Stearman Airplane - A WWII novel about a young V-5 Navy pilot

The gasoline exhaust-scented air rushing into Billy's face and around him was deliciously invigorating. He breathed deeply the heavenly ambrosia and let it fill his lungs. He smelled and tasted its magic in his nostrils, on his tongue and in his throat. Watching the ground drop below him without a Plexiglas canopy obstructing his view made him feel it was he who was flying, not the plane. Nearly completely exposed to the elements, with virtually unlimited vision---except dead ahead, which was the back of his instructor's head---up and down and all around, the open cockpit made flying seem almost a religious experience.
Billy was Gabriel the messenger, serenely soaring back to the throne of God; he was Icarus, flying higher and higher over the pure, blue Aegean; he was Merlin, sailing over the flagged turrets of Camelot.
Billy was engaging in the purest form of powered flight man can experience.
But he had to focus on reality.
The nose of the plane remained elevated, pulling them upward until they leveled off at 2000 feet.
"We'll have to remember to keep out a sharp eye for bandits and always maintain a respectful distance from other planes," Mr. Wright reminded him. "Crashes in the air kill too many pilots and there's no excuse for not watching where you're going."
Billy looked all around their plane. He could see other yellow specks in the distance, but none close.
"Don't forget that you may have to set it down without notice," Wright continued. "Always look for a landing site. You never know when you might have engine failure, or I might cut off your gas supply."
He made eye contact with Billy through his rearview mirror. Billy nodded and surveyed the ground for clearings conducive to emergency landings.
Mr. Wright began to rock the plane from side to side, watching in his mirror to see how Billy responded.
Billy moved easily and confidently with the plane's motion, making no attempt to remain vertical, as if he were still Earth bound.
"Hold your arms horizontally, out over the sides of the plane, Mr. Benson."
Billy stuck his hands over each side of the plane. The rush of air made it difficult for him to keep his arms straight out.
"Keep them there. We're going to check your seat belt."
Mr. Wright put the plane into a slow roll and remained briefly upside down.
As Billy tried to acclimate himself to this attitude, Mr. Wright righted the plane.
"How was that? Okay?"
Billy nodded his head.
"Take the stick, Mr. Benson. Let me see you do some basic maneuvers."
Billy placed his feet on the pedals and grasped the stick. A jolt of electricity traversed his body as the little plane responded to his controls. He felt he was actually wearing the open plane, holding it to his body by the seatbelt, the way suspenders hold up pants. No, it was more. It was as if he were part of the Stearman, as if he had somehow sprouted two pairs of bright yellow wings.

Don't miss out on any of the excitement of this great WWII Book. Purchase your copy today. Just click on Purchase Book for more information. For more excerpts see: Billy's First Night Flight, Yellow Peril, NAS Pensacola, and WWII Planes.