F is for Flying Fortress

The moment that Cabbie heard the call for help, he knew that the aircraft's crew was probably doomed. The ocean in the north Pacific was cold enough to congeal the oil in your engine and most vehicles (with the notable exception of boats and subs) were not known for their ability to swim. No matter how hard they fought to survive there were probably fated to rest on the bottom of the ocean next to the broken body of the aircraft they served with…but Cabbie had always been aircraft was willing go a round or two to see what he could claw back from fate. This was why Cabbie was practically redlining his engines in hope that he could do something…anything.

As he flew, he tried to pinpoint the exact location of the Emergency Location Transmitter until the beacon was swallowed by water too deep for his sensitive antenna array to pick up. Then he used his years of experience to estimate the downed aircraft's location while relaying what he knew across the emergency channels. Based on the chatter he knew that help coming. All he could do is pray that he found the drowning crew in this endless expanse of sea so that he could vector the inbound vessels for the rescue.

He was starting to lose hope when he spotted a glint of orange in the corner of his eye, dipping closer he spotted seven vehicles struggling to keep their intakes above water. Cabbie flew low and wiggled his wings to let the vehicles in the water know that they had been seen then climbed higher to make sure he had a clear signal to notify the US Coast Guard that he had located the missing men. The dispatcher let him know a long-ranged rescue aircraft was inbound and requested that Cabbie stayed on site.

Cabbie quietly agreed to stand station over the crash site, but he prayed help would be arriving soon. His fuel levels were starting to get concerningly low and the vehicles below him were showing increased signs of distress. Cabbie circled, alternating scanning the horizon and watching as the number of vehicles below him dropped from seven to six, then six to five. Finally, when Cabbie was beginning to panic about his fuel status, he saw a glint of silver knifing its way through the sky toward him.

"Do you have eyes on the survivors?" The Dumbo Flying Fortress called as soon as he spotted the C-119 in front of him.

"I do." Cabbie replied. His engine was heavy because, yet another member of the crew had forever slipped below the waves, but he also felt immense relief as he saw the bright body of the Flying Fortress sparkle on the far horizon.

"Excellent." The larger plane spoke with a business-like staccato. "I have visual contact with you. Continue to circle the survivors until I reach your location."

"Wilco." Cabbie replied, swallowing down his fears as his fuel crossed bingo.

The Flying Fortress didn't make him wait long as it approached with screaming engines. The plane came in low, doing a figure eight underneath Cabbie's circle. He eyed the spot where the floundering vehicles were treading water, and then with practice precision, he flew so low his tires nearly touched the water and dropped the bright yellow and orange boat strapped to his belly into the sea.

Everyone's eyes were focused on the downed airmen, praying that they would be able to successfully get in the boat. Both Cabbie and the Flying Fortress circled and held their breath. But after what seemed like an eternity, all four of the surviving vehicles had been successfully pulled onto the lifeboat. Only once the vehicles in the ocean were safe did the Flying Fortress turn to look at Cabbie with concern.

"C-119…, what is your fuel looking like?"

Cabbie glanced at his gauge. It was lower than he would have preferred, but it should be enough to get him back on the ground as long as he didn't hit any pockets of bad weather. "Tight, but I believe it is doable."

The Dumbo eyed him, then appeared to change frequencies and have a brief conversation with someone else. As the B-17 spoke, Cabbie couldn't help but nervously eye the horizon, but that nervousness faded instantly when the Flying Fortress spoke again. "C-119, you are authorized to divert and refuel Casco Cove Coast Guard Station on Attu Island. I say again, you are authorized to divert and refuel at Casco Cove Coast Guard Station on Attu Island." The larger plane gave Cabbie a quick wink. "That should give you the breathing room to make it to your home berth safe."

"Thank you…" Cabbie couldn't help but have a little emotion in his voice. "Major Cabbie McHale is now leaving stations and diverting to Casco Cove Coast Guard Station to refuel."

With that Cabbie turned his nose to the northeast in preparation for a landing at one of the most remote airfields on the planet, leaving the Flying Fortress to stand as sentinel over the castaway men awaiting rescue in the sea below.

Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress: The B-17 Flying Fortress is a four-engine heavy bomber that was developed for the US Army Air Corps in the 1930's. Initially only 200 bombers were scheduled to be built, but the model outperformed the competition so dramatically that when the US entered WWII construction of the Flying Fortress was prioritized leading to 12,731 rolling off of the assembly line.

The Flying Fortress played a pivotal role in WWII especially in the European Theater where they dropped 42% of the 1.5 tons of bombs dropped on Nazi German forces. In addition to dropping bombs this aircraft's 'long legs' meant that they were also tasked with antisubmarine missions, as well as search and rescue missions. Post war, advancements in aircraft technology meant that the B-17 was replaced in combat by its decent the Boeing B-29 Superfortress, but the Flying Fortress would continue to be used for search and rescue missions for another two decades. Currently, nine Flying Fortresses are still airworthy, and many more are on static display in museums around the world.