On Monday, Memorial Day, while working with the plane, I had the privilege of listening to a WWII vet who had seen his first Tri-Motor when he was 7, and it came to Bradenton, FL. He became a B-17 pilot. He told of how he was shot down in a B-17, and lost two of his 31 men on board, and how that was the only parachute jump he's ever made. He told of how he made it back to Paris with the help of the resistance, and from there, made it to a fishing boat that got him back to wherever it was that he needed to be (sorry, I don't remember, if he even said where).
It was an honor to listen to this man speak, and I consider him and those like him to be a dwindling national treasure. Thank God for these men.