Short (but probably boring) story.
My dad, U.S.A.F. was stationed in Madrid for three years.
We took a cruise ship (S.S. Independence) from New York and landed in Gibraltar. I was 8.
From Gibraltar to Madrid we took a C-47. ATM I thought it was enormous.
About half way there the radio antenna became disconnected from the tail. The banging along the plane fuselage scared hell out of everyone. Excitement followed as somebody opened the side door
and held on to the co-pilot as he wrestled with trying to grab the wire, which he eventually did. Then someone else held on to it all the way in.
So we line up on the runway and the pilot brings it in too high, cuts back on the power too soon and we bounce like we are going to take off. Only a C-47 landing gear could take that kind of pounding. The pilot
was having so much fun he bounced it again and a 3rd time before gravity took over and kept us down.
The plane comes to a sharp stop. There is some commotion in the front and then someone comes charging down the aisle. It's the pilot. He gets to the side door, throws it open and jumps off the plane. The first one off!
I thought the "landing" was great fun. My mother was a funny shade of green and I learned later my dad had to be held back from catching the pilot and beating the snot out of him.
My C-47 story.