A B-17 darkened my plate-glass windows and shook the lake's air space with deep radial-engine reverberations.
Over Wolfeboro proper, I watched the same B-17 as it flew over my Dad's house—twice—between 5:40 and 5:46-PM.
He is a WWII Naval-Aviation pilot, and requires a hearing aid—but never misses a fly-over
by any aircraft that Won The War.
I'll hear "all about this" tomorrow over breakfast!