You just never know

Flight Journal, Jun 2003 by Davisson, Budd

Our roster of writers in this issue includes some very interesting folks doing some very interesting things. For example, we have a young Navy fighter pilot-John "Toonces" Tougas-who has the enviable job of flying the Navy's F/A-18 Hornet and the USAF F-16 Viper. Then we have a not-so-young Grumman engineer, Bob Kress, who explains the frustrations associated with VTOL flight and government contracts.

We have a crash-investigation detective, George Marrett, who sleuths around the crash site of an F-IOlB Voodoo and tries to determine why this sleek jet crashed. Dr. Rolf Ebhardt, a German Bf 110 night-fighter pilot, describes what it was like to struggle against overwhelming odds for the Vaterland.

Another Grummanite-test pilot Corky Meyer-takes us back to jet testing in the '5Os with the F9F-8 Cougar, and we ride along with 82nd FG P-38 pilots as they bring down a record number of aircraft for a single mission.

So, in summary, we compare a Hornet with a Viper, explain a 40,000-pound hummingbird, see how a single nut put on the wrong bolt spells death, fly with WW II pilots who mix it up with the Luftwaffe and then fly with the Luftwaffe while they mix it up with the Allies. On top of that, we test-fly a brandnew (in the 1950s) jet fighter. Whew! That's a lot of information and experiences to be assimilated, and it's difficult to read all of that in a single mental breath, isn't it? But then, aren't those the kinds of diverse combinations that make aviation so much fun? You never know what you're going to find around the next corner.

In a very real sense, snooping around in the world of aviation is like spending an afternoon at a country airport, poking our noses in hangars just to see what we can see. The curiosity about what might be sitting behind a closed hangar door infects nearly everyone who truly loves flying machines. When you see a closed hangar door, you absolutely must peek behind it because there's no telling what hidden treasure awaits. In aviation, treasures are always out there, just waiting to be found.

As the centennial of controlled, powered flight comes over the horizon, we can't help but mourn the history that has been lost, both in tangible terms and in terms of information. But is it truly gone or, like so many treasures, does it lay in dusty corners waiting to be discovered? Many airplanes supposed gone forever, for instance, have resurfaced in barns, at the bottom of bays, or in forgotten hangars. But what about less tangible items, such as information about who did what, when?

At the time an event is taking place, the facts seem obvious to those who are there. Today, however, so many of those facts are nearly impossible to validate or, at the very least, are subject to interpretation. Take the endless debate about the Wrights being first; is there a detailed diary from a qualified observer lying forgotten on a bookshelf that can verify whether someone else was first? A discovery that allows us to validate a historical fact is the most elusive form of treasure.

And then there's the problem of interpreting the facts, even when those facts seem to be in black and white. In this month's "Tailview," Barrett Tillman lays out historical facts that should define the top ace of the USMC. But there are disputes. Is it Foss or Boyington? The facts say Foss. The interpretations say Boyington.

The tantalizing unknowns of aviation are as fascinating as what we do know. And that's what makes aviation such a tar baby; the lure of new discoveries makes it difficult even to touch the subject without hpcominp totallv involved And that's not all bad.

BUDD DAVISSON, EDITOR IN CHIEF