Robert "Lucky" Luedke was a major player in this entire story.
I had the privilege and honor to have met with him at many of the 46th/72nd recon reunions.
"Lucky" and I conversed often. He provided a plethora of documents and awesome photos that are featured on this site.
He helped out tremendously in the evolution of this web site.

I have to share the following story about the phone call I received from Lucky right after the KeeBird web site went online:
One evening my phone rang. It was Lucky. He sounded very excited and somewhat agitated.
His call went something like this:
"You son of a bitch! (or something to that affect). Thanks a lot!!
Now that my name is out there on the internet and I'm famous, I'm getting all kinds of calls from women that are claiming I am the Father to their children!! What the hell am I supposed to do now?!?!"
It took me awhile to figure out he was just pulling my leg and messing with me.
That, I soon came to learn was classic "Lucky"!! Always the jokester.

Lucky remained very active until his very last days. He ran a salvage business, and was into many different business endevours.

Here is his Obituary, and it is so well done:

Having survived four plane crashes with barely a scratch, Robert Luedke was nicknamed “Lucky”—no last name required. But perhaps it was the people who knew him over his 85 years that were the real lucky ones. Ask his Air Force comrades about Lucky, and they’ll know you’re referring to the smart, yet quirky flight engineer aboard the famed B-29 bomber, the Kee Bird. On one of the first spy missions of the Cold War, the Kee Bird flew over uncharted Greenland and crash landed on February 21, 1947.

Stranded for 3-days in 50-below weather, Lucky with his positive attitude was a rock to his fellow airmen. “He was the glue that kept the crew together,” said crew member Howard Adams of Shelton, Conn.

Other crew members credit Lucky for even greater things: “In my opinion, Robert Luedke saved our lives,” said Ernest Stewart of West Babylon, New York.

Quickly after crashing, Lucky drained the oil from the plane’s engines before it froze. The crew used the oil to light a fire under the generator, which enabled them to power up the radio and call for help.

Born May 24, 1923 in West Point, Neb., and then raised in Fort Morgan, Colo., this Air Force pilot who served from 1944 to 1964 grew up on a sugar-beet farm. During the Depression, his father Julius lost everything and committed suicide when Robert was just twelve. Perhaps it was this hardship and humble beginning that inspired Robert’s entrepreneurial spirit and began earning him his wings as “Lucky.”

To help his mother Martha earn money to care for the family: an older brother and two older sisters, Lucky peddled popcorn on the street corners of Fort Morgan. When a bully knocked the bags from his hand, spilling the popcorn into the streets, perhaps this is when Robert first became lucky.

The owner of the town’s newspaper had witnessed the incident and offered Robert a more lucrative position selling newspapers. This was just the beginning of many adventures that would prove Lucky lucky.

After he retired from the Air Force as a Major Pilot, Lucky became a different “major pile it” of sorts. Finding a treasure trove in salvaging the contents of old buildings and supermarkets, Lucky piled his finds throughout his home and yards in Denver. With his salvage business, Supermarket Specialists, he delighted in tearing out and selling used equipment. If it was salvageable, he sold it; if it wasn’t, he scrapped it. From carts to copper, Lucky turned trash into cash. He built his career around the old adage, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Of his more famous finds were the tin ceiling, ornate railings and velvet curtains saved before wrecking balls hit the Tabor Opera House and the Bonfils Mansion. When he wasn’t treasure hunting on a salvage sight, Lucky could be found at an auction house bidding on more “junk.” His favorite win was a bunch of steamer trunks filled with clothing. While tossing the clothes into a dumpster, Lucky felt the weight of one garment to be suspicious so he climbed in to the dumpster to retrieve it. Hand sewn inside the navy silk slip was a pocket filled with silver coins and silver certificates along with a scrap-paper tally. This wouldn’t be the first time a dumpster dive proved profitable for Lucky.

Moseying around Denver with a crew of two, Lucky and his guys moved from treasure sight to his yard, taking apart junk, making profit out of scrap and other discards. He was on a first name basis with every scrapyard and auction house. He shared his good fortune with his homeless crew, providing them shelter, food and a little day’s pay.

Dressed in his uniform of choice—white work pants and a white-pocket shirt, Lucky went out every day and did exactly what he wanted to do—bid on, buy, find, scrap and sell “junk.” How lucky is that. Even luckier, he was married 60 years to his sweetheart, Lucille, whom he only grew closer to when she moved into a nursing home with dementia. He is survived by Lucille; son Robert Jr. and daughter-in-law Vickie; grandson Luke; granddaughter Jennifer Hibdon and great granddaughter, Alexa Hibdon, all of Genesee, Ida.; daughter Babette of Monroe, Wash.; daughter Judith of Aurora, Colo.; son Mark and daughter-in-law Trisha of Denver, Colo. Saying goodbye, but holding on to good memories, we salute you, Lucky.

Robert Luedke (from crew photo)

Robert Luedke in the old days (photo from his obituary)

Robert Luedke later (photo from his obituary)

Robert Luedke later (photo from his obituary)