It’s Christmas and memories abound. Especially at my age, (70). And what is a man when he dies but only a mire collection of memories to other people. And maybe that’s why at this age I’ve become very nostalgic and feel the need to pass on some of my collection.
The earliest Christmas I remember is Christmas of 1945. I was going to be 6 in March. WW2 was over. My uncles were already home from the war in Europe and my father, John Henry had just come home from the Pacific. These were the earliest memories of my dad. He was not as ‘loud’ as my uncles (both Goolsby and Morgan), who often drank a little too much. I remember Uncle Bob, thin and 6’4”, rolling around on the ground drunk and giggling as his wife Aunt Maurice (barely 5 foot) jumped up and down in frustration, trying to kick him, in our front yard. Like a Benny hen after a snake.
Dad was a ‘tea total-er’ compared to my uncles. But that Christmas - - - well the war was over, I guess there was much to celebrate. From the time I was three until Dad came back home, there was only my mother, aunt, grandmother and a black woman (I remember she looked just like Hattie McDaniel in the movie “Gone With the Wind”) who took care of me and my brother and cousins since all the women working on the war effort. And having a father was really new to me at that point so perhaps I was particularly watching every move this “new man” in my young life was doing. That year the uncles and my dad, decided that us boys needed to have Bebe guns. I remember they were lever action Daisy “Red Riders” and from them I learn much, both good and bad.
One evening the whole family was together. It might have been Christmas eve or Christmas night. Besides the Bebe guns I remember an electric train set that was running and the uncles and dad were playing ("setting it up and testing" they said) with it. Somehow they needed to "test" the Bebe guns. Targets? Why the Christmas tree ornaments of course. Much the chagrin and loud protest of the woman, they took turns at marksmen ship they learn in the war I guess. To 3 of my uncles I believe this was more fun than the beaches at Omaha or Anzio.
At one point Dad took a pot shot at my Mom’s passing posterior, which must have really stung from the yelp she let out. That didn’t help her disposition any of course, but for the men it cause great hilarity. I seem to remember, it was my diminutive grand mother “Mud Pud” Lola Bleaka, who put a stop to the shooting, where her daughters had had no effect at all. At this point all that remained of the ornaments were 5 or so bulbs.
To this day I have those 5 bulbs that survived that Christmas. My wife thinks these bulbs are old and ugly, and that makes sense because she has no “history” to them. I put them on the tree in memory of my father, my uncles, my family in its happiest days and each time I see them, I remember my earliest Christmas. And though they have faded color and rusty hooks, their memories are still bright to me.
And what will happen to these “memories” of mine when I’m gone? That part of me which IS me will be gone too. In other words more of me besides my body will disappear too. We pass on our genes in our children, and though them our grandchildren and great grandchildren. Our bodies changed back to the basic elements they were made from to begin with. In this world our souls are really nothing but memories that made our character which become memories to others. The family of long ago still lives in my heart. The only way can I see to keep them alive in time and place is in those old faded and dusty Christmas tree bulbs.
Maybe I can give them to my only granddaughter Elise. In her I see the very personification of Christmas. She has been wearing Christmas colors and singing corals constantly around the house since Thanksgiving Day. She is so full of joy and excited spirit, it is unbelievable she has so much energy. She is now going on seven. She spent a good deal of time, busily making personal Christmas cards for each and every one of the family. When you opened the card there was no doubt who it was for, for in either picture or word you knew instantly it for you. So much love poured out them.
So maybe sometime in a distant future as a little old lady with grand children, she’ll tell my story of my first Christmas after a great war. She’ll show them the old bulbs that survived that Christmas night of 1945. That way I still be alive as well as the family I loved on that Christmas. Maybe seeing those old beat up bulbs, they’ll wonder about me and those I loved. We will still be alive - - - but in their memories.
I hope you had a Merry Christmas my friends. May you make many memories with those you love and love you and live forever.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Before GPS there was - - - - - me.
I scanned the horizon ahead for the front but saw no sign of even one cumulonimbus. I got a quick hack off WWV. From the almanac I determined the local hour angle and from there went to the declination tables and picked one object that should be on the nose and a second at about 5 o'clock. The third would be my favorite and easiest to shoot and as always at 9 o'clock. I prepared the A-10 for the first shot. Assumed altitude would be 53 degrees on a bearing of zero nine five. Sure enough there sat Arturo dead center of the bubble and cross hairs. Watching the second hand hit its mark, I started the averager for the two minute run. Time up, I quickly wrote down the average altitude and switched to the second object, a huge red giant. This time the altitude was 49 degrees and a two ten bearing. Again it hung steady in the bubble level and cross hairs and again I started the averager for the shot. That done and noted on my pad, I swung the A-10 around to shoot my favorite. My assumed latitude was 48 degrees. Never moving and always due north. There sat Polaris as she had sat for thousands of years and thousands of travelers like me.
Above is what I wrote for my daughter Drissing, She is a bi lingual school psychologist and had a project where she wanted to demonstrate the difficulty a person might have interpreting the meaning of a story unless they were familiar with the jargon or the context in which the speaker or writer was making. She had asked me because -One I am her Dad, and Two, she felt some part of aviation would be unfathomable by most people. I thought "Why not about the lost art of celestial navigation?" Thus what was written above. I assured her that another navigator would understand every word.
Writing it, I was taken back to my early days with Pan American in 1966, when they made me a navigator. I view it now with nostalgic fondness. I learn a lot under the tutorage of "Blackie" Blackburn, our instructor and Pan Am's chief navigator. A whole book could be written on just his experiences I am sure.
Though I was hired as a pilot, my first position would be as a Navigator and celestial navigation was one of the disciplines we had to learn. Though not difficult it required a number of precise steps (10) which included precise timing with a very accurate watch. Believe it or not all this intertwined to produce I and my wife's, ( we had been married just six months) first argument. But more about that latter.
First Blackburn was perfect to introduce an ignorant pilot like me to arcane art of celestial navigation which by 1970 was no longer used at Pan Am. He was from the old school of navigators that plied the far flung routes in Pan Am's flying boats. This was the really - really early days when celestial navigation was the only means of keeping track of one's position. His expertise was such that he was instrumental in writing the USAF Navigators Manuals. He was an excellent instructor too and seem to have just the right analogy where any students could latch on to a concept. I remember one in particular. "How to get un-lost". Paraphrasing him, "If you find yourself lost, use some simple deductions. First your are the third planet in the solar system. That eliminates a whole lot places you could be. Next you started out over one of seven bodies of water on this planet, just try to remember which one. In the scream of things compared to the universe, you now have a precise fix". From that point he went into the finer points of procedures to deduct your actual position to within 10 nm, which in those days (1966) was considered accurate over water and out of range of radio signals. That tenacity to stick to the problem and deduct it out, would stand me in good stead when some 7 months later I needed that process of deduction and that in the "scream of the universe" my problem was quite small.
The stories about Blackie at Pan Am were legions among the pilots. How he would hold up a navigator's chart up to the light to see where the pin picks from the navigator's dividers (used to measure distances) were on the chart. (Some navigator would fake their position to show "on course" when really way off course). One enterprising chap surmised this, and left Blackie a message ( supposedly "F&#K you, Blackie" ). When confronted with this story, Blackie always swore it said "Merry Christmas". Another was that Blackie once neglected to bring his charts on a flight. This was a flying boat Boeing 314 from NY to SNN. This seem to not phase Blackie. He went to the purser's cabin and got a big piece of paper from a roll that was used in cabin. He than proceeded to draw his own map. Now I don't know the facts of how he did this, (most likely drawing up a grid to represent the longitudes and latitudes) but I was assured by a number of 'old timers' Blackie found Shannon with no problem and hit his ETAs right on.
Not much got by him either. Once I found myself in a hurry to get the POMAR (position & meteorological report) up to the captain in time to be transmitted to ATC. One of numerous things on this report was figuring what the actual winds were. This took some time and so thinking no one "up front" could tell one way or the other, I quickly penned in "L/V" which stood for "light and variable". At the end of each flight all navigation paper work was turned in, and went straight to the nav office and right to the hands of Blackie. Some days later, I get a hand written note in my company mail box from Chief Navigator Blackburn.
"Mr. Goolsby.
As to you flight of - - - - - in aircraft ------ , JFK to LHR. When your TAS (true airspeed) is 480 kts and your GS (ground speed) is 590 kts, winds are not likely light and variable.
Signed, Chief Navigator, Blackburn"
I was caught. And by a man I deeply respected. I was duly embarrassed and never did that again. And I wish he could have appreciated my dilemma some months later, when I had my most perplexing and than proud moment as a navigator.
Pan Am's crew scheduling had called me out from a standby reserve to "deadhead to Shannon, lay over, and navigate ferry flight #17 from Shannon to Gander. Deadhead to JFK." Now I should have been at least a little more astute and asked questions at that point, but being new at PAA, I'd better just get dressed, packed and head for the airport. I deadheaded out on a PAA 707 to Shannon and checked into the hotel with instruction that the pilots would pick me up around 0300. Sure enough on the morning of Sept, 18th at 0300 I was by the front door when a van pulled up. Typically I didn't know any of the pilots, nor they me. We arrived at PAA's operation office and I quickly gathered up my copy of the flight plan, maps, wind aloft maps, ship at sea position reports, and rushed out the door.
There sitting on the ramp was one airplane. A DC-6B (N6110C) Clipper "Natchez". Now I need to back up here a little. First, to this point I had navigated nothing but PanAm's Boeing 707 jets. I knew nothing of the DC-6 systems or what she had for navigation! Hell, I didn't even know how to get in the DC-6! PAA had used DC-6s on its "IGS" (inter German service). Germany was still divided back than and the only way from West Germany to Berlin was flying "the corridor" set aside between the east and west. PAA was phasing out the DC-6 for the newer and faster Boeing 727s. This DC-6 was on her way back to either be sold, scrapped, or used on the R&R trips out of Viet Nam. This happened to be the last one and thus the last PAA piston airplane to cross the Atlantic. None of this crossed my mind as I quickly tried to get ready for the flight. I didn't have a whole lot of time to get ready either. Since this was a ferry flight, we didn't have wait for catering, passengers, or their bags. As soon as the crew could get the engines started, we'd go. Fate stepped in to give me some breathing room.
On the IGS none of the DC-6's long range fuel tanks were needed to used in its daily service. Her long range tank caps had become stuck without use. It took the ground crew some 2 hours to get them loose, and fueled (we needed them for the ocean crossing) and that gave me time to check and learn the DC-6. It turned out she had the standard stuff needed, though some of it was old vacuum tube stuff. The LORAN was a old APN-9 with huge tuning knobs. Looked like something from a WW2 movie (it was). I had only seen one in ground school and was taught how to use it, but never used one 'on the line'. I turned it on, tested it, than turned it off until I needed it. The rest of the equipment was the normal things, sextant, ADF, radar altimeter, VOR, DME, etc etc.
With required fuel finally on board, we fired up, and blasted off into the night sky headed for our first check point along the 10 degrees west longitude. As navigator I gave the captain the VOR bearing he was to fly and I started plotting VOR/DME fixes. I was doing this at my normal "jet rate" of a fix every 15 minutes. I suddenly found all my fixes were falling on top of one another! You see a B707 cruise at about 10 nm (nautical miles) per minute, while a DC-6 cruise at a leisurely 4 to 5 nm per minute. On the chart, my carefully drawn fixes, were piling up next to each other so close that I could not measure the distance between them with the dividers. For the first time in my navigation career, I HAD to relax and let the DC-6 go some distance before I take another fix. Something I didn't dare do in the 707. "You can get lost quickly in a jet".
After making our 10 west report to Shannon Ocianatic Control, we started losing the VOR/DME signal due to the 'line of sight' characteristics of the station and the earth's curvature. Time to turn on the LORAN APN-9. Loran is a 'long range air navigation' its signal actually follows the curvature of the earth somewhat. At night that signal extents far out into the Atlantic (almost a thousand miles) but during the day light hours, it is severely shorten to less than half. It was also very fast way of figuring out a fix requiring about 3 or 4 steps. A average navigator could get a LOP (line of position) from 3 different LORAN stations in about 3 minutes and plot them on the chart in about another 3 minutes. While it had its limits, it was the most used method.
But this night again the fates were to step in. About 30 minutes after I turned on the APN-9, it started smoking! Now smoke in an airplane causes all kinds of concerns! Particularly among the pilots up front. Three sets of eyes, (captain, co-pilot, and flight engineer) immediately riveted back on me. I was ahead of the command "Shut that damn thing OFF!" and I was not about to turn it on again, particularly on hearing the skipper's command, "And leave it OFF!" Well so much for the LORAN, she was "Tango Uniform" or in pilot's vernacular 'tits up'.
Almost immediately the radar altimeter blew its tube. As I was about to jot down a reading from it, I saw its trace suddenly get very bright and than go out totally. The radar altimeter is a very useful gadget for a navigator. By comparing 'actual altitude' to 'pressure altitude' over a specific distance, and dividing that difference by a "Dog Factor" for your latitude, you can get your drift that is caused by the wind. Knowing you "drift" allows you to stay on course. I had now lost 2 of my primary means of navigating.
I told the captain of my predicament and only received an indifferent surge in acknowledgement. I was quite definitely on my own. Time to start thinking. I still had the sextant and though celestial navigation was not my best forte, I pulled it from its case and set it up in to mount in the top of the cabin. I than started my pre computing for my first fix. The first star I picked was Polaris. A very friendly star to all navigators who ply the northern hemisphere. Getting its angle from level, and with very little adjustments, it automatically gives you your latitude. The next stars gave me a "along track line of position" which in essence defined my actual position, at least at the time I measure the stars angles. You see the airplane is still moving at 4nm per minute.
While I was taking the 'star shots' I noted with some concern that the sky to the east was getting alarming bright. The sun was coming up! Soon my friendly stars would be hidden in its glare. I was getting really concerned now as I realized that most of this flight would be in day light.
I do not know where inspirations come from. In my case I believe the 'Great Navigator' above looks after me big time. For whatever reason, He pulls rabbits out of my cranium and says "See stupid, the answer was there all the time." This rabbit, steamed from a book I read just the year before, by Sabruo Sakai, Japan's top Ace in WW2. In reliving his flight training days, he mentioned that Japan's pilots were taught how "to find and see Venus in the day time." Taking Sakai at his word, I turn to the Airmen's Almanac and sure enough, along with the sun, moon, first point of Aries, was the sidereal hour angle for Venus. Making a quick calculation, I found that its LHA (local hour angle) would be almost perfect for my flight.
I jumped to the sextant, dialed in the height and than swung the sextant around to the bearing listed in the declination tables book. Opening in the pressure valve, the sextant was neatly sucked up by the pressure of the cabin. Leveling the sextant with its bubble level and cross hairs, there sat Venus in almost perfect alignment! I was surprised on how bright it was even in day light.
Now if only I had another star to steer by. Duh! There it sat in all its splendor. The sun. It is a star and can be measured. So now I had 2 stars (actually one star and one planet) to steer by. Life was good.
Since my radar altimeter was TU, I used the wind aloft charts to pick up wind speed and direction. I used these to figure my what my drift MIGHT be, and applied that to my magnetic course. I now sat back and let the DC-6 make some distance that I could measure. I went and got a cup of coffee, hit the john, went forward chatted a little with the rest of the crew, who seemed unconcern, and indifferent to my problems. (After all fly west over the Atlantic, you're bound to hit North America somewhere) Some 45 minutes later I was please to find that a sun and Venus fix, showed me to be very close to on course. Making some small adjustments, I passed up the info to the captain and on we went.
The rest of the flight was like that. In many ways despite my problems it was the most comfortable flight I had had to that time. The DC-6 was not in a big hurry to get lost. Everything was done a leisurely pace compared to navigating a jet. By the time we picked up the VOR/DME from Gander, I was truly in love with the DC-6. I was even able to take a quick 10 minute nap between fixes!
It was standard practice back then to give the captain a estimate time, radial, and distance when he would receive a signal from a VOR/DME as we approached the coast. This was based on line of sight for the altitude you were flying. How good a navigator you were to most of the pilots, was close you came to that estimate. I didn't go up front to watch, but was gratified to hear the skipper, called back, "Right on" and see a thumbs up signal from the flight engineer.
After that flight, I never felt rushed or behind as a navigator again. I had earned my spurs so to speak. To this day I still will show off my navigator's license. A real oddity to inquiring FAA inspectors and other pilots. And I was a member of a dieing breed of airmen whom like the navigator of the great sailing ships that plied seas and push civilization forward, did the same for the airplane. Since than I've "never been lost". Just "doubtful" as to my "exact position".
The first argument with me and wife, Dede? We were married just 6 months, and hardly had a nickel between us. PanAm was paying $500/month. We lived in a basement apartment near LGA and were really watching our pennies. It became obvious to me in navigation school, that I needed a very good navigation watch. My high school graduation watch just was not up to the task. One day at the company store, for $35.00 I bought a "Astrojet Navigator". A windup main spring (no batteries back than), it had a sweep second hand, with a 24 hours face, and guarantee to keep perfect time for 24 hours. The problem was I had not cleared this with Dede. Not that she would not have not let me get the watch, but that I had violate one of the first covenants we had made together. Consulting on each and every purchase. That purchase cause much cachous to her finely planned budget. To this day friends, (45 years at this writing) Dede buys my watches.
Above is what I wrote for my daughter Drissing, She is a bi lingual school psychologist and had a project where she wanted to demonstrate the difficulty a person might have interpreting the meaning of a story unless they were familiar with the jargon or the context in which the speaker or writer was making. She had asked me because -One I am her Dad, and Two, she felt some part of aviation would be unfathomable by most people. I thought "Why not about the lost art of celestial navigation?" Thus what was written above. I assured her that another navigator would understand every word.
Writing it, I was taken back to my early days with Pan American in 1966, when they made me a navigator. I view it now with nostalgic fondness. I learn a lot under the tutorage of "Blackie" Blackburn, our instructor and Pan Am's chief navigator. A whole book could be written on just his experiences I am sure.
Though I was hired as a pilot, my first position would be as a Navigator and celestial navigation was one of the disciplines we had to learn. Though not difficult it required a number of precise steps (10) which included precise timing with a very accurate watch. Believe it or not all this intertwined to produce I and my wife's, ( we had been married just six months) first argument. But more about that latter.
First Blackburn was perfect to introduce an ignorant pilot like me to arcane art of celestial navigation which by 1970 was no longer used at Pan Am. He was from the old school of navigators that plied the far flung routes in Pan Am's flying boats. This was the really - really early days when celestial navigation was the only means of keeping track of one's position. His expertise was such that he was instrumental in writing the USAF Navigators Manuals. He was an excellent instructor too and seem to have just the right analogy where any students could latch on to a concept. I remember one in particular. "How to get un-lost". Paraphrasing him, "If you find yourself lost, use some simple deductions. First your are the third planet in the solar system. That eliminates a whole lot places you could be. Next you started out over one of seven bodies of water on this planet, just try to remember which one. In the scream of things compared to the universe, you now have a precise fix". From that point he went into the finer points of procedures to deduct your actual position to within 10 nm, which in those days (1966) was considered accurate over water and out of range of radio signals. That tenacity to stick to the problem and deduct it out, would stand me in good stead when some 7 months later I needed that process of deduction and that in the "scream of the universe" my problem was quite small.
The stories about Blackie at Pan Am were legions among the pilots. How he would hold up a navigator's chart up to the light to see where the pin picks from the navigator's dividers (used to measure distances) were on the chart. (Some navigator would fake their position to show "on course" when really way off course). One enterprising chap surmised this, and left Blackie a message ( supposedly "F&#K you, Blackie" ). When confronted with this story, Blackie always swore it said "Merry Christmas". Another was that Blackie once neglected to bring his charts on a flight. This was a flying boat Boeing 314 from NY to SNN. This seem to not phase Blackie. He went to the purser's cabin and got a big piece of paper from a roll that was used in cabin. He than proceeded to draw his own map. Now I don't know the facts of how he did this, (most likely drawing up a grid to represent the longitudes and latitudes) but I was assured by a number of 'old timers' Blackie found Shannon with no problem and hit his ETAs right on.
Not much got by him either. Once I found myself in a hurry to get the POMAR (position & meteorological report) up to the captain in time to be transmitted to ATC. One of numerous things on this report was figuring what the actual winds were. This took some time and so thinking no one "up front" could tell one way or the other, I quickly penned in "L/V" which stood for "light and variable". At the end of each flight all navigation paper work was turned in, and went straight to the nav office and right to the hands of Blackie. Some days later, I get a hand written note in my company mail box from Chief Navigator Blackburn.
"Mr. Goolsby.
As to you flight of - - - - - in aircraft ------ , JFK to LHR. When your TAS (true airspeed) is 480 kts and your GS (ground speed) is 590 kts, winds are not likely light and variable.
Signed, Chief Navigator, Blackburn"
I was caught. And by a man I deeply respected. I was duly embarrassed and never did that again. And I wish he could have appreciated my dilemma some months later, when I had my most perplexing and than proud moment as a navigator.
Pan Am's crew scheduling had called me out from a standby reserve to "deadhead to Shannon, lay over, and navigate ferry flight #17 from Shannon to Gander. Deadhead to JFK." Now I should have been at least a little more astute and asked questions at that point, but being new at PAA, I'd better just get dressed, packed and head for the airport. I deadheaded out on a PAA 707 to Shannon and checked into the hotel with instruction that the pilots would pick me up around 0300. Sure enough on the morning of Sept, 18th at 0300 I was by the front door when a van pulled up. Typically I didn't know any of the pilots, nor they me. We arrived at PAA's operation office and I quickly gathered up my copy of the flight plan, maps, wind aloft maps, ship at sea position reports, and rushed out the door.
There sitting on the ramp was one airplane. A DC-6B (N6110C) Clipper "Natchez". Now I need to back up here a little. First, to this point I had navigated nothing but PanAm's Boeing 707 jets. I knew nothing of the DC-6 systems or what she had for navigation! Hell, I didn't even know how to get in the DC-6! PAA had used DC-6s on its "IGS" (inter German service). Germany was still divided back than and the only way from West Germany to Berlin was flying "the corridor" set aside between the east and west. PAA was phasing out the DC-6 for the newer and faster Boeing 727s. This DC-6 was on her way back to either be sold, scrapped, or used on the R&R trips out of Viet Nam. This happened to be the last one and thus the last PAA piston airplane to cross the Atlantic. None of this crossed my mind as I quickly tried to get ready for the flight. I didn't have a whole lot of time to get ready either. Since this was a ferry flight, we didn't have wait for catering, passengers, or their bags. As soon as the crew could get the engines started, we'd go. Fate stepped in to give me some breathing room.
On the IGS none of the DC-6's long range fuel tanks were needed to used in its daily service. Her long range tank caps had become stuck without use. It took the ground crew some 2 hours to get them loose, and fueled (we needed them for the ocean crossing) and that gave me time to check and learn the DC-6. It turned out she had the standard stuff needed, though some of it was old vacuum tube stuff. The LORAN was a old APN-9 with huge tuning knobs. Looked like something from a WW2 movie (it was). I had only seen one in ground school and was taught how to use it, but never used one 'on the line'. I turned it on, tested it, than turned it off until I needed it. The rest of the equipment was the normal things, sextant, ADF, radar altimeter, VOR, DME, etc etc.
With required fuel finally on board, we fired up, and blasted off into the night sky headed for our first check point along the 10 degrees west longitude. As navigator I gave the captain the VOR bearing he was to fly and I started plotting VOR/DME fixes. I was doing this at my normal "jet rate" of a fix every 15 minutes. I suddenly found all my fixes were falling on top of one another! You see a B707 cruise at about 10 nm (nautical miles) per minute, while a DC-6 cruise at a leisurely 4 to 5 nm per minute. On the chart, my carefully drawn fixes, were piling up next to each other so close that I could not measure the distance between them with the dividers. For the first time in my navigation career, I HAD to relax and let the DC-6 go some distance before I take another fix. Something I didn't dare do in the 707. "You can get lost quickly in a jet".
After making our 10 west report to Shannon Ocianatic Control, we started losing the VOR/DME signal due to the 'line of sight' characteristics of the station and the earth's curvature. Time to turn on the LORAN APN-9. Loran is a 'long range air navigation' its signal actually follows the curvature of the earth somewhat. At night that signal extents far out into the Atlantic (almost a thousand miles) but during the day light hours, it is severely shorten to less than half. It was also very fast way of figuring out a fix requiring about 3 or 4 steps. A average navigator could get a LOP (line of position) from 3 different LORAN stations in about 3 minutes and plot them on the chart in about another 3 minutes. While it had its limits, it was the most used method.
But this night again the fates were to step in. About 30 minutes after I turned on the APN-9, it started smoking! Now smoke in an airplane causes all kinds of concerns! Particularly among the pilots up front. Three sets of eyes, (captain, co-pilot, and flight engineer) immediately riveted back on me. I was ahead of the command "Shut that damn thing OFF!" and I was not about to turn it on again, particularly on hearing the skipper's command, "And leave it OFF!" Well so much for the LORAN, she was "Tango Uniform" or in pilot's vernacular 'tits up'.
Almost immediately the radar altimeter blew its tube. As I was about to jot down a reading from it, I saw its trace suddenly get very bright and than go out totally. The radar altimeter is a very useful gadget for a navigator. By comparing 'actual altitude' to 'pressure altitude' over a specific distance, and dividing that difference by a "Dog Factor" for your latitude, you can get your drift that is caused by the wind. Knowing you "drift" allows you to stay on course. I had now lost 2 of my primary means of navigating.
I told the captain of my predicament and only received an indifferent surge in acknowledgement. I was quite definitely on my own. Time to start thinking. I still had the sextant and though celestial navigation was not my best forte, I pulled it from its case and set it up in to mount in the top of the cabin. I than started my pre computing for my first fix. The first star I picked was Polaris. A very friendly star to all navigators who ply the northern hemisphere. Getting its angle from level, and with very little adjustments, it automatically gives you your latitude. The next stars gave me a "along track line of position" which in essence defined my actual position, at least at the time I measure the stars angles. You see the airplane is still moving at 4nm per minute.
While I was taking the 'star shots' I noted with some concern that the sky to the east was getting alarming bright. The sun was coming up! Soon my friendly stars would be hidden in its glare. I was getting really concerned now as I realized that most of this flight would be in day light.
I do not know where inspirations come from. In my case I believe the 'Great Navigator' above looks after me big time. For whatever reason, He pulls rabbits out of my cranium and says "See stupid, the answer was there all the time." This rabbit, steamed from a book I read just the year before, by Sabruo Sakai, Japan's top Ace in WW2. In reliving his flight training days, he mentioned that Japan's pilots were taught how "to find and see Venus in the day time." Taking Sakai at his word, I turn to the Airmen's Almanac and sure enough, along with the sun, moon, first point of Aries, was the sidereal hour angle for Venus. Making a quick calculation, I found that its LHA (local hour angle) would be almost perfect for my flight.
I jumped to the sextant, dialed in the height and than swung the sextant around to the bearing listed in the declination tables book. Opening in the pressure valve, the sextant was neatly sucked up by the pressure of the cabin. Leveling the sextant with its bubble level and cross hairs, there sat Venus in almost perfect alignment! I was surprised on how bright it was even in day light.
Now if only I had another star to steer by. Duh! There it sat in all its splendor. The sun. It is a star and can be measured. So now I had 2 stars (actually one star and one planet) to steer by. Life was good.
Since my radar altimeter was TU, I used the wind aloft charts to pick up wind speed and direction. I used these to figure my what my drift MIGHT be, and applied that to my magnetic course. I now sat back and let the DC-6 make some distance that I could measure. I went and got a cup of coffee, hit the john, went forward chatted a little with the rest of the crew, who seemed unconcern, and indifferent to my problems. (After all fly west over the Atlantic, you're bound to hit North America somewhere) Some 45 minutes later I was please to find that a sun and Venus fix, showed me to be very close to on course. Making some small adjustments, I passed up the info to the captain and on we went.
The rest of the flight was like that. In many ways despite my problems it was the most comfortable flight I had had to that time. The DC-6 was not in a big hurry to get lost. Everything was done a leisurely pace compared to navigating a jet. By the time we picked up the VOR/DME from Gander, I was truly in love with the DC-6. I was even able to take a quick 10 minute nap between fixes!
It was standard practice back then to give the captain a estimate time, radial, and distance when he would receive a signal from a VOR/DME as we approached the coast. This was based on line of sight for the altitude you were flying. How good a navigator you were to most of the pilots, was close you came to that estimate. I didn't go up front to watch, but was gratified to hear the skipper, called back, "Right on" and see a thumbs up signal from the flight engineer.
After that flight, I never felt rushed or behind as a navigator again. I had earned my spurs so to speak. To this day I still will show off my navigator's license. A real oddity to inquiring FAA inspectors and other pilots. And I was a member of a dieing breed of airmen whom like the navigator of the great sailing ships that plied seas and push civilization forward, did the same for the airplane. Since than I've "never been lost". Just "doubtful" as to my "exact position".
The first argument with me and wife, Dede? We were married just 6 months, and hardly had a nickel between us. PanAm was paying $500/month. We lived in a basement apartment near LGA and were really watching our pennies. It became obvious to me in navigation school, that I needed a very good navigation watch. My high school graduation watch just was not up to the task. One day at the company store, for $35.00 I bought a "Astrojet Navigator". A windup main spring (no batteries back than), it had a sweep second hand, with a 24 hours face, and guarantee to keep perfect time for 24 hours. The problem was I had not cleared this with Dede. Not that she would not have not let me get the watch, but that I had violate one of the first covenants we had made together. Consulting on each and every purchase. That purchase cause much cachous to her finely planned budget. To this day friends, (45 years at this writing) Dede buys my watches.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Why illegal alien amnesty will not work with Americans
Why illegal alien amnesty will not work with Americans.
Webster: Trust "1 a : assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something"
If president Obama does not understand the relevance of the word "trust" in our county of laws, what good was his oaths of office?
He persist to call illegal aliens a "undocumented immigrants" but that is a defense lawyer spin tactic on the illegal behavior, of breaking the law, and knowing and willfully doing so. No matter how he spins it, it is criminal action. And those who help them are very much aiding and abetting criminal actions.
Why are average Americans so apposed to amnesty? Simply TRUST. As law bidding citizens, we need the trust of our fellow citizens to follow the laws of the land. If we, each of us, willfully obey laws we in turn deserve the trust of our fellow citizens. We are playing by the rules and therefore we expect other fellow citizens to do so. It allows us the very pursuit of life, liberty and happiness, guarantied by our constitution.
If someone has broken a covenant, they have proven they can't be trusted. It does not matter one hill of beans WHY? Wrong is wrong. Murder is just as wrong as crossing our boarder illegally.
My family, my self, and other Americans have suffered from these criminal boarder crossings. It is not our doing or our fault this lawlessness against us is happening. It is being done by a society that does not believe in the rule of law. The fact that Americans put a great deal of value on the worthiness of TRUST in the character and truth of someone. Those (Obama) who do not understand the relevance and need of trust in our daily lives, do not understand the basic truth of America. It is an essential part of America.
A person who have criminally violated a law can not, in American hearts, be trusted. Nor can a person of who deafens their action. Especially for nothing more than political gain. And the American people are questioning their trust of the government.
Yes we need "immigration reform" but amnesty can not be part of it. Why give any consideration to those that can not be trusted? To be rewarded for criminal acts. This defies logistic.
Jim Goolsby
Webster: Trust "1 a : assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something"
If president Obama does not understand the relevance of the word "trust" in our county of laws, what good was his oaths of office?
He persist to call illegal aliens a "undocumented immigrants" but that is a defense lawyer spin tactic on the illegal behavior, of breaking the law, and knowing and willfully doing so. No matter how he spins it, it is criminal action. And those who help them are very much aiding and abetting criminal actions.
Why are average Americans so apposed to amnesty? Simply TRUST. As law bidding citizens, we need the trust of our fellow citizens to follow the laws of the land. If we, each of us, willfully obey laws we in turn deserve the trust of our fellow citizens. We are playing by the rules and therefore we expect other fellow citizens to do so. It allows us the very pursuit of life, liberty and happiness, guarantied by our constitution.
If someone has broken a covenant, they have proven they can't be trusted. It does not matter one hill of beans WHY? Wrong is wrong. Murder is just as wrong as crossing our boarder illegally.
My family, my self, and other Americans have suffered from these criminal boarder crossings. It is not our doing or our fault this lawlessness against us is happening. It is being done by a society that does not believe in the rule of law. The fact that Americans put a great deal of value on the worthiness of TRUST in the character and truth of someone. Those (Obama) who do not understand the relevance and need of trust in our daily lives, do not understand the basic truth of America. It is an essential part of America.
A person who have criminally violated a law can not, in American hearts, be trusted. Nor can a person of who deafens their action. Especially for nothing more than political gain. And the American people are questioning their trust of the government.
Yes we need "immigration reform" but amnesty can not be part of it. Why give any consideration to those that can not be trusted? To be rewarded for criminal acts. This defies logistic.
Jim Goolsby
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Well just 2 more days.
Well its just 2 more days before I head home from flying the bomb (B-24) after 2 months. I'll have some lasting memories from all it. Some good some not good at all.
The flight up the coast yesterday from Arcata (KACV) was beautiful. The wind when we left was whistling a gale but was down runway 31 for the takeoff. The sky was crystal clear and except for sea haze the visibility was almost unlimited. I only climbed up to 1,000 feet before setting up cruise power on the four PW 1830-65 engines. Hugging the shore line we proceeded north. Although we were heading for Medford, Oregon , going direct would mean climbing to some eight or nine thousand feet. Flying the coast up to Crescent City and than a pass to Grants Pass before turning to Medford , we would only need to climb up 4,500 feet.
We had a number of "riders" on board. These folks are usually sponsors, media, or local WW2 veterans and family member. There are "comp" riders, folks whom we give a ride in lieu of compensation for cars, hotel rooms and such. Sometimes we carry mechanics and sectaries of the FBOs (Fix Based Operators) at the airports where we stop. Anyway its usually a happy group. There was enough time to give each of them a few minutes at the controls of our lumbering beast. "This is cool!" "Fantastic!" "Wow!" "This is what I always dreamed of!" and "I can not believe I'm doing this!" are the not uncommon remarks I hear on the intercom. From the vets its a little different. Most of them are quite. They seem to stare off in the distance. I don't know if they are looking at the memories of the distant past or in some automatic mode of self preservation from that distant past of looking out for boogies. They don't say much but they do look across at me at times and smile. Than I know we're both on the same page. We both love the old girl of the B-24. Both for different reasons but still love her the same. As always they will often slip out a story or two of that distant past. "Shot down at 'such and such'". "The bombardier was a drunk but could hit anything you could see". And so on. They always remember the names of those killed with them and what happed to them in detail. Like it is an obligation and promise to do so. They are living memoriam themselves.
While going up the coast, I noticed the wind down on the surface was really kicking up. Big Pacific rollers would crest and break at their tops. The wind would than blow the white crests off the wave tops and a long and wide carpet of delicate white bubbles would be left behind the wave slopping down into the troth. According to my seafaring flight mechanic, that indicated a wind of "35 to 40 knots". And it looked cold. I was suddenly happy I had 4 trusted PW engine purring out on the wings.
The shore line is very rugged along here. As a matter of fact in some places there is no "shore" to speak of. Just solid rock coming out the ocean with endless breakers trying to tear it down. The locals call this area "The Lost Coast" I understand. And with the wind that was blowing, they "were looking for good fishing and whales to come in close to shore". But we see neither fish nor whales as we go.
At Crescent City we made a turn around the lighthouse stuck out on an impossibly small rock. We than put the mixtures controls to "Auto Rich" and the power up to 2300 rpm and 35" mp. Thus set we climbed up to 4,500 feet and turned up the Illinois valley toward Grants Pass. The world changed. From the crashing waves of the Pacific to the giant and majestic seclusion of the red woods. Here we passed Preston Peak on our right at 7,309 feet, in the Siskiyou wilderness area. Just south of Kirby Peak we crossed the 42nd degree latitude, that marks the California Oregon state line. At Grants Pass, we turned east over the Rough river and descended into Medford.
The mountains had done their job. Fore there was just a breath of wind down runway 32 at KMFD. Though the TSA bureaucracy would put a damper on the rest of the day, as I sit back and just think about the flight, better and wonderful thoughts come back of what I was allowed to witness. The joy of someone experiencing something for the first time. The joy of sharing memories from heroes. The joy of seeing God's good earth in its power and solitude. In my 54 years as an aviator, God has never disappointed me. I am nearing the end of my allotted time here (well maybe in another 10 or 15 years) but I when I choose to be a pilot so long ago, I had no idea, that in all the pursuits that flying allowed me, (wife, children, grandchildren) he would give me a profession that would also keep me young at heart and be able give something to other people as well. For that I am grateful.
The flight up the coast yesterday from Arcata (KACV) was beautiful. The wind when we left was whistling a gale but was down runway 31 for the takeoff. The sky was crystal clear and except for sea haze the visibility was almost unlimited. I only climbed up to 1,000 feet before setting up cruise power on the four PW 1830-65 engines. Hugging the shore line we proceeded north. Although we were heading for Medford, Oregon , going direct would mean climbing to some eight or nine thousand feet. Flying the coast up to Crescent City and than a pass to Grants Pass before turning to Medford , we would only need to climb up 4,500 feet.
We had a number of "riders" on board. These folks are usually sponsors, media, or local WW2 veterans and family member. There are "comp" riders, folks whom we give a ride in lieu of compensation for cars, hotel rooms and such. Sometimes we carry mechanics and sectaries of the FBOs (Fix Based Operators) at the airports where we stop. Anyway its usually a happy group. There was enough time to give each of them a few minutes at the controls of our lumbering beast. "This is cool!" "Fantastic!" "Wow!" "This is what I always dreamed of!" and "I can not believe I'm doing this!" are the not uncommon remarks I hear on the intercom. From the vets its a little different. Most of them are quite. They seem to stare off in the distance. I don't know if they are looking at the memories of the distant past or in some automatic mode of self preservation from that distant past of looking out for boogies. They don't say much but they do look across at me at times and smile. Than I know we're both on the same page. We both love the old girl of the B-24. Both for different reasons but still love her the same. As always they will often slip out a story or two of that distant past. "Shot down at 'such and such'". "The bombardier was a drunk but could hit anything you could see". And so on. They always remember the names of those killed with them and what happed to them in detail. Like it is an obligation and promise to do so. They are living memoriam themselves.
While going up the coast, I noticed the wind down on the surface was really kicking up. Big Pacific rollers would crest and break at their tops. The wind would than blow the white crests off the wave tops and a long and wide carpet of delicate white bubbles would be left behind the wave slopping down into the troth. According to my seafaring flight mechanic, that indicated a wind of "35 to 40 knots". And it looked cold. I was suddenly happy I had 4 trusted PW engine purring out on the wings.
The shore line is very rugged along here. As a matter of fact in some places there is no "shore" to speak of. Just solid rock coming out the ocean with endless breakers trying to tear it down. The locals call this area "The Lost Coast" I understand. And with the wind that was blowing, they "were looking for good fishing and whales to come in close to shore". But we see neither fish nor whales as we go.
At Crescent City we made a turn around the lighthouse stuck out on an impossibly small rock. We than put the mixtures controls to "Auto Rich" and the power up to 2300 rpm and 35" mp. Thus set we climbed up to 4,500 feet and turned up the Illinois valley toward Grants Pass. The world changed. From the crashing waves of the Pacific to the giant and majestic seclusion of the red woods. Here we passed Preston Peak on our right at 7,309 feet, in the Siskiyou wilderness area. Just south of Kirby Peak we crossed the 42nd degree latitude, that marks the California Oregon state line. At Grants Pass, we turned east over the Rough river and descended into Medford.
The mountains had done their job. Fore there was just a breath of wind down runway 32 at KMFD. Though the TSA bureaucracy would put a damper on the rest of the day, as I sit back and just think about the flight, better and wonderful thoughts come back of what I was allowed to witness. The joy of someone experiencing something for the first time. The joy of sharing memories from heroes. The joy of seeing God's good earth in its power and solitude. In my 54 years as an aviator, God has never disappointed me. I am nearing the end of my allotted time here (well maybe in another 10 or 15 years) but I when I choose to be a pilot so long ago, I had no idea, that in all the pursuits that flying allowed me, (wife, children, grandchildren) he would give me a profession that would also keep me young at heart and be able give something to other people as well. For that I am grateful.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
TSA = Gestapo? I think so.
TSA = Gestapo ? I think so.
Today we landed in Medford, Or. with our bombers. What we were met with was a bunch of rules unlike any other airport in our 110 stops each year. The TSA here mandated we have a double line of ropes with "Do not cross" signs every 10 feet. PLUS "guards" at each corner of our roped off area. The airline terminal (with maybe 20 flights a day) was about 1 mile away. So than the TSA goons, sat there in their trucks, watching diligently that none of our visitors, grand kids with their WW2 vet grandparents, Americans all, didn't steal our old bombers, and fly them in to some sky scraper out here in the Rockies.
Ladies and gentlemen. This bull shit. A mindless bureaucracy pushing its muscle and authority that interferes with our freedoms. At no other airport (110 on our tour) small one, big ones, are such dictatorial measures demanded. Its dumb, unrealistic, a waste of time and money, and infringes on our freedoms as Americans. This has nothing to do with security against Muslim terrorist stealing a WW2 bomber. It has nothing to do with keeping anyone from leaving the area to steal a airliner over a mile away across a runway. It is simply some mindless bureaucrat playing God, who has no sense of the freedoms he is stepping on. This folks is a waste of our tax money. Just one more way to subjugate us.
Maybe its just the way they do things out here in Oregon. Beautiful state, but I sure wouldn't want to live here. At least not in Medford.
"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety" B. Franklin Feb 1775
Today we landed in Medford, Or. with our bombers. What we were met with was a bunch of rules unlike any other airport in our 110 stops each year. The TSA here mandated we have a double line of ropes with "Do not cross" signs every 10 feet. PLUS "guards" at each corner of our roped off area. The airline terminal (with maybe 20 flights a day) was about 1 mile away. So than the TSA goons, sat there in their trucks, watching diligently that none of our visitors, grand kids with their WW2 vet grandparents, Americans all, didn't steal our old bombers, and fly them in to some sky scraper out here in the Rockies.
Ladies and gentlemen. This bull shit. A mindless bureaucracy pushing its muscle and authority that interferes with our freedoms. At no other airport (110 on our tour) small one, big ones, are such dictatorial measures demanded. Its dumb, unrealistic, a waste of time and money, and infringes on our freedoms as Americans. This has nothing to do with security against Muslim terrorist stealing a WW2 bomber. It has nothing to do with keeping anyone from leaving the area to steal a airliner over a mile away across a runway. It is simply some mindless bureaucrat playing God, who has no sense of the freedoms he is stepping on. This folks is a waste of our tax money. Just one more way to subjugate us.
Maybe its just the way they do things out here in Oregon. Beautiful state, but I sure wouldn't want to live here. At least not in Medford.
"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety" B. Franklin Feb 1775
Thursday, June 10, 2010
I am not a member of the NRA But.
This is my first political comment on my blog, and want you to know that I am not a member of the NRA.
I truly believe that President Obama does not have the same loyalty, pride, and dreams that our founding father had for this country and the freedom they guaranteed for us.. That his political views and his understanding of government, is that the masses must be totally controlled by intellectual elites, whom because of their presumed intelligence are ordained because of the gift to rule absolutely. One should make the observation at this point that Hitler, and his minions of the Third Reich were all "intellectuals" with IQ in the 130s. The intellectual fall into the age old presumption that they are destine to rule because they are smart and if they are smart, their assumptions must be correct, and therefore they should be the one to rule. But as above being smart does not mean being moral too.
The present administration in its left leaning push to rule absolutely every phase of human life, (after all being "intellectually superior", they know what best for you) want to disarm the American citizen. They can't seem to get around the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution - - right now. But they are going to try what amounts to an 'end run' around it.
By having Hilary Clinton agreeing to a international treaty on limiting gun production and arms control, they are seeking to close gun ownership to American Citizens. IF the senate ratifies that treaty, they will have violated the very constitution we hold dear.
Every constitutional lawyer that I have read or who has published anything on this subject, has said that this treaty will not stand a constitutional challenge in the Supreme Court. But that is the Supreme Court as it is chaired today. If Obama gets to put another like thinking justice on the bench, they could rule otherwise. Therefore it is imperative that the senate not ratify that treaty. Like the health care bill, he is planning to ram this down the throats of the American people.
The only way that we as American citizens can continue our freedoms, is by taking active role in the America politic. Not only in who we vote into office, but to continue to read up on issues before both houses AND LET THEM KNOW HOW WE FEEL AND WANT!! Use that telephone! Use that e-mail!
Write that letter! Demand again and again that they listen to your views. Remember that they have to listen.
Not only that, write, call, and e-mail Obama. Demand his attention! Let him know too that you will hold him accountable to any violation of our constitutional rights. By the way, his health care plan violates the constitutional in case you have not heard. Why would 13 states be suing the very Federal government just over that issue?
This is a pivot point in our history as a country. By not paying attention and being to aligned with one party or the other, plus the very real stigmata of "white guilt", we elected that wrong man at the wrong time. We listened to promises he never indented and will not keep. We simply can not let our freedoms go with out a fight.
Vote out the incumbents. These offices were never indented to become 'careers' for these 'destine few'. Remember that "power corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely". Lord Acton 1887 and "power is apt to corrupt the minds of those who possess it." William Pitt -1770
See the following link. http://michaelcommelly.com/
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The End of A Long Day
Well I've been out flying the line for the Collings Foundation for almost two months now. I'm getting a little tired of motel rooms and restaurant food. I've also gained weight! Almost every day its up at 7am, van pickup at 8am. If we have a morning flight in either the B17 or B24, we usually start engines around 9. If not we set up the airplanes for "walk though", put up the traffic cones and ropes and than set up the "PX". For most part we are outside all day, every day, in just about every kind of weather. If I'm not selling T shirts at the PX, I might be helping the mechanic work on the airplane. Most of the time I'm a presenter answering questions by the thousands and teaching WW2 aviation history.
Near the end of the day, if we have enough (6) people who wish to donate the money ($425./Person) we'll fire up the bombers and give them a :30 minute ride. Depending on where we're at (big cities) we might do 3 or 4 rides in an afternoon. When done we pick up everything, lock up the bombers and head for the motel. A quick fresh up, than its off to a restaurant for a dinner. That done its back to the motel and folks believe it or not, most of the time we're all in bed by 9pm!!
Being out side all day is very tiring (at least for me). Throw in flights in the morning and afternoon, and there is no partying. We're just to tired.
What do I get paid? Nothing. Its all volunteer. The foundation does pay for my room (which I share with another volunteer) and give me $20. per day for meals, but that's all. But! But, I do get to fly the only B-24J Liberator WW2 bomber left in the world. Most professional pilots will admit that is a significant feather in one's professional cap, as there are only 9 pilots certified and trusted to fly that airplane.
And I guess I am a people person to some extent. I truly love meeting the WW2 veterans who struggle with the infirmities of old age, to come and see (maybe for the last time) a machine of war, whether they knew it then or not, was transforming them into heroes. Almost all of them are very modest men and women. Their memories are mostly sharp and they are for the most part conservative in nature. For them, ( what is a distant historical event before most of our visitors were born), it was a national consuming event where almost no one was left out. Every American was doing a job. Even us kids, (I was almost 2 years old when Pearl Harbor was bombed) were involved somehow. I remember collecting and crushing tin cans. Me, my brother and my cousins, were raised by a black woman, because all the women in our family were working in defence plants or other. I remember vividly the first Christmas my father was home from overseas. I have a great admiration for that generation. They were my heroes then and they are my heroes now.
As I write this (my second posting), we're in Stockton, Calif. Tomorrow morning we'll get picked up at 8 am. The first part of the day, I'll helping 'Mac' pull a cracked cylinder from his #1 engine on the B-17. Than I'll fly an actual 'bombing mission' in the B-24. You see there is a very juicy target (a hay bale in a farmers field) 10 miles east of here. We have some Walter Mitty type folks, willing to pay good money to experience what it was like to fly and fight, in the most unsung aircraft of WW2. The mission is too drop 10 250# concrete bombs from 3,000 above the ground. Fun? Well in WW2 it wasn't, but here? "No flack, no fighters today men. A milk run" but for just a little while they can almost sense the drama of what the Greatest Generation did. Where "Uncommon valor was a common virtue".
Check out this video.
Near the end of the day, if we have enough (6) people who wish to donate the money ($425./Person) we'll fire up the bombers and give them a :30 minute ride. Depending on where we're at (big cities) we might do 3 or 4 rides in an afternoon. When done we pick up everything, lock up the bombers and head for the motel. A quick fresh up, than its off to a restaurant for a dinner. That done its back to the motel and folks believe it or not, most of the time we're all in bed by 9pm!!
Being out side all day is very tiring (at least for me). Throw in flights in the morning and afternoon, and there is no partying. We're just to tired.
What do I get paid? Nothing. Its all volunteer. The foundation does pay for my room (which I share with another volunteer) and give me $20. per day for meals, but that's all. But! But, I do get to fly the only B-24J Liberator WW2 bomber left in the world. Most professional pilots will admit that is a significant feather in one's professional cap, as there are only 9 pilots certified and trusted to fly that airplane.
And I guess I am a people person to some extent. I truly love meeting the WW2 veterans who struggle with the infirmities of old age, to come and see (maybe for the last time) a machine of war, whether they knew it then or not, was transforming them into heroes. Almost all of them are very modest men and women. Their memories are mostly sharp and they are for the most part conservative in nature. For them, ( what is a distant historical event before most of our visitors were born), it was a national consuming event where almost no one was left out. Every American was doing a job. Even us kids, (I was almost 2 years old when Pearl Harbor was bombed) were involved somehow. I remember collecting and crushing tin cans. Me, my brother and my cousins, were raised by a black woman, because all the women in our family were working in defence plants or other. I remember vividly the first Christmas my father was home from overseas. I have a great admiration for that generation. They were my heroes then and they are my heroes now.
As I write this (my second posting), we're in Stockton, Calif. Tomorrow morning we'll get picked up at 8 am. The first part of the day, I'll helping 'Mac' pull a cracked cylinder from his #1 engine on the B-17. Than I'll fly an actual 'bombing mission' in the B-24. You see there is a very juicy target (a hay bale in a farmers field) 10 miles east of here. We have some Walter Mitty type folks, willing to pay good money to experience what it was like to fly and fight, in the most unsung aircraft of WW2. The mission is too drop 10 250# concrete bombs from 3,000 above the ground. Fun? Well in WW2 it wasn't, but here? "No flack, no fighters today men. A milk run" but for just a little while they can almost sense the drama of what the Greatest Generation did. Where "Uncommon valor was a common virtue".
Check out this video.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
My name is Jim Goolsby, and I am just an old pilot. My ground bound friends call me "Jim" and my fellow aviators and grand kids call me "Pappy". Politicians better call me "Mr. Goolsby, Sir"
I am a retired airline pilot (20 years with PanAm and 14 years with United) and at this time at 70 years of age I am still flying. From this world traveling and a process that both natures and forms one's attitudes and observations, I hope this Blog helps explain some of my conservative views. I hope also to preserve some events I've witnessed in the beauty and majesty from aloft.
Being a professional pilot for over 50 years, aviation has a way of making a person see many things in the same way as other professional pilots. We tend as a group to be conservative in out look. Airplanes do not care one thing about you, your sex nor your genealogy. For flying, with out any prejudice, will deal with the poor, rich, mentally challenged, brilliant, black, white or brown, with the same severity, if they are unprepared, arrogant, or inattentive to the atmosphere around them. It is a leveling force for human kind.
I also believe in God Almighty, a supreme being of some kind. I believe that there is a Satan and evil simply because I've seen and experienced to many things to believe otherwise. I don't see unexplained chaos in our universe, only unknown logical processes. I do believe in an afterlife and ghosts. I will on these pages at times, try to elucidate why.
So buckle up. There ain't no tray table, coffee or peanuts, but hopefully I can bring a little joy and understanding along for this ride. This blog will be a mixed bag of political view and pros of my aviation experience. I do not claim that every word or sentence will be only the 'only' answer. And of course this conversation is one way, me to you.
I am a retired airline pilot (20 years with PanAm and 14 years with United) and at this time at 70 years of age I am still flying. From this world traveling and a process that both natures and forms one's attitudes and observations, I hope this Blog helps explain some of my conservative views. I hope also to preserve some events I've witnessed in the beauty and majesty from aloft.
Being a professional pilot for over 50 years, aviation has a way of making a person see many things in the same way as other professional pilots. We tend as a group to be conservative in out look. Airplanes do not care one thing about you, your sex nor your genealogy. For flying, with out any prejudice, will deal with the poor, rich, mentally challenged, brilliant, black, white or brown, with the same severity, if they are unprepared, arrogant, or inattentive to the atmosphere around them. It is a leveling force for human kind.
I also believe in God Almighty, a supreme being of some kind. I believe that there is a Satan and evil simply because I've seen and experienced to many things to believe otherwise. I don't see unexplained chaos in our universe, only unknown logical processes. I do believe in an afterlife and ghosts. I will on these pages at times, try to elucidate why.
So buckle up. There ain't no tray table, coffee or peanuts, but hopefully I can bring a little joy and understanding along for this ride. This blog will be a mixed bag of political view and pros of my aviation experience. I do not claim that every word or sentence will be only the 'only' answer. And of course this conversation is one way, me to you.
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