Mission Accomplished
When I was about 9 or 10, I was given (as a Christmas present, I think), a small black & white TV set. (You have to remember people, I'm an old fart). One of my greatest pleasures (usually only on Friday & Saturday nights) was going to sleep with it still on after I'd watched a late-night movie, often times a classic horror that one of the local channels liked to run on those nights.
It wasn't just the aspect of having the TV, or the comforting noise it provided (I still like going to sleep this way on occasion), but the sense of satisfaction it gave me in having managed to see the day through to the end. Back in those days (something we don't have anymore), stations usually signed off around midnight or so, & was off the air for a few hours. (Yes, I know - SO hard to believe!)
One of my very favorite parts about this, however, was the following. I often wonder if hearing these words as I went to sleep so many nights gave me the inspiration to serve my country for 20 years in the Air Force. I happily give them to you now, as they often gave me happiness & comfort. I hope they do the same for you.
(I also wonder if the launch of the space shuttle last week on it's final mission, is reminding me of another mission, which did not end well).
The poem, High Flight, has over the years, become a mantra to pilots.
It is reproduced here as a tribute to, and in memory of, pilots of all generations, nationalities & genders.
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941
It wasn't just the aspect of having the TV, or the comforting noise it provided (I still like going to sleep this way on occasion), but the sense of satisfaction it gave me in having managed to see the day through to the end. Back in those days (something we don't have anymore), stations usually signed off around midnight or so, & was off the air for a few hours. (Yes, I know - SO hard to believe!)
One of my very favorite parts about this, however, was the following. I often wonder if hearing these words as I went to sleep so many nights gave me the inspiration to serve my country for 20 years in the Air Force. I happily give them to you now, as they often gave me happiness & comfort. I hope they do the same for you.
(I also wonder if the launch of the space shuttle last week on it's final mission, is reminding me of another mission, which did not end well).
The poem, High Flight, has over the years, become a mantra to pilots.
It is reproduced here as a tribute to, and in memory of, pilots of all generations, nationalities & genders.
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941