4
GA
/ Vol. 5 / No.4 / APRIL 2013
Owen Zupp has over 16 000 hours of varied experience having first flown as a com-
mercial pilot in 1987. His background includes charter work, flight instruction and ferry
flights. Serving as a Chief Pilot, Chief Flying Instructor and an Approved Test Officer
rounded off his time in General Aviation before joining Ansett Australia in 1994 as a First
Officer on the 737.
He has a Masters Degree in Aviation Management. His writings on aviation have been
published both in Australia and abroad. Owen won the Australian National Aviation Press
Club's Aviation Technical Story of the Year award in 2006. In 2007 his first book,
Down to
Earth, was published and traces the combat experiences of a WWII RAF fighter pilot.
By Owen Zupp
Global View
People
Power
MCC Aviation, is an established fixed and rotor wing air charter service
operator, based at Lanseria International Airport. MCC Aviation operates
a 100% wholly owned fleet of several piston and large turbine prop
aircraft, passenger jets as well as turbine helicopters.
· Multi Engine (C402, C90, B200, Jetstream J41)
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charter@flymcc.co.za www.flymcc.co.za
LANSERIA AIRPORT - Johannesburg
I
n the last ten days I have literally
travelled from Waikiki Beach to
Werribee, Australia. I have crawled
over two seat trainers and World War
Two warbirds, bizjets and bombers. On
the few days in between, "50 Tales of
Flight" was released as an eBook and
then the controlled chaos of an interna-
tional air show consumed my attention.
Now I can stop to draw breath.
As always, so many stories were
gathered and now bounce around
in my head, waiting to be released
onto the page. However, if I was
to draw a common thread between
the diverse locations and range of
hardware it would undoubtedly be
the people. Faces that I have never
met before and many I will most
likely never see again. All drawn
together by their common interest in
aviation, they have walked into my
path and impacted my life in a variety
of ways.
Firstly, there was Pearl Harbour.
Crowds shuffled to and fro between
museums and monuments with audio
tour headsets firmly affixed, locking out
the sounds of the real world. And while
the words spoken were informative,
they could tend to consume one's
focus, directed by the narrator more
than the broader picture. Amongst
this audio input, my wife wandered
across to an elderly gentleman sitting
quietly in the corner of a hangar
behind a small table. Out of the way,
he wore a Pearl Harbour golf shirt,
with drawings of the museum's grand
plan hanging on the wall. Alone and
looking a little awkward, my wife
engaged him in conversation and the
warmth began to flow in his words.
For here behind this table sat a
veteran of the attack on Pearl Harbour
in 1941. As a young man he had been
at work on a flying boat, only metres
away from where we now stood.
Overlooked by the passing crowd,
he spoke of the sounds and the chaos
of the day. He also spoke about his
love of the Catalina and flying light
aircraft in a later life. This man was
living history and shared his story
with us generously as the tour groups
were caught up taking photos with
their iPhones or trying on baseball
caps. My wife had seen beyond that
and we both reaped the rewards.
Fast forward to this week and the
busy scene that is the International
Air Show at Avalon. Held every two
years, it draws global players on the
trade days and massive crowds on the
weekend. There is everything from
heavy military hardware to ultra-lights.
Every product you could imagine is
showcased in either the skies above,
or in one of the mammoth exhibition
halls. It can be hectic to say the least
with so much to see and always a
limited time-frame to do it in. Yet
once again, there was merit in taking
the road a little less travelled and
pausing to speak with the people.
I spent a good deal of time in
the exhibition hall or seeking out
stories for magazines such as Global
Aviator. Always enjoyable, what was
particularly special was the opportunity
to meet the people who read my words
in the magazines, on the internet or
in my books. Putting faces to the
people who take the time to read what
I write. I was fascinated at the interest
in stories from many deadlines ago
and the enthusiasm exuded by the
good folks. For me, the early morning
typing seemed very worthwhile; it
came to life. Rather than a signal sent
out into the void, readers provided the
echo to remind me that something was
actually said. And I know it wasn't
just me, everyone at the magazine
enjoyed the buzz of speaking
with the readers.
On the flight-line, fighter pilots
patiently answered the questions of kids
and grandparents backed up just a few
inches more for that perfect photograph.
As jets roared vertically, arms stretched
upwards with flattened palms, blocking
out the sun in a form of air show
salute. Excitement was everywhere.
It may have been generated by the
aircraft, but it came to life through the
people. The hum of the crowd and
the shared looks and nods as the F-22
Raptor manoeuvred aggressively, or a
sailplane gracefully looped at dusk.
Aircraft can roar, crackle and
whistle, but oohs, aahs and laughter
are solely human traits. The air
show also unveiled the faceless
performers who are usually trapped
beneath their canopies and helmets.
Chatting with the crowds, shaking
hands and signing books, like the
crowd, they too are people. The air
show seemed to bring out the best
machinery and the best in people. The
mood was as high as the sky that was
pierced with increasing frequency.
I decided to wander, take a moment
and ponder the past. I entered the air
force museum's exhibition, complete
with a rag and tube machine and relics
from an era now long gone. On the wall
a massive TV screen cycled through
ancient black and white images. One
after the other, photos of interesting
biplanes appeared with their struts
and open cockpits, but once again it
was the faces; the people. They were
young men on the edge of aviation's
dawn, grinning from beneath goggles
and oil-splattered mechanics standing
proudly beside their machines. Where
did their lives take them? Did they
survive the wars? What was it like
up there? My unanswered questions
all seemed to stem from the people
and their feelings, rather than the
fascinating aircraft I was looking at.
Often aviation can draw the
attention with its marvels of technology.
It has an impressive record over the
last hundred years of going farther and
faster that captures the imagination.
However, we still need to pause and
listen to the people as difficult as
that is to the background of roaring
jets. Stop and take in the words of
that war veteran who witnessed
Pearl Harbour, or the child with a
question about some great steel bird.
For it is the human condition that is
the really awesome performance.
As I pondered this thought, the
scream of a jet overhead suggested
that perhaps I should join the mass
of people once again. Still the screen
flicked over, image after image. Face
after face. Story after story. And then
there was one that I recognised, sitting
in the cockpit of a Mustang with
engineers standing on either wing.
The engine roaring and the propeller's
slipstream seemingly blowing them
away as they gripped the cockpit's
frame. This face too was long gone;
a life well lived. All those years ago,
captured in black and white, a grin
on his young face. It was my Dad. ·
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