EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE, Calif. -- Aviation is a captivating and freeing pursuit, yet it remains dangerous and terrifying. While it offers the ability to travel anywhere around the world with blue skies and tailwinds and provides sights most people can only dream about, it also carries the constant knowledge that any error could cost a life.
As a former B-52 maintainer, tester, flying crew chief and part-time general aviation pilot, the B-52 crash on Monday, June 15, has been heavy on my mind. I feel this deeply both as a member of the bomber community and as a pilot.
Following the crash, I was asked, "Are you still going to fly?" and "Are you afraid to fly now?"
Those questions initially left me at a loss for words. It dawned on me that these aviators—my B-52 brothers, some of whom were my good friends—had thousands of hours of experience, far more than me, yet lost their lives doing something they had trained for countless times. How could I not be afraid when all that experience went up in flames?
After much thought, I am reminded of what it means to be an aviator driven by a passion to fly. My conclusion is that yes, I am afraid. But so were the Wright brothers when they pioneered aviation. So was Amelia Earhart as she attempted to fly around the world. So was Chuck Yeager as he broke the sound barrier for the first time, and so was every maintainer who signed off on their first aircraft-grounding write-up.
These historic aviators paved the way for today's generation of pilots and maintainers, including myself. They pushed the boundaries of aviation to explore destinations and heights no one before them dared to reach. The aviators who tragically lost their lives did the same. To be an aviator means pushing the boundaries of presumed human limitations to discover new places, experiences, technology and connections. Most importantly, it means inspiring the next generation.
While these brave and highly experienced aviators lost their lives, I believe they did so doing what they loved and fulfilling that mission.
The next time I am behind the controls, this will be at the forefront of my mind. I will continue to fly, knowing it could be my last time in the cockpit. I will trust my experience, my training and those who paved the way before me. I will fly because I am an aviator, and they would want us to keep going.
While the spark of these aviators has been extinguished, they lit thousands of others through their contributions to the field. If you are an aviator, or aspiring to be one, I hope this keeps your spark bright as you aim to break the boundaries of those who came before you.
Blue skies and tailwinds, aviators.
Master Sgt. Tyree Griffin, a former B-52 Stratofortress maintainer, tester, flying crew chief and part-time general aviation pilot, reflects on the lasting impact the recent B-52 crash had on his life and career. (Courtesy photo)