More than 64 years ago, Frank Goldcamp served on his first combat mission as a co-pilot on a B-24 bomber, targeting a repair yard for German submarines on the North Sea.

Anti-aircraft guns riddled the plane. When it returned to an airfield in North Pickenham, England, the crew found 108 holes. Miraculously, no one had been hurt.

Yesterday, Mr. Goldcamp, 83, of Point Breeze, flew his 31st mission -- and his first full flight on a bomber since World War II. It was aboard a bomber nicknamed "Witchcraft," the only operational B-24J Liberator in the world, on a 40-minute trip from Akron, Ohio, to the Allegheny County Airport.

And for a few wondrous minutes, he took over the controls and flew the bomber just as he had so many years ago. But this time, he was greeted by his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, not German guns.

"Beautiful," he said, beaming as he stepped off the plane. "Like walking on a cloud."

The bomber is part of the Wings of Freedom Tour, which brings vintage World War II aircraft to more than 100 cities every year. Three planes -- a P-51 Mustang, a B-17 Flying Fortress and the B-24 -- are on display at the county airport until tomorrow at noon.

For $425, visitors can take a 30-minute flight on the B-24 or the B-17.

Mr. Goldcamp received a free flight, courtesy of Alex Taylor, a historian and genealogist who travels with the tour as a volunteer. Mr. Goldcamp is the grandfather of Mr. Taylor's son-in-law.

In the war's early years, Mr. Goldcamp was a student at Central Catholic High School. In 1943, his senior year, he enlisted in the military. He only wanted to be an airman.

Training took him all over the country: Alabama, Texas, Maine, Arizona and Utah.

During a practice run in a single-engine PT-13, Mr. Goldcamp ran dangerously low on fuel. He was forced to land the craft in a cornfield.

His superior officer was furious.

"How are we supposed to get this thing out of here?" he asked the novice pilot.

But Mr. Goldcamp's previously impressive flying record shielded him from punishment.

Mr. Goldcamp had hoped to fly a fighter plane in the war, but the 8th Air Force was in desperate need of crew members for the hulking bomber planes that were the heart of daily missions over Western Europe.

In 1944, shortly before D-Day, Mr. Goldcamp and the crew of the "Pregnant Angel" arrived in England to join the 492nd Bomb Group, which already had faced some of the most brutal German counterattacks.

On one of his first days with the unit, the mess hall seemed unusually empty and somber, Mr. Goldcamp recalled. Someone told him that 14 planes had just been shot down.

His own first mission, and his first experience facing the exploding shells from German anti-aircraft guns, was harrowing.

"I thought, 'My God. This is the war. This is it,' " he said. "These guys want to kill me."

Mr. Goldcamp flew 11 missions before the 492nd was disbanded. He then volunteered for the "Carpetbaggers," a top-secret group of airmen who flew in civilian clothes in unmarked B-24s.

He participated in one mission with them, landing on an airfield in Sweden to retrieve Americans who had been shot down.

He eventually became part of the 389th Bomb Group and he never flew again with the crew of the Pregnant Angel. Later in the war, the plane crashed in England because of a mechanical problem. All crew members were killed.

One of Mr. Goldcamp's closest encounters with death came when a bomber from another unit accidentally crossed into his plane's flight path. He pulled up, while the other craft dipped down. They narrowly missed each other, but the wayward plane crashed into two other bombers, killing dozens.

After the war, Mr. Goldcamp and his wife had 13 children, and he went to work at the Jones & Laughlin steel mill on the South Side. He only rarely talked about the war.

Yesterday, Mr. Goldcamp's memories of the B-24 came flooding back while he sat in a hangar at the Akron airport and waited to board Witchcraft.

"I just want to get my hands on the controls," he said.

Now 64 years old, the plane still looks formidable -- 18 feet high, 36,500 pounds without any crew or bombs, a 110-foot wingspan and 10 .50-caliber machine guns.

More than 18,000 were built during the war, and almost all were later melted down for scrap metal. But the Collings Foundation purchased one from a British collector, who had acquired it from India's air force.

When Mr. Goldcamp took the co-pilot's chair once again yesterday afternoon, Witchcraft's four engines whirred to life, imitating a swarm of 10,000 bees.

As the plane skimmed along the Ohio countryside, flying at about 2,000 feet, the pilot gave control over to Mr. Goldcamp. His face lit up, and, for a moment, he looked like an 18-year-old airman.

Betty Goldcamp, his wife and sweetheart since they were students in the fifth grade, was there to greet him as he exited the aircraft in West Mifflin. Together, they walked up to the plane, and he and his son helped her peek inside.

"Mom is determined to go in there," said Mary Beth Poland, their daughter. "She wanted to see what all the fuss was about."