“High Flight” - OlyPen Flight-USAF.pdf · All Air Force pilots are exposed early in their flying careers to the moving poem “High Flight,” by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. In

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“High Flight”by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

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In early March 1972, near the end of my Undergraduate Pilot Training at Moody AirForce Base near Valdosta, Georgia, I flew a four-ship formation training sortie, one ofmy last in the T-38. I “sacrificed” an irreplaceable opportunity to fly the airplane myselfduring that mission to take pictures instead. Capt Ace Carlson, sitting behind me in theaircraft, flew the plane perfectly for this “picture-taking mission.” What follows is thebest of those pictures.

All Air Force pilots are exposed early in their flying careers to the moving poem “HighFlight,” by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. In fact, we heard and saw it so often that webecame desensitized to its beauty and meaning.

But now, reflecting back on the 35 years since I took these pictures, and knowing that I’llnever fly like this again, that poem regains its special meaning once more. It actuallymoves me to tears thinking about the experiences I’ve had in the sky that I wish I coulddo again…just once more.

—Bill Dettmer, 2007

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“Moody Tower, Talon Zebra, flight of four, ready for takeoff…”

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“Roger, Talon Zebra, Moody Tower. Winds calm, altimeter two-niner-niner-eight. Contactdeparture control two-six-niner-point-eight. Cleared for takeoff…”

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Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth…

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And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

“Fingertip” formation

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Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth…

Starting the wing-over maneuver

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Of sun-split clouds…

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…and done a hundred thingsYou have not dreamed of…

Ninety degrees of bank at 28,000 feet… “Keep the wingtip in the star!”

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…wheeled and soared and swungHigh in the sunlit silence.

Echelon turn

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Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along…

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…and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.

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Up, up the long, delirious, burning blueI've topped the wind-swept heights with easy graceWhere never lark, or even eagle flew…

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And, while with silent lifting mind I've trodThe high untrespassed sanctity of space…

15Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Sunset over the South Pacific at 31,000 feet between Guam and Vietnam

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Of course, after about an hour and twenty minutes of slipping the surly bonds, thetanks start running low on “dinosaurs,” and we have to return to reality again…

Starting the pitchout for landing…

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The End