The
engine's ticking over; check pilot's getting
out;
He must be going to have a smoke; that's what it's
about.
But now he's walking closer, and I don't see any
signs--
He's not fumbling for a package; he's fumbling for
his "lines".
His
eyes meet mine, and hold, and then they turn
away.
"Do you think that you can fly this thing?" is what
he has to say.
I can't believe he said that, it's not the time or
day!
My instructor's supposed to sign me off ; that's
the Navy way.
He
must mean in the "future", he really can't mean
now;
I hear myself say "yes sir" as my inner voice gulps
"wow".
All doubt is terminated as he etches on my
brain,
"Two touch and go's, and a full stop, then pick me
up again".
He
undoes his seat pack, and sits beneath a tree;
I try at acting nonchalant, but is this really
me?
Coiling up the gosport hose that dangles from my
head;
I search in vain for cozy slots for it to find a
bed.
I've
opened up the throttle; begun taxiing away;
I have to find a secure place, where that hose will
really stay!
Now I've reached the region where my take-off run
will start,
As landing traffic clears away -- I feel my
pounding heart!
With
left hand on the throttle; and right hand on the
stick,
Hose jammed 'neath the tailwheel lock (that should
do the trick).
The Stearman races 'oer the sod; it really wants to
fly,
It's tough to hold us on the ground; our only load
is I.
And
just as I am feeling thrilled at being all
alone;
My ears are stunned by drum beat drums ; my heart
turns into stone!
I must have had a mid-air! -- as I was climbing
blind!
Frantic looks both fore and aft -- the hose streams
out behind.
The
swirl of the propwash has it firmly in its
sway,
Rhythmic whacks away in back -- I may live another
day!
With joystick and the blasted hose held firmly in
my grip,
I now perform appointed tasks, and finish up my
trip.
The
Ensign duly climbs aboard; -- delivers modest
praise.
He'll never know the Hell I've known, on this my
"day of days"
I am really something "special", the first among my
class,
To be allowed to "solo"! May this feeling never
pass!
Our
takeoff run is text-book; so is our climb away;
I bank to port and head for home; composing what
I'll say.
My classmates will be jealous as they pat me on the
back,
My tie (though new), they'll cut in two; and
short-sheet me, my sack.
And
just as my self image has reached epitome,
The engine coughs and dies complete. We are headed
for a tree!
My expertise evaporates. The limbs come rushing
on;
But the Ensign does a side-slip, and now the tree
is gone.
I
had had "emergencies", 'til I thought I would go
daft;
But these had all been signaled by the throttle
moving aft.
This wily Ensign sees my helmet growing tight,
Turns off the gas instead; and turns my gloat to
fright.
Most
men who fly in airplanes, no matter what their
year;
Can tell of that first solo; how they conquered
over fear.
A time so well remembered that the details never
fade.
How they flew so free and easy -- the landing that
they made.
I
am almost in there with them but I have this six
point star*;
The *flapping hose; my *dead-stick woes; still
haunt me from afar.
Instead of talking landings and the skills that I
had shone,
I remember more the takeoff; -- the emergency so
blown!
AEROBATICS
There
are many aviators who really do enjoy;
Punishing their bodies, with the skills they can
employ.
Being one with their airframe, which they wildly
fling about;
Elated by the "G" loads that push or pull
without.
It
may well be a taste for this, is something one
acquires;
The little time I practiced these; didn't seem to
light my fires.
Looking up to view the ground, while falling from
my seat,
Didn't seem to fill some void that would make my
life complete.
But
there IS one maneuver that I will not soon
forget;
Involving partial looping, with half-roll tagged on
yet.
It was named for a German from long forgotten
time;
Whether his Eindecker could DO one is not a matter
for this rhyme.
A
solo Immelmann was on my list to do
I had had them demonstrated; as a "dual" had done a
few.
I acquired the four thousand, above the land
below,
Did clearing turns required of me; ('til now, I'm
like a pro.).
And
then I dived the Stearman, 'til it read one twenty
knots,
Pulled the stick back rather smartly; shoved the
throttle to the stops.
Looking back above my rudder for the sky to turn to
land;
Leveled out the wings when horizon could be
scanned.
With
landing gear now skyward, the engine popped and
quit;
Shoved the stick too far forward, climbed inverted
for a bit.
It was then that I decided to initiate some
roll;
Pushed the stick into the corner, added rudder to
the toll.
The
trusty sturdy Stearman did all that it could
do;
Rotated rather weakly as we pointed at the
blue.
I felt the stall approaching, knew a tailslide was
at hand;
Got the stick back into neutral; (no hammerhead was
planned!)
It
seemed to take forever for the front and back to
swap;
And the airplane now was spinning like it didn't
want to stop.
The venting of the gas from the wing tank to my
face;
Means the spin I'm in's inverted, normal motions to
re-place!
I
feed in counter rudder, stop the spin and merely
dive;
Pull back on the stick, hear the wires come
alive.
As the airplane found its axis, the carburetor
fed;
The engine came on full bore; the tach was in the
red!
Yanked
the throttle back to idle; now the airspeed got a
glance;
We're a long ways past the red line, hauled the
stick and took a chance.
The "G" load was a power as we rounded out the
curve;
The blurring of my vision spoke of blood and optic
nerve.
Exchanged
our speed for altitude as spots flew in my
eyes;
When down to cruise, put down the nose, flew level
in the skies.
At first I cursed my clumsiness, ashamed of the
mess I'd made;
Hoped no one had seen my show; at least no one in
the trade!
But
then I got to thinking, what this looked like from
the ground;
The action quite unbroken as I went from round to
round.
It was not so very often that one would chance to
see,
A half loop to a climbing roll, and a hammerhead
for free;
A
tailslide for an encore-- add one inverted
spin;
Do a split-ess for finale with sound effects thrown
in.
I never did discuss this with cadets or Navy
brass,
(Inverted spins "verbotten") for those in solo
class.
But
as I go to airshows and watch the big boys fly,
I think back to MY "airshow"---how I didn't even
try.
