Today, September 18, marks the birthday of the United States Air Force. It's 66 years old today. Its birth came as a result of Congressional Act that was passed on September 18, 1947, which essentially separated the US Army Air Corps into an autonomous, independent branch of the US Defense Department.
In honor of this event, I want to - first of all - thank all of the men and women who have or are now serving in the USAF and its reserve components for answering what they felt was their call to duty.
Secondly, although the person who wrote the following [John Magee] was not a US citizen [He was a Canadian who served in the RCAF and had been deployed to serve during the Battle of Britain {1940}.], his thoughts mirror many of those who flew and/or are flying today.
HIGH FLIGHT
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunwards I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a thousand 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.
In honor of this event, I want to - first of all - thank all of the men and women who have or are now serving in the USAF and its reserve components for answering what they felt was their call to duty.
Secondly, although the person who wrote the following [John Magee] was not a US citizen [He was a Canadian who served in the RCAF and had been deployed to serve during the Battle of Britain {1940}.], his thoughts mirror many of those who flew and/or are flying today.
HIGH FLIGHT
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunwards I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a thousand 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.