9 April 2018 Ghost Flyers

Few accomplishments of the human species surpass flight. Earthbound for millennia, our race, no doubt, looked up to birds and marveled (and perhaps envy played part) at the ease of winged creatures as they flew above. In about 1000 BCE, in China, the first kite masters coaxed their tiny craft into the air. A century and a half later, an English king died while trying to fly – the first aviation fatality. However, studies show that flying is by far the safest way to travel, and motorcycles are the most dangerous way to transport oneself. Currently, aviation claims just .07 deaths per one billion passenger miles, whereas motorcycle deaths equal 212.57 deaths per billion passenger miles.

The exploration inherent in the poem below contrasts modern air travel with those adventurous souls who first flew. In the fifteenth century Leonardo da Vinci designed flying machines, but never tried them. Gliders preceded powered flight in the 18th century. Not too much later, 1903 marked the first powered flight performed by “The Flyer,” and accomplished by Orville and Wilbur Wright at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Flying “The Spirit of St. Louis, Charles Lindbergh made the first transatlantic flight in 1927, just 24 years after the Wright Brothers! As flight rapidly advanced, 1930 saw the invention of the jet engine, and in 1939, that technology was attached to wings and wheels in the first jet-propelled aircraft. A scant eight years later, Charles Yeager broke the sound barrier, but it took a bit longer (1970) for the Boeing 747 to make its first commercial flight.
A few terms in the poem need definition. Here they are:

Aviation Glossary

Glide path: an aircraft's line of decent to land, especially as indicated by ground radar

Two-by two: large airports sometimes have two parallel runways that accommodate landing two aircraft nearly side by side

Rows of lights: a double meaning here – first, large aircraft have rows of lights on wings, tail, and fuselage – second, airport runways have two rows of lights, one on either side of the landing strip that demarcate the margins of the runway. Also, ILS (instrument landing systems) include other rows of lights on runways to guide aircraft when landing.

Contrails: a trail of condensed water from an aircraft or rocket at high altitude, seen as a white streak against the sky.

Homing beacon: a radio transmitter at a known location, used as an aviation or marine navigational aid. Using bearings – a line passing through the station that points in a specific direction –  provide a charted, consistent method for defining paths aircraft can fly. In this fashion, homing beacons define “airways” in the sky. Aircraft follow these pre-defined routes to complete a flight plan.

One-two-left and three-zero-right: references to the degrees on a compass heading or the direction a runway is pointing; the “left” and “right” refer to which runway is in question when two runways run parallel to each other.

Glide slope: the approach path of an aircraft when landing, usually defined by a radar beam.

  

GHOST FLYERS

Gleaming pairs of angels hover
at the glide path’s edge
two-by-two they slide into St. Louis
arriving from out there
drifting closer to here
rows of lights mean coming home

In these days of evermore costly fuel, they struggle just to stay aloft
and red of broken wings stains the Blue with contrails’ smoking revelation of altitude’s decrease      as each lost the sky to earth’s incineration that fused grief to each scattered peace by piece

The air is cruel and cold at 30,000 feet
The homing beacons broadcast filaments like open arms
to draw in the suspended ones and glide them down
One-two-left and three-zero-right display rows of precious lights
worth more than diamonds when homing out of storm and moonless night

Tucked inside the metal membrane
fragile fleshy beings trust their lives
to capricious streams of fire beneath the wings
as their dense hubris sputters arrogant and brash
too self-absorbed to feel the airborne marvel that carries them
on eerie air slipped over graceful wings
These souls flicker next to death
sitting six inches beyond the fuselage skin
that lets the living breathe while locking them in

Fools do not appreciate the Ghost Flyers gone before
who forged these sky-paths with death-screams carried earthward on wrenched and twisted wings
Far above the glide path’s slope audacious angels watch with weathered eyes
Their legacy, earned one by one, as they each bestowed on us
Wind and Wings and Raided Sky

Background:
The “ghost flyers” of the poem’s title refers to the multitude of aviation pioneers who tested and flew aircraft according to flight test techniques (FTTs). In about 1950, these test pilots had a fatality rate of about one per week. Although the pilots of aviation lore carry an air of glamor, they literally took their lives in their hands each time they soared into the sky. However, the rapid development of aircraft technology has vastly increased the safety of flight.

I grew up with aviation, piloting my first solo flight on 23 September 1966, my sixteenth birthday, and the minimum age requirement for this endeavor. This echoed my father’s identical accomplishment on his sixteenth birthday (1939). I dedicate the above poem to my father who taught me to fly as soon as my feet could touch the rudder pedals. This man, Roy Paul Shwery, had a long and notable lifetime in aviation. He died in October 2010 never losing his passion for flight.

In his very early years, he had troubles in his quest for flight: he lived on a family farm just down the road from the Janesville, Wisconsin airport. His father strongly disapproved of piloting and piled on chores for my father to complete before he could go to the airport where he worked one hour cleaning hangars and planes in exchange for one minute of flight instruction. When he accumulated thirty minutes a flight instructor took him up for a lesson in a single-engine craft.

My father went on to fly in the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War II.  In 1944, he entered the U.S. Air Force and piloted heavy bombers including the Boeing B-29 "Superfortress.” By the war's end, he had attained the rank of Major and after the war, he settled in Marshfield, Wisconsin where he managed the local airport, returning to civilian aviation. He acquired A&P Mechanic, Ground Instructor, and Air Transport Pilot ratings, and eventually accumulated more than 30, 000 flight hours, the equivalent of about 3.5 years in the air. Soon he built up a charter business, and not much later, he began one of the first commuter airlines in the country. For all his efforts in flight, the Aviation Hall of Fame inducted him in 1992, and in 1997, the Marshfield Airport bore his name. My pride in my father’s accomplishments is beyond expression.

The poem above has its genesis in the period of my life when I was working as a consultant for Price Waterhouse and flew around North America two-to-three flights per week. One night, as a passenger in a commercial jet, we were coming to in to land at St Louis, and suddenly on the downwind leg of the approach to the runway I had a deep sense of appreciation for my father and for all the passionate individuals who had created the capacity for flight from just 1903 to the first jet-powered commercial flight (1952 in Britain).

Exploration 1: What is your general feeling about the safety of flying? Why do many people have a fear of flying? Do you?

Exploration 2: Have you ever stopped to appreciate those who gave us the gift of flight?

Exploration 3: Interpretations of “Ghost Flyers” have a wide range, yet these meanings come to a single point. What does this single point seem to you?

Exploration 4: In the last line of the second stanza, why are “peace” and “piece” spelled in two forms?

Exploration 5: What may be the meaning of the word, “raided,” in the final line of the poem?

Jack Pine Savage