Research for any story comes in many forms. For my current teen novel project, I’m having to enter a world in which I have very little experience and knowledge, despite years of work in the museum field. I’m having to transport myself back to the 1940s, during World War II, and into the heart and mind of a bombing crew. Aside from sorting through a boxload of dusty photos, mouse-chewed letters, and a diary from 1945, I decided to transport myself physically through time and space by going for a ride in a B25.
I searched online, emailed back forth with a few folks around the country, and finally landed on the web page of the good folks at Warbirds Unlimited in Mesa, Arizona. Their motto is “live history,” and let me tell you in all my nearly 20 years in the museum field, I haven’t discovered anything quite like it. Historians use their imaginations a lot, but this is as close as you’ll get to traveling to another time. Consider the factors:
The environment (it’s a “working” but authentic restoration of the original right down to the seat belts), the noise (it’s a total mind-buzz requiring the use of serious ear muffs), the altitude (about 3,00-5,000 feet low), the motion (enough skittering side-to-side and up-and-down to make breakfast perk-o-late), the smell (a little diesel, a little metal, a lot of human sweat, a little nephew puke), and finally the vastness of the view (about 300 degrees in the tail gunner position).
I sat in the tail gunner position during the last part of ride, breathing deeply and trying to tap into what my dad would have thought being stuck out there in the tail for 59 missions over the mountains and valleys of Italy. If every great story is built of character emotion, surely this story will be about pride, determination, resignation, and being scared shitless a huge percentage of the time.
The flight was “only” 30 minutes, but all of us agreed (my niece and two nephews who had come along) that it was truly the longest 30 minutes of our lives. By the end, both Dylan and I were carrying bags of barf (no more scrambled eggs for me or a while), and all of us were exhausted. Just that little taste gave us a feel for what those bomber crews must have felt like (times about 1000) as they set out on every mission not knowing if they would live or die.
No matter what my writer friends say, I wouldn’t pass up this experience as an means to tap into the emotions of my characters for anything. In fact, when I think of a B25, I’m still a little queasy. No wonder my dad never wanted to talk about the war…just kidding. But in truth, I’m a lot like him, figuring out how to handle the literal ups and downs for whenever I might have the chance to go again. People really can pull off amazing feats when they have no choice.
Well folks, that’s it for this post. Special thanks to Ray, Leon, Bill, and pilot Jack Fedor of Warbirds Unlimited for making this experience both well orchestrated and extremely enlightening (all four of us nominate Crew Chief Bill for Sainthood). And to my brave niece and nephews, Haley, Krister, and Dylan, many thanks for helping me “tap the gramps.” This story will be richer for it, baby!
Coming in Part 2: Our visit to the CAF Aircraft Museum to see their recently restored B25J, “Maid in the Shade.”
