Flying the SB-17 in 1950
This story will tell about a trip I made during my first assignment with Air Rescue Service at March Field, CA.  After two years in California, I was waiting to leave for my new assignment in Newfoundland.  I was a First Lieut. and knew everything now and assigned to take a C-82 to Cleveland to take part in some tests-to-destruction experiments.  These tests were to evaluate fire warning systems and fire extinguishing.  I didn’t know it at the time, that destruction was to be part of aircraft fire tests, but several obsolete aircraft were destroyed in the process as films showed later.  The second part of the trip was to ferry a PBY from Selfridge AFB, Mich [near Detroit] back home to March AFB.  The crew for the trip was another 1^st Lieut who recently arrived in the squadron and wasn’t current in anything. He had just been recalled to active duty.  I honestly don’t remember his name, but Lieut Palmer seems familiar.  In this case, the crew chief was our squadron line chief.  The Master Sergeant was a senior and very experienced NCO and would make the mechanical inspection.  He is the one that would decide whether the PBY is suitable to accept.  That sounded simple, and we delivered the C-82 to Cleveland without any excitement, following a nice weather trip from Calif.  Just as planned, the Selfridge squadron arrived promptly at the airfield in Cleveland to take us to Selfridge.  Back in those days, commercial travel was not in many budgets, and our organic planes usually served our travel needs.
When we arrived at Selfridge, the Line Chief in that squadron led us to a PBY.  It is hard to describe this PBY after all these years, but the appearance revealed it needed a paint job and looked rough.  The plane also had some serious mechanical problems that cannot be fixed in a day or two.  Using our parlance, the plane had several red cross conditions.  The red cross did not refer to the medical organization but was used to identify a malfunction as a grounding condition.  The Selfridge squadron had another PBY which they suggested as a replacement, but it was in worse shape.  They did offer us the best of the two originally.  Someone in the past put dots of white anti-corrosion paint on this faded blue airplane. The description we passed on to our squadron and the Headquarters Air Rescue Service was that the plane looked like it was in the tertiary stage of syphilis.  The purpose of the paint was admirable since they wanted no corrosion and they did the first step in the full recovery.  Of course, the airplane had mechanical problems as well.  In truth, the PBY aircraft were to be phased out, and the squadron was transitioning to another type, the new SA-16.  After telephone calls to the squadron in California and their calls to Hq, Air Rescue Service in Washington, DC everyone decided that the two PBYs were not suitable for transfer.
Later, a separate telephone call told us to fly an SB-17 belonging to the Selfridge squadron  to McChord AFB, Wash for delivery to their rescue squadron.  I had about a hundred hours flying the B-17,  but I had never ‘checked out.’  My co-pilot had been checked out in the B-17 at an earlier date [maybe WWII] but had not flown the aircraft recently.  I forget the actual discussion that explained how long it had been since he flew the B-17, but I believed it was in WWII.  This was 1950 before the Korean War, but people were being re-called regularly.  The plan was to give him a checkout flight to make him current, and he was set up with an instructor.  Our line chief was also familiar with the B-17 as our squadron had one at March AFB.  This SB-17was in better shape than the two PBYs, but the Sergeant found enough to require some work.  The next day, after the check-out flight for Lieut. Palmer, the Sergeant gave it a quick check and found one tire too worn to be safe, and he needed a new or better tire.
Of course, it was Saturday, and not many people were around on that day.  Our Sergeant line chief got access to the spare tires possessed by the Selfridge squadron.  He selected one that turned out to be a winter tire in the old style of having springs embedded into the rubber, and after a bit of wear, they stuck out of the tire like miniature needles.  The other tire on the plane had a summer tire.  This mismatch of tires was to be important later…Our Sergeant couldn’t locate a proper aircraft jack to jack up the aircraft wheel to raise the tire from the ground.  He did find what I would describe as a simple but large jack not made for airplanes.  I am wondering if I am going to pay the price if the plane comes off the jack, or the Sergeant will lose his stripes   I am thinking ‘both of us.’  The Sergeant and a helper from the Selfridge squadron did manage to raise the wheel enough to remove the old tire and install the ‘winter’ tire with the sharp needles sticking out of the rubber.  At the time, the mismatch of tires, one regular ‘summer tire, and the less famous ‘winter’ tire was no big deal.  Using the winter tire on an ice-free runway would not be dangerous.  Of course, at the time we didn’t know we would be landing in the rain.  As noted in the photo from the internet, the SB-17 carried a lifeboat that could be parachuted to survivors in the water.  I don’t believe we had a boat attached for this ferry flight.
The next day we departed, with me in the right, or co-pilot seat, and Lieut Palmer as a pilot in command.  We landed in Minneapolis, Minn for fuel after considering the weather at McChord and the distance to probable alternate airfields.  The flight to McChord was routine, giving the pilot in command time to re-learn all of the ins and outs of the B-17.  We entered the weather someplace over North Dakota or Montana, and as we proceeded west, the weather became more intense.  Navigation in the weather back then was never easy because the navigation aids were still using low-frequency radio signals, subject to static interference and reduced distance.  We were picking up ice on the wing and tail leading edges.  The cockpit darkened as we flew into setting sun about the same time.
Yes, we were having trouble finding our way.  I was working the navigation equipment as Lieut. Palmer was busy flying instruments.  One usually reliable radio was the radio that used a loop antenna to seek the correct heading to the radio source.  I was getting readings that were confusing and finally believed the loop was homing on a thunderstorm at or near Mount Rainier instead of the beacon on our course.  I found another navigation aid and gave corrections.  Lieut Palmer was flying night-instruments which made the task more difficult as not everything in the cockpit was lighted.  I was handling the radio communications with the ATC ground people and nearing McChord; I sought their clearance to descend and land.  After getting the clearance to descend, we reduced power, followed by fluxation of the number three engine rpm.  The pilot in command told me to declare an emergency, which I did while trying to convince him not to feather the number three prop.  The engine was working, but the prop was essentially in fixed pitch.  We might need it even if it was disconcerting listening to the wa-wa-wa of the prop out of sync with the other three propellers.  I tried to keep the sound in sync by adjusting the NumberThree throttle.  I believed the No. 3 propeller oil was thick from the cold.  Later this proved correct.  After spending some time in the warmer air the prop rpm returned to normal.
We descended into warmer weather; out of the ice and into the rain, and talking to Approach Control.  Approach Control set us up with a GCA,[Ground Controlled Approach], where they have us on radar and ‘tell us’ the proper heading to fly the pattern, line up with the runway, and direct us down the glide slope.  In those days, the GCA was new and the best radar near the airport, especially with the precision of the approach of the ‘GCA..’  We were still in descent as we flew around the pattern and the airspeed was too fast.  Reducing power didn’t seem to work to slow the speed while descending.  As they turned us onto the center line of the runway, the B-17 was still fast.  I kept reminding the pilot ‘we got to slow down!”  Mind you; this was by yelling over the noise of the engines.’  The GCA radar operator told us we were getting close to the glide slope to the runway, but the runway was unseen due to the rain,  The airspeed was at 140-150mph, instead of the 110-120 for an instrument approach.  I was convinced we would have to go around about halfway down the approach and kept calling ‘slow down!.’  Lieut. Palmer was trying, but the lack of currency in the plane and instruments was too much.
We could see the runway lights about a mile from the runway still struggling to slow under 135mph.  ‘We need full flaps now!’ and he said ‘OK.’ and pulled the power further back.  The extension of the flaps would cause a big attitude change, but we were visual now.  Normally flaps are lowered a notch at a time. We found ourselves crossing the runway end still fast enough to be exciting.  He landed on the main gear and started soft braking.  The pilot called out that one of the tires was skidding and I could feel the slight change in deceleration. When the tail wheel got on the ground, I raised the flaps to put weight on the wheels.  At a point I believed was halfway down the runway we were still fast, and I could see lights from cars on the road beyond the far end of the runway.  I “knew” we were going off the end of the runway, when suddenly, the pilot started to turn left, braking hard with the left brake and simultaneously pushing up the far right throttle [No.4] to assist.  As soon as the plane was off the cement in a turn, he pulled No. 4 throttle back and pushed up the far left engine [No. 1] and started braking with the right brake.  The B-17 was now in the grass turning rapidly to the right, and I could see a fenced-in area in the landing lights.  I “know” we are going to hit it.
We didn’t hit the object, which was a vertical light used by the weathermen to determine the cloud ceiling, called a ceilometer.  A chained link enclosure protected the large light ..  The time passed in a blink, and we were back on the runway again throttles closed and taxiing in the opposite direction of landing!  We were both speechless, although I probably asked the tower for taxi instructions to the Air Rescue Squadron in a squeaky voice.  We taxied with a slight thump-thump caused by flat spots on one tire.  We found the unlit parking area and parked the squadron’s ‘new’ B-17.  The three of us, two pilots and the NCO were still excited and felt giddy about the close call as we walked around the plane looking for damage.  We couldn’t find any damage, but the mud covered the B-17 lower wings and tail.  The left wing tip should have hit the fenced-in light, but there was no evidence of it.
The next morning, Lieut. Palmer and I went to the squadron headquarters to check in and found that our line chief/crew chief had already been there.  We ran into a storm of ‘what the hell did you do? ‘what kind of a landing was that?’ etc’  They were mad that we were the ones that ferried the airplane despite our explanation.  They were very mad about the mud all over the B-17, the torn up turf to the side of the runway [that would be blamed on ‘rescue’], and last, the fact that one tire had more than one flat spot where the tire slid on the runway.  On the other hand, it was something short of a miracle that the B-17 wasn’t resting beyond the end of the runway and across the road.  Finally, without any thank you for your service comments, they accepted the facts as they stood and decided they were going to live by them.
Lieut. Palmer and I got a ride out to the location where we did our ‘turn around’ and wondered how we escaped without damage.  He and I paced the distance from the tire track closest to the fenced in area, and we believed it was the same distance as the wingtip to the wheel.  We missed it by a whisker.  While we walked around the area, there was a crew of men repairing one of the high-intensity lights.  The high-intensity light has a large thick glass cover that protects the bulb. There was a broken section of glass knocked out of the cover caused by the tip of a wheel axle that protrudes from the wheel assembly just barely clipping the glass.  That broken glass was added to the list of troubles that our landing caused.  The light in the photo looks smaller than the light I remember, but it is similar.
As I remember, there were no repercussions over the B-17 delivery and the dirty shape we handed it to the McChord squadron.  It wasn’t an accident or even classified as an incident since the only ‘repairs.’ needed were changing a tire, repairs to the sod, and replacement of the damaged globe on the runway light.  Of course, I suspect they groused over washing the mud from the B-17.  Our squadron sent an aircraft for us and took us home to March AFB.  l could imagine that they might give us a military band send-off, after some celebratory drinks, but we left as we arrived, with little-advanced notice and as quiet as possible.
The magic turn off the runway and back on was the only time I ever had the excitement of riding through that maneuver.  What the pilot did in a panic-induced response, was to use one of the aerial maneuvers used in instrument flight.  The aerial maneuver is called a procedure turn, as a means of reversing course and ending up on the same track.  Nearly all instrument approach procedures include a procedure turn.  Lieut Palmer’s version was a tighter example.
Imagine we are in the example to the right.  At ‘A‘ we are on the runway near the end.  Palmer makes a panic left turn, followed by a rapid right turn.  During an aerial instrument procedure turn, the airspeed would be constant, but we were decelerating rapidly, and our turn would be much smaller and tighter.  On the diagram at the word ‘End’, we are back on the runway breathly heavily.  That ceilometer would be located near the track about halfway between ‘c’ and ’d’.