Here's yet another of my late father's WWII flying stories. I apologize if these are getting old, but I've been enjoying writing them up.

During the war, the Army acquired a number of Cessna Bobcat twins to use as bomber trainers, which were designated the AT-17. These were a pre-war civilian design that had the advantage that they were made of wood and therefore did not use many strategic materials. Most of the Army instructors didn't like them very much because they seemed flimsy. They were disparagingly called "Bamboo Bombers", the "Rhapsody in Glue" or the "Flying Formation of Cessna Parts."

One day Dad was flying by himself somewhere over Southern California, ferrying one of these AT-17's to another field. He was feeling pretty relaxed, and had lit up a cigar. At the appropriate time, he reached between the seats to change tanks. As he flipped the fuel selector valve, a thick stream of high-octane aviation gas suddenly sprayed past his face (and the lit cigar!) and splattered against the windscreen in front of him. With almost no time to think, he took the palm of his hand and simply crushed the cigar into his mouth. While chewing up the cigar to make sure it was fully out, he quickly shut down the electrical system (hoping he wasn't making any sparks!) and then tried to do something about the fuel selector valve while the cockpit continued to fill with fuel. The fuel selector valve was leaking very badly, but he found that he could stop most of the flow by selecting the original tank.

He then made an emergency decent while pumping down the landing gear by hand, with a window open and as much fresh air as he could get, hoping that he wasn't suddenly immolated. He was able to make an emergency landing on a nearby airfield, and vacated the plane as rapidly as he could. He later said that there were a couple of inches of fuel sloshing around in the cockpit when he landed. It turned out that the fuel selector valve was partially made of cork (non-strategic materials, remember), and the cork seal had crumbled when he rotated the valve. Needless to say, he never had anything good to say about the Cessna Bobcat, ever. He also never chewed tobacco again as far as I know.

Bob

Copyright Ó 1998 Robert T. Chilcoat

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