SOFT TARGET, HARD SELL
The United States Army is a soft target but the solution to the problem is a hard sell.
Rant Mode ON:
At Fort Hood, Texas, on November 5, a Muslim zealot or a crazed army psychiatrist (take your pick) went on a shooting rampage, killing 13 people--mostly soldiers--and wounding 30 others. After perhaps 10 minutes he was shot and wounded by civilian police hired by the Department of Defense. (Reportedly a SWAT team arrived half an hour later.) One of the responders was wounded herself, but fortunately she will survive.
The Fort Hood massacre was unique only in the body count. Remaining in a state of denial for years, the United States Army has ignored lethal assaults by soldiers and civilians sympathetic to our enemies:
In Kuwait in 2003 a Muslim GI “fragged” 16 of his comrades with grenades and rifle fire, killing two. He was sentenced to death but his case has been on appeal since 2006. No military personnel have been executed since 1961.
In 2007 federal agents arrested six Muslims in New Jersey who planned an attack on Fort Dix, based on knowledge gained in pizza deliveries.
In June 2009 a Muslim civilian shot two soldiers at an Arkansas recruiting office, killing one.
Before anybody jumps on the anti-profiling soapbox, listen up: We should not suspect every Muslim in the U.S. armed forces. If we’re going to pursue the global war on terror, we need Muslims for their cultural knowledge and language skills. Some of them are better soldiers and better Americans than many Christians, Jews, and atheists.
But…
The situation goes way back. In 1985, after four marines were executed in a San Salvador restaurant, a naval aviator asked some admirals why officers in nonflying billets were denied smallarms training. He considered the situation “demeaning to military professionals.” No explanation was forthcoming.
Lapse-dissolve, fast forward:
Post 9-11; after nine years of a two-front war against radical Islam; after repeated attacks within our own borders, WHEN WILL THE ARMY WAKE UP AND DO AWAY WITH PREDATOR ENHANCEMENT ZONES?
Apparently not anytime soon.
Some perspective: The Fort Hood toll exceeds the KIAs of 14 Coalition countries in Afghanistan since 2001, and it’s more than 17 of the 24 allied nations have lost in Iraq since the invasion in 2003.
That’s why it’s called the Global War on Terrorism!
Fort Hood’s commander addressed a news conference the night of the attack. Responding to a question about soldiers being armed henceforth, he said that measure was not being considered, adding, “This is our home.” The implication being that decent people do not own weapons to defend their homes. He noted that additional military and civilian police patrols would be deployed.
Here’s what the general’s policy means in flesh and blood terms:
An unarmed military policeman said, "I told him (the killer) stop and drop your weapons. I identified myself as police and he turned and fired a couple of rounds at me. I didn't hear him say a word... he just turned and fired."
WHY WOULD THE KILLER DO OTHERWISE?
A judicial officer quoted in an internet circular was present. He said, “I’ve been trained how to respond to gunfire, but with my own weapon. To have no weapon, I don’t know how to explain what that felt like.”
HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO KNOW WHAT THAT FELT LIKE! In a self-respecting army, he wouldn’t have to.
We the People pay an enormous amount of tax dollars to maintain a professional army. Our soldiers (and marines and sailors and airmen) are not half-trained conscripts, though some cynics have noted that many are half-trained volunteers.
The problem is administrative, not tactical. By definition, the military is a control-freak institution. Consequently, officers (read: careerists) seek to control circumstances that might affect their careers, so they impose bureaucratic limits upon potential solutions. The unimaginative among them—the huge majority—default to school solutions. In the Fort Hood case, the school solution is cops: civilian contractors and MPs patrolling more than before. A spokesman said that (excepting police) anyone transporting a weapon on base must keep it unloaded and out of reach.
Apparently nobody at Hood has broken out of the school solution box: allowing soldiers to carry weapons. Says a retired NCO, “They’ll start strip searching troops arriving on base before they allow any of them to carry guns.”
The army needn’t arm everybody. Let’s face it—many of our troops have no business "packing" because they lack the training and/or the disposition for it. But many others are fully capable of carrying rifles and pistols with routine safety. After all, nearly everybody in the Israeli Army carries weapons off duty. The internet shows pictures of teenaged girls in green, hanging out at the post exchange or riding public transportation with unloaded M16s or Galils. Totally safe, ready to respond.
Obviously, if the Israelis can do it, so can we. The difference is that Israel lives 24-7 with a combat mindset. To an extent so does Switzerland. America does not, and never has.
Besides additional police patrols, the army is addressing the situation with counseling, which we hope proves helpful but certainly pegs the irony meter. After all, the “suspect” in the shooting is a psychiatrist produced by the same system that enabled the massacre in the first place!
Our suggestion to The Army of One: allow competent soldiers to carry their issue weapon on base, unloaded with a full mag available. Yes, some guns may be lost or stolen. Yes, some idiot will pop a round that might hurt or even kill somebody. So what? We lose nearly 2,000 people in DoD every year: over one-quarter through accidents and negligence. But how many firearms accidents does it take to offset 13 KIAs and 30 WIAs on one of the world’s biggest military bases? How often do we sustain 40 combat casualties in one day?
However, since service politicians may be trusted to place their perceived personal interests ahead of the troops (witness the nine-year Tailhook witch hunt), we may not trust many star-wearers to Do The Right Thing. Consequently, what’s required is a DoD directive requiring combat-trained troops to carry on base, and permitting qualified individuals in uniform off base to carry openly or concealed. Absent that, we’ll see more of the same.
In closing, consider an old military maxim: “A commander may be forgiven for being defeated. He may not be forgiven for being surprised.”
On November 5, Fort Hood and the U.S. Army were surprised. Forgiveness will depend upon the state of mind of the bereaved survivors. Meanwhile, it remains a hard sell to change the army’s policy favoring itself as a soft target.
Rant Mode to STANDBY.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
GRADING ON THE CURVE
A late-great friend of mine, a dedicated warrior, observed that war is a full-contact sport. He was right, of course. Combat is graded pass-fail, and sometimes you can do everything right and still flunk the course.
However, in the 21st century, some people believe that all human endeavors should be graded on a curve—or not graded at all. It’s indicative of the declining standards and feel-good attitude that infected humans in recent decades. Outcome-based education is but one example: “educators” concluded that since lower-performing kids’ self esteem might suffer if some were designated “winners,” the solution was to give everybody a trophy or an attaboy just for showing up.
That’s bad enough. Unfortunately, now the grade-on-the-curve philosophy is being applied to courage.
Earlier this year Republican Congressman Duncan Hunter of California opined that too few Medals of Honor are being awarded in the Global War on Terrorism. As of this month, since 2001 six men have received the nation’s highest award for valor in Iraq and Afghanistan: three Army, two Navy, and one Marine. All those awards were posthumous.
“We haven’t given one (Medal of Honor) to a living person yet,” Hunter says, “so does that mean not a single living soldier, sailor, airman or Marine has committed an act of valor and something so courageous that he’s earned the Medal of Honor?”
Hunter certainly is qualified to comment on the situation: he’s a Vietnam combat veteran with extensive military-affairs experience on The Hill. But as a former soldier and experienced politician, he must know that the military awards process has been broken for approximately forever.
I’m unusually familiar with the Medal of Honor: I’ve been privileged to number seven recipients among my friends and several more among my associates. In writing two books on the subject, some patterns emerged, and chief among them is that frequently people receive medals for doing their job. It started under political influence in the Civil War and continues so today. The problem is systemic: if it were ever going to be fixed, it would have been corrected decades ago. Witness Hawaiian Senator Daniel Inouye’s receipt of the Medal 55 years after WW II with 20 of his friends: the nation’s highest award handed out by the bucketful. (Never mind that his 442nd Regimental Combat Team already was the most-decorated outfit of the war.) Or even a century later: among Bill Clinton’s last official acts was presenting the Medal to Theodore Roosevelt’s great-grandson. In 1898 Teddy had led his Rough Riders up Kettle Hill in Cuba—a commander who commanded his troops, nothing more. In fact, nearly all Spanish-American War medals were awarded for lifesaving rather than direct combat.
Yes, some partisans claim that waivers for the statutory time limits are justified because of lost paperwork or perceived injustices, but it still boils down to politics. Think about it: when the President of the United States receives the Nobel Peace Prize for two weeks in office, the value of other awards become diluted by commonality and lowered standards. That situation should not apply to the Medal of Honor.
The thing about the Congressional Medal of Honor Society is that it does not get to select its members. Those eligible for membership are first approved by the U.S. Government, and the numbers are declining steadily. Currently there are fewer than 100.
Which brings us to the lack of living recipients. It’s obvious that neither the Bush nor Obama administrations would tolerate walking-talking heroes who might say something, um, impolitic. There is no smoking gun for such a policy—no signed directive saying, “There will be no more living Medal of Honor recipients.” But clearly that’s what’s at work. (In contrast, during the Vietnam debacle, the loathsome Lyndon Johnson used to tell an aide, “Trot me out a hero. I need to make a speech.” LBJ knew all about working the system: the citation for his WW II Silver Star was an outright fabrication.)
Mr. Hunter recommended that current Medal of Honor recipients serve on a panel to provide the Department of Defense recommendations for combat awards from the Silver Star upward. It’s a good idea. Though the veterans’ recommendations would be nonbinding, at least there could be a semblance of consistency in the awards process, assuming DoD pays attention.
However, a problem persists: the nature of the GWOT is different from previous wars. By far the greatest number of combat casualties is due to roadside bombs. Obviously, that situation does not lend itself to the kind of action that produces Medals of Honor. The MoH citations thus far all involve direct action against hostile fighters, not IEDs.
Rep. Hunter says, “I’ve got guys telling me stories about killing terrorists with their helmets, knifing them, getting in fistfights with them when they’re out of ammunition,” he said. “That sounds like old-time warfare to me.”
Agreed. But every war/feud/conflict involves people killing people mano-a-mano. The point is, that’s what soldiers do. Killing the enemy in and of itself is not “above and beyond the call of duty,” the operative phrase in MoH citations.
But there’s duty and there’s duty. I am slightly acquainted with a former Army sergeant who, in 2004, with other GIs he entered an Iraqi house full of goblins and covered the withdrawal of several wounded soldiers. Then he returned to pursue other enemies and, though shot in one shoulder, he emerged after killing five jihadists, the last by using a personal knife. He was recommended for the Medal of Honor but received a Silver Star—apparently because he survived. Certainly The Big One has been awarded for far, far less. (In the 1930s an aged general received the MoH for “a life of splendid public service.”)
So let’s not further dilute the Medal of Honor by awarding it on some sort of quota system. Instead, let’s recognize the unusual nature of the current “conflicts” and retain the standards intended for America’s most cherished decoration—whether the recipients are living or dead.
A late-great friend of mine, a dedicated warrior, observed that war is a full-contact sport. He was right, of course. Combat is graded pass-fail, and sometimes you can do everything right and still flunk the course.
However, in the 21st century, some people believe that all human endeavors should be graded on a curve—or not graded at all. It’s indicative of the declining standards and feel-good attitude that infected humans in recent decades. Outcome-based education is but one example: “educators” concluded that since lower-performing kids’ self esteem might suffer if some were designated “winners,” the solution was to give everybody a trophy or an attaboy just for showing up.
That’s bad enough. Unfortunately, now the grade-on-the-curve philosophy is being applied to courage.
Earlier this year Republican Congressman Duncan Hunter of California opined that too few Medals of Honor are being awarded in the Global War on Terrorism. As of this month, since 2001 six men have received the nation’s highest award for valor in Iraq and Afghanistan: three Army, two Navy, and one Marine. All those awards were posthumous.
“We haven’t given one (Medal of Honor) to a living person yet,” Hunter says, “so does that mean not a single living soldier, sailor, airman or Marine has committed an act of valor and something so courageous that he’s earned the Medal of Honor?”
Hunter certainly is qualified to comment on the situation: he’s a Vietnam combat veteran with extensive military-affairs experience on The Hill. But as a former soldier and experienced politician, he must know that the military awards process has been broken for approximately forever.
I’m unusually familiar with the Medal of Honor: I’ve been privileged to number seven recipients among my friends and several more among my associates. In writing two books on the subject, some patterns emerged, and chief among them is that frequently people receive medals for doing their job. It started under political influence in the Civil War and continues so today. The problem is systemic: if it were ever going to be fixed, it would have been corrected decades ago. Witness Hawaiian Senator Daniel Inouye’s receipt of the Medal 55 years after WW II with 20 of his friends: the nation’s highest award handed out by the bucketful. (Never mind that his 442nd Regimental Combat Team already was the most-decorated outfit of the war.) Or even a century later: among Bill Clinton’s last official acts was presenting the Medal to Theodore Roosevelt’s great-grandson. In 1898 Teddy had led his Rough Riders up Kettle Hill in Cuba—a commander who commanded his troops, nothing more. In fact, nearly all Spanish-American War medals were awarded for lifesaving rather than direct combat.
Yes, some partisans claim that waivers for the statutory time limits are justified because of lost paperwork or perceived injustices, but it still boils down to politics. Think about it: when the President of the United States receives the Nobel Peace Prize for two weeks in office, the value of other awards become diluted by commonality and lowered standards. That situation should not apply to the Medal of Honor.
The thing about the Congressional Medal of Honor Society is that it does not get to select its members. Those eligible for membership are first approved by the U.S. Government, and the numbers are declining steadily. Currently there are fewer than 100.
Which brings us to the lack of living recipients. It’s obvious that neither the Bush nor Obama administrations would tolerate walking-talking heroes who might say something, um, impolitic. There is no smoking gun for such a policy—no signed directive saying, “There will be no more living Medal of Honor recipients.” But clearly that’s what’s at work. (In contrast, during the Vietnam debacle, the loathsome Lyndon Johnson used to tell an aide, “Trot me out a hero. I need to make a speech.” LBJ knew all about working the system: the citation for his WW II Silver Star was an outright fabrication.)
Mr. Hunter recommended that current Medal of Honor recipients serve on a panel to provide the Department of Defense recommendations for combat awards from the Silver Star upward. It’s a good idea. Though the veterans’ recommendations would be nonbinding, at least there could be a semblance of consistency in the awards process, assuming DoD pays attention.
However, a problem persists: the nature of the GWOT is different from previous wars. By far the greatest number of combat casualties is due to roadside bombs. Obviously, that situation does not lend itself to the kind of action that produces Medals of Honor. The MoH citations thus far all involve direct action against hostile fighters, not IEDs.
Rep. Hunter says, “I’ve got guys telling me stories about killing terrorists with their helmets, knifing them, getting in fistfights with them when they’re out of ammunition,” he said. “That sounds like old-time warfare to me.”
Agreed. But every war/feud/conflict involves people killing people mano-a-mano. The point is, that’s what soldiers do. Killing the enemy in and of itself is not “above and beyond the call of duty,” the operative phrase in MoH citations.
But there’s duty and there’s duty. I am slightly acquainted with a former Army sergeant who, in 2004, with other GIs he entered an Iraqi house full of goblins and covered the withdrawal of several wounded soldiers. Then he returned to pursue other enemies and, though shot in one shoulder, he emerged after killing five jihadists, the last by using a personal knife. He was recommended for the Medal of Honor but received a Silver Star—apparently because he survived. Certainly The Big One has been awarded for far, far less. (In the 1930s an aged general received the MoH for “a life of splendid public service.”)
So let’s not further dilute the Medal of Honor by awarding it on some sort of quota system. Instead, let’s recognize the unusual nature of the current “conflicts” and retain the standards intended for America’s most cherished decoration—whether the recipients are living or dead.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Why Do We Fly?
WHY DO WE FLY?
Why do we fly? More particularly, why do we enjoy it so immensely? What is it about being off the ground that so completely absorbs so many men and women?
I asked a sampling of my aviation friends why they fly.
First, some ground rules. As much as some of us revel in The Glory of Flight, it isn’t about scenery. Anybody with an airline ticket can look out the window and marvel at God’s wondrous vista: sun-drenched clouds sprayed orange-yellow or brilliant white against cerulean blue; an aerial palette to etch in the retina of one’s memory forever.
That’s not flying, it’s sight seeing.
Now, I grew up flying behind round engines that flung oil on my goggles. I would not trade that experience for anything. But is sitting in an open cockpit, subjected to the elements in all four seasons, really the essence of flying?
For some the answer is not only Yes but Hell Yes. For others, a canopy and a heated cockpit are part of the Experience of Flight.
For purists, Pure Flight means gliders. No artificial propulsion; just God’s wind over manmade wings; you can hear and feel the airframe working, talking to you. Sailplanes truly are craft of the air.
Then there’s helicopters, which are a whole ‘nuther subject entirely. I like helos; I really do. While I’ve only played with three types (Huey, H-3 and H-52), they were just plain fun. Even with a stability augmentation system as in the ’52, a chopper is a lively, active mount not entirely unlike a horse. Here’s a comment from a long-time friend who earned a poor but honest living pulling jet pilots out of Haiphong Harbor: “A hover takeoff might not quicken the pulse like a burner go, and certainly we're not as speedy, but the thrill is there on an overwater hover or a destroyer flight-deck landing. Same boys, different toys.”
As in any endeavor involving humans, there’s a strong element of competition. One of the most accomplished airmen I’ve ever known has ratings for almost everything but multi-engine jet seaplanes, and he says, “My passion for flying is a combination of the freedom I feel in flight and my love to compete. In the Navy it was to be the best carrier pilot I could be. To win the best landing grades for an entire combat deployment was a high point for me. I want to compete with others to win every dogfight, to have the best bombing scores, to be the only one to get aboard on a pitching deck when the rest of the recovery bingos to the beach, to lead a strike against a difficult target, to challenge myself to keep the needles centered on an ILS to minimums.”
Some airmen seek perfection in three dimensions. This comes from a former military, commercial, and current private pilot: “Flying is fun and satisfying because there are perfect ways to do every part of it. I seriously doubt if anyone has ever flown an absolutely perfect flight, but if you are worth a damn, you are always trying. When you get something absolutely right, it is righteous. Throw in the accompanying elements of danger and competition, and the results can be wildly exhilarating. I am sure that a bullfighter might make the same claims on his profession, except when he is finished, he is left with 2,000 pounds of pot roast. And I doubt that any Grand Prix racer ever felt about his mount as this aviator does. Airplanes have souls, and they lend their ‘drivers’ a certain ethereal class lacking in more vulgar brawls. A wrecked airplane is always a tragedy in ways that a wadded-up dragster is not.”
A highly-experienced commercial pilot says, “To me, going somewhere, anywhere, represents adventure and romance. Flying yourself there increases this by an order magnitude. To do a first-rate job of flight planning, followed by a first-rate nav job, is what makes flying. Given a few hours of instruction, even a chimp can drive an aeroplane through the air (I know someone who has done it). But planning the trip and doing the nav is what brings the satisfaction to me. I will admit to smiling at making a good landing, or a smooth ILS approach, but you have to have done the other stuff right to get to that point."
A former Air Force colonel says, “There is nothing more satisfying than making a good landing under tough conditions. When I was a C-47 IP at Wright-Pat, I had a temporary copilot, indignant that he had to fly in a Gooney Bird. We came back from Boston in rotten weather, lots of ice with snow piled on both sides of the runway several feet high. It was minimums, and I flew a GCA and broke out in blowing snow and a cross wind, and then touched down so softly that you couldn’t feel it--one of those landings where the oleos take time to compress. When we had shut down, the copilot looked over and said, ‘Clutch player,’ and got up and left. It made my day.”
There’s more than just flying. A highly-experienced performer and instructor explains, “There are many nuances to the enjoyment of flying, from experiencing the sunrise at altitude to the type of people you get to associate with, to subtle pleasures such as the smell of high octane fuel or the fumes from a jet engine, but I believe that the essence of the appeal of flying is its element of danger. It is not fashionable to believe that flying is dangerous, and statistically it may not be, but the fact is that leaving the ground at relatively high speeds is ipso facto dangerous. To buttress my argument, look at the popularity of air racing and aerobatics, where the danger level is higher. So in short: aesthetics plus danger.”
To me, there is no single reason for flying--it’s a smorgasbord of attractions. It’s the art of flying, controlling a machine in three dimensions rather than two, perhaps best exemplified by the rarity of a perfect three-point landing. But it’s also navigation: predicting with precision the point in place and time when that machine would arrive where I intended it to. And perhaps most of all, it’s the shared experience with like-minded men and women. A parachutist once said that he didn’t especially relish sky-diving “But I like to be around people who like to jump.” Certainly that applies to those who fly airplanes.
Yet for all the introspection and thought, one response stands out. It comes from a long-longtime friend, a former Air Force officer who loved P-38s, made ace in a Mustang, moved on to “One Oh Deuces” and spent a couple thousand happy hours flying C-47s really low, doing things he still cannot talk about. He spoke for legions of aviators when he said he loves flying “Because I do it better than most people.”
I cannot add anything to that sentiment, and would not presume to try.
Why do we fly? More particularly, why do we enjoy it so immensely? What is it about being off the ground that so completely absorbs so many men and women?
I asked a sampling of my aviation friends why they fly.
First, some ground rules. As much as some of us revel in The Glory of Flight, it isn’t about scenery. Anybody with an airline ticket can look out the window and marvel at God’s wondrous vista: sun-drenched clouds sprayed orange-yellow or brilliant white against cerulean blue; an aerial palette to etch in the retina of one’s memory forever.
That’s not flying, it’s sight seeing.
Now, I grew up flying behind round engines that flung oil on my goggles. I would not trade that experience for anything. But is sitting in an open cockpit, subjected to the elements in all four seasons, really the essence of flying?
For some the answer is not only Yes but Hell Yes. For others, a canopy and a heated cockpit are part of the Experience of Flight.
For purists, Pure Flight means gliders. No artificial propulsion; just God’s wind over manmade wings; you can hear and feel the airframe working, talking to you. Sailplanes truly are craft of the air.
Then there’s helicopters, which are a whole ‘nuther subject entirely. I like helos; I really do. While I’ve only played with three types (Huey, H-3 and H-52), they were just plain fun. Even with a stability augmentation system as in the ’52, a chopper is a lively, active mount not entirely unlike a horse. Here’s a comment from a long-time friend who earned a poor but honest living pulling jet pilots out of Haiphong Harbor: “A hover takeoff might not quicken the pulse like a burner go, and certainly we're not as speedy, but the thrill is there on an overwater hover or a destroyer flight-deck landing. Same boys, different toys.”
As in any endeavor involving humans, there’s a strong element of competition. One of the most accomplished airmen I’ve ever known has ratings for almost everything but multi-engine jet seaplanes, and he says, “My passion for flying is a combination of the freedom I feel in flight and my love to compete. In the Navy it was to be the best carrier pilot I could be. To win the best landing grades for an entire combat deployment was a high point for me. I want to compete with others to win every dogfight, to have the best bombing scores, to be the only one to get aboard on a pitching deck when the rest of the recovery bingos to the beach, to lead a strike against a difficult target, to challenge myself to keep the needles centered on an ILS to minimums.”
Some airmen seek perfection in three dimensions. This comes from a former military, commercial, and current private pilot: “Flying is fun and satisfying because there are perfect ways to do every part of it. I seriously doubt if anyone has ever flown an absolutely perfect flight, but if you are worth a damn, you are always trying. When you get something absolutely right, it is righteous. Throw in the accompanying elements of danger and competition, and the results can be wildly exhilarating. I am sure that a bullfighter might make the same claims on his profession, except when he is finished, he is left with 2,000 pounds of pot roast. And I doubt that any Grand Prix racer ever felt about his mount as this aviator does. Airplanes have souls, and they lend their ‘drivers’ a certain ethereal class lacking in more vulgar brawls. A wrecked airplane is always a tragedy in ways that a wadded-up dragster is not.”
A highly-experienced commercial pilot says, “To me, going somewhere, anywhere, represents adventure and romance. Flying yourself there increases this by an order magnitude. To do a first-rate job of flight planning, followed by a first-rate nav job, is what makes flying. Given a few hours of instruction, even a chimp can drive an aeroplane through the air (I know someone who has done it). But planning the trip and doing the nav is what brings the satisfaction to me. I will admit to smiling at making a good landing, or a smooth ILS approach, but you have to have done the other stuff right to get to that point."
A former Air Force colonel says, “There is nothing more satisfying than making a good landing under tough conditions. When I was a C-47 IP at Wright-Pat, I had a temporary copilot, indignant that he had to fly in a Gooney Bird. We came back from Boston in rotten weather, lots of ice with snow piled on both sides of the runway several feet high. It was minimums, and I flew a GCA and broke out in blowing snow and a cross wind, and then touched down so softly that you couldn’t feel it--one of those landings where the oleos take time to compress. When we had shut down, the copilot looked over and said, ‘Clutch player,’ and got up and left. It made my day.”
There’s more than just flying. A highly-experienced performer and instructor explains, “There are many nuances to the enjoyment of flying, from experiencing the sunrise at altitude to the type of people you get to associate with, to subtle pleasures such as the smell of high octane fuel or the fumes from a jet engine, but I believe that the essence of the appeal of flying is its element of danger. It is not fashionable to believe that flying is dangerous, and statistically it may not be, but the fact is that leaving the ground at relatively high speeds is ipso facto dangerous. To buttress my argument, look at the popularity of air racing and aerobatics, where the danger level is higher. So in short: aesthetics plus danger.”
To me, there is no single reason for flying--it’s a smorgasbord of attractions. It’s the art of flying, controlling a machine in three dimensions rather than two, perhaps best exemplified by the rarity of a perfect three-point landing. But it’s also navigation: predicting with precision the point in place and time when that machine would arrive where I intended it to. And perhaps most of all, it’s the shared experience with like-minded men and women. A parachutist once said that he didn’t especially relish sky-diving “But I like to be around people who like to jump.” Certainly that applies to those who fly airplanes.
Yet for all the introspection and thought, one response stands out. It comes from a long-longtime friend, a former Air Force officer who loved P-38s, made ace in a Mustang, moved on to “One Oh Deuces” and spent a couple thousand happy hours flying C-47s really low, doing things he still cannot talk about. He spoke for legions of aviators when he said he loves flying “Because I do it better than most people.”
I cannot add anything to that sentiment, and would not presume to try.
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