.

The Stinson L-5G Sentinel saw widespread use as a liaison and utility aircraft during World War II and into the Korean War. This aircraft is one of many modified for use as an ambulance, with a deck installed behind the rear of the cabin and additional access doors to accommodate a stretcher.

Like several military utility airplanes of the era, including Pipers, Aeroncas, and Taylorcrafts, the Sentinel was developed from a popular civilian model, in this case, the Stinson 105 Voyager.

The Stinson has the advantage of relative novelty, as observers at the airport are less likely to recognize it compared with, say, a common Piper Cub in a military paint scheme.

The airplane for sale here is freshly restored with sharp insignia and is sure to attract attention and add interest to any fly-ins the pilot might attend. It would also make a fun cross-country machine for two people who are not in a hurry.

This 1945 Stinson L-5G Sentinel has 1,720 hours on the airframe and 70 hours on its 190 hp Lycoming O-435 since overhaul. The VFR panel features a Garmin GTR 225 comm radio and a GTX 345 transponder with ADS-B In and Out. Additional equipment includes nav/comm equipment from the World War II era, used for display only. The aircraft received new covering, paint, and interior in 2022.

Pilots interested in owning a warbird with an interesting story that is easy to fly and practical as personal transport should consider this 1945 Stinson L-5G Sentinel, which is available for $120,000 on AircraftForSale.

If you’re interested in financing, you can do so with FLYING Finance. Use its airplane loan calculator to calculate your estimated monthly payments. Or, to speak with an aviation finance specialist, visit flyingfinance.com.

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The post This 1945 Stinson L-5G Sentinel Is a Veteran ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Anderson, a “triple ace” who shot down 16 enemy aircraft during World War II, died at his home in Auburn, California, on May 17. He was 102.

Anderson’s aviation career spanned 30 years. After WWII, he became a test pilot, flying more than 130 different aircraft, and was in the cockpit at the birth of the jet age. Some of his test flights involved a small fighter being carried aloft by a Convair B-36 Peacemaker bomber, which was released from the larger aircraft.

• READ MORE: Two Legendary Ace World War II Pilots Return to the Skies

He served at the Pentagon and in the Pacific as the wing commander of the 18th Tactical Fighter Wing on Okinawa and later the 355th Tactical Fighter Wing based in Thailand.

When he retired from the military in 1972, he held the rank of colonel. He was heavily decorated, having earned five Distinguished Flying Crosses, 16 Air Medals, two Legions of Merit, a Bronze Star, and a Commendation Medal. In 2022, the Air Force promoted him to the honorary rank of brigadier general.

Anderson was a favorite on the airshow and fly-in circuits. He often spoke at events held by the Commemorative Air Force and was inducted into the CAF’s American Combat Airman Hall of Fame in 2001.

Anderson is probably best remembered for flying his P-51 Mustang Old Crow. Prior to flying the P-51, Anderson flew a P-39 Airacobra.

According to the CAF, with the blessing of Anderson and his family, the Central Texas Wing was able to add the Old Crow name and livery to the CAF’s P-39 in July 2022. The P-39, a P-51B, and a P-51D, all bearing the Old Crow livery, served as a backdrop for a special Warbirds in Review presentation with Anderson as the guest of honor.

The post Remembering the Late WWII Triple Ace Bud Anderson appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Today’s Top Pick is a 1947 Piper J-3C Cub.

When President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the Civilian Pilot Training Act in 1939 as part of a plan to boost the nation’s overall readiness for potential combat, he gave an opportunity to thousands of aspiring aviators who might never have learned to fly without the government program. The resulting flurry of flight instruction sharply raised demand for trainer aircraft. This was the beginning of the Piper J-3 Cub’s ascendance.

Demand for the simple, rugged taildragger soared, and Piper turned out thousands of them for wartime training. After the war the J-3 continued as the go-to trainer as general aviation grew through the 1950s. Over time, the Cub developed a huge following that continues today, with values climbing for these rag-and-tube classics.

The J-3 is fun to fly. My flying club had one in its fleet several years ago, and I managed to wrangle stick time on a couple of occasions. The Cub’s leisurely cruising speed of about 60 to 70 ktas added to the gentle impression it made in the air. The aircraft was less accommodating on the ground, where it tended to wallow on bungee-damped wheel struts. Still, it was fairly easy to handle and treated me well. 

This 1947 Piper J-3 has 2,000 hours on the airframe and 180 hours on its Continental C-85 engine. The aircraft received new Stitts system covering in 2009.

Pilots interested in returning to what many consider the beginning of mass-market general aviation should consider this 1947 Piper J-3C Cub, which is available for $39,000 on AircraftForSale.

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

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The post This 1947 Piper J-3 Cub Is a Historic, Beloved ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

For history and aviation buffs, this is must-see programming. The series, based on the 2007 book of the same name by Donald L. Miller, chronicles the experiences of the 100th Bomb Group, part of the Eighth Air Force in England during the war. For those who swoon at the sight and sound of a Boeing B-17, this is something you will want to watch. Several times.

The series is touted as a companion piece to HBO’s Band of Brothers and The Pacific. All three of these gritty war dramas were produced by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks.

The miniseries was several years in discussion, and when the green light was given, there was no shortage of aviation and WWII historians who wanted to be part of the project. One of those was Taigh Ramey, well known in the American warbird circuit for his Twin Beech restoration, maintenance facility, and role at the Stockton Field Aviation Museum and WWII Bomber Camp in California.

Ramey’s mother was an Army nurse in WWII, and his father a navigator aboard a B-29. As a child, he built model aircraft with his dad and collected aircraft instruments. One year for Christmas, Ramey received a Crocker-Wheeler A-8 gun turret.

“It was new in the original crate from 1943,” Ramey said. “The like-new Plexiglas dome had a protective cover over it that was stenciled ‘TRAINING TURRET TYPE A-8 FOR MODEL AT-11 AIRCRAFT.’ It was so cool, and I asked my dad what an AT-11 was. He showed me a photo and said that he and a buddy took an AT-11 out of Saipan in 1945 and buzzed the Japanese in the control tower on the island of Rota, making them jump out! Combat use of an AT-11!”

The AT-11 is a military variant of the Twin Beech, and Ramey became familiar with the civilian aircraft while studying aeronautics at San Jose State University. He discovered a patch-and-rivet pattern on one of the aircraft in the school program that indicated it had been used by the military as a bombardier trainer. That fueled his desire to get an AT-11 of his own. He learned SJSU was planning to discard the aircraft, and if he wanted it as a project, it would cost $250 for the airframe—engines not included. He borrowed the money from his mother and became the proud owner of a 1943 Beechcraft AT-11 Kansan bombardier trainer.

Fast-forward a few decades. Ramey, now a 5,000-hour commercial pilot with multiengine, CFI, MEI, and A&P/IA certificates,  learns the Masters of the Air project is moving forward—and knew he wanted to be part of it.

“I emailed as many folks as possible to try and get involved,” he said. “I am sure about 10,000 others did as well. It turned out that it was Bomber Camp that got me the job.”

The idea for Bomber Camp started as a paper Ramey wrote in college. It has since evolved into an educational camp for adults where they learn all about WWII air and ground crew by living the experience. They dress in WWII-authentic clothing and learn about the jobs of the men during the war. They have the opportunity to fly on a B-17G for a simulated mission with dummy bombs.

“The students get to shoot the 50-cal machine gun and get to drop bombs with the famous Norden bombsight,” Ramey said. “You can even ride in a ball turret in flight and all of the other crew positions in the B-17.”

People who knew about Bomber Camp suggested Ramey to the movie’s production staff as a technical adviser on the series, and soon he received a call asking if he would like to come out for two weeks to train pilots to act like they could fly a B-17.

Although he does not have a type rating in a B-17, Ramey does have type ratings in other WWII aircraft and had flown right seat in the Collings Foundation’s 909.

A week later Ramey was in the U.K. as a WWII aviation adviser/B-17 technical adviser on the project. His job was to work with the actors portraying the flight crews as well as assisting the production department to make sure the on-screen action appeared authentic. For example, he made sure the actors were looking at the correct gauges on the instrument panel at a specific moment, such as when an engine is damaged in flight and they commented on a loss of power.

“After the two weeks were up, I was packing to go home and I talked to production about my upcoming flight,” Ramey said. “They said, ‘Oh, didn’t they tell you? You are staying for the filming.’ Uh, no. Nobody asked me if I could stay. Of course, I stayed and I was there for the full nine months of filming.”

Ramey’s work on the Masters of the Air project broadened. He went to the National Archives and Records Administration to research each mission to gain a better understanding of what it took to make it happen, then worked with Meghan Jones in the graphics department on the flight planning. The maps and plotting of courses shown in the movie are correct, he said.

“The production staff were so determined to make this as accurate as possible,” Ramey said. “The amount of effort that went into this series is beyond amazing.”

He was also tasked with teaching the actors how to handle the aircraft controls as if they were actually flying.

“I assumed that some of the actors would have a basic understanding of flying, maybe through flight simulators, gaming, or something,” Ramey said. “Not a single one had any prior experience. So I sat them down in a chair and had them hold a control wheel and make a turn with their hands and feet, telling them the basics of how the controls work. [How] to turn, roll in the rudder and aileron, and then add some back pressure. They needed to know…you can’t just hold the wheel over the full time like in your car, but you [have] to center the controls.”

No real B-17s were used in the filming, according to Ramey. Instead, two full-sized B-17 replicas were constructed, one of which was able to move with large electric motors on each main landing gear.

Ramey instructed the actors about how to handle the throttles and other controls, where to look when flying formation, and how the crew interacts in flight, such as teaching the copilot how to back up the pilot and how the flight engineer/top turret gunner stood between the pilots on takeoff.

“[I also taught the gunners] how to work the Browning M2 50 cal and how to track the fighters and how long the burst of fire would typically be,” he said. “The bombardier needed to learn how to manipulate the awkward controls of the Norden bombsight in an accurate manner to manipulate his bomb bay door and bomb release controls and to interact with the pilot on the bomb run.”

Briton David Littleton  also served as a technical adviser. Littleton had worked as an adviser and on the aircrew for the 1990 film Memphis Belle.

“I was on the flight crew for the B-17 Sally B and was tasked with firing the guns during filming from Duxford and later at Binbrook,” Littleton said.

He also worked on 2012’s Red Tails, directed by George Lucas, employed by the art department to oversee the build and kitting out of the B-17 section that was made. Littleton has a B-17 cockpit that was used for the close-up shots. On Masters of the Air the production manager contacted him about coming to see his B-17. According to Littleton, the producers used his cockpit as a template to construct sets for filming.

“My cockpit was shipped to Longcross Studios as a reference to the team to build the B-17,” he said. “I supplied many parts for the team to model and make replicas. The interior sets were visually complete from the nose to the tail for filming. These were started a year before filming commenced.”

Littleton said he also provided smaller items, such as machine gun mounts that were reproduced by the props department. His cockpit was used to train the pilots, copilots, and flight engineers.

“Myself and Taigh Ramey worked with Captain Dale Dye to assist with the extras and other actors for other crew roles,” Littleton said. “We were on hand to assist the directors on various B-17 scenes that were to be filmed.”

If you have been inside a B-17, you know how cramped it is. This was noted during the filming, as the crew were aboard B-17F, where the waist gunner windows are located directly across from each other. During combat the gunners would often slam into each other. Later-model B-17s staggered the gunners’ positions so this didn’t happen.

The combat scenes for Masters of the Air were handled using CGI. Based on recorded accounts of those who were there, the images are historically authentic. You can’t help but flinch when the German fighters come at the aircraft and parts of it are blown inward from antiaircraft gun flak.

The detail inside the bomber is impressive. You see all the headset and microphone cords, the piles of bullet casings on the floor, and the oxygen hoses and electrical cords for the heated flying suits hanging from a bulkhead or sheared off by flak. Add to this the physiological challenge of being at 20,000 feet, where the temperature is 40 below zero. There are several scenes where the airmen experience frostbite because of the below-freezing temperatures at altitude and hypoxia when their oxygen masks are knocked loose by flak or the hoses torn.

There is a gritty reality to this series that has not appeared in others. Littleton notes he has heard from a few veterans that watching Masters of the Air is a very emotional experience for them.

Like Ramey, Littleton was impressed by the production department’s attention to detail right down to the sounds of the B-17 starting up with the hydraulic pumps to the tiny details of life in the 1940s.

“The production team [was] very good to understand what was required, and a lot of research was carried out,” said Littleton, noting that the sets built at Abingdon Airfield and Mapledurham, and Chalfont Saint Giles were extremely detailed. “Everyone wanted to make sure everything was as correct as it could be. There was so much that was reproduced to make sure it was period correct that a lot was not even seen on the screen, even down to boxes of period matches and chewing gum.”

The COVID-19 pandemic slowed down production. Masks were worn, and if someone on the movie crew tested positive for the virus, filming ground to a halt. This added several weeks to the production schedule.

Both Ramey and Littleton hope the viewers of Masters of the Air will gain perspective on the experiences of the airmen and how it shaped their lives after the war.

For example, a friend of mine’s father was a waist gunner on a B-17 shot down in 1944. He was 19 years old at the time. He bailed out and survived, was taken prisoner, and placed in Stalag Luft III—three days after the so-called “Great Escape,” where 76 allied airmen broke out using a tunnel. The Germans were embarrassed by the escape, and the men left in the camp paid the price. He survived the war and was repatriated, but as a result of his experiences, he would become very agitated when there was a power outage, especially in the winter. The family took care to have extra food and an emergency heat source in the house.

What makes Masters of the Air even more poignant is that the generation that fought in WWII has all but disappeared—and most took their stories with them. It’s only years later that their children and grandchildren or someone at a flea market finds their diaries or letters home.

While the rivet counters may find fault in some aspects of Masters of the Air, it still provides a window into that global conflict and a reminder of those who served.

New episodes of Masters of the Air are released on Fridays on Apple TV.

Longtime Passion for WWII Period Evident in Steven Spielberg

Masters of the Air director Steven Spielberg’s father served on a B-25 during World War II, and he has always had a fascination for the period.

For the true Spielberg fans out there, you may recall his 1980s TV science fiction anthology series Amazing Stories that featured an episode called “The Mission,” where the ball turret gunner of the B-17 Friendly Persuasion is trapped in his compartment when a German fighter collides with the aircraft. In addition, the B-17’s landing gear fails. The crew realizes they will be doing a belly landing and the ball turret – and the man inside – will be crushed.

The ball turret gunner is an aspiring cartoonist. He draws under pressure, and when he realizes the magnitude of his situation, he draws a cartoon of a B-17 with balloon tires—and they magically come to be. This was made possible by using the same production techniques for the 1988 feature film Who Framed Roger Rabbit? The cartoon tires remain in place while the turret gunner is rescued. He is in a daze, and when he comes out of it, the tires disappear.

The post ‘Masters of the Air’ Miniseries Is Must-See TV for Aviation Buffs appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Today’s Top Pick is a 1943 Boeing​/​Stearman B75N1.

The Stearman Model 75 biplane is a classic that seems to gain popularity with each passing year. The military versions, known as the PT-13, PT-17, and PT-18, depending on whether they had a Lycoming, Continental, or Jacobs engine, taught the bulk of new military cadets how to fly before they moved on to a more complex monoplane trainer like the Vultee BT-13 Valiant.

Today, many general aviation pilots take far more hours learning to fly these machines than the military trainees were allotted. However, people familiar with the Stearman will tell you it is easy to fly and still makes an ideal trainer, especially for pilots interested in eventually flying higher-performance tailwheel aircraft like AT-6s, fighters, and other warbirds.

Flying a Stearman is also an utter joy, judging from the 15 minutes or so of stick time I received in a friend’s airplane in 2013. Looking down through the bracing of its bright yellow wings at the green forests of southeastern New York was an experience I will always treasure. I would like to repeat it someday, for a much longer flight. 

This 1943 Stearman has 4,287 hours on the airframe and five hours on its Lycoming R680-B4E radial engine and 418 hours on the propeller since overhaul. The VFR panel includes a Garmin GTX 327 transponder, GTR 225 radio, and uAvionix SkyBeacon ADS-B.

Other equipment and features include Redline brakes, Skytronics 24-volt, 50-amp alternator, Air Repair landing gear seal kit, Russ tailwheel kit, Airwolf oil filter, and Auto Fuel STC.

Pilots who want a taste—or perhaps just a hint—of what young cadets in World War II went through while learning to fly should consider this 1943 Boeing​/​Stearman B75N1. This type would have been the first aircraft many of those aspiring pilots had ever touched, and it is available for $139,900 on AircraftForSale.

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

• FLYING Magazine: Restoration Nation: The Stearman Next Door
• FLYING Magazine: Ageless Aviation Fleet of Stearmans Expands to Honor More Midwestern Military Veterans
• FLYING Magazine: Taking Wing: Stearman Patrol
• The Aviation Consumer: Off The Beaten Path: Vintage Aircraft
• AVweb: Buying The Old Ones: Homework Mandatory

The post This 1943 Boeing /Stearman B75N1 Is the Quintessential Biplane and an ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Today’s Top Pick is a 1947 Republic RC-3 Seabee.

Republic’s Seabee developed from a design by Percival Hopkins Spencer called the Spencer Air Car. Spencer had pitched the aircraft to Republic, which was looking for a way to take advantage of a boom in general aviation that was expected to develop as military pilots returned home after World War II. During the war, military branches also found the Seabee concept attractive for its potential as a search and rescue platform. Military orders rolled in but were canceled when the war ended. The Seabee arrived on the market in late 1945.

The postwar boom fell short as well, resulting in a brief production run for the Seabee. Still, more than 1,000 rolled off the assembly line before it shut down in 1947, and the aircraft still turn up at airports. I spotted one last summer at Hancock County-Bar Harbor Airport (KBHB) in Maine. I imagine today’s owners use the rugged amphibians as Republic intended—as family airplanes that can go nearly anywhere. Several newer amphibian aircraft, both certified and experimental, have clearly taken cues from the Seabee.

This 1947 RC-3 Seabee has 1,470 hours on the airframe, 160 hours on its Lycoming IO-540 engine , and 160 hours on the propeller since overhaul. The panel includes a Garmin 530W GPS/Com, GTX 345 transponder with ADS-B, and Garmin audio panel. The aircraft recently underwent a restoration that included new paint and interior.

Pilots whose destinations are suited for water access, and those who simply want to fly a novel vintage design, should consider this 1947 Republic RC-3 Seabee, which is available for $224,000 on AircraftForSale.

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

• FLYING Magazine: This 2006 Seawind 3000 Is a Unique, Kit-Built ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick
• Plane & Pilot: Spencer Air Car
• Plane & Pilot: Frolicking In A Lake
• Plane & Pilot: Trident 320 Trigull
• AVweb: Icon A5 Amphibian Notches FAA Primary Category Type Certification
• The Aviation Consumer: Seaplane Transitions: ‘Tis the Season

The post This 1947 Republic RC-3 Seabee Is an Adventure-Seeking ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I can honestly say our stories captured millions of reads from pilots and aviation enthusiasts over the last 12 months, both for our digital-only news and enterprise reporting, as well as the print features we brought online to share with the world.

Being the stickler for detail I am, I waited til the last second ticked over on the year before diving in to see what scored highest—and here are my select 7 of those stories and why I found them compelling.

Boeing Bird of Prey Shrouded in Secrecy Still

Jason McDowell, a mild-mannered private pilot from the Midwest, consistently entertains and intrigues with both his New Owner online column, Air Compare features in print, and this series on History’s Unique Aircraft. A jet named after a Klingon spacecraft from Star Trek and given the designation “YF-118G”, Boeing’s Bird of Prey incorporated dramatic design inside and out. Why is it still a mystery? It has less to do with Boeing—and more so with the giant aerospace OEM it acquired in the 90s, McDonnell-Douglas. 

Downed WWII Lancaster Bomber Raised from Sea Floor

Our readers love their warbirds—and they clearly love a good rescue story. Who doesn’t? Especially when the survivor in question is a rare Avro Lancaster Ed603—the heavy bomber the Brits used to defend their shores and stop Hitler in World War II. Eight decades later, the airplane’s remains and those of several crewmembers have been recovered in a poignant story by Kimberly Johnson that clearly struck a chord with readers.

Why Jet It Failed

From our unique position as the world’s largest aviation media organization—a title we took in 2023 with several key acquisitions—we have an insider’s look at much of industry. And sometimes that goes a step further, because we are deeply involved in flying and operating aircraft ourselves. When fractional operator Jet It collapsed in May, FLYING Media Group owner Craig Fuller brought his behind the scenes look at the cause of the collapse to FLYING’s readers as one of the HondaJet share owners affected by the fractional’s failure.

Collings Foundation Grounds Air Tour for WWII Aircraft

More living history made our headlines—with repercussions following the horrific accident taking B-17 Flying Fortress Nine-Oh-Nine on October 2, 2022. Technical editor Meg Godlewski went in depth when the Collings Foundation took the needed step to reduce its exposure to risk by halting its famous Wings of Freedom tours of WWII aircraft and other flying legends. Instead, it has adapted its mission to bring the aircraft to a wider range of school groups with more robust education and preservation.

NTSB Releases Fiery HondaJet Runway Excursion Details

Unfortunately, many of you seek FLYINGmag.com for its reporting on accidents—looking to learn beyond the reports of the National Transportation Safety Board and understand why they occurred. Our goal? To help you mitigate the causes of these occurrences in your own flying. While several high-profile events captured our readers’ attention—and continue to do so in Peter Garrison’s Aftermath analysis as well—runway excursions by business jets remain a stubborn accident profile that the industry seeks to reduce.

A Yak 18T’s Escape from Ukraine

An exclusive feature from our print edition also racked up significant views in just the few weeks since it debuted online—FLYING contributor Jay Selman revealed the inspiring story of a special Yak 18T and the complex maneuvering  to bring it out of Ukraine and into flying status in the U.S. Both restoration and rescue mission, this article drew a lot of attention—as do many of our aircraft features, including We Fly reports on new aircraft, and Restoration Nation features on bringing historic airplanes back to life.

SpaceX Starship Grounded Indefinitely by the FAA

And the top story—in terms of total time viewers spent reading it? Elon Musk’s SpaceX Starship has clearly caught our imagination in its democratization of space. Jack Daleo’s reporting on the subject drew folks to our site (thank you) and kept them reading all year long. We’re fascinated by space—and the dawn of a new era of exploration is upon us that more regular people will be able to take part in. 

That’s just one reason why I’m excited to see what 2024 brings us, in terms of stories.

And for me? I vow to #flymorein24! See you in the skies.

The post My Top <i>FLYING</i> Stories for 2023 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.