THEY ALSO SERVE WHO . . .
Persevere
Normally we think of heroes as those who’ve accomplished extraordinary feats, usually in combat, as Aleksandr Pokryshkin did. Aleksandr, at the age of 12, attended an air show, which kindled his love of aviation. Later, while working on planes, he asked to fly them, but was turned down. Never one to take no for an answer, he later finagled his way into a pilot’s club, earning his license in a single month. Once more he applied for flight training, and this time his request was granted. In WWII, he would earn Hero of the Soviet Union honors three times, and be credited with 65 confirmed kills (6 shared), including the last plane destroyed in the European Theater of the war. Naturally his superiors had expected him to fly Russian aircraft, but his love of the American-made Kobrushka drove him to fly it until the end of the war, probably costing him further advancement beyond the rank of colonel.
Never See Combat
Today we take for granted that women are the equal of men, but during WWII, women like Dorothy Swain Lewis who wanted to fly to serve their country were relegated to non-combat missions, which freed up more male pilots for combat. Remarkably talented, Lewis towed targets in her Martin Marauder—rather dangerous training work for a non-combatant, if you ask me. And after the war, she sculpted the WASP trainee statue now located at the Air Force Academy’s Honor Court and later painted the official portrait of Janet Reno for the Department of Justice.
Diversify
Equally remarkable was Nancy Love, a WAFS commander who was certified to pilot 16 different military aircraft and was the first woman to fly the Douglas Skymaster (the DC, not the C, version). In fact, at the end of the war she flew one over The Hump, the dangerous 700-mile route over the Himalayas.
Go Above and Beyond
Everyone knows that Joseph P. Kennedy was killed during WWII, but did you know that at the time of his death he’d already flown his Liberator patrol bomber the requisite 25 missions to earn stateside reassignment? Instead of going home, though, he volunteered for the dangerous and secret Operation Aphrodite that in a way anticipated the use of drones: he and his co-pilot flew a modified Liberator up to 2000’, where they were to bail out, allowing the plane to be remotely controlled to its target. Unfortunately, detonation occurred prematurely, killing both crewmen.
Intend Well, But Err Badly
Whitman wrote in Leaves of Grass that “battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won,” so perhaps we ought to acknowledge the heroism of engineers and crews who design, build, and test the planes intended to protect us. Some noble (and perspicuous) chap had the well-intentioned vision to anticipate (and devise a plan to cope with) a shortage of light alloys during the war; he suggested that transport planes could be made of wood. The prototype of one such plane, the Curtiss-Wright Caravan, made its first flight in May 1943, but things went so badly that the first effort to test it was quickly terminated. Curtiss officials, insisting on limiting risks to others, refused to allow military personnel to board the plane for the second test flight—which seemed an incredibly selfless decision when the Caravan, on that second test flight, blew apart, killing the Curtiss pilots and officials on board. It might be difficult to even track down their names, much less persuade anyone to think of all those involved in this well-intentioned effort as heroes—especially since the anticipated shortage of metal never materialized, though that’s a fact which has no bearing, in my mind, on the heroism of all involved in the effort to address a perceived need of our nation in wartime.
Spurn Safety and Risk Their Lives for Others
Regrettably, disasters sometimes produce many innocent victims as well as active combatants, heroic or ordinary. One of the worst crashes during the Viet Nam War occurred during Operation Babylift, President Ford’s attempt to airlift Americans out of South Viet Nam during the last days of the war. On April 4, 1975, American civilians were to be paired with Vietnamese orphans, most of them fathered by American soldiers, and flown from Tan Son Nhut Airbase via a Lockheed Galaxy piloted by Captains Traynor and Harp, who earned the Air Force Cross for Extraordinary Valor for their efforts to land the plane after the locks on the cargo doors failed shortly after take-off and the resulting explosion severed many of the plane’s controls. Only 175 of the 313 aboard survived the crash near the Saigon River, where heroes undoubtedly included the peasant farmers who rushed toward, not away from, the burning wreckage, to try to help survivors.
Fail, That Others May Succeed
War also reminds us of the importance of not just our intentions but of learning from our mistakes, even if they’re confined to engineering, rather than combat. Development of the very successful Grumman F-14 Tomcat would not have been possible without the ultimately failed attempt to develop the Douglass Missileer, which was designed to protect aircraft carriers from a range of hundreds of miles but which was never produced because, after firing its missiles, the prototype was deemed to be exceedingly defenseless. Still, the designers of the Missileer, I believe, deserve as much credit for their efforts as those who produced the excellent Tomcat.
Lead By Example and Refuse Privileges
But back to better known and more conventional heroes for a moment. Everybody loves James Stewart, thanks to movies like It’s a Wonderful Life and Vertigo. And some will recall even his recruitment efforts for the Army, which needed to train 100,000 new pilots for the war effort. But who remembers his quiet heroism during the war? He could’ve sat out WWII altogether, having failed the height and weight requirements when drafted in 1940, but instead he bulked up and, thanks to his college degree and 400 hours as a private pilot, he ended up an Army pilot—one the Army wanted very much to protect. But Stewart refused to let his movie fame and recruiting value keep him safely at home. Pressing his superiors to be reassigned from his training duties and given a combat position, he eventually became the commander of the 445th Bomber Group, flying missions with the other crews in their heavy bombers (Consolidated’s Liberators, which George McGovern also flew, by the way). Stewart, the only soldier to rise from private to colonel in four years, earned the Distinguished Flying Cross twice and the Croix de Guerre. He’s the epitome of the hero: modest, courageous—a leader!
Ignore Their Own Fame and Show Compassion for the Needy
Occasionally, heroes are merely extraordinary passengers on planes, rather than the crewmen who fly them or the engineers who design and build them. Roberto Clemente, just a few months after collecting his 3000th major league hit, could’ve been savoring his baseball achievements or resting on his laurels in any number of ways, or, since it was New Year’s Eve, he could’ve engaged in the frivolities of the season. Instead, he chose to make a trip to deliver supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua—not even his own homeland! It shouldn’t have been necessary for him to make the flight. He’d already done enough just helping to raise the supplies for desperate Managuans, but Clemente knew the first three shipments had been seized by corrupt officials, and he thought his presence might help this, the fourth shipment, reach those who really needed the supplies. So he decided to accompany the shipment—though he insisted that his friend Tom Walker, a young pitcher who’d helped Clemente load the plane, stay behind and celebrate the new year. Unfortunately, the rather derelict plane, overloaded by 4200 pounds and piloted by an error-prone crew, crashed shortly after departing from San Juan. The world thus lost a noble, humble, selfless humanitarian.
So many heroes. So many ways, great and small, to do that which is good.
You can validate your puzzle solution with certitude.