My Most Unforgettable Character - Don Brandon
Don Brandon was a corporate pilot who would fly into Effingham, Illinois every couple of months. He was several years older than any of us, tall and slender, with a leathered yet handsome face. He looked like the Marlboro Man, but he got around in a Beechcraft Baron, not a horse.
Don’s first trip to Effingham, he was left by his passengers to wait all day before flying back to their home in Akron, Ohio. As was our custom, we invited this unknown transient pilot to join us for lunch at one of the local restaurants.
Don was a friendly fellow, and he smiled and nodded as we spun our stories. It wasn’t long before he joined in.
Don shared that as a young man he had joined the Canadian Air Force in the early days of World War II, not content to wait for the U.S. to get involved. He was young and restless, eager for adventure, spoiling for a good fight. And he loved to fly.
The way Don told it, his first experience in actual combat was not his greatest hour.
"They told us to fire in short bursts," he said in that gravelly voice of his, "so you wouldn't just squeeze the trigger and use up all your ammo at once.
"So, we're out on patrol and we run into some Germans. Next thing I know I'm in it for real. Hell, the first thing I did was squeeze the trigger on the joystick and I didn't let go until I was out of ammo! I didn't hit a thing!" That wasn't the end of it. "The other thing they told us was that when you did run out of ammo to keep flying aggressively ... keep flying like you're tryin' to line up for a shot. Otherwise, they'll figure out you're empty and they'll all come at you."
Someone asked Don what happened next. "I started goin' after this one German, trying to get lined up behind him. Then he got behind me. We went back and forth like that for a while until we both finally figured out no one was doin' any shootin'! We pulled up alongside one another and saluted, then peeled off and went home!"
It was like that every time. We never knew when Don would be dropping in on us, but once we got to know him, whenever Don landed and taxied in to the ramp, everyone would drop whatever they were doing and find a chair just to sit and listen. We never knew if the stories were true - and there were some pretty tall tales - but we didn't care!
Don had a new story for us every time he dropped in. Like the time he had to steal his company’s Lear Jet back from the Mexican government and evade fighter jets sent up to force him to land. One of my personal favorite stories was the time he was looking to re-group with his squadron. “We’d gotten separated, and I’m gettin’ low on gas, so I was pretty anxious to regroup and get back to England. I spotted this formation up ahead, so I eased in with ‘em.”
Don looked at me and chuckled. “You know, when they’re painted in camouflage, a Messerschmitt looks one hell of a lot like a Spitfire! I looked over to my right … then I looked over to my left … Hell, they all had swastikas! I just flew right along with ‘em, trying to figure out how I was gonna get outta this one!”
Don wasn’t the only one surprised. “The German pilot on my right looked over at me, then turned and looked forward – for about a half second – then he looked back at me again, and his eye were as wide as pie pans. Right about then, all hell broke loose!
“They busted up their formation and all tried to jockey for position to get a shot on me. All the while, I’m yankin’ and bankin’, totally defensive, just flying to stay alive …”
Lucky for Don, his squadron wasn’t far away, and had seen the whole thing. While the Luftwaffe pilots were focusing on Don, they paid no attention to anything else. Don’s squadron came in and picked them off one at a time. “After we got back to our base, my squadron leader came up to me and shook my hand, congratulating me on my true stroke of genius. He told me he wanted me to do that again if the opportunity presented itself. I said ‘F**k you!’”
I asked Don what thoughts were going through his mind while all the chaos was unfolding. “You know,” Don said, “I found religion that day.”
“Which religion, Don?” I asked.
“ALL OF ‘EM!!!”