"Finding Amelia Earhart."

The headlines have filled once more with the mystery of Amelia Earhart’s disappearance and a new search for answers. This time, no less than the US Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, has highlighted the significance of the female aviation pioneer and her role as both a personal and national heroine. Ever since her disappearance in 1937 over the Pacific Ocean with her navigator, Fred Noonan, the story has bounced between a tale of tragedy and a conspiracy theory. Yet whichever path you choose to follow, the loss of Amelia is no less significant. Her story has inspired books, documentaries and feature films and today she is still a household name seven decades after her Lockheed Electra’s engines went silent.

As we sit back in the flight levels approaching the speed of sound in air-conditioned comfort, it is almost impossible to grasp the enormity of the undertaking that Amelia was attempting when she vanished somewhere near Howland Island. Today, the smallest aircraft are equipped with crystal clear radios, reliable engines and even satellite navigation. The airways system has gone global and virtually anywhere, anytime someone else can know where you are. In the era of Amelia Earhart, this was certainly not the case.

The pioneers at the dawn of air travel were virtually launching into the unknown. There were nautical charts and sextants to navigate by, while the likes of Bert Hinkler flew in his open-cockpit biplane with pages from the Times Atlas on his lap. They planned to the best of their ability, but the fact remained that the world had not yet geared up for aviation. There was no overnight courier to express ship spare parts or weather radar iPhone Apps. It was a world of courage, initiative, determination and improvisation and to this backdrop they would take their small machines aloft over hostile mountains and miles of desolate ocean.

There were no creature comforts and hunger and fatigue were constant companions as the roaring engines deafened all on board. Both Amelia and Pacific crossing pioneer Sir Charles Kingsford Smith would send messages back to the crew on a stick as yelling was absolutely pointless. All the while, the miles ticked by at a tediously slow rate in comparison to our modern world of the jet age. And so it is little wonder that many of these good people died forging the frontiers that we take for granted today.

Bert Hinkler would perish on an Italian mountain-side, while Kingsford Smith would be lost somewhere over the Bay of Bengal with only a lone undercarriage leg every providing a silent testimony. Lancaster and Miller, Hitchcock and Anderson, Nungesser and Coli; the list goes on. Yet still these adventurers would seek to go farther, higher and faster without hesitation, well aware that the ultimate price could be there life. Amelia Earhart was one such heroine in a male-dominated realm.

As TIGHAR seeks to venture out on their latest mission to find the truth there will undoubtedly be the detractors criticising the time, effort and cost that will be expended. However, if we are to inspire those in the future, we must continue to respect those who have gone before. For I suspect it is the same spark that inspires these heroes, regardless of their era. They are the same dreams that flow through the veins of an astronaut tethered in space as flowed through those who climbed aboard their machines of rag and tube a century ago.

As we search for answers to the challenges ahead for our world and its environment, once again it will be courage, initiative, determination and improvisation that will lead us to the answers. For at the heart of every solution is the human endeavour and it is that element that should drive the technology; not the other way around. The human spirit has survived through the most desperate times and hopefully it shall continue to do so. Yet to succeed we will need special people to forge frontiers where others dare not tread. In these times we will continue to need our ‘Amelias’.

So I shall follow with interest as the survey crews and archaeologists pore over sonar plots and sift through the sand for clues. For even within the act of searching for Amelia there lies a dream and inspiration and hours of determined effort. The answer to Amelia Earhart’s disappearance may remain a mystery, but her spirit has only grown with time and therein lies the lesson for us all. Her success has not been lessened by her loss on that final leg across the Pacific Ocean, moreover it has emphasised that the true legend lies in the courage of the endeavour. Others subsequently built upon her efforts and ultimately the oceans and skies were traversed so that today we can bridge phenomenal distances with speed and safety. Even in a world of split second global technology, for us to successfully find our tomorrows, we need to keep looking for our Amelia Earhart’s.

                                                                    Squadron Kenneth Butterworth McGlashan AFC

                                     "Old Pilots."

This week I was honoured to have lunch with a gentleman by the name of Arthur Morris MBE. For those who follow cricket, his name will be immediately associated with the 1948 Australian side that was victorious in England. Referred to as ‘The Invincibles’, this side was captained by Sir Donald Bradman and remained undefeated in all the matches on that tour.

At ninety years of age, Arthur is still as sharp as a tack with a tremendous sense of humour and incisive observations of the game that he knows so well. As I listened intently, it reminded me of the many conversations that I had with Squadron Leader Kenneth Butterworth McGlashan AFC when I was compiling his story for 'Down to Earth'. Both were extremely humble about their accomplishments, a wealth of knowledge and gentlemen of the highest order. As I drove home from the luncheon, I couldn’t help but ponder the wealth of experience that we have in our society. People who have lived full lives and found the answers to so many questions through cold, hard experience. It is a resource that is in our grasp, yet in this world of instantaneous global communication, are we ignoring the human library that is at our fingertips? In aviation, this is particularly pertinent.

Age and experience in the world of flight brings with it a wealth of lessons learned. Some lessons are gained first hand, while others are the observed triumphs and failings of others. Regardless of how the knowledge is accumulated, it all contributes to a growing, living, breathing human library. Its pages can be called upon in reflection on quiet nights by the fireside, or in an instant as a cold chill races up the spine in a darkened cockpit.

‘Hangar flying’ is a term that has long been used to describe the interaction between aviators on Terra Firma when they share stories and tall tales. Like a purging of the soul, most pilots are more than willing to share their knowledge and even their vulnerabilities to enhance the pool of knowledge. Informal ‘rules of thumb’ and an awareness of hidden traps have grown as much from pilots talking as it has from the text-books they wade through as they learn their trade. As a boy, I would listen intently as my father would relate the intricacies of a particular aeroplane, or the error that had cost a competent pilot his life. As my own first steps were taken in aviation, I would again find myself listening to the ‘old hands’ at the Aero Club.

One afternoon as I sat by the panoramic windows of the now-demolished Aero Club at Bankstown, my thoughts were continually interrupted by the loud ramblings of a young pilot endeavouring to ensure that everyone knew he was the world’s best aviator. (As if the Ray Ban sunglasses, epaulettes and massive wrist-watch weren’t enough.) As he espoused the world according to him, I sighted three older gentlemen sitting in the corner, drinking lemonade. I knew these chaps and between them I suspect there was around 70,000 hours of flight time and 400 combat missions and at least one Distinguished Flying Cross. Yet there they sat in anonymity with polished shoes and hushed tones. I left my seat by the window and joined the trio. For the next hour I made so many mental notes that my brain was on the verge of collapse. In the subtle manner these three grey warriors imparted more common sense to a novice like me than a thousand hours of reading could not have challenged. When they were finished, they excused themselves, got in their unremarkable cars and quietly departed. Meanwhile Captain Wristwatch hopped in his sports car, revved its little engine and spun the wheels for all to see..............and then stalled it. Sometimes there is justice.

Sometimes we can get caught up in the pace of this confusing world. A place where the celebrity culture fills the headlines, while efforts of substance are wedged between the crosswords and car deals. As such, it is all the more important that we respect the experience of those who have gone before and importantly, those who have seen it all before. In aviation, trying to re-invent the wheel can end very badly. And yet, at our fingertips is a wealth of experience in the form of those unassuming folks that sit quietly in the corner. They might not be internet-savvy and probably despise television, but when they open their mouths, we should take the time to pause and listen.

As I reflected upon my lunch with Arthur Morris and the hours spent with Kenneth McGlashan and my own father, I could not help but think of how many remarkable people walk anonymously amongst us. They can be found in the queues at the shopping centre, or flicking through a magazine in the Doctor’s waiting rooms, going about their business as they have for decades. Too often we hastily brush past them in the race to meet our own deadlines, never knowing the opportunity that we have just missed. As pilots, we are trained not to rush in when things go awry, rather we should move methodically through whichever drill or procedure is called for. Perhaps there is something in that. Perhaps we should pause and seek out the three quiet chaps sitting in the corner and leave the loud individuals to themselves. We are often told that there are old pilots and bold pilots, but very few old, bold pilots. Let’s take the time to seek out these old pilots; then listen and learn.

Where does the time go? This year marked the 25th anniversary of the space shuttle Challenger tragedy. Few of us who were around at the time can forget the TV image of the conflagration and spiralling clouds of smoke lingering silently in the sky. The shocked faces looking skyward and the stilted commentary drowned in disbelief.

Yet sacrifice has always walked close beside the pursuit of new frontiers. Over the centuries, countless explorers and seaborne vessels failed to return as they sought the edge of the earth in search of new lands. Similarly, as the new realms of sky and space availed themselves, a new generation of pioneer put their lives on the line.

Otto Lilienthal, the great German aviation pioneer of the late 19th century set new benchmarks in the pursuit of manned flight with his gliders. Credited by the Wright brothers for his research, Lilienthal paid the ultimate price in 1896 when one of his gliders fell to earth. He was not the first and ultimately proved to be far from the last.

The early aviators were faced with huge adversity. Their machines were frail and the understanding of aerodynamics was in its infancy. Even as the technology of their machines developed over the decades, they still stretched their fledgling machines to the absolute limits of their performance and endurance. Shrinking the globe was a mammoth task and aviation seemingly wanted to accelerate the process. Air races, prize money, Government grants and celebrity were just some of the incentives, but the driving force ultimately came from within. Very few individuals would put their life on the line solely for material gain; the challenge was undoubtedly a prime motivator.

Yet time and again they perished trying. And these were not purely first time novices that history never even knew to forget, these were names established in the halls of aviation fame; Charles Kingsford Smith, Wiley Post, Amelia Earhart, Bert Hinkler, Bill Lancaster and Amy Johnson, to name but a handful. In one way or another, they perished in the very style in which they had lived their lives.

Their sacrifices have not been forgotten, nor did their losses answer all of the questions that aerospace was to ask of its people. As man sought to go higher, farther and faster, the boundaries were often pushed to breaking point and the human link was often the first to fold first. Swept wings, jet engines, supersonic flight, pressurised hulls and the frontier of space continued to ask questions of the engineers, physicists and test pilots. Too often, it claimed many lives before an answer was ultimately found.

The great British aviation pioneer and designer, Sir Geoffrey DeHavilland, lost one of his sons while test flying a new generation jet aircraft, the DH108 Swallow. Another son died in a mid-air collision. The home of flight research in the United States, Edwards Air Force Base, has seen more than its share of triumph and tragedy. It was home to the ‘X-planes’ and saw Chuck Yeager break the sound barrier in 1947. Neil Armstrong cut his teeth at Edwards on the likes of the X-15 before fate would ultimately determine that space was his destiny. Yet in the shadow of the advances loiter the losses and its streets bear the names of many of those heroes. Even the base is named after USAF test pilot, Glen Edwards, who perished with his crew testing the YB-49 ‘Flying Wing’.

The sky was not the limit and soon space became the new frontier. As the Mercury astronauts were launched into orbit with increasing frequency, the Soviet Union was doing so with equal success in the ‘space race’. Both sides encountered losses throughout this period of rapid technological advancement, including the horrific fireball of Apollo 1 on the launch pad during testing at Cape Canaveral. And while the brilliant failure of Apollo 13 was a very close call, the loss of the space shuttle Challenger in 1986 reminded us that flight exploration is still a very dangerous business. The loss of Columbia on re-entry in 2003 re-affirmed the fact.

But for all the losses, ultimately the cause has advanced. In fact it has advanced at a pace that only the imagination would have dared to conjure a century ago. Within the span of an average human life, aviation developed from flimsy frames limping a few hundred feet to man kicking up moon dust with his feet. It is an achievement that all humanity can be proud of and has made the world a smaller place. Its applications have been varied, from powerful war machines to vehicles of tremendous humanitarian aid and from craft of leisure to a means of rescue on cold, dark nights.

But as aviation continues forth, it is vital to remember those who have paid the ultimate price along the way, for it is their courage that has allowed this field of human endeavour to grow like no other. Their willingness to strap into confined cockpits and push the envelope has allowed the rest of the world to reap the benefits of air travel and aerospace in a far more relaxed and safer manner. In aviation, the safety of the masses has often been the achieved at a high cost to an individual.

Furthermore, the price of human life should serve to ward off complacency about forging new frontiers in the sky. It is not our natural realm; we are guests in the air above the earth. We should always pay due respect to our host, for the moment we don’t, the skies have the potential to remind us of our true status in the most brutal manner.

So as we consider the loss of ‘Challenger’, we should offer thanks to her crew and to all of those who have paid the ultimate price in pushing those boundaries in the sky. In tragedy we must always seek to find a greater purpose and learn from the past, so as to avoid history repeating itself. However, despite the lessons learnt, no loss will be the last as we move forward; unfortunately it is the price those heroes pay on our behalf. This cold reality has been with us since the beginning. As he lay on his death-bed the day after his fall to earth, the great Otto Lilienthal uttered, "Kleine Opfer müssen gebracht werden".................. "Small sacrifices must be made.”

(c) Owen Zupp 2011.