By Richard Mabey Jr.

During my dad’s three year stay at Hickam Air Field, during World War II, he mostly worked on repairing P-51 Mustang Fighter Planes. Specifically, Dad mostly replaced the spark plugs on the Mustangs. However, Dad did work on his fair share of B-25 Bomber Planes. I think my father was understandably impressed by the overwhelming size of this massive airplane.

There are not many B-25 Bomber Planes left any more. I remember sometime in the early 1990’s, Dad either read about it or heard about it, that there was a B-25 on display in a museum in Long Island. Well, Dad and I did a bit of research. We actually went to the library in Lincoln Park, as opposed to looking on the Internet.

And, yes, we found out that there was a B-25 Bomber Plane on display at the American Airpower Museum in Farmingdale, New York. It is believed to be the single oldest B-25 in existence today. It was one of the first 24 B-25’s ever built. It was built between 1940 and 1941.

It was there, at the Lincoln Park Public Library, that Dad and I decided that we would go out to Long Island some day to see it. As we walked out of the library, to my car, Dad dreamingly said to me, “Richie, that’d be something to see.”

I don’t know what happened. It seemed that every time Dad brought up the idea to go out to Long Island to see this infamous B-25 Bomber, something would come up that weekend. A cousin was getting married, or the hedges really needed to be trimmed, or I had to work that Saturday, or there was a big event at the Lincoln Park Museum, and on and one it went.

It was about a month before Dad went Home to be with the Lord, out of the blue, Dad asked me if I could find a picture of Miss Hap on the Internet. I helped Dad walk from the living room to the little office that we had in our home in Saint Thomas, Pennsylvania. Dad sat there beside me, in front of the computer. And, I did find a picture of this magnificent aviation masterpiece.

I remember Dad looking at the picture of Miss Hap. Dad was taken in by the plane’s silver fuselage, black wings, and yellow painted circumference around the area of the wings, where the propellors were. Dad was amazed at how fantastic it looked.

“I remember working on those B-25’s,” Dad reminisced. “They were back breakers to work on,” Dad continued. “I would have liked to have seen that plane. That would have been something to see,” Dad quietly stated with a bit of sadness in his voice, while looking at the infamous bomber plane’s picture on the computer screen.

Then Dad became very reflective, reminiscent, a sadness seemed to loom in his eyes. “Hickam Field was something special. Planes all around ya’, as far as your eyes could see. Mostly the P-51’s. I spent three years there. Got terribly homesick, son. Always wanted to go back, though. I was going to bring your mother there on our 25^th anniversary. But there was the mortgage, bills to pay, and well, it just didn’t happen,” Dad quietly uttered to me in a voice filled with sorrow and sadness.

Then Dad told me he was tired and wanted to rest. I helped him walk to his bedroom and helped him in bed. I tucked him in bed, as he did for me when I was a little boy. I sat next to my father as he gently fell asleep. As he slept, I sat by his side for about an hour or so. Dad looked so tranquil and peaceful as he lied there, his head comfortably resting on his pillow.

“Lou quit clowning around. Sarge wants the spark plugs changed on all these planes before lunch time,” Dad said in his sleep. I knew he was dreaming about his days with the Seventh Army Air Corps at Hickam Air Field. I wanted to hug him and tell him that it was all over. But, being haunted by the memories of World War II, was something I could never understand.

Dad went Home to be with the Lord about a month later, in May of 2006. He suffered through pancreatic cancer. Fifteen years have come and gone since Dad passed away. I still miss him so very much. I still deeply grieve his passing.

Richard Mabey Jr. is a freelance writer. He can be reached at richardmabeyjr@hotmail.com. Please put on the subject line: My Life Publications.