All weekend I’ve been hearing the sound of loud prop planes here (in Redondo Beach–still getting the house ready to rent). A quick web search reveals that there’s an air show at Hawthorne airport this weekend. At the sound of the most recent one, I went out on the balcony to see what it was. It was a Mitchell bomber, similar to the one in which my father was shot down in Italy (though it may have been a different series–I couldn’t tell at that distance).

There were only two survivors–him and one other, and his crewmate was captured behind the German lines, spending the remainder of the war in a POW camp. My father was the second one out because he was a radio gunner at the waist of the plane, and he came down in Allied territory, breaking his leg on landing. The rest of the crew didn’t have time to bail, or at least to do so and get a chute open. Reportedly, you couldn’t get him in a plane again for many years after that (though he’d gotten over it by the time I was old enough to remember). He’d flown his plane, with his crew, over to Europe (stopping at Ascension Island), but he came home on a troop ship.

It was also the aircraft type that performed the Tokyo raid after Pearl Harbor under Jimmy Doolittle’s command.

It’s only a twin engine plane. The sound of this single one made me wonder how awesome it would have been to hear whole squadrons of B-17s flying over.