The Miracle of Flight

I love airplanes. I can never get used to it. No matter how many times I see them, I am in awe of them.

It has been wonderful to be here and watch the C-130s and C-17s pierce the clouds as they bank in for touch and go landings at Pope Air Force Base next door. I see them and wonder: Are they full of airborne paratroopers on their way to a drop zone? Are they returning from a drop? I'll never know.

Aircraft are an engineering marvel, to use a well worn cliche (actually, aren't all cliches well worn?), and in my mind they are a miracle. Their sleek, aerodynamic airframes slide through the air as gracefully as a bird in flight. Yet they are, unlike the flesh and blood of a bird, built of manmade materials that are much heavier than the air that they ride on.

Sometimes, in the middle of an outdoor training session, when one comes over the trees, speeding toward me; I'll tilt my head up towards the sky and take in all its beauty. The roar of its engines, the way it seems to cut through the atmosphere, banking left, straightening out, banking right, then descending into the treeline and eventually landing on the ground. It is amazing. I want to be inside it, experiencing the marvel of flight.

That is one reason I took this new position. I love to fly. I love to experience the miracle of flight; even if it is only viewing it from the ground.