General Doolittle was famous for the raid on Tokyo in early 1942, for which he was awarded the Medal of Honor by President Roosevelt. Later, he was the commander of the Eighth Air Force.

Lt. Ernest Anders Erickson flew 35 missions as a B-17 pilot with the 95th Bomb Group (Heavy) out of Horham Airfield, England, from February through September 1944. The 'Lili of the Lamplight” (44-6085) was his usual ride into battle. The aircraft was so named due to an earlier experince in Reykjavik, Iceland where the crew were fortunate to see Marlene Dietrich perform a USO show on the way from the states to their combat assignment in England. Witnessing Dietrich singing Lili Marlene quite impressed Lt. Erickson, and an adjusted version of the song title stuck when it came to name their future Flying Fortress.

The then-popular German love song, 'Lili Marlene' sung by Dietrich, originally was written as a poem in 1915, and set to music in 1937. During the war, it became wildly popular with soldiers on both sides, and was frequently used to end Radio Belgrade’s broadcast each night at 10pm.

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Aero Leather Clothing Company in Beacon, New York was the manufacturer of this jacket. The contract date was May 25th, 1942, for 50,000 jackets.

It was quite common for names to be stenciled inside the jackets, as it was thought that “the Army would not want them back.” Others removed the tag, for the same reason.

It should be remembered that at the time, zippers were a relatively new technology for garments. This jacket is a size 40, which is about average for the jackets I’ve seen.

Also, be aware that a size 40 then is not the same as a size 40 now. People were generally smaller in those days, and airmen were generally small-framed, so they could fit into the snugly built aircraft. The 'Lili of the Lamplight' A-2 jacket was lent courtesy of his son Mark, a fine-art painter in Oakland, California. His father, Ernest Anders passed on June 7th, 2013 at age 90.

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Lt. Erickson's A-2 jacket with the 'Lili of the Lamplight' art painted on the back. The images of the 35 bombs designate the 35 missions Lt. Erickson accomplished in 1944.

Part of my interest in photographing these jackets is that not only are they military artifacts, but they largely spawned a new art form. While painting on the jackets was officially discouraged, most (if not all) commanders largely ignored that mindset. It was thought that “these guys could be gone tomorrow,” so let ‘em paint whatever they want on their jackets. It was good for morale, as the men could “individualize” the artwork on their jackets, linking it to their particular aircraft.

They were a “crew,” and very much wanted to demonstrate that. Early on in the war (in 1942, on into 1943), there were no “mission quotas” to reach before one could go home, and casualties (killed, wounded, or captured) were as high as 70% in the Eighth Air Force flying out of England. Quickly it became a serious mental health issue, and the unit flight surgeons began noticing a drop in morale and performance as missions increased.

Airmen experienced what is now called PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) in significant numbers, and keeping enough qualified/experienced crewmen together became a serious challenge, affecting officers and enlisted men alike. While the jackets were merely leather tokens, it gave the men an identity and bond common only to them. Worn with fierce pride, many who have lost their jackets to kids, wives, deterioration, and/or life-events now greatly regret they no longer possess their original jacket. Most of the jackets were decorated with enamel or oil-based paints (sometimes airplane paint too!), and were often painted by fellow soldiers who had artistic talents, in exchange for a six-pack of beer or a carton of cigarettes.

During the war, several Walt Disney artists were drafted and unhappily ended up painting jackets and nose art on aircraft for much less money than they were making as civilians. Perhaps also not surprising, “cottage industries” sprung up wherever GI’s were stationed, which included artists who would paint a jacket for a fee, as in England, Italy, China, north Africa, and India. I’m sure it occurred elsewhere too, knowing the nature of economics around military bases. The jackets sported all sorts of symbology, which typically included the number of missions flown, depicted by bombs.

On the left front of the jackets was most often the unit crest, with the owner’s name embossed or written on a small strip of brown leather. Officers wore rank on the epaulets, whereas enlisted men typically did not have any rank insignia. The back side, being of one-piece leather, was a perfect canvas for an artist’s expression. The multitude of designs and colors created is mind-boggling, and is a testament to their artistic ingenuity. Other symbols were used too, such as swastikas to signify the number of enemy aircraft shot down. Sometimes the mission target was inscribed on the bomb, especially for memorable missions that were lengthy, significant, or were exceptionally hazardous.

Upwards of 750,000 jackets were manufactured, but the exact number is unknown. There were up to 18 different suppliers in the US., with jackets also made in England, Australia, and elsewhere, using the approved pattern. Many non-aviators wanted one too, and it was common to trade them with tankers, infantrymen, and others. Extremely popular, it came as a surprise when Gen. Hap Arnold cancelled the contract for A-2 jackets in 1943, as he wanted something “better” for the crews to wear.

They continued to be issued until stocks were exhausted, and if you had one that had been lost or damaged, a replacement could be issued as well. They remained highly prized by new airmen after the war and were often sought after in thrift shops and army surplus stores.

Perhaps not surprisingly, I’ve heard first-hand from an Eighth Air Force veteran that if a crewman didn’t return from a mission, often the first thing “liberated” from his belongings was his flight jacket. Such is life in the military. Original A-2 jackets from this era are now highly collectable. It is fairly common to find them on E-Bay, often going for several thousand dollars. In the late 1970‘s and into the ’80’s, Japanese collectors became very passionate about obtaining A-2 jackets, and a jacket in pristine condition could fetch upwards of $20,000.

It was about this time too that theft became a problem. Jackets from the Smithsonian National Air & Space Museum were stolen, as was Gen. Douglas McArthur’s jacket from a small museum in Virginia. Since jackets at the Smithsonian become US government property once assessed into their collection, the FBI was called in to investigate. My understanding is that none were ever recovered, and the case remains open.

Speaking of the NASM, it was my privilege to photograph 13 jackets at the Udvar-Hazy Center in the summer of 2015, as well as 7 jackets at the National Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola, Florida. Initially, the goal was to photograph 50 jackets, and to date 63 have been photographed. Now that the project has gained a bit of attention, jackets continue to appear almost daily, and for the time being , I continue to seek out opportunities to photograph them.

Since the project began over three years ago, it has become increasingly apparent that the stories surrounding the sacrifice these men freely offered to their country (and the world) should be the central theme of the book. To that end, as much information as possible regarding service records, units, dates, and so on is being researched.

A real treasure trove are the logbooks and personal journals that were kept during the war. Other items of interest are being photographed too, which should help tell the story of time away from home, close calls, and friends lost. When possible, portraits of surviving air crew veterans are being created, and their stories recorded.

Photographically, the setup is straightforward. Placed on the floor, strip lights (1’x4’) on the left and right light a 4’x4’ white Plexiglas from underneath, so that a solid background isolates the jacket in a field of white. Two 1’x4‘ plywood pieces support the plex at the top and bottom side, with a small post placed in the center, so the heavy Plexiglas doesn’t sag.

A Profoto “beauty dish” with a grid is used to light the top surface of the jacket, with white cards on three sides adding additional fill light. Shooting from a six-foot ladder looking down on the subject completes the lighting arrangement. This setup travels well too, aside from the large Plexiglas sheet, which fits in the van easily. About 45 minutes is needed to set up, in a space about 12 feet square.

So far, jackets have been shot in storage rooms, a public library office, and in my basement. Both sides of the jacket are photographed, even if they have no artwork on the back. Using a Phase One 645DF medium-format camera, coupled with a Leaf Credo 60 digital back, files are created that once opened in Photoshop are 350 mb (16 bit).

The logic behind using this camera is that fine art prints will be offered for sale, and a traveling exhibition is planned of life-sized prints. Two 30×40 inch test prints reveal spectacular detail, thanks to the file size and the sharpness of the Schneider 80mm 2.8 LS lens. While shooting, the camera is tethered to a Macbook Pro, and using Capture One software, the files can be viewed in about 3 seconds with any adjustments made as needed. This setup actually speeds the process along, as it’s easy to determine when the shot is satisfactory, and allows others to see the result.