From Sugar-White Sands to Air Force Might: The History of Fort Walton Beach and Eglin AFB

Tracing Footsteps, Flying Fortresses, and Legacy: A Reflection from the Emerald Coast

When four generations of family gather under one roof, a trip to the coast becomes far more than a simple getaway. My wife, Felicia, wanted to bring our sons, grandbabies, and her aging parents together in one place—and if there is anywhere Felicia loves to be, it is right by the water. Stepping onto Fort Walton Beach, Florida, it is immediately clear why this stretch of shoreline earns the name “Emerald Coast.” The powder-soft, white quartz sand and translucent turquoise waters create an idyllic backdrop for creating lasting memories across generations.

Although we chose to drive to Florida, getting to the Emerald Coast is surprisingly convenient whether traveling by road or air. The drive gave us a chance to enjoy the journey together and see more of the region along the way. For those who prefer to fly, Destin-Fort Walton Beach Airport (VPS) is only a short drive from the beaches, with flights available from Nashville.  

As we drove into town, a sight along the roadside quickly grabbed my attention: a historic B-17 Flying Fortress sitting proudly on display alongside an array of vintage military aircraft.

Seeing that iconic bomber hit close to home. My late father, Sam Sparks, served in the U.S. Army Air Forces during World War II, flying 24 bombing raids over Germany in a B-17. He survived being shot down and crash-landing twice—once off the frozen coast of Greenland and another time in a European cornfield. Spotting that Flying Fortress immediately reconnected our family trip to his legacy.

It is striking to consider that during World War II, the average age of a 10-man crew flying a B-17 or B-24 was under 25, with young pilots trusted to fly strategic combat missions at just 22 years old—yet under current Tennessee law, a 22-year-old is deemed too young to drive a local school bus, making our state’s age threshold of 25 the most restrictive in the nation and …get this—the world. We’re more restrictive than all of Europe, Iraq and Russia.

That impressive display of aviation history in Fort Walton is deeply tied to the land itself. The U.S. military originally selected the area in the 1930s for strategic reasons: vast expanses of pine forest, direct access to the Gulf of Mexico for open-water testing, and ideal year-round flying weather. That early presence quickly grew into what is now Eglin Air Force Base, one of the largest military installations in the world.

Yet as I watched my grandkids play on the beach, surrounded by four generations of family, I caught myself becoming nostalgic—thinking back to my own childhood and reflecting on how much times have changed. Felicia and I purchased our first home when I was 22 and she was 19. Today, young people struggle to buy a home, while mental health challenges and substance abuse are pressing heavily on the next generation.

I was reminded of these modern struggles even while away, seeing news reports that Orange County Public Schools was heading into the new school year severely short on bus drivers, with staff noting the situation has never been this bad. Nationally, 71% of school districts reported operational impacts from driver shortages. Just two weeks before our trip, a local civic club president called me, concerned about behavioral issues drivers were sharing in church groups, noting that driver shortages and classroom disruptions are worse than ever.

My mind naturally drifted back to my dad. After retiring from Sewart Air Force Base, he decided to drive a school bus. He didn’t last long—as one local leader later joked to me, “I knew Sam Sparks, he was the meanest man in Smyrna!” My dad was strictly disciplined, carrying his military mindset wherever he went.

Today’s workforce challenges require us to look for real, positive solutions. Safely adjusting that age requirement to open up structured, good-paying opportunities for responsible young adults can help address the severe driver shortage while giving them a foothold toward financial independence—the kind of head start my generation enjoyed.

Long before fighter jets roared over Okaloosa County, these shores carried ancient history, from Pensacola culture earthworks at the Fort Walton Mound to 19th-century fishing outposts. But standing on the white sands today with my children and grandchildren, looking out over the water, history feels personal.

Honoring the legacy of veterans like my father isn’t just about looking back at B-17s—it’s about stepping up to solve today’s challenges, instilling discipline and opportunity in our youth, and ensuring we leave a stronger, better community for the generations following in our footsteps.

From Sugar-White Sands to Air Force Might: The Legacy of Fort Walton Beach

When four generations of family come together, a coastal trip turns into something truly special. Felicia wanted all of us under one roof—our sons, grandbabies, and her parents, who are all slowing down a bit these days. For her, there was no question where we should go; the beach is her favorite place on Earth.

Stepping onto Fort Walton Beach, Florida, it is immediately clear why this stretch of shoreline earns the name “Emerald Coast.” The powder-soft, white quartz sand and translucent turquoise waters create an idyllic backdrop for creating lasting memories across generations.

Getting there is surprisingly easy. The Destin-Fort Walton Beach Airport (VPS) sits just a few miles up the road, making it an easy trip—flights out of Nashville run around $215 to $230 on the low end when booked in advance.

As we drove into town, a sight quickly grabbed my attention: a historic B-17 Flying Fortress sitting proudly on display alongside an impressive collection of military aircraft. Seeing that iconic bomber hit close to home.

Many people may not realize that Sewart Air Force Base played a major role in putting Smyrna, Tennessee, on the national map. Originally established during World War II as Smyrna Army Airfield, the base became an important military training center as America mobilized to defeat Nazi Germany and the Axis powers. Among its missions was training pilots and aircrews who would serve aboard legendary aircraft such as the B-17 Flying Fortress and B-24 Liberator.

The price paid by those young men was staggering. Roughly 50,000 to 55,000 members of the U.S. Army Air Forces lost their lives during World War II, with approximately 26,000 killed in combat. Tens of thousands more were shot down, captured or held as prisoners of war. The aircraft losses were equally sobering: approximately 4,688 B-17s and 3,626 B-24s were lost during the war.

For the bomber crews flying dangerous missions over enemy territory, the odds could be terrifying. During some of the most dangerous periods of the air war, a young man climbing aboard a bomber knew there was a very real possibility that he and his crew might not make it home.

Those numbers are more than statistics. Behind every number was a son, husband, brother, father or friend who left home to serve his country.

That is why seeing the B-17 meant so much to me. The B-17 and B-24, Smyrna’s Sewart Air Force Base, and—most importantly—the courageous young men who flew, maintained and supported those aircraft were part of the enormous Allied effort that helped bring an end to Adolf Hitler’s Nazi regime and liberate Europe.

Today, when we see one of these magnificent aircraft sitting quietly on display, it can be easy to admire the engineering and overlook the human story. But these planes once carried young Americans into some of the most dangerous skies imaginable.

Many of them never came home.

Their sacrifice is part of America’s story—and Sewart Air Force Base means that it is also part of Smyrna’s story.

As we drove into town, a sight quickly grabbed my attention: a historic B-17 Flying Fortress sitting proudly on display alongside an impressive array of military aircraft. Seeing that iconic bomber hit close to home.

Many people may not realize that what helped put Smyrna, Tennessee, on the national map was Sewart Air Force Base. Originally established during World War II as Smyrna Army Airfield, the base became an important military training center as America mobilized to help stop Adolf Hitler’s Nazi regime and defeat the Axis powers. Among its missions was training pilots and airmen who would serve aboard aircraft such as the legendary B-17 Flying Fortress and B-24 Liberator.

For me, however, the sight of that B-17 carried an even deeper meaning.

My late father served in the U.S. Army Air Forces during World War II, flying 24 bombing missions over Germany. He survived being shot down and crash-landing twice—once off the frozen coast of Greenland and another time in a European cornfield. Spotting that B-17 immediately reconnected our trip to his legacy and reminded me of the extraordinary sacrifices made by his generation.

Years ago, my son Payton and I had the unforgettable opportunity to actually fly aboard a B-17 Flying Fortress. Payton was about 17 years old at the time, and I was proud that he had the presence of mind to capture our flight on video. For me, flying aboard the same type of aircraft associated with my father’s generation was an experience I will never forget. And having my son beside me made it even more meaningful—a connection spanning three generations of our family.

Sadly, the B-17 we flew aboard, the Liberty Belle, would later be lost. In 2011, the aircraft was forced to make an emergency landing in an Illinois cornfield after an engine fire. Everyone aboard escaped safely, but the fire quickly spread and engulfed the historic bomber. The Liberty Belle was destroyed.

That made seeing another B-17 on display even more emotional. My father had gone to war during an era when aircraft like these filled the skies. Decades later, his son and grandson had the privilege of climbing aboard one and experiencing, if only briefly, what it was like to fly inside one of these legendary machines.

Of course, our flight could never compare to what those young airmen experienced during World War II.

The human cost of the air war was staggering. Roughly 50,000 to 55,000 members of the U.S. Army Air Forces lost their lives during World War II, with approximately 26,000 killed in combat. Tens of thousands more were shot down, captured or held as prisoners of war.

The loss of aircraft was also enormous. Approximately 4,688 B-17s and 3,626 B-24s were lost during the war. For bomber crews flying deep into enemy territory, particularly during some of the deadliest periods of the air campaign, the odds of completing a tour and returning safely could be frighteningly low.

Behind those statistics were young men—many barely out of high school—who left their mothers and fathers, wives, children and hometowns without knowing whether they would ever see them again.

The B-17, the B-24, Smyrna’s Sewart Air Force Base and, most importantly, the courageous young men who flew, maintained and supported those aircraft became part of the enormous Allied effort that helped bring an end to Adolf Hitler’s Nazi regime and liberate Europe.

Today, it is easy to look at a beautifully restored B-17 sitting quietly on display and admire its engineering. But more than eight decades ago, aircraft like it carried young Americans into skies filled with enemy fighters, anti-aircraft fire and uncertainty.

My father was fortunate. He came home. Tens of thousands of his fellow airmen did not.

And years later, I was fortunate enough to climb aboard a B-17 with my own son and give him a tangible connection to the generation of his grandfather.

That B-17 reminded me that their story should never be forgotten. It is part of America’s history, part of my father’s story, part of my family’s story—and because of Sewart Air Force Base, it is also part of Smyrna’s story.

That impressive display of aviation history is deeply tied to the land itself. The U.S. military originally selected the Fort Walton Beach area in the 1930s for strategic reasons: vast expanses of inexpensive pine forest, direct access to the Gulf of Mexico for open-water weapons testing, and ideal year-round flying weather. That early presence quickly grew into what is now Eglin Air Force Base, one of the largest military installations in the world.

Yet long before fighter jets roared over Okaloosa County, these shores carried a much older history. Native American communities, including the Pensacola culture, lived along the Santa Rosa Sound as early as 800 CE, leaving behind impressive ceremonial earthworks like the Fort Walton Mound. For centuries after, the region remained a quiet stretch of coastal wilderness. It wasn’t until the late 19th century that small fishing settlements began taking root around Choctawhatchee Bay, establishing the quiet outposts of Destin and “Camp Walton”—the town that would eventually become Fort Walton Beach.

Today, Fort Walton Beach is a rare destination where profound military heritage and natural beauty coexist. Walking the white sands with four generations of family, under the quiet shadow of aviation history, made it more than just a getaway—it became a trip none of us will forget.