Back towards the end of 2013 I was working with Legend Flyers of Everett, Washington. I'd already painted a couple of paintings for them; two compositions depicting the Messerschmitt Me 262b jet that they'd rebuilt. Their next big project was the restoration of a Japanese A6M3 Model 32 Zero fighter. I was already familiar with the aircraft since a friend of mine, John Sterling, was the man responsible for recovering it from Taroa in the Pacific in 1992. It was a historically significant aircraft for reasons that went beyond its rarity; one of barely 300 ever built of its model. It had been flown in combat by the Japanese fighter 'Ace' Isamu Miyazaki, and it had taken part in the interception of Lt. Louis Zamperini's B-24 'Super Man' in April of 1943 (This action was dramatically depicted in Angelina Jolie's film 'Unbroken', though no Zeros were actually lost in the encounter). Legend Flyers commissioned me to paint the Zero in combat with Zamperini's bomber. First one composition, then another from a different angle, then another . . .
A6M3 Mod. 32 Zero of the 252nd Kokutai attacking 'Super Man' head-on in April 1943.
During this process, and the research associated with the paintings, I certainly gained a healthy respect for Louis Zamperini and heard some amazing stories of his experiences. I'm sure most will agree that the movie was certainly excellent and a must see!
The same pass - a few seconds later!
The April 1943 combat that essentially destroyed 'Super Man' was more than a fateful mechanism that led to Zamperini and the rest of the crew being assigned 'Green Hornet' - the squadron hack that later crashed into the Pacific. 'Super Man's' successful return to its base with 562 holes in her was regarded as a miracle in its own right, and led to a great deal of media attention at the time.
B-24D 'Super Man' alone and under attack, April 1943.
My paintings for Legend Flyers had all been focused upon the Zero's participation in the action. While the movie was still in theaters I wanted to focus something more directly upon 'Super Man' with her as the center of attention. After Christmas I painted her in all of her glory, fighting back with all that she had:
Rest in well-deserved peace 'Super Man' and Louis Zamperini. You will never be forgotten.
- Ron Cole
Limited edition prints are available via the following online stores:
When I was a kid my family and I had been close friends with Dr. Marty O'Connor for years. He was, among other things, the world's best known scholar and author on the subject of the Austro-Hungarian air forces in World War One. Even though he died tragically over twenty years ago, his name and his work remains some of the best material available on any of the Great War air services. And he was a great friend; my unofficial Godfather.
I recently came into the possession, through a trade, of an original J.J. Muller aircraft fuel gauge. Made in Vienna in 1918, it was used in several Austro-Hungarian aircraft including their licence-built Albatros D.III - known in Austria as the Oeffag 253. The first thing that I thought of was Marty. If he were still around he'd tell me the name of the guy who designed it and some anecdotal story about having met him many years before. Probably! In any case I was excited by the excuse the instrument had provided: I'd always wanted to paint something dedicated to Dr. O'Connor, and I started doing research.
I found a great color scheme for a late-war Albatros D.III. I remembered what Marty had told me about how these aircraft were painted in the field. He told me all about the paints used and how they didn't usually cover well and soon weathered. Unit markings were often painted atop older crosses, which bled through, and late war crosses were added in different places. I put all of that information to use in my painting.
I'd always been hesitant to weather or show crudely-painted markings in my work because the effect might look sloppy, but I disregarded those fears here. I thought that if I rendered the majority of the aircraft in very sharp detail, then things like the sloppily-hand-painted white fuselage markings would 'read' as intended: as accurately-depicted wartime markings.
The plywood fuselage was fun! And the hammered metal cowling parts were an interesting challenge. I put a lot of effort into making each material component look authentic.
The end product would be a one-of-a-kind piece printed on canvas at 24 x 36 inches, framed, and combined with the original fuel gauge.
People argue, especially scale aircraft modelers, about the application and colorization of a certain unique World War II-era Japanese aircraft primer called Aotake: It's blue, it's green; more one than the other, and so on. As I revealed in an earlier article on this Blog, the most intriguing thing about Aotake is that it's all of the above. Colors range a wide gamut, from blue to green and everything in between.
But there's even more to the Aotake story.
As a translucent primer coating the stuff was applied during many different stages of an aircraft's production, at the main factories and among the many smaller subcontractors that were employed to manufacture parts. A piece of aluminum stock would be stamped, then coated with a layer of Aotake to prevent flash corrosion. Then that part would be drilled and cut, then given another coat of Aotake. After that part was riveted into place within the air frame it would be coated a third time or more. The procedure was generally to ensure that no bare metal was exposed to the air for any length of time. Then, in some areas of the aircraft, a matte black coat of paint was often applied - as a further measure of protection or to cut down on the glare of the glossy Aotake, it's not known.
It's generally accepted that there were two main variations of Aotake: a blue and a green (though other shades including yellow have been encountered). Some have suggested a number of different means to predict the application of either variant - time frame, manufacturer, or other. In reality both blue and green could be expected to be seen in any random aircraft regardless of manufacturer or time frame - until the worsening war situation saw Aotake's use abandoned altogether. The above twin samples are both parts of the main wing spar of the same Zero fighter: Mitsubishi-built A6M3 Mod. 32 Zero (serial number 3148), built in September 1942. These are about the greatest extremes of green and blue encountered within this aircraft, yet they are from the same wing spar. Variations to include shades between these two extremes were examined elsewhere within this machine, dependent upon multiple layers applied of both colors.
Both of the above color samples are indicative of light coatings of Aotake. Elsewhere the lightness of the color ranges to almost black - indicating a much heavier application.
The aluminum parts above reveals the effect of Aotake as applied in multiple layers during construction. These samples are straps to hold bottles of compressed oxygen in place aft of the pilot's seat, but this effect can be seen throughout the aircraft. These parts were cut and drilled, coated with Aotake, assembled, and re-coated. Note also that even here we see subtle variations in the color between blue and green.
In short, the Japanese wartime application procedures, with their resultant innumerable variations in color, produces both a blessing and curse to modelers who wish to replicate them. A well done interior of a scale model would be a dazzling patchwork of glossy bright color - but good luck with that truly laborious project!
This is admittedly not an article based upon my work as an aviation artist, even though it is here published on my aviation art Blog. Truth be told: I wasn't about to start a new Blog just to articulate my view of the Maserati Grantourismo after one month of ownership. My aviation artwork success bought this car - I suppose that's a connection that can justify its publication on my art Blog. I guess.
What can I say about this machine built in Modena after a full 30 days of ownership; driving it almost endlessly around my small Ohio town even when I could take the Acura, conveniently forgetting this and that in order to justify another short trip behind it's elegant piano black steering wheel? A lot! So much, in fact, that it's hard to pick a place to start.
Without going into the history of this particular Maserati design and its pedigree, it is nevertheless a creation of Pininfarina and Ferrari. The latter is responsible for the V8 under the hood, and the former for its coch work. Maserati has never claimed that this car was deliberately made to embody the amazing 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB in both spirit and looks - but it is, every bit as much as Ford's vaunted 'GT' is a new GT40. If the 275 happens to be your all time favorite car, as it has been mine for years, then you may well find yourself finding a way to put a Grantourismo in your garage. That's exactly what happened to me.
Ferrari 275 GTB by Pininfarina.
If you've never owned an Italian car before then buying a car like this has much in common with exploring a newly discovered alien planet. It is very different. Coming at this car from an Infiniti G37S coupe, it was totally new to me. But newbies are not alone and we chat among ourselves in online forums: Does your CEL pop on and then turn off for no reason? Is it true that the car remains electronically 'on' unless the doors are locked? Could anyone test that? The answer to most alarmist inquiries is that it's an 'Italian quirk'. And this car has a few of those, though still far less than most of its predecessors.
The Grantourismo is a very reliable car that, according to many, can certainly be a daily driver that even handles snow relatively well (it has a button to turn on 'snow mode' after all). Drive it hard and drive it often. It won't break more often than any other car - but it will cost a small fortune to fix. Very true. The nearest certified dealership is 90 miles away from me and charges $250 per-hour. Note to self.
Driving this car is pure joy, and my non-race-car-driver wife wholly agrees. In 'normal' mode you'd think you were driving a Bentley. It's smooth as glass and quiet as can be. Too quiet, in my opinion. I want to hear more of that famous Ferrari exhaust note, but that pleasure belongs only to the drivers around you. The transmission in this car is arguably the best system that money can buy. It syncs perfectly under all conditions, and if you're a professional driver who thinks he can manually shift this car faster or better - you're wrong. It's that quick and flawless. No wonder this car is not available as a manual.
Push the 'sport mode' button and all sorts of things happen that helps explain why people think this is actually two cars wrapped into one. The exhaust opens up, the suspension stiffens, and the gear ratios change. I drive my Maserati in sport mode almost all of the time. If anything negative can be said about this system, it's that you get used to the feeling of one mode and when you switch to the other the difference can be mildly disconcerting. This happened to me today on the way to Columbus. I disengaged 'sport' and I spent the next ten miles trying to determine if my tires had lost some air, or what. It was just the suspension in 'Bentley' mode!
This Maserati has, what I sincerely believe to be, ferocious power. In top gear with 'sport' off, press the accelerator and you think you're hitting light speed in Han Solo's Falcon. Much quicker and it would scare me. Off the line it's exactly .4 seconds slower than Jaguar's monster XKR with its 510 hp (the car I almost bought). It can reliably destroy 95% of anything it's likely to encounter in its life - should that be one's ambition. Yet other reviewers have called the Grantourismo 'somewhat under-powered'. I have to ask: Compared to what???
But as a vehicle I want my wife to drive as often as I do, this is not a car that is very capable of getting itself into trouble. So far I've found it impossible to overwhelm the rear wheels in a corner, for example. Race purists might be annoyed by that, but it's also true that I haven't turned the traction control system off yet.
I lucked out on the interior of this car. It's a beautiful light tan leather, black suede, and piano black combination. The leather stitching exactly matches the exterior paint. I'm a designer, and I could not have conjured up a more elegant combination myself. I love it! Having said that, we can't expect that Modena cared for long term resilience when it picked its leathers, nor to have put function over form when it mapped out the controls. Better than other Italians it is, but there are still 'quirks'. There are no cruise control buttons on the steering wheel, for example. Those buttons are only to operate the Bose sound system, but they're so unresponsive that I just go straight to the dash. But pretty? Oh, yes! And in spite of these quirks I can't say I'd change a thing if it detracted from the overall visual appeal.
Last but not least, this car comes with a selection of baggage that might be deemed a positive or a negative, depending upon the person behind the wheel. Because I'm a very socially reclusive person, to me it can be a bit of a negative. Driving this car is like driving a Broadway show on wheels! Yes, everyone looks at you. Yes, those girls in the rear view mirror are taking pictures of your car with their cell phones. Yes, you will be stopped by people in most parking lots, and you will smile, be nice, and give them a personal tour no matter how busy your day is - because you can't be 'that jerk' in the Maserati. It exhausts me sometimes. I feel very under the microscope, and that's why I tinted the windows midway through the third week of ownership. Not because it looks cool, but to give me some anonymity as I drive. Don't get me wrong: I love meeting new people, but sometimes it gets to be too much.
This car stickers for $139,000 new, but I paid much less for mine with a mere 24,000 miles on it. Did I experience buyer's remorse? I did experience temporary remorse after I bought my Infiniti, but not after I bought this car. It's beautiful, it's fast, it's comfortable, it's timeless, it's relatively practical. With 100,000 miles on it and when it's 10 years old - it's still a Maserati! Just please, God, please, God - help me avoid door dings. :)
How many times do we encounter old photographs, often taken generations ago by unknown photographers who have long passed, with someone else's proclamation of copyright emblazoned across the image? How often are we annoyed by peers and/or collectors who will only share deliberately 'dumbed-down' low-resolution images because they fear that 'their copyright' will be infringed upon? If you're me, it's very often. All the more so because I happen to know a dark secret that these folks, who often apply these protective measures out of a desire to make money off of the respective photos, do not want you to know: They have no legal right to the use of the photographs, and their invocation of any copyright is completely nefarious and illegal.
The copyright to any given photo belongs to whoever took the photograph. If they are no longer alive, then the copyright falls to their next of kin, or possibly to other parties that may vary depending upon the right of passage laws in the country of origin. Some person who bought an old original print on eBay does NOT hold the copyright to the image. Somebody who snags a strip of old negatives at a garage sale does not hold the copyright to those photos. Just because the name of the original photographer might not be known, or because the provenance of a photo is a mystery, that does not change it's legal status. The image may be used in a publication and that use might never be challenged due to the aforementioned circumstances - but that doesn't change who owns the copyright.
I'm a passionate activist with respect this subject. I've seen many otherwise reputable and respectable people within my historical genre' try to lay claim to any and every photograph that they can get their hands on. I've had some of them refuse to share a photo with me, or anyone else, because they wrongly claim to hold the copyright and plan to make us buy their book someday (which typically never gets published). In other cases some of these individuals will only share an image with a huge 'copyright' symbol in the middle of it. These measures are also done as a not-so-subtle means of marking their territory; to deny something of value to others out of a sense of supremacy. Not everyone is as ill-intentioned, of course, but they're out there. Some people just assume they own the copyright to these sorts of photos, and they proclaim their 'right' because so many others do.
And this needs to change.
I make it a goal in my life to accumulate all of the old and historically significant photographs that I can from all possible sources and share those images by any and all means necessary. I do that under the terms of fair use, as I don't make a penny by so doing and by so doing I contribute to the communal education of all who are interested in seeing them, discussing the photos, and passing them on to others under the same terms.
P-51C flown by Lt. Huneycutt, China 1944 by Ron Cole
I enjoy all commissions, but especially those that have me painting a composition of a client's father's or grandfather's aircraft from World War II. Such was the case for the above piece. The son came to me to paint Dad's P-51C Mustang fighter. The father had flown with the 14th Air Force in China in 1943 through 1944 with the 'Yellow Scorpions' - the 530th Fighter Squadron.
We discussed several possible missions that would provide some great compositions, but kept coming around to one in particular that had provided his father, Lt. John Huneycutt, with some press back home at the time.
While flying a ground attack sortie against the Japanese Army airfield at Tsinan, China, Lt. Huneycutt strafed a Ki-48 'Lilly' light bomber and detonated its bomb load. The shock wave rattled the P-51.
Upon return to his 'West China' base, Lt. Huneycutt's ground crew were astonished to see their aircraft taxiing up to them while "shedding parts of itself and the [Japanese] plane" it had destroyed. Pieces of the Ki-48's radio and air frame were wrapped around the fuselage of the Mustang and embedded in the tail and fuselage.
"That's one way to confirm a kill," Huneycutt later told his hometown paper in Charlotte, North Carolina.
In September 1942, within the confines of a dark factory floor, Mitsubishi factory workers in jika-tabi spit-toe sandals were busily applying a thick coat of high-gloss gray paint to their latest pride and joy: one Type O Model 32 'Zero' fighter. At a time when their factory put out an average of only one of these pristine machines per-day, the completion of every Zero was still regarded as very special, even a moment of religious significance, among all of the Japanese who'd played a part in the aircraft's construction. Some of them had even etched Shinto blessings into its duraluminum structure, or had added an exhortation of best wishes or good luck to its eventual pilot.
At that moment this particular aircraft was known officially by only a number, 3148, but as its overall paint was being polished to the highest sheen, another skilled craftsman was hand-painting black characters on its fuselage that would set 3148 apart as an even more esteemed Zero than its other factory brethren. They announced that 3148 had been built and gifted to the Navy by the young school children of the Middle Schools of Manchuria.
When 3148 was formally accepted by the Navy, after its formal test flight, there was a ceremony. A Shinto priest blessed the aircraft. Representatives of the Manchurian Middle Schools, the Navy, and Mitsubishi Heavy Industries were present. Ceremonial bowls were provided to the dignitaries.
Then 3148 went to war.
Such pomp and splendor was still practical in the Japan of 1942, but that was already starting to change. Japan's Naval Air Force had adopted a risky strategy before the war, namely to build a very small elite air arm provided with the best equipment the nation could procure. Its pilot training programs were so selective that they graduated fewer by percentage than modern American SEALS or French Legionnaires. Their aircraft were built by hand and contained more than three times the number of parts in relation to the comparable machines being produced by other nations at the time - Zeros were literally built like Swiss watches. All in all it was an admirable accomplishment, especially by a country that had been a feudal global backwater scarcely a century before. But it was a strategy doomed to failure, and Zero 3148 was in fact one of the first signs that the Japanese had already begun to realize it.
3148 was a Model 32, A6M3. That set it apart from earlier models of the Zero, the A6M2 variants, in several ways that were not always appreciated by the pilots who flew them. Its engineers had introduced changes intended to speed production. It had fewer parts. The graceful French curves of the A6M2's folding wing tips were gone, for example, replaced by an ignominious stump of a shroud that gave the aircraft a clipped-wing look. The Americans who first encountered the Model 32 thought it a completely new machine and even gave it a new name: "Hamp". To the Japanese, however, it was little more than a reminder that their aircraft didn't need folding wings anymore because their carriers had been sunk. The A6M3 did have the advantage of a more powerful engine, but many Zero pilots would nevertheless continue to prefer the earlier A6M2s until the end of the war.
RIGHT: Data plate from A6M3 Model 32 'Zero' serial number 3148. Only Mitsubishi Heavy Industries built this model of the Zero fighter, the rarest of all production models. Only 343 were built.
Just as an enlisted man's life changes after going off to sea, so did the life of 3148. She was assigned, without any fanfare this time, to the 252nd Kokutai (Navy Air Group) and sent off to the remote Marshall Island airfield of Taroa. As assignments go, Taroa was regarded at the time as a key outpost that guarded the outermost defensive line of Japan's Pacific empire, but it was also largely ignored by the belligerents until 1944. Therefore, at a time when brand new Zeros were arriving at the front just in time to be destroyed in fierce, increasingly one-sided, battles - 3148 of the Manchurian Middle Schools was living a somewhat charmed life. Even the Japanese Navy personnel at Taroa came to like the place at that time. They cared for 3148, and the other aircraft at Taroa, much as fireman do their fire engines during downtime.
But the war did come. On April 18, 1943, for example, it was very likely Zero fighters from Taroa (and quite possibly 3148) that stumbled upon a lone B-24D and shot it so full of holes that it never flew again, though it miraculously made it back to its base. Unknown to the Japanese they'd shot up the aircraft of USAAF Lt. Louis Zamperini, an American Olympian who would go on to be the subject of a best selling book, 'Unbroken', and in 2014 a Hollywood film of the same name.
As the war in the Pacific increasingly encroached upon Taroa, the life of 3148 became more hazardous. Its once pristine overall gray finish was over-painted with a dull green on its upper surfaces to help it remain hidden in the bush. By then one of Japan's best fighter pilots, Isamu Miyazaki, was flying out of the field. He almost certainly flew 3148 himself at various times in combat (according to his own testimony, prior to his death in April of 2012). Taroa was bombed. Taroa was strafed by carrier-born Hellcat fighters. The respite that the tiny field had enjoyed came to an end. In the case of Zero 3148, donated by schoolchildren at considerable expense and sacrifice and sent away to war with blessings and to shouts of 'Banzai!' - she was mortally wounded, not in aerial combat, but by bomb splinters that damaged her on the ground and wrecked her vitals beyond that which could be repaired locally.
Though Taroa was never invaded by the Allies, it was cut off from resupply and all of her aircraft were rendered un-serviceable. The war ended, and Taroa was forgotten.
LEFT: The Japanese Navy built two runways on Taroa in WWII, and a third was under construction when the base was completely demolished by American bombing.
Flash forward to 1991.
The terrible scrap drives of the '60s and '70s, which had decimated the vast majority of surviving WWII aircraft in the Pacific, were over. They'd been replaced by a fast growing interest in the commercial investment opportunities provided by salvageable 'warbirds' still hiding in the jungles. Once thought of in terms of their scrap value, something like a Japanese Zero in decent condition could turn into a million dollar restoration and a five million dollar sale at an aircraft auction. These aircraft became big money, and while that sort of gold rush had its downsides, it probably saved 3148 from certain doom at the hands of aluminum exfoliation; from turning to dust, the soon-to-be-realized fate of those aircraft that remain in the Pacific if they are not soon salvaged.
John Sterling came to the rescue of 3148 and several other Zeros on Taroa. After frustrating negotiations and spending three months sleeping in the jungle, the aircraft were disassembled and brought to - of all places - Boise, Idaho, where John operated his cement company. At that time John was a Charter member of Japanese Information International, the association I'd founded in 1988 to preserve and study Japanese aircraft, and he sent me many photos of the Zeros after they'd arrived in Idaho. I supplied him with several original cockpit instruments that were to become a part of his intended restoration project - all of which constituted my first involvement with 3148, but far from the last.
John's attempt to restore the aircraft came to naught, and in 2001 it was purchased by Evergreen International. They in turn contracted Vintage Aircraft of Ft. Collins, Colorado to conduct the restoration. But after years of delay the aircraft was transferred to Legend Flyers of Everett, Washington (creators of the new-build Fw 190 and Me 262 aircraft), who wasted no time in getting the aircraft back upon its own legs for the first time in 70 years.
ABOVE and LEFT: A6M3 Model 32 'Zero' 3148 hasn't looked this good in a very long time! Photos: Chris Stuart
My relationship with this aircraft picked up again in mid-2013. Legend Flyers approached me to commission a painting of their unique two-seat Me 262 'Vera' that was captured in 1945 and test flown as one of Watson's Whizzers. They restored that aircraft for static display and used its parts as patters for their 'new builds'. Legend Flyers then asked me if I'd be interested in painting the Zero. They didn't need to ask me twice!
Due to my personal interest in this specific aircraft, and my love for Japanese aviation in general, I was determined to portray it as accurately as possible. Those of us who research these sorts of things are kind of a subculture of our own; endlessly agonizing over paint chips and old photographs until the wee hours, in the belief that by so doing we may uncover something previously unknown about these nearly extinct machines of the air. One such mystery that for years troubled our minds was the color of these early Zero fighters. They were painted a very unique gray overall, sometimes described as a 'chalky gray' and other times as an 'olive gray'. By 1943 the paint was no longer used, as a two-tone green and gray camouflaged scheme was adopted by the Japanese Navy. Most of the earlier all-gray Zeros didn't survive the war or had been over-painted by then. In any case: every flyable aircraft in Japan after 1945 was sprayed with napalm and burned into aluminum slag - in accordance with directives from Douglass MacArthur.
That's why Japanese aircraft are so rare, and why they offer some people with an irresistible challenge when it comes to studying them. It certainly why our 3148 is so incredibly special as a unique piece of history.
But the old arguments regarding the subject of the early war gray color came to rival those between archaeologists fighting over the fossil record. Thanks in part to preserved samples of the paint from 3148's restoration, however, we have pretty much put the debate to rest. That I had samples of this material in my possession, thanks to Legend Flyers, ensured that my painting could portray the color, roughly equivalent to FS 34201 (Federal Standards reference) correctly.
ABOVE: Years of encroaching corrosion wasn't quite enough to destroy this section of near-perfectly preserved Japanese gray paint from the underside wing of 3148. Built literally like a Swiss watch, these aircraft left the factory in a high polish.
There was nothing 'chalky' about the color these machines were painted, though it could oxidize to appear so when left unattended over years of exposure - something that did not happen until long after the war was over. The original color was very much an olive gray, and was quite a bit darker than the color most of us envision when we imagine what these aircraft looked like when they attacked Pearl Harbor.
Another priority for me was to render all of the Japanese stencils and markings correctly. Of course, as with everything to do with such details of Japanese WWII aircraft, very little was known about them and I had do dig to find what I could. Most of these details on our 3148 had unfortunately long succumbed to the elements.
Ryan Toews came to my rescue. Ryan surely has an obsession for detail when it comes to his accumulation of knowledge regarding the Zero fighter. He has worked on several Zero restoration projects, including the A6M2 for the Air Force Museum, and with Legend Flyers. Ryan provided me with beautiful scale artwork for all of the Zero's stencils: no step, do not push, etc. It was a treasure trove!
ABOVE: Ryan's stencil references proved an invaluable asset in my painting process. Note how the red line at the wing's trailing edge stops short of the aileron - a detail almost always missed in models and artwork.
I didn't get it quite right the first time, but in the end I had what I believed to be the most technically accurate painting of A6M3 Model 32 'Zero' 3148 that was possible. The overall gray looked good. It possessed the correct gloss sheen with not an inordinate amount of chipping. The fuselage hinomaru did not have a white surround (only Nakajima-built Zeros were outlined in white at the time), and it had the correct Mitsubishi-style antenna, with a 'kink' towards its tip. I was very happy with how the pillowing of the aluminum skin turned out.
My A6M3 Model 32 Zero (Serial Number 3145/3148 in its final form
The tail code 'S-112' was evident on the tail of the recovered aircraft. While not typically attributed to the 252nd Kokutai, another Zero recovered along with 3148 from Taroa had the same 'S' prefix. Both revealed that they'd received later tail codes with the more typical 'Y2' prefix of the 252nd. But these sorts of oddities are not atypical among Japanese WWII aircraft. We still know so little about their unit's histories.
Soon, the real Zero will be on display for countless people to see and enjoy, and hopefully in the air as well. Current plans are to complete this aircraft with its original and fully-operational Sakae 21 radial engine. Look to Legend Flyers for more updates and in progress reports. The final chapter of Zero 3148, sponsored by the children of the Manchurian Middle Schools, is yet to be written. But it will at last be a chapter of peace and serenity, after so many bloody experiences in a war that was ultimately lost for her designers and pilots.
Legend Flyers paid me well for my commissioned painting - in parts of the original aircraft!
MITSUBISHI A6M3 MOD. 32 ZERO FIGHTER RELIC DISPLAY
$300.00 each
Very rare piece of fuselage skin from Japanese Zero A6M3 Model 32, serial number 3148, bearing original and rarely preserved Aotake blue-green coating.
This aircraft (serial number 3148) was built by Mitsubishi Heavy Industries in September 1942. It was one of only 343 built. It was assigned to the 252nd Air Group (Kokutai) and deployed to Taroa in the Marshall Islands, and was likely flown in combat by pilot ace Isamu Miyazaki. When Miyazaki was asked shortly before his death if he ever flew this specific Zero while based at Taroa (tail code S-112), he said, "Almost certainly". This was a very rare, sponsored aircraft, paid for by the Manchurian Secondary Schools and given to the Japanese Navy (note the fuselage markings aft of the hinomaru).
In April 1943, the 252nd, and possibly this specific aircraft, intercepted and badly damaged Lt. Louis Zamperini's B-24D bomber. This action is described in the bestselling book 'Unbroken', being released as a major Hollywood film in 2014.
I've been working as a professional aviation artist for about eight years now, and besides my wife, painting historical aircraft is the love of my life. I would not trade this job for anything in the world.
Many years ago I was doing something entirely different. Many years ago everything I did revolved around politics. Within that arena I was ferociously partisan, idealistic, and uncompromising. My beliefs were forged of steel in those days, and I brought those weapons into everything I ever did; everywhere I ever went. It was a somewhat dark time of right versus wrong, and do or die trying; the slightly vainglorious struggle of a patriot fighting for what he believed in.
I cannot live like that anymore. I was miserable, and the cost of passion was too great. Politically, I've become a bit jaded out of necessity. I know how emotional I'd get if I dwelt upon such things too much. I have a family now who depends upon me. I live a peaceful life with my loving wife and our son. I stood up for things worth fighting for in the past, but I don't feel that I need to wear that identity upon my sleeve anymore.
When it comes to something as personal to me as my artwork, it reflects who I am today. My work is deliberately apolitical. Whereas some aviation artists focus their compositions upon the dramatic - guns blazing, men and machines burning, enemies falling to earth - I prefer to focus upon the sentimental. I emphasize other things: grace, a certain mood, and courage in a more subtle way. I don't mean to suggest that my work is highbrow over brutal; it's just a matter of my personal will to celebrate something differently. In short: I do not ever want my work to overly-glorify the wrong images of war, and more importantly I do not want my work to ever take sides. The wars I portray in my work are long over now. Thank God.
I'm frankly stunned and humbled by the near-universal support and acclaim I've received for my artwork among people from many different countries - many of whom were once at war with each other. It's personally uplifting to me that I manage to create a composition that can strike a positive chord with an American, a Japanese, and a German, or anyone else, all at the same time. While I don't think that I ever specifically designed a style with that goal in mind, I can see how my refusal to be partisan in my work certainly facilitates it. One way or another it's one of the things that I'm most proud of.
But there are a few people who take issue with this. Sometimes they do make a sincere effort to be polite about it, and other times they are openly hostile. Between the lines of both forms of complaint the core message is the same: 'I am an American. The Japanese and Germans killed Americans. Anything that stops short of portraying the Japanese as violent beasts or Germans as sadistic Nazis is an affront to the Americans who fought in WWII.' I can only assume that these folks were reacting to a particular painting of a Japanese or German airplane, and not any of the innumerable American airplanes I've painted over the years. My reactions to these criticisms have ranged from being genuinely puzzled - such as when my detractors seem driven by a genuine patriotism - to outrage in the face of blatant and hateful racism coming from a few of my fellow Americans.
In keeping with my professed attitude of tolerance I would normally never take to the Internet about any of this. I would politely respond to each individual person and move on. But I suspect that for every person who complains to me, while they are but a tiny minority overall, there are probably others who simply get offended and write me off as un-American. As a guy who still possesses a great deal of pride in the patriotic values I've stood up for in the past, I have to respond to these unfair characterizations by pointing out - reverting to my once steely and uncompromising sense of justice - that what I do with my art is my attempt to follow a noble example.
As a kid I happened to have a father of like mind who not only obliged my then-unusual desire to meet every veteran of WWII that I could, but actually encouraged it. When kids my age were focused on playing Little League, I was at conventions in far away cities meeting Major Greg 'Pappy' Boyington, the US Marine Corp fighter 'Ace', or Generalleutant Adolf Galland, Hitler's general of the Luftwaffe, and I wasn't much older when I shook the hand of Saburo Sakai, the then-highest scoring Japanese WWII fighter 'Ace' still alive. While those childhood experiences are not responsible for my determination to keep politics out of my work, getting to know those men from all sides has made that a lot easier. They were all gentleman. They each fought for a cause that they believed in, and anyone with any real familiarity with why soldiers fight knows: those causes have everything to do with fighting for the guy in your foxhole - and typically have nothing to do with politics, or even patriotism. They displayed no anger, nor racism, nor any bitterness in the wake of their war experiences. They had each been to innumerable veteran's reunions all over the world and had met their former enemies with smiles, firm handshakes, and even tearful hugs of joy. When American and Japanese veterans of Pearl Harbor have gotten together (see photo above), they have done so as friends; as former soldiers who are not only capable of seeing beyond the politics and racism among governments of 70 years ago, but as men who expect it of each other in the name of honor.
I confess that I do not quite understand how a few people, none of whom experienced the war for themselves, succumb to self-righteous or racist anger, while the men they claim to admire typically have not. Sometimes it's the amateur historian who has taken the wrong message away from the books they've read, about the inevitable atrocities of war, who perhaps lament the fact that they were not alive to fight WWII, and perversely want to drag people like me into their own imaginary trench (Luftwaffe 'Ace' Franz Stigler once told me, "Many people come to me saying that they wish they'd lived my life, but I tell them, it was not glorious. They are lucky to have avoided it"). But when the soldiers themselves live to meet one another, it is love and tolerance and honor that rises to the surface to seemingly overwhelm any residual wartime negativity. As it should always be!
To the extent that I attempt to glorify anything or anyone in my aviation artwork - I will continue to do so without prejudice and without injecting politics into any of it. Over forty million people died during the brief few years of WWII. It's audacious of anyone to base part of their career on those terrible events, but that is essentially what I do through my artwork when I'm depicting the subject. I try to focus on the positive: on the men, the machines, and the greater good that I believe came out of that cauldron of universal human suffering. It's not easy to do and I'm not always perfect in my execution - but if anyone expects me to throw my abilities and my heart into re-fighting that war with the aim of magnifying one side at the expense of the other, be it in the interests of patriotism or racism - they'll have to commission another artist. That's me learning from my own past experiences as a patriot to some extent, but mostly it is me trying to follow the example of the Greatest Generation.
Sometimes you have to do things that hurt like the pulling of teeth, especially when you run a business based upon the buying and selling of World War II airplane parts - at least when such things are also your personal passion and have been since childhood. A couple of years ago I purchased an original Me 109 K-4 instrument panel from Austria. Waiting for it to arrive in the mail in its big box was like awaiting the best Christmas in your life. It hung on my living room wall on a custom bracket for a few months, and it was the centerpiece at the shows I worked. It was at one of those shows when it happened: the necessity of running my business ambushed me. A certain CEO of a big Japanese model kit company asked me what I wanted for the panel, I told him, sure that my price was too sky high - but he said, "I buy". Now I have some random golf painting over the couch to cover the bracket holes, but that's life when you sell what you love for a living.
Most recently I entered into a glorious symbiotic relationship with Legend Flyers of Everett, Washington (they are the genius craftsman behind the Fw 190 and Me 262 rebuilds). The deal was typical for me: I'll paint the aircraft and you'll give me parts of the real thing in trade. I've done that for years. But in this case the trade was for a Japanese A6M3 Model 32 Zero, which was my favorite aircraft of all time. That, as we used to shout in the '80s, was wicked awesome!
For sure there were some parts that were intended for me to keep, and I certainly will, but, as the header photo shows, there are a lot of parts in total. Me being me, I don't want to sell any of them. But that's my business, so I've been busying myself with researching, cleaning, and sorting them out - the effort occasionally broken by a low and forlorn sigh.
So now I am ready to start offering some of these incredibly rare pieces of Pacific War history to collectors. Some of my pricing might make a few folks blanch, but they're due to the honest market value - not me subconsciously conniving to never sell them. Honest!
HISTORY:
Though I reveal the history of this A6M3 Zero in previous Blog posts, I'll touch on the highlights again: It is a very rare Model 32 version, the rarest of all the production Zero fighters. Only 343 were ever built. This machine, serial number 3148, was constructed by Mitsubishi in September 1942 - and both the Mitsubishi 'diamond' and 'Showa 17' date stamps are on a few of these parts. The aircraft was a rare sponsored machine: paid for by the Manchurian Middle Schools, and a tribute to that effect was painted on this aircraft's fuselage in Japanese. Deployed to the tiny strip of Taroa in the Marshall Islands, it was assigned to the 252nd Kokutai and given the tail code 'S-112'. It was "almost certainly", in the words of the 'Ace' himself, flown by Isamu Miyazaki in combat, and it likely participated in the interception of Lt. Louis Zamperini's B-24D - the latter action made famous in the best selling book, Unbroken.
In 1988 my old friend John Sterling brought this A6M3, and several others, out of Taroa and into a storage building associated with his cement business. These aircraft were eventually purchased by Evergreen International with the intent to have one restored aircraft rebuilt from out of their parts. They sat in Loveland, Colorado for a few years, before being sent to Legend Flyers in Everett. Since then number 3148 has taken on new life and is standing upon its own legs for the first time in many decades:
THE PARTS:
I've tried to put together a diverse grouping of Zero parts that reflect different areas of the aircraft and possess either original paint, die stamps, or both:
DISPLAY ONE: 25 x 37 inches. Giclee on metallic paper. Wing rib. PRICE: $1500.00 (SOLD)
A very rare and complete component, this wing rib - from near the Type 99 20mm cannon, port wing - is die stamped with the Mitsubishi logo, 'S-D-C-H' manufacture stamp (denoting the process used in fabrication), as well as the part number 4-4085.
DISPLAY TWO: 25 x 37 inches. Giclee on metallic paper. Wing rib. PRICE: $1300.00
Another rare wing rib in good condition. No manufacturer's stamps, but several part numbers.
DISPLAY THREE: 25 x 37 inches. Giclee on metallic paper. Wing rib. PRICE: $1300.00
The only mid-section wing rib I have. Complete, with some pitting from corrosion. Die stamped with part numbers.
DISPLAY FOUR: 20 x 30 inches. Giclee on metallic paper. Wing panel. PRICE: $300.00
Panel fragment from the underside of the port wing, includes internal braces and some aotake blue/green primer paint. Exterior has no paint but is clean in good condition.
Above: Size of 20 x 30 inch displays.
DISPLAY FIVE: 19 x 9.5 inches. Giclee on matte paper. Cockpit part. PRICE: $270.00
Very rare cockpit part with good interior green paint, aotake, and rare die stamps for Mitsubishi, and Showa 17 (1942).
DISPLAY SIX: 19 x 9.5 inches. Giclee on matte paper. Wheel well part. PRICE: $270.00
Rare example of two-sided part with excellent aotake on one side and rare exterior brown/gray on the other. Also has what appears top be a very rare WWII period bullet hole, roughly consistent with a .30 round.
DISPLAY SEVEN: 19 x 9.5 inches. Giclee on matte paper. Wing panel fragment. PRICE: $270.00
This section of panel was part of the lower port wing. Incredibly well preserved early war gray paint that retains much of its original gloss. Backside retains some aotake and portions of two 'S-D-C-R' ink stamps.
DISPLAY EIGHT: 17 x 9 inches. Giclee on matte paper. Internal wing brace. PRICE: $260.00
Very rare part that retains most of its original aotake paint and is die stamped with the Mitsubishi logo and Showa 17 (1942) as well as the 'S-D-C-H' manufacturer's mark.
DISPLAY NINE: 13 x 10 inches. Giclee on matte paper. 1 inch square fragment with near-perfectly preserved early war Japanese Navy gray on one side - aotake on the other. PRICE: $100.00
CONTACT INFORMATION:
If interested in these and other related displays and parts, please contact me through this Blog, via my email at Cole's Aircraft or call: 330-883-2493 24/7.
