 Proudly we hail. From New York City, where the American stage begins, here is another program with a cast of outstanding players. Public service time has been made available by this station to bring you this story as proudly we hail the United States Air Force. Our presentation today, check and double check, is a story of the pilots whose job it is to flight test all new Air Force planes before they're placed in regular service. Proudly we hail Captain Richard I. Rick Johnson and the officers and men of the Air Force Unit at Republic Aviation Corporation. Our first act curtain will rise in just a moment, but first. Aircraft observers are now being trained by the United States Air Force for crew positions in the world's mightiest bombers, the B-36, B-47 and the B-52. Can you qualify? Well, if you're between 19 and 26 and a half, single and a high school graduate, see your aviation cadet project officer at the nearest United States Air Force recruiting station today. Wear the silver wings of your United States Air Force. And now your United States Air Force presents the proudly we hail production, check and double check. Your watch shows that it's nearly 10 o'clock when you step out of the operations building at Republic Aviation. Captain Rick Johnson, you're wearing full flight equipment from the white helmet with the tiger on it, souvenir of Korea to your flight boots. You glance up into the morning sunshine. It's CAVU weather, ceiling invisibility unlimited. And weather is important in your kind of job. You're an acceptance pilot for the United States Air Force. You glance at your production flight test card as you walk, and then you look up at the swept wing jet ahead of you on the flight line. That's your assignment. An RF, 84F, a thunder flash, the photo reconnaissance version of the famous Thunderstreek fighter. It's a lot of airplane, nearly 50 feet long. A jet-driven powerhouse that contains enough aluminum to make 14,000 kitchen skillets. Enough air conditioning equipment to make 2,000 ice cubes each minute. Enough wiring to stretch for six miles. But that's not all. The thunder flash contains enough cameras and guns to take aerial photographs of enemy targets and then fight its way back home. Like all the other thunder flashes, it's been checked through every step of its production. It's been test flown by Republic's civilian pilots. Now, it's your turn to see that it measures up to the high standards of Air Force planes. Your turn to double check. You stop, Rick Johnson, and you turn to see who's calling you. A young boy. He couldn't be more than 12 years old. He's coming toward you. Behind him, his mother smiles at you, hopefully. You look at the thunder flash waiting for you. You look at the boy. And you suddenly decide that the Air Force wouldn't mind waiting a couple of minutes longer for their new plane. Hi! You calling me? Yes, sir. My name's Billy Davis. Oh, mine's Rick Johnson. How do you do, sir? I do hope Billy's not bothering you, Captain. I'm sure you're very busy. Oh, gee, Mom. That's all right, Mrs. Davis. I've got a few minutes before take-off. You see, Mom, I told you it would be all right. Well, if you're sure. Of course. Visiting the plant? Yes, sir. It's my birthday. Mom promised me she'd bring me out here. Sure glad she did. Boy, will I have a lot to tell a gang. Well, you like flying, Billy? I sure do. I've only been up in an airliner, though. Mom and I went to see Aunt Matilda in Chicago. And that doesn't really count, I guess. Not like testing jets, I mean. Maybe not, Billy, but test flying, even when you're testing jets, is a job too. A lot of it's hard work. Yes, sir. I bet I wouldn't find it hard work. Well, you might be surprised. Don't forget you really have to check out a jet before the Air Force feels it's ready for regular service. You have to check everything from the electrical system and the stalling speed to the dive brakes and the in-flight refueling system. You've got to fill in the flight test card and fill it inaccurately. Sometimes you might even spend most of the day just shooting landings and take-offs to test landing gear. Believe me, Billy, you don't spend all your time lowering the sonic boom. I see what you mean. Say, I know what the sonic boom is. That's the noise you make when you go through the sound barrier at Mach 1. Well, right. Your son's really been reading up on it, Mrs. Davis. No, he certainly has. Well, his whole room is full of airplane models and books about flying. Say, Captain, would you do me a favor? Sure, Billy, if I can. What is it? I got a picture here of a thunder flash. I cut it out of a magazine. Would you autograph it for me? Be glad to. OK, if I use pencil. Sure. Thanks a lot, Captain. You're welcome, Billy. I hope it brings you luck. I hope so, too. Some of the gang say I'll never be a pilot. On account of I've had infertile paralysis. But I'll show them. I'm going to learn to walk again real soon. Someday I'll be a pilot just like you. Yeah, you. You bet you will. So long, Billy. So long, Rick. Thank you, Captain. Goodbye. Not at all, Mrs. Davis. A pleasure. You glance back at Billy Davis' happy face. And at the bright smile his mother gives you. You're glad you stopped, Rick Johnson. And you're sure Billy Davis will walk again and someday learn to be a pilot. You can't beat his kind of courage. Morning, fly boy. Good morning, Miss Stevens. I owe you a couple of apologies. I couldn't help overhearing. That was a mighty nice thing you just did. Forget him, Miss Stevens. It was nothing. Well, don't bite my head off. There's no reason you should be ashamed of doing something nice. I'll bet under all that jet wash you've been handing out you're really a very nice guy. I said forget it. They're in the cockpit of the Thunderflesh Air Force 394, Rick Johnson. You ease it down the concrete taxi strip next to runway 14. The canopy's back. And the fresh breeze hits you forward over the oxygen mask. Behind you, the big J-65 Sapphire engine. A power plant that can deliver 7,200 pounds of jet thrust. Thunder's quietly. Eager to be up in the air. You've just completed your pre-flight check and filled out part of the test card strapped to your knee. The blank spaces next to some of the listings like hydraulic pump, brakes and lights, totalizer, RPM have numbers assembled in them now. Now you're at the end of the taxi strip. You make your turn, close the canopy and the big plane sits at the end of the mile-long runway held by the brakes like a giant hawk straining at a leash. You think about Billy Davis and his mother again and about Sally Stevens, the girl who spoke to you. Then you concentrate on your job and you contact the tower. Republic Tower, this is Air Force 394 and acceptance flight in run-up position. Air Force 394 from Republic Tower. Proceed with run-up check, over. You reach for the throttle at Johnson and you shove it ahead. Roger, altimeter 2989. Wind south at 10 knots. Temperature, 73 degrees. Roger. Tire breaks up, stabilizer set, canopy. Check. You are cleared for takeoff on runway 1-4. Roger. Your jet is just a silvery streak high in the northwest sky, Rick Johnson, as you start your test flight. But down on the ground, where Sally Stevens is entering the operations building, another scene is taking place. Oh, hello, Sally. Hi, Pop. I saw your note on the breakfast table, yes, I worked late last night to help Colonel Anderson get all those flight reports off to Air Force headquarters. Tell me to come in late this morning. Hope you didn't have any trouble fixing breakfast. What's the matter, honey? You look a little upset. Something wrong? Nothing's wrong, I'm just a little tired, I guess. No, no, it's more than that. Something's riled you up. I was talking to Captain Johnson. Captain Johnson? Well, since when are we so formal? I've never heard that he was a conceited self-centered egoistic. Now, whoa, whoa, hold on there. What's the scoop on this hassle? It's nothing really. You're ready to boil them in oil and it's nothing? Nothing. Now look, apart from the fact that you're my only daughter, you're my favorite daughter, for 22 years I've been interested in the things that worry you. Thanks, Pop. You're still my favorite father and the best darn pilot in the place. Oh, compliments, huh, Sally? Say, your being steamed up wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm Chief Civilian Test Pilot. Or would it? Yes, Pop, I'm afraid it does. You see, it all started a couple of weeks ago when Rick Johnson arrived here. I was sitting at my desk outside the colonel's office. And a good morning to you, too. Oh, good morning, Captain. My name's Rick Johnson. Uh, tell me, do you live around here? Captain Richard I. Johnson. That's right, and your name is... We've been expecting you. You were transferred here as an acceptance pilot, according to your orders. Yes, yes, here they are. Now, if you'll wait over there for a few minutes, Colonel Anderson will see you. I'd like to wait here. That's a nice, soft chair over there. Maybe, but the scenery is more interesting over here. Well, if you insist. Have you met any of the other pilots? The only one, a civilian test pilot. He introduced himself downstairs. You know, I could hardly believe he was a test pilot. What do you mean, Captain? Well, flying jets, particularly the ones they make here, is no sense. You've got to think quickly and act quickly. This pilot I met, Pop Stevens, I think he said his name, was ought to be in a nice, easy desk job. Well, he looked old enough to be your father. I have news for you, fly boy. He is my father. Jack Stevens can fly rings around hot pilots like you. He can jockey anything from the smallest span can we've got around here to the hottest stove pipe over at Experimental. He was flying when he was 16 and barnstorming in the middle west when you were still in knee pants. He's still helping Uncle Sam the one way he knows by flying. Yes, he's old enough to be my father and I'm very proud of the fact that he is. Now, if you'll be so good as to wait over there, Captain, I'll tell Colonel Anderson you're here. And so, Pop, that's how it is. Rick Johnson and I just don't hit it off. As far as I'm concerned, things will be just fine if he doesn't speak to me again because I know I certainly don't want to talk to him. You're listening to the proud to be hail production check and double check. We'll return in just a moment for the second act. Daring and imagination, courage and science, these have propelled us straight into the jet age, the age of airspeed faster than sound, a flight into the farthest frontiers of the sky. How would you, young man listening today, like to master one of those jet planes, sleek, powerful aircraft which represent the last word in military aviation? They're considered safer to fly than propeller planes. If you qualify for and successfully complete the interesting, exacting training of an aviation cadet, you'll have your chance. As a pilot in the United States Air Force, practicing a challenging career in the service of your country, you'll start as a second lieutenant, earning more than $5,000 a year. Now, if you're between 19 and 26-and-a-half in excellent health, single, and meet the mental and educational requirements, you're eligible to apply for the 16-month flight training course. See if you can qualify at your nearest Air Force Base or drop in at your local United States Air Force Recruiting Station. You are listening to Proudly We Hail. Now we present the second act of check and double check. In the Air Operations Building at Republic Aviation, Jack Stevens, chief civilian test pilot, stares for a moment at the angry look on the pretty face of his daughter, Sally. Sally, it seems, wants no part of the handsome new Air Force acceptance pilot, Captain Rick Johnson. Sally, are you sure that you're giving him a chance? Rick Johnson's a pretty good pilot, you know. Him? He'd probably hit the panic button if he found something that wasn't in the book. Well, I'm not so sure. Oh, you got a match? You and that pipe, you're always out of matches. Here. Thank you. You know, there's something I ought to tell you about Rick Johnson. Yeah, that's got it. I'm not so sure I want to hear it. Now don't start that up again. Just listen a moment. Rick flew in Korea. Saber jets, more than 100 missions. You see, I found this out from the colonel and Rick didn't tell me. Well, Rick was leading a sweep of this outfit beyond the 38th parallel one morning. They were jumped by a gaggle of migs. Six to one, and these mig jockeys were no hillbillies either. They'd been trained against our tactics. You interested in all this? Go on, I'm listening. What happened? Well, from what I heard, you could practically walk on the stuff those migs were throwing. And Rick barreled the flight through the whole pack, knocked off a couple of reds, made the turn, came back through them again. And his wingman, Hank Seton, was hit with shrapnel. Rick flew cover while Seton made it back to the UN lines. And Rick was still chasing a red when he ran out of ammo. He made an emergency landing. He walked home. But they found his Saber the next day. It was parked in a rice paddy. Looked like a vegetable strainer. So you see what I mean? This boy has a lot of what it takes. He's not just out for himself. Well, maybe you're right. But I don't like the crack he made that you're getting too old to be a test pilot. He has a point, you know. Don't tell me you agree with that overgrown sewing. Well, in a way. Don't forget, dear, I'm nearly 50. That's kind of old to be pushing those stove pipes around in the sky. As a matter of fact, I'm planning to move over to a desk job one day real soon. Yes, I'm going to let guys who are Rick's age handle testing while I go catch fish off Montauk somewhere. Well, now let's get up to the colonel's office. I've held you up long enough. And besides, I want to check some of our flight reports with him. Especially that, that thunder flash Rick Johnson's checking out today. Oh, well, what's the matter with it? The landing gear. Well, that's why the Air Force maintains this checked-in double check system. One of the plant pilots had it up yesterday for our final, and he thought he spotted some trouble in the nose wheel. Seemed to clear up. However, you never can tell. So come on, let's not keep the colonel waiting. You're nearly 100 miles away from the Republic Field, Rick Johnson. Altitude? Over 40,000 feet. Airspeed? Over 600 knots. The production flight test card for Air Force 394 is beginning to fill up. You've checked the 200 different levers, gauges, buttons, and dials in the Thunder Flashes cockpit. As you've given Air Force 394 a real workout, Rick Johnson. Equal to most anything the aircraft would face under combat conditions. But your job is not over. So you snap on your radio again. Republic Tower, this is Air Force 394, over. Air Force 394, this is Republic Tower, over. 394 to Republic, proceeding to diving area, over. Roger, 394. Ahead of you, sparkling in the sunlight. And nearly seven miles below you is the Atlantic Ocean. You're heading for the diving area or Fire Island. This is the critical test. You're going to dive the Thunder Flash at more than the speed of sound. Your stomach tightens, and your hand grips the flute on the control stick. Your eyes range quickly over your instrument panel, the pinball machine. And you give the go handle a shove forward, and down you go. Push up in a steady climb as you read the instrument panel again, and fill out more spaces on the flight test card. Your report shows that the planes, muscle stretches, the booster systems that pulled you out of that dive are working just right. You read your altimeter over 20,000 feet. You relax now, Rick Johnson. Nothing ahead of you but sitting Air Force 394 down, flat and happy on the Republic runway. There's no warning yet that there's trouble ahead. No warning at the landing you're about to make. You'll be one of the toughest jobs you ever faced. Morning, Sally. Hello, Jack. She's late. It's my fault. We were shooting the breeze outside. She's entitled to it. We worked pretty late getting out those reports. If they had a civilian medal for secretaries, I'd recommend her for it. Thanks, Colonel Anderson. It really wasn't tough. We'll all get it. That's all right, Sally. Don't bother. Colonel Anderson. What? Repeat that. All right, I'll be right up. What's up, Murray? Trouble? Big trouble. That was a tower upstairs. One of our pilots was about to land a jet when they noticed his gear was fouled. They sent him up again. What pilot is that, Colonel? Captain Johnson. I knew it was that nose wheel. Well, come on. Let's go. What's the latest on Johnson? He's got a cocked nose wheel, sir. We thought the gear looked funny when he was about to set that thunder flash down, so we ordered him up and made a visual check with the binoculars. It's pretty bad, sir. The nose wheel is cocked at an angle of about 45 degrees. Here must have jammed coming down. That's the same. You closed the field? Yes, sir. Rescue crews are standing by. Johnson is circling the field. Okay. Let me have the mic. Yes, sir. Air Force 394 from Republic Tower. This is Colonel Anderson. Can you pull up your gear? Tower from 394. No dice, Colonel. Gear won't retract. I'll have to make it the hard way. Over. Yeah, the hard way is right. If he sets that hot baby down on a crooked nose wheel, he'll ground-loop all over the place. How's his fuel? I don't know. Let's check. 394 from Tower. What's your fuel situation? Over. Tower from 394. Can't keep her up here much longer, sir. Over. Roger 394. Well, that's the story, Jack. Looks like we're gonna need those crash trucks. I can't see how he's gonna grease this one in. Yes, you're right. I sure hate to take a chance on a good pilot even to avoid losing a brand-new put. What was that you just said? I don't know. I guess I said it'll be tough greasing this one in. That's it. That's how we can get him down. Let me have that mic. Okay. Here you are. What's the idea? You'll see. You'll see. Crash truck from Tower. You got full-mide extinguishers on the truck? Tower from truck? Yes, sir. Good. Now, here's what I want you to do. Get down to the north end of the runway. I think we're all set. Think it'll work? It's got to work. We don't have much choice. It's all right. Oh, I'd better tell Johnson what it's all about. 394 from Tower. This is Pop Stevens. Stand by for special landing instructions. Over. Tower from 394. Go ahead. Over. 394 from Tower. Now, listen carefully. We've laid a strip of fomite about three yards wide down runway 14. It's slippery as grease. Can you say it? Over. Tower from 394. Yes, I can. What do I do with it? Over. 394 from Tower. You're to straddle it with your wing gear when you come in. Set the nose wheel down on the fomite and ease on your brakes. The nose wheel should slide on the fomite strip so that you can hold her on the runway. Don't let that cocked wheel get off the fomite. Don't let your wing gear get on it. If you do, you'll pile up. Is that clear? Over. Roger, Tower. Don't really grease it in. Take over. Yes, sir. 394, wind is south at 10 with gusts to 20. Make straight-in approach on runway 14. Over. Roger and Wilco. He's over the end of the runway. 100 feet. 50. 20. 10. He's on the ground. It's working. It's working. Look at that wheel slide. He did it. Never thought we'd have that one made. Come on, Sally. Let's go talk to the new ski champion of the U.S. Air Force. Sure was a wonderful lunch, Mr. Stevens. Mr.... Oh, call me Pop. Usual title when your hair gets enough gray. Okay, Pop. U.S. for it. One thing, though, you two are my guests today. No, no, not a chance. No. As a matter of fact, Sally's picking up the tab. Aren't you my d... Hey, oh, no, my ankle. Tell us about that landing, Rick. Well, you know, most of it. It wasn't until you, Pop, thought of greasing up that runway with fomite that I could get her down. Well, Pop, I guess I owe you a big apology. Oh, what are you talking about? It was nothing. Just that this is no weather for a swimming-healthy highland. Seriously, Pop, I want you to know that I'm sorry for the crack I made to Sally about your belonging in a nice, easy desk job. As far as I'm concerned, you've got the toxin savvy about anything with wings on it. Thank you, Rick. I'll tell you what, how about you two having lunch with me again day after tomorrow? Well, thank you, Rick, but I've got a pile of work to take care of. I've got to get used to that desk you were talking about. At the time our younger pilots and new Air Force Joes took care of the check-and-double-check routine. So, well, I guess you'll just have to have lunch with Sally. That is if there are no objections. In this case, I think I would say objection overrule. Going up, go Air Force. Yes, today, applications are being accepted for aviation cadet training in the United States Air Force from young men who are high school graduates. Fly with the world's finest fighting team. Visit your nearest United States Air Force base or United States Air Force recruiting station for full details. This has been another program on proudly behaved, that had transcribed in cooperation with this station. Proudly We Hail is produced by the Recruiting Publicity Center in New York for the United States Air Force Recruiting Service. This is Mark Hamilton speaking, inviting you to tune in this same station next week for another interesting story on Proudly We Hail.