Weird and wonderful

Flight Journal, Aug 2003 by Davisson, Budd

Have you ever looked around and realized that for some reason, everything around you is just a bit unusual-even bizarre? When we viewed the pictures for Joe Gertler's article on collecting Wright brothers' memorabilia and we realized that Orville Wright's death certificate is considered a collectible, we knew that we were treading a line with bizarre only a little to our left.

Then we saw the pictures for Jim Busha's article on the Brodie System ("High-Wire Act") and knew for a fact that we had indeed crossed into strange territory. Can you imagine what the pilot thought the first time he came in to "land" by hanging onto the overhead wire like a tenacious bat?

It is the unusual that takes aviation's interest level-high to begin with-and ratchets it up a couple of notches. As we assemble issues of Flight Journal, we find that for no apparent reason, unusual subjects often run in streaks. This is one of those months.

Just about everyone in aviation reads combat tales voraciously. They are the staple of all aviation history and the main ingredient of the "Walter Mitty" aspect of aviation; everyone wants to know what it was like. When we hear aerial combat mentioned, however, we automatically visualize Mustangs and Messerschmitts in a whirling fur ball of three-dimensional activity, or Skyraiders boring downhill into the teeth of oncoming tracers. But as we found out, that isn't always the case. Until the tale of "Casey Goes to War" came along, not one of us thought, "Gee, I wonder what it's like to have a bunch of helicopters plugged into your C-130 while refueling and suddenly find a MiG-21 on your tail?" We think of Nieuports versus Fokkers. We think of Spitfires versus Focke-Wulfs. We don't think of Herky Birds versus MiGs.

When did you last ask yourself what it would be like to fly on top of a fog bank only to have the propeller leave the airplane? You can't see the ground. Your propeller has decided to go elsewhere, and you know that from that moment on, every direction is down. You never imagined this scenario because it strains the limits of credibility. The odds are too long against all of those things happening at the same time. But the odds aren't zero; it can and does happen. Ask Dick Rutan; he puts us in his airplane as he tiptoes into zero visibility, not knowing where the ground lies.

And then there's the age-old question: "Which WW II fighter was the best?" This, of course, is like asking a crowd which is better-blondes, brunettes, or redheads? Fords or Chevys? Everyone has a favorite and a reason for choosing it. When it comes to fighters, however, test pilot Corky Meyer ignores the emotion. He quantifies the razzle-dazzle of how they flew, but then he delves much deeper into what each actually contributed. And he makes a choice. It's a logical choice, but in the process, he also probably kicks over a hornet's nest, and we'll get lots of mail. But that's OK.

Aviation is built on a base of intense interest and passion that often defies description or understanding. And then, just when we think we've seen it all, the unusual comes along and we find ourselves even more eager to see what's around the next corner. And that's the fun of it.

BUDD DAVISSON, EDITOR IN CHIEF