When one considers that man has been involved in the operation of heavier than air flying machines only during this, the twentieth century, the tremendous progression in the use of the airplane by human beings is readily apparent. In man’s quest for speed and the ability to travel rapidly around the globe, there has been an evolution of aeronautical endeavors that, while mind boggling, at the same time has been commonly accepted as routine.
We should ever be thankful that there exists among us those individuals who are never satisfied with the status quo, those who dream of newer and better methods of what has been accomplished in the past and have the inquisitive mind and the capability to experiment and make those ideas into reality. The challenge of new ideas, perseverance, dedication, experimentation, and the pursuit of successful quests has led us into the modern age with undreamed of changes in our daily lives.
Aviation and the ability to pursue flight in heavier-than-air machines has been a huge part of my life. Man was not made to fly, but his ingenuity and inventive capabilities enabled us to have use of the atmosphere surrounding our planet so that we regularly can and do participate in flight. The appreciation of the capability to undertake this endeavor is a feeling that has been and remains within my fiber.
Fledgling pilots early on learn the four basic forces of flight: thrust, drag, lift and gravity. Thrust or power from an engine overcomes the drag or resistance caused by the airframe. Lift generated by the wings passing through the air overcomes the constant of gravity exerting a force towards the center of the earth. But what is this strange notion of lift that allows an airframe to sustain flight? Of that volumes have been written, but most in highly technical terms. In the best known effort to simplify the discussion of the art of flying, Wolfgang Langewiesche, in his book first published in 1944, STICK AND RUDDER, stated the following. “Thus, if you will forget some of this excessive erudition, a wing becomes much easier to understand; it is in the last analysis nothing but an air deflector. It is an inclined plane, cleverly curved, to be sure, and elaborately streamlined, but still essentially an inclined plane. That’s, after all, why that whole fascinating contraption of ours is called an air-plane”.
In the easiest of understandable terms, Wolfgang Langewiesche went on to state, “The main fact of all heavier-than-air flight is this: the wing keeps the airplane up by pushing the air down”. Air has weight, at sea level equating to about two pounds per cubic yard. Thus, as the airplane pushes downward on cubic yard after cubic yard of this air an equal reaction of upward push in the simplest of terms explains lift.
It is has been my pleasure to fly, to be an individual that can control a machine free from the bonds of earth, to push that air down, to enjoy free and sustained flight, and to be able to maneuver a heavier-than-air vehicle in the direction and manner of my choice. Some do not enjoy flying – it is their decision to not participate in what is not pleasurable or essential to their travel. Some do not enjoy flying alone but only seem to pursue flight when it is a joint enterprise, one to be shared with others. I, too, like to share the exhilaration of flight with others, but I thoroughly enjoy the aspect of being airborne alone in full control of my flying machine. A considerable amount of my total flying hours has been where I serve as the pilot, co-pilot, navigator, and in some cases bombardier – where I am sole captain of my ship. I learned to fly courtesy of the United State Air Force and, in the final analysis, thanks to the taxpayers of this great country, for which I am profoundly grateful. I have been and continue to be one of those taxpayers, so it could be said I was a participant in the financing of my own training.
My good fortune has enabled me to be able to pursue and enjoy flight, which once learned seems quite simple. But that is far from the case. Again, quoting from STICK AND RUDDER, “A wing is an odd thing, strangely behaved, hard to understand, tricky to handle. In many important respects, a wing’s behavior is exactly contrary to common sense. On wings it is safe to be high, dangerous to be low; safe to go fast, dangerous to go slow. Generally speaking, if you want the airplane to go up, you point its nose up; but point its nose up a little too much, and you go down in a stall or a spin. In landing an airplane, to make it sink down on the runway and stay down, you move the controls much as for an extreme upward zoom. In the glide, if you want to descend more steeply, you point your airplane’s nose down less steeply; if you want to descend less steeply, you point the airplane’s nose down more steeply! And – most spectacular contrariness of all – in emergencies, when the airplane is sinking toward the ground in a ‘mush’ or falling in a stall or a spin, and you are afraid of crashing into the ground, the only way to keep it from crashing is to point its nose down and dive at the ground, as if you wanted to crash!”
Having dwelled perhaps excessively on the problems and difficulties of learning the art of flying, it needs to be said that though there is much to learn, millions do learn sufficiently to quite safely maneuver airframes through the air. There is a magical quality about it all, even if flying has become so routine for so many.
On a take off roll, which can last from a few seconds to up to a minute depending on the airframe, there comes that moment when the airspeed has built up to the point that the airplane reaches flying speed – that magical transition between a speeding ground machine to that of a bird- like character that suddenly takes on totally different qualities. That mystic moment, when the forward momentum is such that the airplane is capable of flying through the air and leaving behind that which binds us to the earth, is certain to be exhilarating to the first time flyer. Ascendency into the air, into that wild blue yonder gently, which becomes so routine for life long pilots, remains as the point of separation between aviators and their ground loving brethren.
Employing that strange notion of lift and departing from the worldly environment necessitates a return at some point in time. Power from an engine and overcoming of gravity through lift are the prevailing forces that allow for exhilarating flight. The return from that aerial activity in form of a successful landing should be equally buoyant and pleasurable. The landing can be termed the conclusion to a mission, the satisfaction that one feels in returning to earthly living with the feeling of euphoria. Equally gratifying is that a repeat of the act of flying can be eagerly anticipated.
The landing of an aircraft remains the greatest challenge to an aviator. If the take off is at a point when the force of lift allows for flight, then the landing can be thought of as the exact opposite, an attempt to place the airframe on the ground at or just before the point at which lift ceases to exist, or when flight is no longer possible. This entails practice and consistency and positive control of the airframe through pitch angle, directional control, a level attitude, power control, and a positive attitude on the part of the pilot. No flight can be considered a success without placing the airframe safely back on the runway to the satisfaction of pilot and passengers.
My past military experiences have allowed me to fly high and fast as well as low and fast. Now my flights are mostly low and slow. But speed is relative. What is it like to go faster than the speed of sound as I have accomplished on several occasions in four different types of aircraft? The answer is that unless you monitor closely the airspeed indicator or Mach meter there is no great sensation, unless you are passing by a cloud or another aircraft. A reference to the air speed indicator, or Mach meter, is necessary to be aware that you and your aircraft have exceeded the speed of sound.
The speed of sound in an aircraft is measured by a number representing the ratio of the speed of an object to the speed of sound in the surrounding medium, as air, through which the object is moving. This is measured as Mach 1, the speed of sound, Mach 2, two times the speed of sound, or .8 Mach, eighty percent the speed of sound. The Mach meter, as it approaches Mach 1 (approximately 760 miles per hour at sea level), seems to hang up as if to say, “Are you sure you want to go this fast?” As the speed of sound is eclipsed the needle moves freely beyond Mach 1 and the aircraft is seemingly more agile at this greater speed. As you decelerate back through the sound barrier the airspeed needle again hesitates just as Mach 1 appears then jumps to a lower reading. It is as if the airframe enjoyed that rapid movement past that magical barrier and is hesitant to resume a slower speed. You do not in the cockpit hear a sonic boom – that is only heard by ground loving folks should they be in a position forward of that rapidly advancing compressed wave of air.
The take off, the landing, and the enjoyment of flight is understood by all who have chosen maneuvering through the skies as their vocation or avocation. Should that enjoyment cease to exist then other endeavors should be undertaken. For me that point has not yet arrived.
Wings Over Cumberland 