Bill Thompson’s excellent adventure puts risk into perspective
This article is a little different than most of the risk management articles I write. I think it may help to put some things into perspective as to what "risky" business is and isn't. At least it does for me.
As I grow older, I believe it is important for me to get out and do some of the things I have put off in the past. This age thing, and perhaps seeing the great movie "The Bucket List," gave me the incentive to scratch one item from my list.
Fly in a World War II B-17? Don't ask me why, but I’ve always wanted to experience flying in a real piece of American history.
I was fortunate to get wind of a fly-in event at a local airport and basically said, The heck with it. I’m flying. I found the Web site for a group that keeps these old war birds flying, The Collins Foundation, and made my reservation.
I'm a history buff and familiar with the airplane, having seen it dozens of times in movies and documentaries and read about it in numerous books. We've all see World War II films of these big planes flying in huge formations during their daylight bombing raids over Germany.
I am also familiar with the sacrifice the men of the 8th Air Force – the Mighty 8th – made during those daylight bomb runs. It may be a misnomer to say "men," considering the average age of each nine-man crew was 22.
Out of the 210,000 crewmen serving in combat in the 8th Air Force, 72,000 were either killed, wounded or captured. Other than the Pacific submariners, the 34 percent casualty rate was the highest rate of any U.S. combat unit. Only one in three airmen survived the air battle over Europe during World War II unscathed or not imprisoned.
What's even worse, consider this: During 1942-1943 when the United States was perfecting its tactics, and before long-range fighter escorts were available, only one in five crewmen completed their combat tours (25 missions). Out of 110,000 combat crewmen, 56,000 were killed!
Personally, I don't like the odds.
Once I got into the B-17, it was easy to understand why casualty rates were so high. The plane has a cruising speed of 180 miles per hour, is constructed of paper-thin aluminum and carried 6,000 pounds of high explosives, not to mention the aviation fuel plus another 1.2 tons of 50-caliber bullets. The crews of these planes not only had to put up with enemy fighter planes – some of the best in the world – flying past them but also huge concentrations of flak over most of the route to the target and back.
On the tarmac, we were asked to prime the motors, which entailed moving each prop manually five times. This in itself was no easy task and certainly would have been mine had I been in the Army Air Corp. because I soon found out I could barely fit through the hatch to enter the plane!
Luckily, we were allowed to enter the plane from the fuselage, near the tail and where the two 50-caliber machine guns were manned. I crouched over and made my way up the fuselage and took a seat on the floor of the radio room compartment. This was comprised of a seat with no cushion and a radio. The bomb load was right through the door. I’ll bet knowing that one inch of aluminum between the radio man and three tons of bombs had to give him some comfort!
Our bombs were duds, and I still didn't like it much.
As I sat on the floor waiting for takeoff, I could imagine myself on some grass air field in England. The butterflies in my stomach were real and became even more so when the pilot fired up those four 1,200-horsepower Wright turbo-supercharged radial motors. The whole plane shook and rocked as if it were coming alive.
It was easy to go back into time and get a sense of what our men went through. A four- to six-hour flight over and back in a unpressurized, uncomfortable plane, no heat, no facilities, no flight attendant, no peanuts or snacks AND people trying to shoot you out of the sky as you cruise along at 20,000 feet!
I literally crawled about the plane after we hit cruising altitude. After squeezing through the bomb bay compartment, I had to crawl on my hands and knees to reach the navigator's station and the nose cone where the bombardier sat.
As I looked out over the landscape below, I couldn't help notice how little protection was afforded by the inch or so of clear Plexiglas separating this position from enemy fighters. A favorite tactic for the Germans was attacking these planes straight on. Not a comfortable feeling! I cannot imagine the courage it took for those men to stay in their seats and do their jobs when enemy planes started firing 20-millimeter cannon shells directly at them.
But yet they did it. Time after time after time, with friends dying in planes next to them or – worse – a few feet away. Crew mates shot up and wounded, no medical care afforded until making it back across France and the English Channel. Praying all the while that lumbering hulk of a plane would get them back to England and, ultimately, after their tour was over or the final mission was flown, home to their families.
No question the experience gave me a sense of appreciation for the sacrifice these men made for us.
It also gives me a better perspective on what I do each day. Granted, flying these days and our work may be risky business, but compared to what these men did, and our service people continue to do on our behalf, it's like a walk in the park!
God bless them all!
Bill Thompson, CPA, RPLU
President, CPA Mutual
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