by Arnold Harris

THE PILOT was one of my lifelong heroes right from the first time I saw him on the big screen at the Nortown Theater on Chicago's north side in the spring of 1944. Back then, I was a newly-minted 10-year-old, following the victorious wonders of the United States and its allies as avidly as anyone in our then-united society.

He was the pilot of the Memphis Belle, the Boeing B-17F "Flying Fortress" heavy bomber whose 10-man crew was the first to complete 25 missions against enemy targets in Nazi-occupied western Europe. When he and his men completed their final mission on May 17, 1943, against the heavy concrete-reinforced U-boat pens at Lorient on the Atlantic coast of France, it was the last in a successful string of bombing raids that had begun on November 7, 1942, in a raid that was also against a heavily-defended U-boat base.

What was the significance of 25 missions?

At that time in the war, before long-range Allied fighter aircraft were available to escort bombers on their daylight runs, it was only a matter of time before any given bomber crew was shot out of the sky by the Luftwaffe. That, or they were destroyed by thick and accurate fire from German antiaircraft artillery -- the fliegerabwehrkanonen, or "flak," as the German acronym came into the English language -- that protected every worthwhile target in Nazi-occupied Europe.

That meant each mission of the 324th Bombing Squadron of the 91st Bombing Group, based at Bassingbourn, England, was its own separate roll of the dice. You got up early that morning, dressed and sat for target briefing. You rode your B-17 four-engine bomber up to 25,000 feet. You got into the carefully-planned box formation that offered maximum protection against German fighters. You didn't arm the 500 lb, 1000 lb and 2000 lb general purpose demolition bombs that made up your deadly cargo too soon before they were to be dropped, for if a mission was aborted, nobody flew back to base with live bombs. Then, as soon as your plane, your squadron, your group, your air division passed over the English Channel, the Messerschmitt Bf-109 and Focke-Wulfe FW-190 interceptor aircraft were on your ass. They stayed there until you flew into one of Germany's numerous flak zones. Then you picked up your formation after you dropped your bomb load and tried your damndest to fly home again. All this time, you flew through air that was 40 degrees below zero; air that blew through your plane's numerous openings for its machine guns; breathed canned oxygen and fought for your life and the lives of the rest of your crew.

Would you live or die that day? Sometimes, it was a small mistake that blew your airplane or crew out of the sky. Sometimes it was the overwhelming numbers of enemy fighters, or the equally overwhelming density of flak. Mostly it was raw and unpredictable fate; the flak shell or enemy fighter that had your number on it.

After a few such missions, most of these highly-trained crews got the picture; you flew one too many missions, and that was the day you didn't come home. How many missions? The 8th Air Force, in an attempt to improve morale among their combat crews, decided 25 was enough. You flew against the Luftwaffe and the flak 25 times, brought your ship home, and that was all Uncle Sam would ask of you. Unless you volunteered for more.

Thus it was that the Memphis Belle and her crew were ordered, by the commanding general of the 8th Air Force, to return to the United States and explain to the American people why this expenditure of the world's finest aircraft and highly-trained manpower was so important to the war effort. That, and put their own experiences to use in the vast air-training programs then underway all across America.

That long-ago day in Chicago, I was watching the newly-released film about this bomber and her crew. Well-known Hollywood director William Wyler, who actually flew on many missions in the Memphis Belle and photographed her crew at war, was behind it.

The men who made up the Memphis Belle's crew were: Capt. Robert K. Morgan, of Asheville, N.C., the pilot. Morgan's co-pilot was Capt. Jim Verinis of New Haven, Conn. There was also the bombardier, Capt. Vincent B. Evans of Henderson, Texas; navigator Capt. Charles B. Leighton of Flint, Mich., radio operator T/Sgt Robert J. Hanson of Spokane, Wash.; top turret gunner and flight engineer Harold R. Loch of Green Bay, Wisc.; left waistgunner S/Sgt Clarence F "Bill" Winchell of Oak Park, Ill.;, right waistgunner Casimir A "Tony" Nastal of Detroit, Mich.; ball turret gunner S/Sgt Cecil H Scott of Arapahoe, N.C.; tailgunner S/Sgt John P. Quinlan of Yonkers, N.Y.; and ground crew chief M/Sgt Joseph M. Giambrone of Hulneville, Pa. All these became the best-known bomber crew of the 8th Air Force -- the Mighty 8th -- of the US Army Air Forces of World War II.

The last thing in the world that would ever have crossed my mind that day almost six decades ago, amid the popcorn boxes and plush seats of the old Nortown Theater, was that I would some day meet that pilot, face to face.

But there he was, at Truax Regional Airport on the east side of Madison, Wisc., on the weekend of May 31-June 1. The Boeing B-17F which played the role of the "Memphis Belle" in the 1990 remake of Wyler's film was there too. (The real Memphis Belle, now mostly restored, is under a protective dome in a popular theme park on Mud Island, outside of Memphis, Tenn.)

Col. Morgan (ret.) will be 85 years old on July 31. But he still stands straight and tall, walks with vigor, and has picked up enough patience over the years to sit for hours at air shows autographing books and photographs. He also engages in knowledgeable conversation and answers endless questions put to him by air show visitors, many of whom are young enough to be his great-grandchildren. As is fitting, Col. Morgan and his wife Linda--who travels with him to all public events--each wear the traditional leather flight jackets issued to pilots of the World War II era.

But it's his pilot's eyes that get to you. They're icy clear, and after almost six decades of peacetime flying they leave you in no doubt that somewhere deep in his soul, he is still staring out through the windscreen of his bomber; searching the skies for Bf-109s and FW-190 interceptors with the black crosses on the wings.

I saw him twice at the airshow that weekend in Madison. First on Saturday, immediately after learning that he was here in southern Wisconsin; then the next day, when I brought back a couple of my sons. People were lined up to buy his autographed photos, copies of his book and other memorabilia, or just to say hello to him. What in particular did I ask him?

-- Did Colonel Wray, commander of the 91st Bomber Group at Bassingbourn, give you a hard time when you buzzed his landing field at low altitude after the 25th mission was done?

Answer: Not hardly, it was sort of expected. In his book, Morgan says, "I buzzed the hell out of that field. I gave it a grass-cutting you couldn't get these days with a Lawnboy. Somebody said I knocked over a flagpole, but I didn't. I was way too low for anything like that."

During that second day, Colonel Morgan talked with a group of about 60-70 airshow visitors, relating all sorts of information I had never heard of before, including the following:

1) After completing his public tours and related duties around various US air bases, Morgan had an opportunity to see one of the first Boeing B-29 "Superfortress" heavy bombers, in company with Brig. Gen. Kenneth B Wolfe, who commanded a super-secret bombardment wing that would be equipped with these new aircraft.

Morgan, soon to be promoted to major, asked if he could get into the program and was told he could, leading to an extensive period of training with these new aircraft. He named his B-29 "Dauntless Dotty", once again after his lady of the year. (He courted but never married Margaret Polk, who inspired the name "Memphis Belle", but they remained long-term friends.)

The B-29 was unlike anything previously seen in the air war. Its top speed of 365 mph was 70 mph faster than that of the B-17. It could fly 5,830 miles, five times the range of the B-17. It carried a bomb load of 20,000 lbs, had heated and pressurized crew compartments, used a highly accurate radar system to drop its bombs -- a major improvement over the old Norden bombsight -- and had remote-controlled gun turrets. Exactly what would be needed to launch the strategic bombing campaign against Japan from the Mariana Islands in the Pacific Ocean.

2) Morgan, now in command of his own squadron of B-29s, the 869th, led the first of these B-29 raids against Tokyo and other Japanese target cities, on November 29, 1944. His unit was part of the 497th Bomb Group, 73rd Combat Wing, 20th Bomber Command and 20th Air Force.

This and other flights encountered only minor opposition from Japanese fighter aircraft and anti-aircraft artillery. The greatest danger, Morgan reports, was the more than seven-hour flight from the airfields on Saipan and Tinian to the Japanese home islands, then another seven-plus hours on the return flight, a total of 15 hours in the air. Lose one of the four 2200 hp Wright Double Cyclone radial engines and you could still make it. Lose two, you would want to find some solid earth to land on. Real quick.

3) Major Morgan, promoted on December 6, 1944 to lieutenant colonel and later to full colonel, flew 26 long-range bombing missions over Japan. In its latter stages, the 20th was under command of the tough, unsentimental General Curtis LeMay, who later led the USAF's Strategic Air Command. One of these missions was the terrible Tokyo firebombing raid on the night of March 9, 1945, in which the great bombers were stripped of guns, and flown in at low altitudes with full loads of incendiary M-69 and napalm M-17 bombs. The result was a firestorm that engulfed and destroyed the industrial heart of the largest city in Japan, killing over 83,000 people and injuring close to 41,000 more. That's equal to all US casualties in the Korea and Vietnam Wars combined.

4) The key reason the US had to conquer and occupy Iwo Jima was because of its airfield and its location, more or less half-way between the Marianas and Japan. Before the US Marines took the island in early 1945, Japanese fighters would regularly rise up from its airfield and attack the B-29s on their way to and from Japan. More significantly, according to Morgan, was that they needed a place to land heavy bombers which developed engine troubles and other inflight mechanical problems. That island in US hands, Morgan related, saved more than 1200 bombers. One of these was his "Dauntless Dotty."

For more perspective on Morgan today, and on the great bomber he flew into the face of death so many times in 1942 and 1943, read the prologue of his book, "The Man Who Flew the Memphis Belle". Another chapter of the same book, also available from the Memphis Belle website, will give you an instant taste of the introduction to real life-and-death shooting war for the Memphis Belle and her crew.

But one of the most fascinating elements of Robert Morgan's long life was his decision to pass up a permanent and high-ranking place in what became the United States Air Force after World War II. Instead, he returned to Asheville, N.C., and his civilian life. Both in print and in person, Colonel Morgan has discussed with thousands of us the opportunities and achievements, problems and disappointments, faced and overcome by him in his adjustments to civilian life.

Along the way, he has been in the direct company of one of the Wright brothers, the King and Queen of England, and the highest commanders of the US armed forces. He has met many of his former enemies on business trips to postwar Germany as a Volkswagen dealer in North Carolina. He has faced bankruptcy and achieved financial recovery.

And, oh yes, he has lived long enough to pilot a modern B-1 bomber. Also named the Memphis Belle.

Mr. Harris lives in Mount Horeb, Wisc.