Today, the third Saturday in May, is Armed Forces Day. On the first Armed Forces Day observance on May 20, 1950, Americans eagerly joined to honor those who militarily serve this great country. Parades, receptions, open houses, air shows were the order of the day, and in various ports the storied old mothballed battlewagons of World War II were open for public inspection.

During the years of a prominent military presence in Maine, Armed Forces Day was a major event in the many communities impacted by a major military installation. Now, with the military out of sight, out of mind – and, in many circles, out of favor as well – the day seems pretty much just your basic third Saturday in May.

No matter. If parades and speeches and rallies and flyovers are out of date in celebrating the contributions of the armed forces, we may renew a sense of gratitude to our men and women in uniform by getting veterans to talk about their service. Pick your war and select your veteran. That was my mission earlier this week, despite knowing full well there was no way in hell justice could be done in the 20 measly column inches allotted to the job.

My targets of opportunity were 85-year-old Ray Hills of Winterport, a tail gunner in a B-17 Flying Fortress bomber in World War II air battles over Europe, and Bob Umberger of West Rockport, a former B-17 waist gunner/photographer, who turns 80 next week. Umberger, a retired state forester, flew 30 missions. Hills, a Belfast native who arrived late in the war, flew four. Members of the 303rd Bomb Group of the 8th Air Force stationed at Molesworth, England, they didn’t meet until after the war.

Hills was 21/2 inches taller than the maximum six-foot height allowed for a tail gunner. “I scooched a little bit when I took my physical, and the doctor just smiled and marked me down as six-feet-even,” he explained. One of his missions was a run over heavily bombed Dresden, Germany, a major railway center. But the most memorable mission was the last, an April 25, 1945 flight to hammer the Skoda Armament Works at Pilsen, Czechoslovakia. Damaged, the plane lost two of its four engines and the crew had prepared to bail out. By the time the pilot was able to coax the aircraft back across the English Channel to an emergency landing a third engine had quit. Within two weeks the war in Europe was over.

On Dec. 8, 1941, the day after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Umberger – a Pittsburgh native who has claimed Maine as home since serving at Dow Air Force Base in 1942 and meeting the local woman he would later marry – enlisted in the Army Air Corps. In search of adventure, he found it, in spades. As with Hills, his wartime service was easily the defining experience of Umberger’s life. Over coffee and cranberry bread at his home, we discussed it in quite some detail.

Although the closest Umberger came to getting wounded was when a chunk of shrapnel bounced harmlessly off a plastic survival kit he wore on his hip, other crew members were not so fortunate. When a German shell exploded near the right side machine gun, the first engineer fell, seriously wounded, into Umberger’s arms. Umberger tended to the man until he could receive aid back at Molesworth. The subsequent pervasive guilt that Umberger felt at his buddy’s misfortune “is common when a crew member gets hurt,” he said.

“There’s no reason for it, because it’s just the luck of the draw. But it’s there.”

Taking flak from enemy anti-aircraft guns in the target area became a routine occurrence. Umberger vividly recalls one mission in which a German shell tore “a hole you could throw a 10-quart pail through” in the plane’s tail section. Fortunately for the crew, no hydraulics lines were severed.

The men graphically described the boredom of the flight to the target, the adrenalin rush as a bomb run begins, and the exhilaration when the bombs have been dropped and the plane turns for home. “When the bombardier shouts ‘Bombs Away!’ not only does the plane lift about 20 feet, but the crew’s spirit lifts with it as you get the hell out of there,” said Umberger.

Then he showed me a photograph of the euphoric crew of the famed “Hell’s Angels” B-17, the first in the 8th Air Force to complete the 25 missions that, early in the war, guaranteed crew members a ticket home. The photo was taken outside the plane just after touchdown. “You want to see jubilation?” he asked. “Now, that’s jubilation.”

NEWS columnist Kent Ward lives in Winterport. His e-mail address is olddawg@bangordailynews.net.