Airman Lost

© Hal Stoen

May, 2002

Sometimes, as you grind along through a limitless sky, you'll hear the disembodied voice on the radio: "We lost one today." Another disembodied voice: "Who?" "'Such-And-Such Airlines', in 'So-And-So'". "How bad?" "Bad." Then, there would be a long silence as each of us in the air at that time pondered our own vulnerability. When you got back on the ground, flight crews would be gathered around the television in the Pilot's Lounge watching some TV personality at the scene, trying to explain the unexplainable.

Aviation writer Ernest K. Gann had it right, we pilots are "A Band Of Brothers". Once rated, you will be a pilot until the day that you die. And when a plane crashes with fatalities, you grieve. You grieve for all of the lost souls, but your heart cries out especially for the crew, for they are you, and you are them. The video screen that is your mind plays the scenario back and forth, trying to represent what "they" saw, what "they" did, how desperately "they" must have fought to save the flight. And you know in your heart that "they" did everything that was in their bag of tricks- within the limitations of their abilities and those of the aircraft, and the time that fate had allotted to them.

My wife's cousin was killed in a plane crash. A retired Air Force fighter pilot that had flown two combat tours of duty in Viet Nam, he was flying a J-3 Super Cub, towing a glider at the Air Force Academy. Shortly before the glider was to make his break away, the J-3 started flying erratic. After several frantic attempts, the glider pilots made their release, watching as the Cub crashed into the trees below. The family wondered, did he have a heart attack, or was he killed in the crash? To me, there was no doubt, he had suffered a massive heart attack and was dead before impact. How could I be so certain? Because a skilled pilot, as he was, can land a J-3 in the tops of trees, or a field of boulders- so slow and agile is the Super Cub. No, this pilot had died doing what he loved best, flying.

And I, a lowly airman, grieve for him.

Paul Vogel, 1929 - 2002

- Distinguished Flying Cross, with Oak Leaf Cluster

- Bronze Star with Oak Leaf Clusters

- Distinguished Service Medal

- AFOUA with Oak Leaf Cluster

- and others

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