大象传媒

This story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Robert H Allison.

He was not trained in fighters, but became a multi-engine aircraft pilot. He was to remain in the Air Force for twenty years, flying every two and four engine plane they had up to the B-47.

After his retirement he continued to fly for Air America, which at the time was rumored to be a spy organization--he never admitted or denied this rumor but was exposed to some very dangerous flying. This was in Laos and Viet Nam during the war. He followed this job with a position as Captain on a Douglas DC-8 for Japan Airlines.
Then to Shaw Airlines in Alaska. Then to Scenic Airlines where he flew the 1927 Ford Tri-motor hauling passengers from Las Vegas for a scenic flight over and down through the Grand Canyon. From there he had a job flying government employees to an "area" in the Nevada desert in a Boeing 737. He is now retired from flying.
As a late addition to this story, on Valentine's Day, February 14, 1996, I received in the mail a package from the personnel department of the Navy that contained the DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross). Also included was another Air Medal, a World War II Medal, an Asiatic Pacific Theater Medal, an American Campaign Medal and a Presidential Unit Citation Ribbon. Didn't even inquire about anything but the DFC.
The following poem is the poem that was repeated by my roommate at Pensacola. Can't say that I didn't like it because I can truthfully say that I, too, had a euphoric feeling when I was hurtling my eager craft around and through the sun bleached, whipped cream clouds. I don't recall putting out my hand and touching the face of God, but it is a strange elating feeling.

HIGH FLIGHT
John MacGill, Royal Air Force

Oh; I've slipped the surly bounds of earth,
and danced the skies on laughter's silvered wings.
Sun ward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
of unsplit - clouds - and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of- wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence, hovering 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 wind- swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark or even eagle flew.
and while with silent lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God.

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