Blue Angels

I have always felt that the real test of acting on principle was when it was not in your interest to do so, and that the best test of character was what you do when you don’t know anyone is looking.

The Blue Angels, the US Navy’s demonstration team, normally only does shows in the United States—it’s primary mission is recruitment, so that makes sense—but it does occasionally tour in other parts of the world, the last such tour in 1992. (This information, and much more, including a gallery of photos from which the one above was taken, can be found at the official website, http://www.blueangels.navy.mil/.) I was in Italy then, but I wasn’t aware of any other traffic one quiet morning as I sat the cockpit of an L-1011 holding short of the runway prior to takeoff at US Naval Air Station Sigonella, least of all the Blue Angels, so I was a bit surprised when the tower told us to, “Hold short, arriving flight of six. Blue Angels.”

Wow. The Blue Angels. We sure will. Hold short, that is. Our position perpendicular to the runway gave us a perfect view as six tiny dots in the distance approached on final. We watched as all six, in perfect formation, did a high speed pass 20 feet off the runway and then, at the departure end, burst in six different directions and disappeared from view. Nothing from the tower, so we just sat and waited. A couple of minutes later we saw one tiny dot in the distance on final, then another and another, and watched as the first dot grew to be the lead F-18, landed, followed by number two, touching down on the exact same spot on the runway as the lead, then number three, exact same spot, nose wheel coming down in the exact same number of seconds as the two before, and, smiles getting bigger and bigger on all three of us, numbers four, five and six, same spot for the mains, same spot for the nose wheel, same speed at the end turning off.

Still nothing from the tower. That was good, because the show wasn’t over. To our left was a large ramp area that all six were taxiing towards, in line, in formation, with perfect spacing between aircraft. As each approached its parking spot it made a sharp right turn—I could almost hear someone command, “Right, Face!”—and stopped. When all six were in position, the engines were shut down simultaneously and wheels were chocked. Then, maybe the best part of all, all six canopies open together, all six pilots unbuckled and stood up and exited the aircraft stepping down one step at a time in sequence, did a “Left, Face!”, saluted and then, and only then, broke ranks.

The tower cleared us into position, and, with a, “Contact departure airborne,” cleared us for takeoff. I think it was probably a half an hour before any of us could say anything