I’M FLYING!

                                    by Mark Berent 53E Columbus AFB , Mississippi

My heart was pounding so hard with joy I thought it would leap from my chest as I eased back on the control stick and the wheels of my airplane, a bright yellow USAF T- 6G, left the ground that crisp Mississippi morning so long ago. The cool air swirled through the cockpit bearing the hardy incense of exhaust and hot oil. I was so exhilarated I thought I’d burst. “I’m flying,” I shouted into the wind. “I’m flying,” I yelled over the marvelous thunder of the big Pratt and Whitney engine that roared in my ears and resonated in my gut. “I’m flying,” I yelled as I pulled the gear lever up and the hydraulics did my bidding and neatly tucked the wheels into the belly of the T 6. “I’m flying,” I yelled one more time as I reluctantly slid the canopy forward and closed out the wind. I was airborne on an elation I had never felt before.

And so began the first day, the first real day, of my life as a flyer. It was the day I first soloed an airplane, the first step on the path of a dream to become a military aviator. I was a 20 year old kid from Minnesota and, like the thousands before me and the hundreds after (the USAF replaced them a year or so later), I had just experienced that unique moment that pilots know only once. It was a moment filled with a mixture of pride and apprehension, elation and anxiety, thrill coupled with chill. Not the fear chill of injury or death, it was the chill of failure, of being grounded, of not making the grade, of not being a member of that great society of military aviators, of men who span the sky with impunity.

In those days we soloed the Six anywhere from 20 to 25 hours. In fact, if you weren’t cleared to solo in 25 hours you received a check ride. (A classmate had 48 official and 52 unofficial hours before he soloed and went on to be an accomplished aviator. He later retired as a Continental captain and Guard pilot. It was obvious our civilian instructors from California Eastern Airways had compassion coupled with foresight.)

Speaking of instructors, mine was Jan Helfrich. Jan was a Dutchman who had flown Hellcats off a British carrier in WWII. He had an incredibly funny tale of his crash landing on a Greek mountain. But that is another story. Maybe we should have a special section for our pilot instructors. Beyond just flying, he had quite an influence on me.

After 130 hours in the T-6 we went off to an advanced base for about 55 hours in the T- 28, 75 in the T-33, and finally that incredible moment when we pinned on those big silver pilot’s wings. (For reasons best left unsaid we called them “crash wings.”) Since that unforgettable day, I have lifted from the ground many times in many climes and always with zest and passion. But coupled with those emotions (and it became more and more important as the years spun by) was the comradeship of the men who shared the same exquisite joy of lifting off from yet another runway on yet another mission.

. ………..finis……………..

Which Aviation Cadet World aircraft would you like your photo taken in?

Beth and Errol Severe next to an L-2 after making his first landing at Silver Wings Airfield.

Where was a landing you celebrated? Let us know.

Errol Severe at Vance Air Force Base in 1960 next to a T-33.

Do you have a favorite aircraft photo you’re next to? Leave a link below or email us and we may run it in future ‘Blasts from the Past.”