Pensacola! (FL, MS)

I’ve been wanting to go to Pensacola for some time now—it’s where my dad was stationed in the mid-1940s as he learned to work on airplanes with the Navy. He actually spent much of his time at Whiting Field about an hour from the city. But Pensacola is also home to the superb Naval Aviation Museum, the world’s largest, and that’s where I was headed. They had the old bombers my dad worked on and flew, including the last surviving AJ Savage. His secret squadron sought to modify the plane to carry a 10,000-pound atomic bomb and still be able to take off from an aircraft carrier. The effort was a disastrous failure. (I’ll post more details on that later, as I complete a biography of my dad.)

I flew to Gulfport, MS (November 7), which seemed to offer a better deal on airfare and car rental, and also gave me an easy shot at visiting Pascagoula, which is where my parents were married. I walked around the tiny downtown a bit, then consumed an excellent burger at the Paradise Deli and Grill before continuing east. As I wheeled into Pensacola, I left the interstate, yet ran into stop-and-go traffic that lasted for miles. After an hour of that, I realized we were all headed to the same place, the naval air station, that is. This was Veterans Day weekend and I was just in time for the Friday night airshow at the birthplace of Navy aviation. The Pensacola base was celebrating its 100^th year, so I was there at the perfect time, quite by accident. I hadn’t realized there was an airshow happening and I’d never been to one at night, so this was quite a treat.

Coming into Gulfport.

Pascagoula.

 

The museum was closed by the time I arrived, but I had till Monday to check out the Savage, as well as a P2V Neptune similar to the ones my dad also serviced and flew. So I sat back and enjoyed the show, as crazy guys in loud, brightly lit airplanes flew like maniacs while shooting fireworks off their wings. When it was over, I’d lost my car and spent an hour wandering around the base trying to remember where I’d parked. From there, I still had a 40-minute drive to the Fort Pickens Campground where I’d reserved a tent site for a couple of nights. I enjoyed an early morning walk on the beach.

Fort Pickens.

Home sweet home, Pensacola.