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| Lt. Vilas Bielefeldt poses with F-86F FU-351 at the Far East Air Force (F.E.A.F.) Gunnery Meet in April, 1955. |
My Dad was a fighter pilot. He’ll tell you he fought in three wars. Korea, Vietnam and the “Cold War.” After nearly 30 years in the United States Air Force he retired as a Lieutenant Colonel. My Dad told me stories about his days in the military like when he blew up a narrow foot bridge with single 250 lb. bomb, or how he was called back at the last minute from a flight he was supposed to take for some R ‘n R, only to watch the plane crash on take off, killing everyone on board except the pilot and co-pilot. I often heard of him refer to these years as the “good old days.” I know the “good ol’ days” referred to the lasting friendships he made and to his joy of flying.
I was lucky enough to fly with my Dad, flying “copilot.” Reading off the safety checklist of our Cessna 198. “Flaps?” …check. “Oil pressure?” …check, and then flying around town and looking down on our house. That was fun, especially when you’re around fourteen. Those were my “good ol’ days.”
A good friend of mine, John Heck, builds model airplanes. Not like most people build model airplanes, like the way I built them when I was a kid. I would buy a model kit and then build the whole plane in a weekend. I would then hang it from the ceiling with fishing line until the Fourth of July when most of my models completed their mission. I, of course, built all the planes my Dad flew: an A-4, a T-37 and a T-38, and some others. I also built an Israeli Mirage 5. I built some weird plane that had little bomblets that were attached to the little wings on the wheel struts, which I purchased strictly because it looked “cool.” Anyway, John’s planes don’t look like my planes, or like most people’s planes for that matter. He will deny this totally, but his planes look like the friggin’ picture on the box.
I was attending a family get together to celebrate my father’s birthday, and I asked John if it would be possible to commission him to build a plane for my Dad; the F-86F Saber. We discussed the terms and John explained that due to the amount of time involved that I couldn’t afford his hourly rate, and basically, John offered to build the plane for me; no charge. I offered a bunch of measly payments, like dinner or whatever and John said a bunch of excuses like, “ I’ve never built a plane like this before,” or “ it will be good experience for me,” etc… In end, I like to think he built the plane for friendship and his joy of building model airplanes.
This is the part I get to brag about John. In approximately six weeks with many late nights, John built the entire model. Including, having to build many parts from scratch. The project actually went from just building the plane itself to creating a complete diorama with the plane parked on the tarmac, and my Dad standing next to it, all under a shatterproof plastic case. The scene was modeled after one of a series of photos my father had sent John as a reference for some last minute details. It was very exiting for me to hear the daily updates and watch a bunch of plastic bits become a plane.
For those of you who are modelers, you probably know the precision, attention to detail and patience involved in building models of this caliber. My education at the amount of work I had asked John to do began when I asked John if I could come by his workshop (garage), and see how it all comes together. John tried to warn me that this was not the most exciting spectator sport, but I convinced him I really wanted to see at least part of the process. I was there about two to two and half hours and during that time John had masked the entire plane and airbrushed the nose paint, and that’s all. And the actual painting part only took maybe five minutes. Even though it looked perfect to me, I think he actually re-did it. The staggering amount of time that goes into the prep work, not to mention the actual model building itself is probably not realized by most casual ex-childhood model builders, like me. Watching this one tiny part of the building of the model was actually very interesting, and as John had warned, staggeringly, if educationally, boring, and yes, sadly, I ended up on the sofa watching a movie with his wife. Feeling, not for the last time, a little sheepish about having asked John to spend so much time on a project he would not get to keep in his model case.
The finished model included the plane, at rest, sitting on the tarmac with my Dad standing next to it. It was awesome. I was amazed by the attention to detail. John even got the glint off my Dad’s bald head right. Needless to say, I was completely blown away. It was, unbelievable. I can’t remember exactly, but I hope John got sick of hearing me tell him what a terrific job he had done. I did remember however, just a hint of trepidation as he handed over responsibility for a bunch of plastic, paint and glue he had just spent 500 hours assembling in the proper order.
Thus began my 36 hours of paranoid hell—transporting this thing on a three and a half hour flight and then a two hour drive to my Mom and Dad’s house in the tiny river side town of Buffalo, Wisconsin, all the while imagining, and then blocking from my mind, model damaging scenarios in my head. The model made the entire eight hour trip, with the exception of a solo white knuckle, nail biting, roller coaster ride through the airport x-ray machine, never out of my grip.
When I unveiled the plane at my Dad’s birthday party, Dad didn’t cry or anything, but I could tell he really liked it. I remember him saying, “Ol’ 351 lives again!” The plane was awed and ooh’d over my entire time at Mom and Dad’s. It was like a traveling museum piece as relatives would line up to view FU-351 and marvel at this or that. It was definitely the hit of the trip.
Dad told me FU-351 was not his dedicated plane, (even though his name was on it), and that he often had to fly whichever plane was available at the time. He did fly FU-351 to the Far East Air Force (F.E.A.F.) Gunnery Meet in April, 1955 and flew most of his competition missions in ‘351. He calls John’s model his “pride and joy” and proudly displays the plane in a place of honor at his home in Buffalo and Warrensburg, Missouri. He has also displayed the model at the American Legion Hall in Alma, Wisconsin, The Veterans of Foreign Wars Meeting in Cochrane, Wisconsin, the American Legion/Quiet Birdman Association meeting in Warrensburg, Missouri, the Missouri Veterans home in Warrensburg, and the 18th Fighter Bomber Wing Association Reunion in Dayton, Ohio where it was displayed unguarded for three days while my Dad sweated, according to his e-mail.
I asked my Dad to jot down some notes in preparation of writing this editorial. He wrote of how he was amazed by the details of John’s model, “Down to the grass in the cracks of the revetment concrete. Even the pilot looks like me…Ol’ 351 was a fine bird.” I couldn’t agree more. I know that my Dad was proud of his military service, and my family and I were proud of him. John’s model gave us a chance to share one moment and stand next to Dad and his plane. It gave me just the slightest hint of what it would be like to be there, standing next to that plane.
So yeah, I owe John a whole crapload of free movie tickets, and landscaping favors and whatever else he asks for, which of course, he never does. But from me, thanks just the same, and I owe you one, and a big one at that. So, here’s my toast to John and the “good ol’ days,” past and present and old FU–351. She was, and now continues to be, one fine bird.
