September 11, 2001, began before sunrise for me and five crew members as we met at Tulsa International Airport. Even in dim light our B-25 World War II combat veteran “Old Glory” sparkled
like a freshly polished silver tea pot. We loaded our luggage, maps and charts; completed a walk-around inspection then boarded for our flight to Rhode Island. As our pilot and copilot did their preflight check list, the rest of us sipped our coffee and discussed the battle history of our aircraft.
We were anticipating the crowd of WWII veterans and their families who were eagerly awaiting our arrival in Providence. We would spend a few days there visiting the aging “fly boys”, taking them on flights and allowing them complete access to the bomber. There would be tears, reminiscing and vivid recall of horrifying events.
Our entire crew was totally dedicated to honoring these veterans with love, respect, and gratitude while they, in turn, would thank us for one last time to see, hear, touch and smell the aircraft that took them back to a time when they were young men with all the dreams young men dream.
We taxied to the runway and lifted off into a magnificent sky – what a glorious day this would be! The world was bright and beautiful as we flew past the St. Louis Arch. We did not need radio communication once we cleared Tulsa airspace, so we were flying VFR (visual flight rules). I was in one of my favorite positions, the nose gunner surrounded by plexi glass. The view is breathtaking.
The bomber was strictly military, no creature comforts and of course not pressurized, so we flew at low altitudes where there was adequate oxygen, and we wouldn’t freeze to death. We shuddered to imagine the discomfort of the original crew! We had a planned fuel stop at a small airport just east of Indianapolis where we could use the restrooms and grab another cup of coffee to enjoy with the chocolate chip cookies I always made for the flights.
There seemed to be an unusually high number of aircraft in the skies as we approached the Indianapolis area. We activated radio communication before we entered Indianapolis air space. All we could hear was the urgent-sounding voices of air-traffic controllers directing all planes to land immediately, almost nose to tail, with no explanation for the orders.
I crawled through the small tunnel to the cockpit where I took a safer landing position behind the pilot and buckled in. When we had visual contact with Indianapolis International, the scene was bizarre. All
types of aircraft parked in never-seen positions. Our landing strip, which had no control tower, was straight ahead. We touched down and, instead of the ground crew directing us to the usual refuel
position, we were brought right up to the small ground crew building on the tarmac. The flag man yelled up to the pilot’s open window, “Shut the engines down immediately. We are at war!”
We hastily exited the aircraft. Not another word was spoken. As we entered the small building, a television was blaring loudly and on the screen we saw the second plane impact the World Trade Tower. At that moment I could not comprehend the magnitude of horror I was witnessing. I and my beloved country were changed forever.
By Jenneth Sheeler, Trinity Woods Community Member
