 It was the end of the beginning. Man lifted his eyes from the earth and looked above. First he knew awe and wonder. Then he began to dream. It has been a lengthening journey, a continuing odyssey. The pioneers of naval air helped create the age of flight. They led us away from the beginning, through the darkness of the unknown. They were rare men. On fragile ships of wood and wire they rode their dreams into reality. Into the present where they remain. Their names alive among us still. Ellison. Rogers. Cunningham. Smith. Chevalier. Bellinger. Billingsley. Murray. Muston. McElvain. Richardson. Softly. Bronson. Whiting. They were called Eagles. The naval aviators of today are the direct descendants of the pioneers. Their wings of golden reminder of the past. The wings of Eagles. Pensacola, Florida. A city that remembers the beginning. A name synonymous with the growth and development of naval aviation. In the official chronology is recorded the following. January 20th, 1914. The aviation unit from Annapolis under Lieutenant J. H. Towers arrived in Pensacola to set up a flying school. Since 1914 they have come here by the tens of thousands of flight students, inheritors of the dream. Flight training is a school for survival. A unique proving ground. In every aspect there is a purpose. A reason for each chartered challenge along the road. A naval aviator must know wind and weather. Understand the stresses of heat and cold. Be able to function and survive on land and sea. He must know the elements and command them all. Most of all he must master himself. It is another of the constants. One of the things that does not change. The demands of basic and pre-flight are perhaps the most rigorous of all. A man with his head in the clouds is asked to keep his feet on the ground. It is asking a great deal. What is the force that sustains the flight student through the long hours of classroom and theory? Perhaps it is a dream. That vision in his mind's eye that links him with the eagles of the past. And to a future all his own. Bill Driscoe and our eagles of today. Pilot and radar intercept officer, RIO. They are the first dual aces. A designation hard one in skies over North Vietnam. They share their past with flight students of the present. The eagles of the future. I'm sure Randy would agree with this. There are some things in the air combat maneuvering environment that are always the same that don't change. There are certain attitudes and philosophies that were the same in World War I and World War II and today. There are some refinements and subtleties of course in the jet age that certainly did not exist back in the propeller age. But in the final analysis, it's one man in a machine versus another man in a machine. And there are certain things that we could talk about in the fighter air-to-air tactics. And we could talk with a World War I fighter pilot or a World War II fighter pilot. And the things that we would talk about would be almost exactly identically the same. We have a firm belief at the Navy Fighter Weapon School. The first man to see the other man is probably going to win. And if he doesn't win, he's probably not going to lose. Be it on radar or be it through eyeball. Times have changed a little since the time of Rick Tobin, Oslo Boca, Imelman, Galan. And since the time of McCampbell, the biggest difference that we face is that we only saw MiGs three times. And one time there was a massive MiGs up. But when McCampbell was flying, they had large formations going against large formations. They brought a hundred and raised it to. Man against man, plane against plane. It is a familiar litany. The past influences the present and affects the future. This is the true story of the Naval Aviation Museum. A progression of history that can be felt and heard as well as seen. Displaying superb airmanship and extraordinary heroism. Inspiring leadership. The President of the United States in the name of the Congress takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor. A record of brilliant successes in aerial combat achievement unsurpassed in this war. By courageous, determined, and inspiring efforts in the face of utmost danger. Within these walls, the span and scope of Naval Aviation becomes a single fabric. A three-dimensional tapestry that weaves and blends together across the years. Ships and planes. Men and events. It is a voyage through space, a trip in time. We make the journey guided by the eyes of eagles. Men who with their lives wrote what will be found along the way. In November 1910, Eugene Ealy, a civilian pilot flying a Curtis pusher, took off from a wooden platform built over the bow of the U.S.S. Birmingham, Anchorage and Hampton Roads. Naval Aviation was underway. In the beginning, the tools at hand were barely adequate. The men were better, far better than the machines. Eight years before Lindbergh, the NC-4 flies the Atlantic, bringing the world closer together. The Navy's first carrier, U.S.S. Langley, becomes the realization of commitment to the air, as well as the sea. America in the early 30s. A small, exuberant naval air-armed tests its wings with unbounded enthusiasm. The world struggles with depression, the horizon darkens. Some nations appear to discover strength and dictatorship. It's a strange, disquieting time. A young man from Mount Willing, Alabama patrolled the fringes of this twilight world from the cockpit of a PBY. Thomas Muir would one day command the Pacific and Atlantic fleets, would be chief of naval operations and serve as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Such lofty heights were far away and unimagined. The year is 1941. In those days, without radar, all searches were by eye. And this meant two things. One, you could only search in a daytime. And two, one could only take a sector of about nine to ten degrees around a compass. Francis, this would have meant that it would take 36 aircraft on continuous patrol to cover the area and the approaches to Pearl Harbor. And consequently, the probability of detecting a specific ship under those conditions was very low. I was at Pearl Harbor when the war began. We lost practically all of our aircraft from strafing and bombing on the ramp on Fort Island. There was just total chaos in the harbor. Oil was burning all over the place. Actually, black oil was two, three inches thick all the way around Pearl Harbor. As the Japanese progressed in their invasion of the entire southeast area, the fighting became more intense. And my major experience occurred on the 19th of February when I was patrolling in search of the Japanese aircraft carriers and suddenly I encountered a flight of nine zeroes. And these aircraft were equipped with a fragmentation projectile which had a very slow velocity. I could see the damn things. And they came right into the cockpit right over my shoulder, right into the instrument panel. An aroused nation armed, but an arsenal of democracy cannot be created overnight. Flying from U.S.S. Hornet, Army Air Force B-25s strike at the home islands at Tokyo itself. In the Pacific, the Navy buys time with hit and run raids. Captain David McCampill, Medal of Honor, Navy Cross, 34 victories, leading ace in the history of naval air. Through the fiery skies of the southwest Pacific, Dave McCampill and those who flew with him brought us to the turning point. The roll call of recovery begins. Guadalcanal, Buvenville, the Coral Sea, Cabal, Tarawa, Casablanca, Sicily, Salerno, strange exotic names in haunting counterpoint to scenes of violence and death. Kill your forces, multiply, becoming vast armadas whose fleets of aircraft darken the skies and hasten the end. Normandy, Saipan, Guam, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, the Inland Sea, names that will not be forgotten, landmarks on the road to victory. For the carriers, most of them, the victory soon turns to silence. 165 aviation ships are on active service at war's end. The number quickly falls to less than two dozen. Yet men do not forget it's Admiral John Thatch, fighter pilot, squadron commander, one of the architects of victory in the air in the Pacific. Jimmy Thatch is one of those who will forever hear the sounds of yesterday. Box him in, box him in, move the Ryan down, down to the west again. Remember, victory proves transient. When conflict erupts in Korea, ships and planes are not so easily frowned. Once again, brave men stand ready. Vice Admiral Bill Hauser, currently Deputy Chief of Naval Operation for Air, was part of the nucleus of resistance, one of the stubborn few. Corsair meant home to me at that time. It's a rugged airplane. It was fast for its time and powerful, very versatile. It served as a good fighter and as a good attack airplane or bomber. The Corsair was a veteran. During World War II, and of course these were improved models of the same airplane, it was known as the Bent Wing or the Bent Wing monster, the hog. The Corsair, I think, will remain one of the most remarkable airplanes ever developed. The Navy air-to-air action in Korea was limited. Principally, this was a war of close air support, against a land power, not a sea power as we saw in World War II, in support of another land power and the Navy did get in and conduct sustained operation for over three years. At time of transition, years following Korea, years of peace, naval aviation begins to extend itself to seek new directions and conquer old forbidden frontiers. It is the genesis of an age of acceleration, records and research, experiment and exploration. It is a time when the improbable becomes routine. Project test pilot during C-130 carrier trials aboard USS Forestall is Commander James Flatley III, famous son of a famous father, Admiral Jimmy Flatley, World War II ace and fighter tactician. Jim Flatley is logged more than 1,300 arrested carrier landings and commanded to squadron in Vietnam without the loss of a single aircraft. Father and son, the Flatley symbolized the passing of the torch, the continuity of naval aviation from one generation to the next. Vietnam. At first it's an irritation, a mild intrusion of the national consciousness. That would change. For those who are there, Vietnam means participation in a bitter conflict that seemingly is without end. July 18, 1965. Mission, military installations a few miles south of Hanoi, near the famous bridge at Tan Hoa. Crews and crews return to the carriers. Commander Jerry Denton is not among those who come back. In the prison cages of North Vietnam, an eternity of enduring begins. With him, thousands of miles apart, others endure no less. Their lives suspended in an agony of waiting. While for some, the world stands still. For others, the earth is but a point of departure and then a destination. Apollo lifts the heart of America and touches the soul of man. Who is brief? Advance and innovation. Positive accomplishments are obscured in the swirling controversy of Vietnam. The face of war has changed. There are no clear cut victims. Cost remains high. Still, there are those who willingly pay the price. And those who pass the harshest test. Very welcome, sir. We're so glad to have you back and so thankful for what you and all of you have done for us. We are honored to have had the opportunity to serve our country under difficult circumstances. We are profoundly grateful to our Commander-in-Chief and to our nation for this day. God bless America. God bless America. Where is the enemy? Where are the ships and planes of yesterday? Gone. Abandoned. Neglected. Forgotten. Most, but not all. The Naval Aviation Museum is a commitment to the rediscovery of history. History is a place for the machines a process of recovery begins. What is actually involved is more, much more than the restoration of aircraft. The Naval Aviation Museum is a focal point for the sweeping panorama that is the story of naval air. A gathering of eagles. For the machines, skill and patience are given their reward. A dimension, time, is successfully challenged. The enemy has been defeated. The reality of yesterday is now. If we could somehow represent the advancement and achievement of the years of Naval Aviation, that singular individual could well be this man. Captain Charles Pete Conrad, United States Navy, retired. I actually started doing some of my first flying myself in the N3N as a boy. I was born in 1930. At that time, we'd hardly exceeded a couple of hundred miles an hour and hardly gotten above 25,000, 30,000 feet. And by the time I got to college to take aeronautical engineering, we had, at that point, just begun to break the sound barrier. And by the time I got to flight training in 1953, they were just beginning to go twice the speed of sound. And then in 1960, 1961 and two, we went into space. That's a very short time span. We've gone a great way in order... The odyssey of Pete Conrad is the odyssey of Naval Aviation. From the training fields of Pensacola, from the deck of a carrier to the surface of the moon. We're out at 19,000 feet. I got something on the horizon out there. I got some craters too, but I don't know where I am yet. Okay. I'm in a vibe of P64. Okay. I'm excited. Look out there. I think I see my crater. Hey baby, I'm not sure. Coming through 7. P64, Pete. Pete, there it is. There it is. Robert got right down the middle of the road. Outstanding, Pete. He's excited right for the 7 of the craters. I can't believe it. Amazing. Fantastic. That's what I see sitting on the side of the crater. Well, sir, there it is. Yes, sir. Does that look neat? It can't be any further than 600 feet from here. I can walk quite well. It seems a little weird, I'll tell you. Hey Al? Can work out here all day. Take your time. For the Pete Conrads of this world, nothing is beyond reach. There are no barriers. Just challenges. Only the planets are left in their precarious isolation. Beyond them, only the stars remain. Waiting. Waiting. The odyssey ended. Or is it? For naval aviation, the odyssey, the journey may have just begun.