We heard the plane long before we saw it. The low rumbling signaled it would be a big one. But no one thought we would actually see it. The sky was overcast, threatening rain. And smoke from Canadian wildfires had reduced visibility so much that we were surprised they even let us outside.
Then, suddenly, something broke through the clouds. Despite how high it was in the sky, we could tell it was huge. My pilot friend, a fellow incarcerated man who flew commercial planes in an earlier life, told me it was a B-29 Superfortress, a late-World War II bomber of the Pacific theater. I don’t know how my friend could tell; it just looked like a gray outline of a plane to me. A nearby inmate said, “I wish it would pass by closer to us so I can feel it.”
The plane was part of a nearby airshow called EAA AirVenture Oshkosh, hosted annually at Wittman Regional Airport in Oshkosh, Wis. Known simply as “Oshkosh” by enthusiasts, it’s the largest airshow of its kind in the world. During last year’s show, hundreds of thousands of people came to east-central Wisconsin to watch the planes. Many attendees didn’t realize that they were joined by 2,000 more people incarcerated at Oshkosh Correctional Institution, which is about 9 miles north of the airport.
This year, our prison is as excited as ever for the week-long show, which started on July 22.
As one inmate put it, “This is the only time of year anything interesting happens.”
You can feel a change happen in the prison the week leading up to the show. Conversations shift from the various aspects of prison life to what people hope to see this year and fond memories of past airshows. People always want to see sky-writing, where planes use expelled smoke to craft messages or patterns in the air. Some get excited for fighter jets. One inmate last year told me, “I want a sonic boom.”
During the week of the show, people will spend as much time as they can outside just to get a glimpse of the planes. They will come out to the recreation yard for their normal activities: basketball, baseball, walking the track and meeting with friends. But when the rumble of an engine arrives, most people will stop what they’re doing and planespot. It’s strange to watch the constant movement in the yard come to a halt.
There is always plenty to see in the skies. In 2023, there were 3,365 showplanes at the airshow. Quite a few of them spent their time circling the prison before flying south toward the airport. My pilot friend suspected that pilots used the prison as a waypoint, or navigation reference point, until they flew to the show. It was the perfect chance for us to get a good look at the planes. Most of what came near were small, single-engine planes like a sleek Pilatus PC-12 turboprop plane and a striking red American Legend Cub plane. My personal favorite was the yellow biplane with a large radial engine at the front — like the crop duster from the movie “North by Northwest” — that produced a distinct whud, whud, whud.
Some fan favorites included acrobatic planes that showcased tight maneuvers before they headed off for stunts. At an even closer airfield, we noticed a small yellow plane taking off. Its fuselage and cockpit reminded me of a dragonfly. But we were not able to hear it. We thought it might be an electric plane. Perhaps we were seeing the next generation of aircraft from behind bars.
When the fighter jet show started on the second day, it was evening and the wildfire smoke had rolled back in. Regardless, when we heard the jet engines, we all turned to look at them. But by the time we turned, they were long gone. The only way we were going to see the jets was if we searched for them.
The group I was standing with was planespotting through two layers of chain-link fence. I hoped it didn’t look like we were attempting an escape. I spotted a jet first. When I pointed the jet out, everyone strained to find it. I had a hard time keeping track of my discovery. The fence’s pattern dizzied me. The aircraft silently cut through the smoky haze. It wasn’t until the jet passed the horizon that we heard the engine’s scream.
On the second day of the show, I was outside for two and a half hours before I saw any planes. I was about to give up and head inside, but decided to give it five more minutes.
Behind me, a guard told his counterpart, “Big plane coming.” The noise was already filling the sky. It was the B-29 Superfortress again. This time it was close enough that I could make out the paint markings on its wings. Water vapor trailed behind.
The metallic underside, once used as its wartime camouflage, reflected the sky. The plane was flying over the prison toward the airshow. The force of the B-29 slammed into my chest like a wave. The power from its engines shook me to my bones as it passed overhead.