The gap between the Eiffel Tower’s legs is 75 metres wide at ground level. A P-51 Mustang’s wingspan is 11 metres. The math works. The sanity doesn’t. Yet at least half a dozen pilots have threaded the needle — some in wartime, some in peacetime, and none with anything resembling permission.

The most famous pass happened during World War II, when American fighter pilot William Overstreet Jr. chased a German Messerschmitt Bf 109 beneath the tower’s iron lattice in his P-51C Mustang “Berlin Express.” Decades later, French pilots flew jets under the tower on Bastille Day. The stories are wild, barely believable, and — in every case — true.

The Mustang and the Messerschmitt

It was 1944 — the exact date is debated, placed somewhere between the spring and the liberation of Paris in August. Lieutenant William Overstreet Jr. of the 357th Fighter Group was in a dogfight over Paris when a Bf 109 broke away and dove toward the city. Overstreet followed, the two aircraft screaming across the Parisian skyline at rooftop level.

The German pilot, whether by design or desperation, aimed for the Eiffel Tower — threading his aircraft between the massive iron legs, betting that the American wouldn’t follow. Overstreet followed. Both aircraft shot beneath the tower’s first platform at high speed, the iron lattice flashing past their canopies in a blur. On the other side, Overstreet got his kill. The Bf 109 went down.

For the Parisians watching from below — a city still under German occupation, still waiting for liberation — the sight of an American fighter chasing a German through their most famous landmark was electrifying. Overstreet became a legend among the French Resistance before anyone in America knew his name. He was awarded the French Legion of Honour decades later for the audacity of that single pass.

Not the Only One

Overstreet’s wasn’t the only wartime pass under the tower. During the liberation of Paris in August 1944, multiple Allied pilots — drunk on victory, adrenaline, or both — made their own passes as German forces retreated from the city. The accounts are scattered through memoirs and unit histories: P-47 Thunderbolts, P-51 Mustangs, even a rumoured Spitfire, all threading the gap as a gesture of liberation and sheer reckless joy.

None of these flights were ordered. None were authorised. In the chaos of a city being liberated, nobody was keeping careful records of which pilots decided to add “fly under the Eiffel Tower” to their afternoon schedule. The tower itself, which the retreating Germans had wired with explosives but never detonated, stood as a symbol of France’s survival. Flying under it was, for those pilots, a gesture that said: Paris is free. We’re here. And we can do whatever we want.

Jets Under Iron: The Peacetime Passes

The tower’s magnetic pull on pilots didn’t end with the war. In 1991, a dramatic peacetime pass made headlines when aircraft reportedly flew under the tower during Bastille Day celebrations. The event was filmed and became one of the most shared pieces of aviation footage in France, though the exact circumstances and participants have been debated ever since.

Other unauthorized passes have occurred over the decades, though most are known only through aviation folklore and occasional grainy photographs. The tower sits in restricted airspace, and flying through it in peacetime is not just illegal but practically guarantees prison time, loss of pilot’s licence, and an international incident if the pilot isn’t French. This hasn’t stopped everyone.

The gap between the legs narrows as you go higher — the tower’s legs curve inward. At ground level, you have 75 metres. By the first platform, the opening is significantly smaller. A Mirage or Mustang fits comfortably. A modern fighter with wingtip missiles would have less margin. And the approach is complicated by the Champ de Mars — the flat park beneath the tower — which gives minimal room for a pull-up if anything goes wrong.

The Pull of the Impossible

There’s something about the Eiffel Tower that makes pilots lose their minds. It’s the perfect combination of challenge and symbolism — a gap just wide enough to fit, a structure just famous enough to make the story worth telling, and a stunt just dangerous enough to separate the reckless from the merely brave.

Overstreet did it because a German was trying to escape. The liberation pilots did it because Paris was free. The peacetime daredevils did it because — well, because it was there. The Eiffel Tower was never designed as an obstacle course for fighter aircraft. But from the moment the first pilot looked at that gap and thought I could fit through that, its fate as aviation’s most famous slalom gate was sealed. The tower stands. The stories endure. And somewhere, a pilot is probably looking at it right now, doing the math.

Sources: 357th Fighter Group Association, French Ministry of Defence archives, “Overstreet: The Maverick Mustang Pilot”, Imperial War Museum