100-year-old veteran returns to the skies in a WWII-era plane thanks to a volunteer group

Ted Giannone is 100 years old, and a World War II veteran, so he’s seen some things. But he said he’d never really seen the Superstition Mountains until Tony Anger showed them to him.

From above, in a historic plane.

“He flew inside, and I saw the inside of the mountain: the waterfalls, the mountains, the gorges, the beautiful valleys. It’s unbelievable when you see inside,” he said, “And I thought that was a thrill.”

His experience was the work of Grounded No More, a nonprofit group founded by Anger that takes veterans on flights in historic planes. Giannone’s flight was the organization’s 500th in a World War II-era aircraft.

But if you ask Giannone what it was like to be recognized for his service — to be greeted at his Grounded No More flight with American flags and video cameras, members of the press and an admiring crowd — he’ll say it was too much. More than he deserved.

“Why me?” he asked. “I didn’t win any Medal of Honor. I didn’t fly a bomber or a fighter. I was just a sailor doing his job.”

Giannone, who worked as a Navy airplane mechanic on board a carrier ship and flew missions as a gunner in the war, has plenty of stories to tell beyond his time as a sailor. But his sentiment, that he is no different than any other veteran, aligns with the goals of Grounded No More, which seeks to acknowledge the courage and commitment of every military service member, no matter where or when they served.

In recognizing their experiences and sometimes their trauma, and by providing a supportive environment, Anger hopes his organization will leave veterans with a sense of care and acknowledgment that they may never have had before. That, he hopes, will combat the mental toll some veterans suffer in silence, and call attention to it.

“That’s my biggest passion, because I’ve always had a special heart for veterans,” Anger said. “Those were the values that I grew up understanding, the sacrifices that people in the military make.”

The story of a centenarian veteran

For a century now, Giannone has lived by values similar to Anger’s: a love for God, country and family that has shaped his life and his service.

Giannone was born in 1922 in Manhattan and raised in Brooklyn, one of six siblings, three boys and three girls. As a kid, he said, he would help his dad deliver produce from wholesale to retail markets. He drove the truck, even though he was underage, with a little help from a driver’s license belonging to Joe, an older friend.

Later, he looked for work of his own. Times were tough in the 1930s, he said, and he couldn’t find a job. One day he took a subway ride and noticed a big group of sailors in the rail car. They were all dressed in their whites, and they looked “like they do pretty good,” he said.

In the summer of 1940, at the age of 17, he signed up for the Navy.

Boot camp was in Norfolk, Virginia, where it was cold, and people called him and other northerners “Yankees.” It was a tough few weeks, but he got through it. From there, he went to Corpus Christi for training, then Seattle, where he joined his new squadron, and finally Alameda, California, where the unit shipped out for active duty.

During the war, Giannone was an aviation machinist’s mate first class, working as a repair mechanic for the planes on the USS Kitkun Bay, a CVE-71 carrier ship. The ship island hopped and stopped at Pearl Harbor (well after the 1941 attack), but Giannone’s most intense wartime experience was at Leyte Gulf. There, the U.S. lost several ships, including multiple carriers, and a lot of men.

One of Giannone’s most vivid memories of that day involved his shipmate and good friend, Bobby. They were both just teenagers, and when they saw Japanese planes fire at the vessel, they made a break for the “island,” the command center of the aircraft carrier. He realized later that the island is the worst place to be during an attack, because it’s an important target for the enemy.

He and Bobby hardly knew that at the time.

“When you’re young you do stupid things,” he said, laughing.

Luckily, he said, great leaders took care of him and his crew. Captain John Whitney, he said, brought them back, steering the carrier through enemy fire like it was a rowboat. Debris from nearby kamikaze attacks damaged the carrier, but the attackers didn’t hit the ship directly. One man died on Giannone’s ship and several others were wounded.

Giannone credits his survival to the men on the other ships and planes who lost their lives that day.

“They were heroic,” he said. “They laid a huge wall to protect us, the carriers…they went right straight into the Japanese fleet and each one of them was blown up.”

By the time Giannone returned home to New York on leave, he had planned to marry his longtime childhood friend, Mary. Then he would return to California and be assigned to a cruiser.

But when he got back to California, he was greeted by screaming people and ringing bells. Celebrations. The war was over.

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In that joyous moment, Giannone’s emotions were mixed.

“I never felt so left out,” he said, recalling the day he was discharged. “There I was in the Navy all these years, and now I’m out… It was a loneliness feeling that I don’t think anybody could understand.”

He eventually re-enlisted in the Naval Reserves and went on to work for Grumman (Northrop didn’t take over Grumman until 1994), and through that job, he traveled the world and even helped with NASA’s Apollo program. He married Mary in 1945 and she accompanied him on many of his travels.

But after decades of seeing the world and spending time with his loved ones outside of military service, he’s never forgotten that feeling of leaving the military and the sense of being lost that came with it.

That’s why he’s so appreciative of Grounded No More and the work the organization does to honor those who were once in military service.

“I think it’s wonderful. It’s good for veterans,” he said. “See, when I put the word ‘veterans’ in there, I feel a little bit relieved. I’m not just being chosen out. I don’t want to be chosen out…A veteran is a veteran.”

How Grounded No More began

Tony Anger, who started Grounded No More, feels similarly about honoring veterans, regardless of when or how they served.

It started with one young veteran, an Army private who had just returned from Iraq, Anger said. That veteran’s grandfather had flown B-17s in World War II and had died while his grandson was deployed.

Since he had missed his grandfather’s funeral, the private wanted to take a flight in a B-17 to commemorate him. But when he asked about the price of the ride, he realized he couldn’t afford it.

Anger offered to take the young man up for free in his own historic plane, and that’s where he got the idea for Grounded No More.

“I just loved his story and I kind of felt God punching me on the shoulder like, ‘Hey, you could do better than this,’” he said.

He turned the idea into a real nonprofit, and started flying with more and more veterans. To date, Anger says the group has taken veterans ranging in age from 18 to 101. Last December, Anger flew with Pearl Harbor survivor Jack Holder for his 100th birthday, and this December, Holder celebrated his 101st by flying in a three-plane formation hosted by Grounded No More and the Wings of Flight Foundation.

Some of the veterans who have participated were deployed in World War II, the Vietnam War and the Korean War, others served during the unsettled years after Vietnam, and still others served in Iraq, Afghanistan and in other conflicts.

Anger flies a plane called a Fairchild PT-26, also known as an Mk I Cornell, which was used by the Americans, British and Canadians during World War II. He says one of the only differences between the Mk I and Mk II was that the Mk II had a heater, which meant it was a much more desirable plane during the war, and one reason why Anger’s Mark I, which he christened the Amazing Grace, has survived in such good condition all these years.

As the name of the plane might suggest, Anger views his mission as one of faith as well as service. He and the volunteers pray before every flight. Anger, as both a minister and a former member of the Air National Guard, calls the project an “accidental ministry.”

“I think the draw for (veterans) is the camaraderie, for one thing,” he said. “I make sure that they know there's a God that loves them and there's a group of people that, no matter what happened, we don't care what you did in war.”

Many veterans are grappling with post-traumatic stress, he says. The feeling of freedom in his plane represents a positive adrenaline rush to counteract the negative.

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That mirrors Anger’s own love of flying, which was born when he was just a teenager. Two weeks before his 16th birthday, in a plane similar to the one he used with Giannone — the plane he learned to fly in — he crashed, along with his dad.

They slammed into a parking lot and skidded to a stop. The airplane caught fire. Anger jumped out of his seat and had already taken off running when he heard his dad yelling at him to get out.

He ran back and helped his dad out of his seat, and they both escaped, his dad suffering a big lump on his head. Anger says it all resembled a scene from MacGyver.

“It was pretty bad,” he said.

But that accident never deterred him from flying.

“I’ve always loved it. I love the machinery of it,” he said. “It’s just the freedom, you know? You’re up there by yourself.”

That’s why his Facebook page is full of pictures of clouds, thousands of pictures of clouds, he says, because flying is just such a wonderful thing to be able to do.

'The quiet guys'

The Saturday after Giannone’s flight, Anger was back at the airfield in Mesa for more flights. The day was crisp and sunny, and two veterans who had served stateside, one during the Vietnam War, were there with their families.

Volunteers helped the first veteran, Bob Larson, climb up a set of wheeled steps and into his seat. When the runway was clear, Anger got ready to taxi. Smoke sputtered out of the exhaust and the propeller spun, creating a strong wind that streamed away from the plane.

They were ready for takeoff. Both Larson and the other veteran, Kevin Sailer, brought friends and relatives, who watched from the ground. In the past, veterans didn’t get as warm a welcome from most civilians, the families said. They didn’t hear “thank you for your service” as much in those days.

But they agreed that everybody, civilian or not, has been touched by the military in some way. So it’s an honorable thing, now, to see their family recognized in this way.

It’s also part of a community effort to acknowledge veterans and give them a space to open up and talk about their experiences, something Chris Mezydlo, a volunteer with Grounded No More, emphasized.

“Just talking about it can be a really good thing,” he said. “A lot of these guys…they shove it all down deep inside and someday that explodes, or it eats them up.”

In some ways, Ted Giannone is an exception. His age hasn’t stopped him from sharing his story, one as inspiring as it is bittersweet. He doesn’t shy away from emotional topics. He talks about his wife’s death in 2017 after their childhood friendship and 72 years of marriage.

“That was the first time I really met loneliness,” he said.

Some other veterans aren’t always as vocal about their emotions, but Grounded No More provides a space where they can open up that way. When Larson greeted his loved ones back on the ground, he was all smiles.

The flight was great, he said. He teared up a little, too. He is an emotional person, he said. That’s just how he always has been.

And that, Mezydlo said, is why he sees every veteran who flies with Grounded No More the same way, whether they worked a desk job with the military or spent years in combat.

This project, he said, is about recognizing the quiet ones, the ones who need a little time among the clouds, to remind them that they have a voice.

If you or a loved one is experiencing mental health challenges related to military service, the Department of Veterans Affairs has an around-the-clock hotline at 1-877-927-8387 to talk with an available combat veteran or the family member of a combat veteran. AHCCCS also offers mental health resources for veterans in Arizona at their website, https://www.azahcccs.gov/AHCCCS/HealthcareAdvocacy/veterans.html.

Melina Walling is a general assignment reporter based in Phoenix. She is drawn to stories about interesting people, scientific discoveries, unusual creatures and the hopeful, surprising and unexpected moments of the human experience. You can contact her via email at mwalling@gannett.com or on Twitter @MelinaWalling.

This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: 100-year-old Ted Giannone flies thanks to Grounded No More group