One of the left engines starts first, giving off a puff of smoke as the propeller comes to life. The second left engine starts next, and then the two engines on the right side, one at a time, creating an ever-increasing roar as the plane powers up.
For those sitting in the cockpit, it creates a feeling like no other.
"It rumbles, it moves, it shakes. It has a personality," says pilot Chris Tuckfield of the B-17 Liberty Belle. "And what's really neat is you feel a connection with the past. It brings to mind what those people went through."
That's what the Liberty Belle is all about. This fully restored Flying Fortress travels around the country, offering rides to the public (for a price). A stop was made in Salt Lake City last weekend.
"This is a flying piece of history," says Sean O'Brien, a volunteer with the Liberty Foundation, which sponsors the Liberty Belle. "It's also a flying tribute to all those who made such sacrifices for the freedoms we have."
The appearances allow people to see and hear and feel what flying in a B-17 was like and at the same time pay tribute to all those who experienced those same sensations during World War II.
There are only 14 B-17s left in the country that are airworthy, only eight that do still fly, and only four that give rides to passengers, says Fran Hess, another volunteer with the Liberty Foundation. "As many times as I've done it, it still amazes me every time."
The B-17 is probably the most identifiable and iconic of the U.S. fleet that participated in the World War II. The four-engine heavy bomber, developed in 1930, was used extensively in the bombing campaign against German industrial and military targets, working mostly out of England with the 8th Air Force. Some B-17s were also employed by the 15th Air Force, based in Italy; they also saw some action in the Pacific theater, in raids against the Japanese.
The B-17 earned its reputation and status for good reason. It could fly higher and longer than many of the other war planes; it could unleash powerful destruction while being able to defend itself. And, perhaps most importantly, it could survive severe damage and still manage to limp back to its base. It was dubbed a "flying fortress" by a newspaper reporter; the name was so apt Boeing later trademarked it.
Eventually, some 12,732 B-17s were manufactured. Each carried a crew of 10. Those planes and those men made a tremendous difference in the Allied effort.
You can't help but think about those crewmen, Hess says. "Many of them were 19, 20 years old, little more than boys away from home for the first time. One gentleman told me that he turned 21 as the pilot in the cockpit of a B-17. When he went back home, his dad didn't think he was responsible enough to drive the family car."
She loves it when the veterans come to see the Liberty Belle. "A lot of them share their stories with us. Sometimes family members come along and they tell us they have never heard those stories, that their husband or father just didn't talk about the war. Yet, the veterans can tell the details of flying in the B-17 like it was yesterday. It often brings tears to your eyes; that's the most rewarding part of this project."
The Liberty Foundation is a nonprofit organization formed, according to its mission statement, to "honor our veterans, to educate current and future generations as to the price of freedom and to preserve our aviation history." (For more information, visit www.libertyfoundation.org.)
It is the brainchild of Georgian Don Brooks, whose father flew 39 missions in B-17s in the 390th Bomb Group as a tail gunner on the original Liberty Belle.
Brooks had long wanted to find a B-17 that he could restore for this purpose. This particular plane was manufactured in May of 1945, right at the end of the war and did not actually see combat.
At war's end, the Army declared the B-17s as surplus, and most were sold off for scrap metal. In 1947, just before this one was to be scraped, it was sold to Pratt & Whitney for an engine test bed. Twenty years, and many modifications later, it was donated to the New England Air Museum. In 1979, it was heavily damaged in a tornado and put into storage until purchased by Tom Reilly of Kissimmee, Fla., for his Flying Tigers' Museum. Brooks was able to buy it for the Liberty Foundation.
It has been restored, a project that took 12 years, as a traditional "G" model, and painted with the same colors and insignia as the original Liberty Belle. In 2005 it made its public debut at a surprise 90th birthday party for Gen. Paul Tibbets.
The new Liberty Belle has been making stops like the recent one in Salt Lake City for about four years now.
"Every group is different. We've had veterans, families of veterans, aviation and history buffs and people who just want to know what it's like to fly in the B-17," Hess says. "We've even had a few women pilots. A lot of people don't know that, but 13 WASPs flew B-17s. They didn't fly in combat, but they did ferry them from the manufacturer to the ports."
Veterans are often asked to autograph the inside of the plane, O'Brien says. The names pay silent tribute: Sgt. Leon Zunica. Richard Lampkin. Steve for Ray Bachard. Rey Reid 5th AF shot down at Pearl Harbor. William Butler. Col. Austin F. Dunlap. Ray Wilson, 100 Bomb Grp, 350 squad ball turret. Frank Mason 351st B.G. ball turret. "We've had to replace the door panel several times, so there's room to write," he says. "But we feel honored to have their names. We feel that every signature is sacred."
Sometimes, he says, men will come out and find someone whom they served with back in the day. Sometimes complete strangers will pay for a veteran who can't afford it to take a ride. "I saw that happen with an Air National Guardsman who got talking to a man who was a top turret gunner. He insisted on paying for the gunner to take a flight. Those experiences are very humbling," he says. "We are so honored when we get a chance to thank someone for their service in the war."
But what they find, Hess says, "what we hear over and over when we try to thank them for their service, is that they say they just did what they had to do."
You think of those men and boys as you sit inside the Liberty Belle, as you put your hands on the handle of one of the guns, as you walk along the narrow bridge to the cockpit, as you crawl on hands and knees to see the nose turret, as you stick your head in the open bay and feel the force of the breeze.
You can see B-17s in many air museums. "Hill Air Force (Base) has one," pilot Tuckfield says. "But those are cold pieces of metal." It's when you actually fly that all the history, all the significance comes to life, he says.
Tuckfield has flown everything from 747s to the littlest aircraft. "This is the most fun thing I do in aviation," he says.
But it is also a sobering experience. "I'll tell you what I think about. When I was a boy there was a man who lived a few houses over. He had no nose. He had no ears to speak of. In place of hands, he had those metal clamps they used to use for amputations. He was in the nose of a B-17 when a flak shell exploded nearby and took off the casing. The explosion took off his mask and knocked him out. The sub-zero air rushed in. His face froze. His hands froze to the bomber so they had to cut them off. That's who I think of, when I fly this plane. And anything I can do honor him and the men like him, I love to do it."
e-mail: carma@desnews.com