Lt. Carl A. Allison |
He was not trained in fighters, but became a multi-engine aircraft
pilot. He was to remain in the Air Force for twenty years, flying
every two and four engine plane they had up to the B-47.
After his retirement he continued to fly for Air America, which
at the time was rumored to be a spy organization--he never admitted
or denied this rumor but was exposed to some very dangerous flying.
This was in Laos and Viet Nam during the war. He followed this
job with a position as Captain on a Douglas DC-8 for Japan Airlines. |
Then to Shaw Airlines in Alaska. Then to Scenic Airlines where
he flew the 1927 Ford Tri-motor hauling passengers from Las Vegas
for a scenic flight over and down through the Grand Canyon. From
there he had a job flying government employees to an "area"
in the Nevada desert in a Boeing 737. He is now retired from
flying. |
B-47
|
As a late addition to this story, on Valentine's Day, February
14, 1996, I received in the mail a package from the personnel
department of the Navy that contained the DFC (Distinguished
Flying Cross). Also included was another Air Medal, a World War
II Medal, an Asiatic Pacific Theater Medal, an American Campaign
Medal and a Presidential Unit Citation Ribbon. Didn't even inquire
about anything but the DFC.
Medals and Citations |
Presidential
Unit Citation |
Navy Wings |
Presidential
Unit Citation |
Air Medal |
Distinguished
Flying Cross |
Air Medal |
Asiatic-Pacific Campaign |
WWII Medal |
American Campaign |
|
|
VC 93 reunion, San Diego,CA, 1992
Pilots, wives and guests
The author is seated, front row, right |
The following poem is the poem that was repeated by my roommate
at Pensacola. Can't say that I didn't like it because I can truthfully
say that I, too, had a euphoric feeling when I was hurtling my
eager craft around and through the sun bleached, whipped cream
clouds. I don't recall putting out my hand and touching the face
of God, but it is a strange elating feeling.
HIGH FLIGHT
John MacGill, Royal Air Force
Oh; I've slipped the surly bounds of earth,
and danced the skies on laughter's silvered wings.
Sun ward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
of unsplit - clouds - and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of- wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence, hovering there.
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
my eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the wind- swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark or even eagle flew.
and while with silent lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God.
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