Arrow-right Camera
The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Weather Vanes Let Veterans Display History At Its Peak

When the warbirds went up in this sleepy St. John neighborhood, 80-year-old Ed Schierman struck back to save his honor.

The World War II artilleryman paid sculptor Cedric Huseby to create a detailed two-foot replica of the 155mm “Long Tom” cannon used to pound the Nazis back when Schierman fought under Gen. George Patton.

In a few days, the retired farmer will mount his new weapon on his roof. He intends to aim it defiantly across the street, at the model warplanes his pilot neighbors stuck atop their homes.

“I’m gonna shoot these flyboys down,” says the snow-haired Schierman, adding a dry chuckle. “It’s a little expensive, but worth every penny.”

Schierman’s cannon doesn’t actually fire, of course. The good-natured war being waged among the veterans on Bell Lane is all about preserving pride and memories of battle that are over a half-century old.

In one of those unexplainable quirks of fate, St. John’s three remaining World War II combat pilots settled in a half-block stretch of this pristine Eastern Washington wheat town (Pop. 500).

There’s Bryant Smick, 74, at 503 Bell Lane. He flew 26 missions during World War II before his B-24 was shot down over the Adriatic Sea.

Jack Smith, 77, lives at 506 Bell Lane. He flew 35 missions in B-17s that often limped back riddled by the thick, treacherous bursts of enemy flak.

Lavern “Sy” Siler, 74, 505 Bell Lane, spent the big war in the South Pacific. He piloted F-6F fighters off an aircraft carrier.

Add to this trio Frank Watson, 501 Bell Lane, the new aviator on the block at age 53. The retired U.S. Air Force colonel flew AC-19s and KC-135 tankers during his tour in Vietnam.

“It’s the Bell Street Air Force,” quips Watson, who teaches physics at St. John-Endicott High School. “But knowing St. John, it’s not unusual. This town is like an extended family.”

Smick started it all last year. The retired wheat farmer built a 2-foot-long scale model of the B-24 “Liberator” bomber he flew during the war and mounted it on a weather vane bolted to his roof.

His pilot neighbors were so impressed that they begged Smick to do the same to their homes. Smick obliged, spending an average two weeks on each airplane.

Today, a B-17 “Flying Fortress” bomber soars over Smith’s house, while a KC-135 refueling tanker is perched above Watson’s front porch. A Navy Grumman “Hellcat” fighter speeds from a pole in Siler’s yard.

From his vantage at 502 Bell Lane, Schierman watched this buildup of faux air power and felt outnumbered. Any old soldier will tell you in a heartbeat that the flyboys get all the glamour while the grunts on the ground do all the dirty work.

“Them guys used to fly home and sleep in white sheets,” sniffs Schierman, who served in the 733rd Field Artillery Battalion.

Well, maybe the ones who made it back.

Smick lost six members of his 11-man crew when German fighters shot him out of the sky in 1944. “That hurt awful bad,” he says. “I still think about it.”

The pilot was tossed out after a wing broke off and the airplane rolled. After freeing himself from his parachute, Smick swam four hours to shore only to be captured by members of a German anti-aircraft battery.

“A little sergeant kicked me around some, but I was so strung out and tired,” he says. “All I could do was sleep.”

He spent the final year of the war starving in a prison camp. Smick, who lost 80 pounds, was awarded the Silver Star, the Purple Heart and the prisoner of war medal.

Smick hopes the airplane weather vanes will not only feed his own amusement, but also educate passing school children.

“I’m always astounded by the way kids forget there even was a second world war,” he says. “They’ll ask me, ‘What war were you in? The Civil War?”’ Smick laughs. “Maybe this will help them see what we used to fly back in the old days.”

, DataTimes