My introduction to the world of aviation occurred on an afternoon in fall 1990, when I was 7 years old. I remember it clearly. My childhood best friend and I were taken to the local movie theater in Concord, New Hampshire, to see Memphis Belle. Although it was rated PG-13, my best friend’s father was our chaperone, and I believe he hoped the film would open our eyes to the seriousness of air combat. He was a U.S. Navy pilot during Vietnam, flying the Douglas A-4 Skyhawk, and served as a captain at Delta Air Lines, flying the McDonnell Douglas MD-80.
At the beginning of the film, a B-17 returning from a World War II mission makes a low pass over the Memphis Belle’s aircrew playing touch football at their base, signaling the return of the squadron. The beautiful shape and proportions of the B-17 and the unmistakable sound of those four Wright R-1820 engines thundering over me in the theater made the most indelible impression, and my love for aviation began at that very moment.
