By Doug Rozendaal
At the end of World War II the thousands of surplus aircraft were made available to the public at bargain basement prices. As a result many of these birds were adapted to a variety of civilian uses. We all know that Stearmans became sprayers, C-47s became airliners, A-26s and TBMs became borate bombers, L-birds became trainers, and many models became corporate aircraft. Over the fifty years that followed, crashes, corrosion, and cannibalism, slowly reduced the number of warbirds in working life. As little as 10 years ago there were still Stearman's spraying in here in my home state of Iowa. Today they are gone. The last holdouts of the warbirds in working life are the freighters, most notably the "Gooney Bird" and the "Twin Beech", and they do some of their best work at Christmas-time.
I have always been interested in airplanes of all types and warbirds especially. I, like so many others, watched covetingly as others flew these special creatures at airshows. As I was learning to fly, I recall a T-6 that was located at the Ames, Iowa airport. We would hop over from nearby Nevada, our base, for a cold "Dew" and some practice on the unforgiving pavement. (I still hate pavement) On one of our pavement practice excursions, I even saw it fly. I can still remember the smoke, the smell, but most of all, the sound.
Several years later, as I was driving home from work I passed the airport and spotted a magnificent old "Gooney Bird". Braking sharply to make the airport driveway, I pulled up to the cafe, walked in, and found two strangers surrounded by the the local hanger fliers. I pulled up a chair and learned that this beautiful beast would live here. It was to inaugurate daily overnite package express service to our town. I was introduced to the owner and pilot and I declared that I would provide him with "the largest steak in these parts for a ride in that airplane." He obliged and subsequently another friend and I were checked out as co-pilots. Little did I know that I would spend the rest of my days obsessed with warbirds.
Flying the -3 was everything you could imagine. Bearing in mind that we were continually reminded that the qualifications for co-pilot were a body temperature above 80 and a strong enough back to load and unload 7500# of boxes. But even so it was still the greatest experience in aviation. On a dark summer night when the sky would light up intermittently and illuminate the towering cumulus clouds, one could easily imagine they were the Himalayan Mountains and we were hauling fuel over the hump to the bomber bases in China. One of the airplanes we flew was 7" too long, supposedly because the gliders she towed in WWII had stretched the fuselage that much. Another was the airplane that Churchill, Truman, and Stalin flew to the Yalta conference. These were great times, but like all good things, after about 6 months, this too ultimately came to an end. The DC-3 was replaced by 2 Twin-Beeches. One of those was located here and the local FBO owned and operated it.
Having flown the -3, it was logical that I would check out in the Twin Beech. Flying the DC-3 was a walk in the park and I thought the Beech check out would be a formality. It turned out instead to be a formidable task. The Beech lacked the casual and patient demeanor that the Douglas offered. It was a very much more responsive airplane. The Beech would do what ever you told it to and it would do it immediately. The Douglas, if bounced (without correction) would continue to bounce slowly and gracefully the length of the runway, power would be added, the captain would laugh and we would go-around to try again. The Beech bounces like a jackhammer with increasing amplitude and frequency, left unresolved, I am certain the results would manifest themselves prior to reaching midfield. If you were inclined to be a passenger while occupying the left front seat it would provide you with the ride of your life. She demanded participation on the part of her pilot. These attributes rapidly were understood and became her most endearing qualities.
Night Freight in our town continued with the Beech for several years and I always flew backup and trained the new pilots. The airlines figured if a pilot flew for a year, at night, in the Midwest, in a Twin-Beech, and was still alive they could fly, and about every year we would have a new "subject". They have all gone on to be Airline types.
Last spring we lost our last Beech freight run. The Beech was parked, the annual expired, the insurance expired, and the oil stains on the ramp underneath her grew larger by the month. It was hard to watch the old girl sit. A few times I went out and fired her up but we could not fly. In November one of the express companies requested the Beech for the Christmas rush. She was pulled in and annualed test flown and put to work. I flew her for about 3 weeks before Christmas. She performed flawlessly.
Flying these airplanes for work is different than flying warbirds for airshows. I can't explain why, but it is. I enjoy both, but it is different. Parked on the ramp in the early morning light next to the competitor's Caravan, she sat proudly with her nose in the air like the mature woman she is. Next to the computer designed Caravan the graceful Beech was a stark contrast in the evolution of our airplanes. I wonder what the Caravan will be doing in 50 years? Will we ever go to an airshow to listen to the sound of a Caravan?
A few days before Christmas at about 4 am I was landing at Des Moines. Approach, Tower and Ground were all being handled by the same controller on the same frequency. He cleared a Douglas "123" to taxi. On roll-out I saw that it was a "Gooney Bird". She too had her nose arrogantly in the air as she taxied out on the parallel taxiway. I wanted to see more, I wanted to find out where she was from and where she was going. All to soon I rolled by.
I filled the Beech with Christmas presents sent Next Day Air by procrastinating shoppers (such as myself) and took off. As I settled in at cruise I thought about my days in the Gooney bird several years ago. I realized that this had been the only DC-3 I had seen this Christmas, last year it was two or three. I began to wonder how many more Christmases will the old birds fly? I am sure glad that I was able to be a part of it. When it is over we will surely miss it.
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