“An F-4, proof that even a brick can fly if you put a big enough engine on it; and the F-4 took two!”
“Every F-4 takes off with two in flight emergencies:
1. It’s on fire
2. It’s low on fuel.”
– Anonomous (Navy) F-4 Pilot
O velho, o lago e algumas mulheres nuas
Um velho tinha um lago no fundo de suas terras.
Depois de muito tempo, decidiu ver se estava tudo em ordem.
Tomou uma cesta para aproveitar o passeio e colher umas frutas pelo caminho… Ao aproximar-se do lago, ouviu vozes animadas.
Viu um grupo de mulheres que se banhavam completamente nuas.
Ao vê-lo, todas foram para a parte mais profunda do lago, mantendo apenas a cabeça fora da água.
Uma das mulheres gritou: – Não sairemos enquanto o senhor não se afaste!
O velho respondeu: Eu não vim até aqui para vê-las nadar ou sair nuas do lago!
Levantando o cesto, lhes disse: – estou aqui para alimentar o crocodilo…
Moral da história: idade, experiência e ofício, sempre triunfarão sobre a juventude e o entusiasmo.
To chorando de rir… =)
By the time a Navy pilot pulled into a little town, every hotel room was taken. “You’ve got to have a room somewhere,” he pleaded. “Or just a bed, I don’t care where.” “Well, I do have a double room with one occupant, a Marine pilot,” admitted the manager, “and he might be glad to split the cost. But to tell you the truth, he snores so loudly that people in adjoining rooms have complained in the past. I’m not sure it’d be worth it to you.”
“No problem,” the tired Navy pilot assured him. “I’ll take it.” The next morning the Navy Pilot came down to breakfast bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “How’d you sleep?” Asked the manager. “Never better.” The manager was impressed. No problem with the other guy snoring, then?” “Nope, I shut him up in no time.” Said the Navy pilot. “How’d you manage that?” asked the manager. “He was already in bed, snoring away, when I came in the room, I went over, gave him a kiss on the cheek, said, ‘Goodnight, beautiful,’ and he sat up all night watching me.”
Before take-off, a professional pilot is keen, anxious, but lest someone read his true feelings he is elaborately casual. The reason for this is that he is about to enter a new though familiar world. The process of entrance begins a short time before he leaves the ground and is completed the instant he is in the air. From that moment on, not only his body but his spirit and personality exist in a separate world known only to himself and his comrades.
As the years go by, he returns to this invisible world rather than to earth for peace and solace. There also he finds a profound enchantment, although he can seldom describe it. He can discuss it with others of his kind, and because they too know and feel its power they understand. But his attempts to communicate his feelings to his wife or other earthly confidants invariable end in failure.
Flying is hypnotic and all pilots are willing victims to the spell. Their world is like a magic island in which the factors of life and death assume their proper values. Thinking becomes clear because there are no earthly foibles or embellishments to confuse it. Professional pilots are, of necessity, uncomplicated, simple men. Their thinking must remain straightforward, or they die — violently.
— Ernest K. Gann
Você vai começar a tocar o céu, no momento em que você tocar a velocidade perfeita. E isso não está voando a mil milhas por hora, ou um milhão, de voar à velocidade da luz. Porque qualquer número é um limite, e velocidade perfeita, meu filho, é estar lá.
– Richard Bach
You will begin to touch heaven, in the moment you touch the perfect speed. And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, of flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfect speed, my son, is being there.
— Richard Bach
During a commercial airline flight a Naval aviator was seated next to a young mother with a baby in arms. When her baby began crying during the descent for landing, the mother began nursing her infant as discreetly as possible. The pilot pretended not to notice and, upon debarking, he gallantly offered his assistance to help with the various baby-related articles. When the young mother expressed her gratitude, he responded, “Gosh, that’s a good looking baby…and he sure was hungry!” Somewhat embarrassed, the mother explained that her pediatrician said breast feeding would help alleviate the pressure in the baby’s ears. The pilot sadly shook his head, and in true Sailor fashion exclaimed…….. And all these years I’ve been chewing gum.
This letter is written to insure that management is fully aware of the seriousness of the current O-ring erosion problem in the SRM joints from an engineering standpoint. . . . If the same scenario should occur in a field joint (and it could), then it is a jump ball as to the success or failure of the joint because the secondary O-ring cannot respond to the clevis opening rate and may not be capable of pressurization. The result would be a catastrophe of the highest order – loss of human life. . . .
It is my honest and very real fear that if we do not take immediate action to dedicate a team to solve the problem with the field joint having the number one priority, then we stand in jeopardy of losing a flight along with all the launch pad facilities.
— Roger Boisjoly, Morton Thiokol, Inc.
Interoffice memo to R. K. Lund, Vice President, Engineering titled SRM O-Ring Erosion/Potential Failure Criticality, sent six months before the Challenger launch, 31 July 1985.
Roger Mark Boisjoly (April 25, 1938 – January 6, 2012) was an American mechanical engineer, fluid dynamicist and an aerodynamicist who worked for Morton Thiokol, the manufacturer of the solid rocket boosters for the Space Shuttle program.
Following the announcement that the Challenger mission was confirmed for January 28, 1986, Boisjoly and his colleagues tried to stop the flight. Temperatures were due to be down to −1 °C overnight. Boisjoly felt that this would severely compromise the safety of the O-ring, and potentially lose the flight.
The matter was discussed with Morton Thiokol managers, who agreed that the issue was serious enough to recommend delaying the flight. They arranged a telephone conference with NASA management and gave their findings. However, after a while, the Morton Thiokol managers asked for a few minutes off the phone to discuss their final position again.
Despite the efforts of Boisjoly and others in this off-line briefing, the Morton Thiokol managers decided to advise NASA that their data was inconclusive. NASA asked if there were objections. Hearing none, the decision to fly the ill-fated STS-51L Challenger mission was made.
Boisjoly’s concerns proved correct. In the first moments after ignition, the O-rings failed completely and were burned away, resulting in the black puff of smoke visible on films of the launch. This left only a layer of aluminum oxide (a combustion product) to seal the joint. At 59 seconds after launch, buffeted by high-altitude winds, the oxide gave way. Hot gases streamed out of the joint in a visible torch-like plume that burned into the external hydrogen tank. At about 73 seconds, the adjacent SRB strut gave way and the vehicle quickly disintegrated.
Boisjoly was quite relieved when the flight lifted off, as his investigations had predicted that the SRB would explode during the initial take-off. Seventy-three seconds later he witnessed the shuttle disaster on television.
After the Shuttle disaster, Boisjoly was painfully rewarded for his foresight and playing the part of a whistle blower by releasing his reports publicly. Thiokol cut him off from space work, and he was shunned by colleagues and managers. A former friend warned him, “If you wreck this company, I’m going to put my kids on your doorstep,” Boisjoly told The Los Angeles Times in 1987.
He had headaches, double-vision and depression, he said. He yelled at his dog and his daughters and skipped church to avoid people. He filed two suits against Thiokol; both were dismissed.
He later said he was sustained by a single gesture of support. Sally Ride, the first American woman in space, hugged him after his appearance before the commission.
“She was the only one,” he said in a whisper to a Newsday reporter in 1988. “The only one.”
Hoje é Dia Internacional de Lembrança do Holocausto, marcando a passagem de 70 anos desde a libertação de Auschwitz em 1945.
Dentro dos muros de Auschwitz I e dos campos de extermínio nas proximidades Auschwitz II-Birkenau, mais de 1,1 milhão de judeus foram assassinados em câmaras de gás, trabalho forçado, fome, doença ou experimentação médica durante a ocupação nazista na Segunda Guerra Mundial.
Em 4 de setembro de 2003 – Três F-15 Eagles da Força Aérea Israelense voaram sobre a Polônia, e começaram a seguir os trilhos do trem que levam à Auschwitz-Birkenau. Cada aeronave pilotada por um filho de um sobrevivente do Holocausto, cada avião transportava a lista completa das pessoas assassinadas no interior das muralhas dos acampamentos e, mais importante, cada avião transportava uma promessa para nunca deixar que a história se repita.
À medida que as F-15 da IDF sobrevoavam o campo de concentração, o líder da formação Brig.-Gen. Amir Eshel leu a seguinte declaração no rádio:
“Nós pilotos da Força Aérea, voando nos céus acima dos campos de horrores, por sobre as cinzas dos milhões de vítimas e de seus gritos silenciosos, saudamos sua coragem e prometemos ser o escudo do povo judeu e sua nação Israel . ”
Eles não devem ser esquecidos.
Há 38 anos atrás, 21/01/1976, o CONCORDE fazia seu primeiro voo comercial carregando passageiros.
Simultaneamente um Concorde da British Airways, o G-BOAA, decolou de Londres para o Bahrain enquanto de Paris o F-BVFA da Air France decolava para o Rio de janeiro via Dakar.
Pouca gente sabe que o Rio/Brasil teve um papel tão de destaque na era do voo supersônico de passageiros!
38 years ago today, 21 January 1976: The first scheduled supersonic passenger airliners, British Airways’ Concorde G-BOAA and Air France’ Concorde F-BVFA, took off simultaneously at 11:40 a.m.
G-BOAA departed London Heathrow enroute Bahrain, and F-BVFA departed Paris enroute Rio de Janero, with a stop at Dakar.
The British Airways’ flight, using call sign “Speedbird Concorde”, was crewed by Captain Norman Victor Todd, Captain Brian James Calvert and Flight Engineer John Lidiard. Chief Test Pilot Ernest Brian Trubshaw, CBE, MVO, was also aboard.
G-BOAA arrived on time at 15:20. F-BVFA, after a delay at Dakar, arrived at Rio de Janeiro at 19:00.
On the night before Christmas my ship was at sea,
A big flat-top “bird farm” from the land of the free.
Cruising the ocean at “the tip of the spear”,
So everyone home could sleep sound with no fear.
Flight ops had ended hours ago,
The day crew had turned in and gone down below.
Night crew was doin’ their maintenance checks,
The aircrews and pilots were gettin’ some rest.
The cooks in the galley were fixin’ Mid-rat’s,
The Air Boss and Cap’n could finally relax.
CIC called up said something’s inbound,
Prob’ly the mail plane, a C-2 Greyhound.
Stand clear of the foul-line, one to recover,
“Angel” is airborne, to starboard he’ll hover.
Spotters see only one red blinkin’ light,
No markers on wing-tips, now somethin’ ain’t right.
All eyes are watching but no one believes,
What comes o’er the round-down, bold as you please.
Nine deer and a sleigh, no tail-hook or tires,
How does Paddles grade a trap with no wire?
A red Nomex flight-suit, of course gloves that match,
And S. Claus printed on his aviator patch.
Why, it’s old Santa Claus wearin’ goggles and leather,
With bags full of Christmas cards, presents and letters.
Don’t stand there gawkin’, froze in your tracks,
Give him a hand with unloadin’ those sacks.
The bags are all carried to the mail room below,
And after a pre-flight, Santa’s ready to go.
The cat-crew is wondering now which hold-back pin?
Santa just laughs then he’s airborne again.
We didn’t hear jingling bells from his sleigh,
Ol’ Santa was whistling Anchors Aweigh.
Off the angle-deck, over wave-caps of white,
Even without afterburners he’s soon out of sight.
We all stood there doubting what we had just seen,
But the deer left a present, smelly and green.
Over the side with all the deer turds,
Don’t want them things fod’in one of our birds.
Tho’ that night happened many long years ago,
Santa still travels to our ships on the foam.