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Sentimental Journey stops in Medford Mail Tribune / Bob Pennell Frank Nagle of Huntington Beach, Calif., lines up the propellers on the Sentimental Journey after it landed at the Medford airport Monday afternoon. The B-17G Flying Fortress will be available for tours and flights through June 25. WWII bomber rumbles into town By PAUL FATTIG Arthur Pautz knew it was the old warbird before he saw it approaching the Medford airport at precisely 12 o'clock high on Monday. "I'd recognize that anywhere - you never forget that sound," said the Rogue River resident. "And you never get tired of hearing it. "That drone - it's just magnificent," he added. The drone of the four 1,200-horsepower engines announced the arrival of the silver B-17G Flying Fortress called the Sentimental Journey as it came in out of the blue. The big bird chirped on the tarmac, then taxied near the Logan & Reavis Aviation Inc. hangar, where it will remain until the morning of June 25. Owned by the Arizona Wing of the nonprofit Confederate Air Force, whose mission is to keep alive the history of B-17s and other planes flown in World War II, the Sentimental Journey is on a West Coast tour. Arriving from Travis Air Force Base in California, it will rumble off to Bend after it leaves Medford, then fly to Portland. While in Medford, the plane is open to tours for a $4 donation. The plane can be toured from noon to dusk today, and from 9 a.m. until dusk Wednesday through Sunday. For $350, a person can take a flight, providing at least five people sign up. Flight reservations can be made by calling 1-800-993-6276. Of the 12,731 B-17s built, 13 are still flying. Pautz, 79, a retired government researcher, once flew aboard the Sentimental Journey as a Confederate Air Force volunteer. "You realize more and more that people know less and less about the history," he said. "We hope this airplane - this flying museum - will help keep the history alive." Pautz knows something about flying in a B-17: He was a radio operator and gunner on B-17s, flying 25 bombing missions in the U.S. Army Air Corps during the war. Based in Italy, he was in B-17s bombing sites such as Vienna, Munich, Berlin, Innsbruck. Flying over Vienna was one of the most harrowing sorties, he recalled. "In Vienna, there were 369 antiaircraft guns there," he recalled. "Our reconnaissance always knew how many guns they had at each target. Of course, you never saw any flak until just before the target. "You'd get back and see the flak holes in the plane," he added. "It would always be little puffs of black smoke if it was far away. You felt it if it was close." Crew members tended to get religion if it got too close, he added. "You learned to pray pretty quick," he said. "Over Innsbruck, they had the guns in the mountains. You could feel the concussion of the bursts. We thought that was going to be it." It wasn't. "We got (hit) the railroad," he said. "But you sit there with the parachute aimed at the door. It's like being in a tin can up there." Then there was the time they were flying at 33,000 feet above sea level over Vienna. "I wasn't getting enough oxygen - I passed out," he said. "Fortunately, the waistgunner saw what happened and turned on my emergency supply." The Sentimental Journey itself, with its painting of Betty Grable, a blond bombshell of the era, is also a war veteran. Coming off the assembly line in late 1944, it served in the Pacific Theater beginning in March 1945. After being decommissioned in 1959, it spent the next 20 years battling wildfires as a borate bomber. The Confederate Air Force acquired the plane in 1978 and restored it to its military might. Dick Hammerschlag, the pilot who brought the Sentimental Journey into Medford, was born a year after the warbird was hatched. "There is a soft spot in everybody's heart about B-17s," Hammerschlag said. "And everybody seems to have a relative who flew on these during the war." The Costa Mesa, Calif., resident was a seasoned pilot before he began flying the Sentimental Journey as a volunteer on tours a decade ago. He was an air traffic controller in the Air Force during the Vietnam War. "It flies exceptionally nice," he said. "But it's real heavy on the controls ... Everything on this aircraft is cables and muscle. You got to lay a lot of muscle with both hands in it sometimes to get it to do what you want." In other words, there was no power steering. "It's one thing flying this thing when everything is going well and running like a Swiss watch," he said. "It would be another thing when you were being shot at and people were trying to kill you. "I often ponder on that as I fly along," he added. "I think it would certainly take all the fun out of flying it." Reach reporter Paul Fattig at 776-4496 or e-mail him at [email protected] Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.