His name was Ray Watkins, and he was a helluva nice guy and smart as they come. He got his Double “E” degree through the NESEP Program. Ray had just asked me the question that was sure to come up sooner or later in any Ready Room in the Fleet. I knew Ray was a mathematician as well and mused a bit before answering. “Ray,” I said, “I know the mathematical odds are that there has to be some form of life out there in the galaxies. I just don’t believe they reside in this solar system.” Ray had a twinkle in his eye and said, “I think you’re wrong.”
By this stage of my young life, I was already aware of the fabled New Mexico sightings, the many alien-abduction claims, and even a few unexplained sightings by supposed professionals, but then, as now, I was a skeptic, to say the least. I didn’t believe in psychics, soothsayers, demons, or witchcraft, and I sure as hell didn’t believe in UFOs. My conversation with Ray was one of those I hoped didn’t go any further. It is hard to reason with a true believer. Ray was smart enough to know that and dropped it.
In those days, my recreational reading went from John le Carré to Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour to James Michener; I was always a fan of history and historical fiction. Ray was heavy into Isaac Asimov and other sciencefiction writers of the day. To my way of thinking, both pursuits—in their own way— were educational. One (Ray’s) was just on a higher plane, if you will.
I didn’t think much about it for a year or so. I was driving U.S. Marine Corps RF-4s and usually flew with Larry Shreve in my back seat, but often, I’d fly with the other guys as well. I always enjoyed flying with Ray; he knew the radar well and was calm and professional in every aspect. He was just a neat all-around guy.
Low, Fast, and in the Dark
As luck would have it, we deployed to Marine Corps Air Station Yuma, Arizona, for an intense workup and training period. I loved it; we flew around the clock and had crosscountries, to boot. It didn’t get any better for a young naval aviator.
One of the more demanding missions for a photo reconnaissance team was a low-level night photo-flash mission. On the surface, it may seem easy, but until you tried it, you couldn’t believe how difficult it could be.
This story is from the February 2019 edition of Flight Journal.
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This story is from the February 2019 edition of Flight Journal.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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Scourge of the Allied Fighters
IT HAD TO BE THE MOST HELPLESS FEELING in the world: you're at 25,000 feet over Europe knowing that your primary function is to drop bombs-or flying escort for the bombers while being a slow-moving target for some of the world's finest shooters. However, you have John Browning's marvelous .50 caliber invention to give some degree of protection. Unfortunately, you're absolutely helpless against flak. Piloting and gunnery skills play no role in a game where sheer chance makes life and death decisions. For that reason, the Krupp 88 mm Flak 18/36/37 AA cannon could be considered WW II's ultimate stealth fighter. You never saw it coming.
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