War leaves behind stories—some celebrated, others too painful to tell. This is one of the latter. It strikes me as a painful metaphor for some of the tragedies and problems that life can deliver outside the theater of armed combat, in the context of our own personal battles.
Let’s start with war. There have been lots of them, and will be more. But only World War 2 saw the debut of mass aerial bombardment, introducing machines the world had never seen. One of those awe inspiring, pulverizing inventions was the B-17 bomber.
The B-17 Flying Fortress was a marvel of engineering, designed to endure unimaginable punishment. It was nicknamed the "Flying Fortress" for its ridiculously dialed defensive capabilities, including mammoth 13 .50 caliber machine guns. Another specially designed gun was the turret below, where a long gunman would sit exposed beneath the belly of the plane.
Encased in a Plexiglass dome, fully exposed to the fighters and flak, his mobility offered fluid response to German fighter planes. Lots of those German planes got through the defenses, peppering airmen with murderous barrages. But B-17s heroically absorbed the damage. During World War II, these planes became a symbol of resilience, often limping back to base with shredded wings, punctured fuel tanks, and battle-worn crews.
But not every mission ended in victory—or survival.
One particularly tragic story stands out. As a B-17 returned from a bombing mission, riddled with bullet holes, low on fuel, it carried a grim dilemma. The ball turret gunner, wedged into the plane’s rotating bubble beneath its fuselage, was trapped by a jammed hatch.
This became a critical issue, when the crew was alerted to another malfunction: the landing gear had stuck. Without it, the plane could not touch down without crushing the turret below… and the soldier trapped within.
With fuel running low, and the misty fields of England waiting below, the crew talked desperately to the control tower. Circling on the last fumes of fuel, struggling to find a solution, their circling plight drew soldiers from the barracks. Gathering in the early dawn, watching the battered, smoking plane loop the field, the ground crew and soldiers watched with growing dread.
All of them realized there was only one option.
That plane had to land.
Right on top of the soldier trapped below.
When it did, everybody in that English field died a little bit. They all knew it could have been them. They all knew the soldier didn’t die because he wasn’t brave. He didn’t die because he wasn’t skilled.
He died because the machine.
It failed, as machines sometimes do.
The Realities of Aerial Warfare
The life of a B-17 crewman was harrowing. Missions often required flying at altitudes exceeding 20,000 feet, where temperatures plummeted to -60°F. Crews wore heated suits to prevent frostbite, though frost still clung to their oxygen masks, goggles, gloves and gear.
The ball turret gunner’s position was the most dangerous. He was fully exposed beneath the plane. Cramped inside a sphere barely large enough to hold a man, these gunners were exposed to enemy fire and lacked easy access to the rest of the crew. If the turret’s hydraulics or power systems failed, like it did this time, the gunner was trapped.
During World War II, over 12,700 B-17s were built. Only 4,735 survived the war. Of the nearly 116,000 airmen who flew in bomber crews over Europe, over 26,000 never returned home.
These numbers are sobering, but they tell only part of the story. For every bomber shot down, countless missions succeeded—at great cost. A critical part of those successes was often the same reason for their failures: machines.
When they performed, lives were saved. When they failed, fighters were lost.
We’re All In The Machine
The B-17’s tale offers lessons that extend far beyond the skies of the 1940s. Today, our "machines" are systems—processes, businesses, teams—designed to help us thrive. Like those bombers, these systems often perform heroically, carrying us through crises and delivering results.
But stress can cause cracks. And when systems fail, someone always bears the brunt.
It might be the employee caught in a cascade of bad decisions.
It might be the dream crushed under the weight of unexpected challenges.
Or it might be the part of ourselves we lose when we push too hard, too long.
Sometimes, we’re the crew circling helplessly, watching disaster unfold. Other times, we’re the gunner, trapped in a position with no way out.
Fighting Through Failure
But the story of the B-17 gunner isn’t just a tragedy; it’s a testament to human resilience. Despite unimaginable odds, these crews flew, fought, and fulfilled their missions.
And the gunner? While his story ended in loss, his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. His crew survived, probably because he chose to stay at his guns right to the bitter end of their fire fight.
In today’s world, the lessons are clear:
Respect the fight. Like the men and women who flew into battle, recognize the courage it takes for people to face challenges, even when the odds are against them.
Honor the machine—but know its limits. Whether it’s a team, a business, or a relationship, no system is perfect. When failures occur, it’s vital to learn and adapt.
Value the flight. Loss is inevitable, but it’s the effort—the flying, the fighting, the trying—that makes life worthwhile.
A Final Thought
The skies of World War II were filled with stories of heroism, sacrifice, and loss. These stories remind us of what it means to persevere in the face of overwhelming odds.
Like those B-17 crews, we won’t always win. Sometimes, things will go wrong. Systems will fail. And someone—maybe us—will be left to pick up the pieces.
But here’s the thing: getting the chance to fly, to take some shots, and to fight for what matters is more than many people get in life.
Even when the machine fails, even when the losses are cruel, the opportunity to rise, to contribute, and to try is a gift.
Life isn’t about avoiding the crash.
It’s about taking the flight.
