Thousand-Yard Stare

It's 1943, and he's flying a B-25 over the Pacific. As on every patrol, his life, and that of his crew, depends on their vigilance. Each day they fly another mission. Each day they beat odds that no Vegas gambler would accept.

Flash-forward 65 years later. I'm standing on the tarmac at the Salute to Veterans airshow as the photographer for the event. A wonderful friend is the son of that pilot, who now is in his 90's and needs a walker to get around. He moves with the slow, deliberate gait of one who must watch his balance and his movements.

It's been arranged for this hero -- and the word is correct -- to visit planes similar to the ones that brought him home each time. We have two B-25's on display, and he looks at them closely. It fills him with memories; some good, some bittersweet.

As we were chatting with the owners of the aircraft we looked away from him for a moment. Looking back, we see our pilot put aside his walker to climb the vertical ladder into the B-25. A glance at the owner confirms that it's OK for him to go in, and with an assist from his son, he gets up and into the cockpit.

The smile on his face was priceless! He could remember every switch, every control, every nuance of the aircraft. I believe he could have safely flown it off the ground at that very moment. It was that much a part of him.

As he looked back, he noticed I was taking pictures, and gave me a big grin, then took off his hat to make it easier. Then the magic happened.

For a couple of moments, just a second or two, he forgot me. He forgot everyone around him. I believe in that moment he was back in the Pacific with his comrades, fighting the good fight, reliving the experience, mourning those that fell. I was honored to witness it.

I was even more honored to get a shot of that moment. This is truly one image I'll treasure for a long, long time.



I'm proud to be a part of the Salute to Veterans. To find out more about them and the wonderful work they do, please visit their website.