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