<VV> Referred to as she

[Tony Underwood]

At 09:34 hours 05/09/2005, Bill Hubbell wrote:
>Back in my college days, when I owned a Late model, my brother told me I 
>had to give it a name.  It had to be a female name, said he, because of 
>the engine in the rear.  I named her Jenny.  Years later I had a daughter 
>and named her Jennifer.  She wasn't really named after the car, but we 
>like to tell her that she was.


 From time to time, there are people who become attached to machinery, 
sometimes by choice, sometimes by necessity.

Once upon a time there was a B-17 bomber, an early "D" variant built before 
WW-II had begun.   It there for was not as fully configured and capable as 
the later variants with heavier armament, armor, larger fuel tanks, better 
avionics, improved engines (although this B-17 would get the better engines 
as time passed) and combat-tested airframe improvements.   It was a 
pre-runner that entered the war rather unprepared and somewhat less than 
capable in  its original form, and it paid the price as it entered the 
Pacific Theater of Operations, being damaged several times in combat (once 
severely enough to render the airplane no longer combat-worthy), battered 
by harsh landings on airfields which were barely more than plowed pathways 
through the jungle, shot up by enemy aircraft, and also suffered from the 
elements via corrosion which, when added to the wear and tear, sidelined 
the battered bomber and nearly ended its career, almost becoming a "hanger 
queen" to be parted out.  Add to all this the fact that this airplane was 
already technically obsolete 6 months after the war had begun, already 
having been proceeded by two later variants (the E and F models) which were 
much more capable warplanes, particularly the F model.   Still, it fought 
on.

The airplane was salvaged and repaired, mainly by a very dedicated crew who 
scrounged through the parts and pieces they were able to turn up, and got 
the airplane airworthy again.   It served the remainder of its tour as an 
executive transport, having been deemed not combat-worthy due to excessive 
wear and tear and damage, as well as not being technically up to the 
challenge of mounting bombing missions with much chance of surviving, what 
with no self-sealing fuel and oil tanks and inadequate armor and defensive 
guns etc.   However, with its uprated engines and external gun turrets and 
observation blisters removed, the old airplane's airframe cleaned up nicely 
and it proved to be rather fast for an ex-bomber and in fact, while serving 
as a transport plane for an Air Force General, and flown by Capt Frank 
Kurtz, the old bomber, which by now had been named "The Swoose" (half swan, 
half goose, after a popular WW-II era song) actually set several speed 
records for flights between various Pacific Theater area locations.   Kurtz 
flew The Swoose for a considerable time and he and his crew became quite 
attached to the war weary bomber, which by now was only about 70% original, 
having had much of its original airframe replaced with patches and repair 
parts, including all four engines (several times over).   Eventually, not 
long before the end of the war, Kurtz flew The Swoose back to the USA, 
making it the first B-17 to return stateside from the PTO, and in fact the 
*only* B-17 bomber to enter combat the day after war was declared, served 
throughout the war, and survive to return home.

Shortly after the war concluded, "The Swoose" was declared surplus and sent 
to Kingman AFB to be scrapped.   Frank Kurtz had been keeping up with the 
old airplane, went to Los Angeles and convinced the city to buy the 
airplane for scrap value (which in 1946 was 350 dollars) whereupon Kurtz 
went to Kingman, readied the old bomber for transport and then flew it to a 
storage facility in California to await refurbishment and display.   Things 
changed, the proposed memorial display deal fell through, and Kurtz once 
again came to the rescue of "The Swoose", making a deal with Paul Garber, 
curator of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and once again "The Swoose" 
was recommissioned, fueled up, and after several "jump flights" eventually 
flown to Texas to a storage facility where it was parked beside the B-29 
"Enola Gay" which had already been acquired by the Smithsonian.  There it 
remained until it was finally decided to fly the old bomber to Andrews AFB 
which was "trucking distance" to the Smithsonian storage 
facilities.  During the trip to MD, the tired "Swoose" had two engines fail 
halfway there, and it finished the remainder of the trip not unlike several 
of its combat missions, with a pair of engines "feathered".   And, like one 
of its combat missions, shortly before entering the approach path at 
Andrews AFB, a third engine failed and "The Swoose" had to stagger the rest 
of the way to the air field on ONE engine.   If the third engine had failed 
several minutes earlier, "The Swoose" wouldn't have made it and would have 
crashed.

Following the final flight, "The Swoose" and "Enola Gay" were dismantled 
and trucked to the Smithsonian's Paul Garber storage and restoration 
facility near Silver Spring MD.   "The Swoose" remains there today, 
awaiting restoration and eventual display.

Among its accomplishments:

It made the first nonstop flight by a land-based military aircraft from the 
USA to Hawaii.
It flew the second bombing mission of World War II.
It flew the first night-bombing mission.
It was the first US bomber to shoot down an enemy  aircraft (Japanese Zero 
fighter plane).
It broke several speed records, including the trans-Tasmanian Sea speed 
record.
It helped Gen Douglas MacArthur evacuate from the Philippines.
It made a forced-landing in a farmer's field in Australia with a young Lt 
Lyndon B. Johnson on board.
Returned from the war zone to the United States (first combat bomber to do 
so).

After finishing his tour of flying Generals around in "The Swoose", Frank 
Kurtz received some leave time stateside and then was transferred to the 
ETO and flew B-17G's in combat.   Nine months later, his daughter was 
born.    He named her Swoosie...   Swoosie Kurtz, Hollywood  film and 
Broadway stage actress was named after a B-17D bomber.


"The Swoose", last time I saw it, was in the Garber Restoration facility in 
MD (had to make an appointment to see the airplane; the Garber facility is 
not open to the public) and was awaiting restoration, will need a lot of 
work.   The facility people said they'd like to get the airplane back to 
its pre-war condition which means chasing down a number of B-17D parts 
which were model-specific to replace the later vintage replacement parts 
which were all that were available at the time.    It certainly deserves 
recognition, and holds the distinction of being the world's oldest 
surviving B-17.

* * * * * * * * * *

The "trend" for guys to become attached to a piece of machinery to a 
bizarre level perhaps started with WW-II veterans returning home, guys who 
depended on an airplane to get them to and from a mission in one 
piece.   These men came to love their airplanes like a brother, cleaving 
unto them as if to a lover, and when the time came for the fleet of B-17s 
to be decommissioned (the ones that managed to survive the war and return 
home) and scrapped, groups of men would gather along the fence atop the 
hills overlooking Kingman AFB, many of them wearing their flight jackets, 
crying and sobbing out loud as they watched the breakers cut up the B-17s 
to be recycled...

...into Corvair engines...   among other things aluminum.

They loved their airplanes.   It's this sort of affection for things 
mechanical that seems to remain in many men to this day, particularly 
cars.    They become "old comfortable shoes" which their owners are bound 
and determined to never throw away.   They get maintained, resurrected, 
refurbished, restored, re-restored, ad nauseam.   As long as someone with 
this mental disorder remains and can hold a screwdriver and a wrench, there 
will be resurrections of all things mechanical.

They become revered objects, examples of Man's triumph over the elements, 
his victory over the sidewalks.   We ride, we do not walk.   And when it's 
because of the sweat of our brow and the prowess by which we wield tools, 
it becomes so much more satisfying.   During these exercises, the morality 
of the effort becomes evident.   The worth (not necessarily the value) of 
the vehicle increases.   The esteem of its owner grows.


The result is an object that others may look upon and wonder why anybody 
bothered.  But to those who know and understand, it's not only well worth 
the bother, it's sometimes worth starting a fist-fight over, should someone 
find fault in the reasoning of those who undertake such endeavors.   More 
than one black eye has resulted in someone's making a smart remark about 
someone else's car...  not unlike the fierce pride displayed by air crews 
who would bristle and posture should anyone say anything bad about their 
airplane.   And it was indeed *their* airplane.   The War Department may 
have paid for it and the military may have held title, but the airplane 
belonged to THEM.    It's this same sort of mentality that infects many 
people today, making them assign status to mechanical objects such as 
gender...  it's all good.     Even airline pilots tend to address their 
airplanes in feminine terms...  "baby", "sweetheart", and sometimes 
"Bitch!" when it mis-behaves... all the while knowing that they will either 
be forgiven or killed by the object of their affections.   But the love is 
there.

Some of the Corvairs that get resurrected required love....  rational 
thought would have dictated they go the way of the recycler's.   But 
somebody came along and saw merit in a car that really needed someone to 
love it.

It's these cars that we see at shows, being oogled by people who would 
never consider resurrecting an old car, and whose first impulse is to 
wonder how much money was tied up in the vehicle.

They just don't get it.   But that's OK.   There are others who do.


tony..