 Spick'n trail, spick'n trail, blazed in blood, defended in blood. Chapter 12, The Blue Yonder, the night of December 16th, 1903. You, Orville Wright, lying there in bed, still awake, midnight, bitter cold outside the cabin, wind driving the sand across the kitty-hawk dunes. What are you thinking of? Lillianfall, Otto Lillianfall, a German named Lillianfall who wanted to fly, crashed in his glider, dead seven years. You had better luck, Orville Wright. You and your brother Wilbur. More than 1,000 glider flights last year. We're still alive. You learned a lot how to control your glider against every kind of wind, prepared you for what you're trying to do now to fly a heavier-than-air machine. Orville? Yes, Will. Can't you sleep either? Brother Wilbur, always you two, inseparable partners in business back home in Dayton, Ohio, selling, repairing bicycles, but always consumed by one great ambition, to be the first one to fly an aeroplane. We've built it. Interesting observation. I just realized we've actually built a flying machine. Tomorrow I'll test it. Fly it. Not unless this winds like it. It'll go down by morning. You know, Orville, in my quiet, modest way, I was just reflecting that you and I know more about aviation than the rest of the world put together. I suppose we'd do it that. We're geniuses. Even if we never did go to college. We even built our own engine. Yes, Orville, a few months ago in your workshop in Dayton. Remember? There's no use, Will. Another turn down. I don't think we'll get any automobile company to build us an engine. They're sensitive about looking stupid. Yeah, letting people think a flying machine is possible. It occurs to me, old boy. We might build our own. Then weeks of hard work, buying, making parts, fitting them together. Well, I guess we'll have to run the crankshaft for an aft. Start the motor from the rear. Why, no. No. The propellers will do that. A turn of propeller. Always like that. Two minds working as one. Others worked alone. They failed. But you, Orville, you and your brother, you supplement each other. Then one day back there in Dayton. There. That does it. Looks enough like an engine to be one. All we need is a magneto. You found your magneto. You could hardly wait, then. It's working. Marvel, I tell you, this thing's working. We've got our engine. The rest was easy. You built your plane, shipped it here to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. The constant wind here, the broad expanse of land, ideal for your purpose. The other day, Wilder tested the plane. No luck. It didn't leave the town just some damage. Now you, Orville, tomorrow it's your turn to try. Only you can't sleep. A shadow at the back of your mind. A fleeting sense of fear. Suppose something happens to me tomorrow. What if I crash? What if, what about Will? He'll go on, of course, from where we left off. He must. But Willie, would I go on if anything happened to him? Just not sleepy. Not as well get up. Put a few clothes on. Wrap blank about you. Open the door. Careful not to wake, Wilder. Lonely, desolate sand. Icy cold. Dark woodnames to one side of the view. Ocean on the other. And you, Stanley. A few stars. Tiny lights of a boat far out to sea. The lifeboat station a mile away. A few steps from you, the shed. That houses your precious flying machine. Might as well take a look at it. Make sure it's all right. There it is. Inside the shed. Like a giant box tight with a motor. Wings 40 feet tip to tip. The vented dream of something like this. Yes. And Henson, Wenham, Maxine, over in England. De Neu, Weard in France, Langley over here. They experimented. You know why they failed, Orville. Their theories were all wrong. You and Wilber proved that. They knew little or nothing about air pressure. You and Wilber devoted years to that study. Or there are bad ways of catching pneumonia. Oh, I just came out here to... wind. I had a mind to look at that rudder that we damaged. It's all right. Feels like Christmas out here. Think we'll be home by then. Night passing. You're asleep now. You're right. But you're not relaxed. Waiting. Tomorrow morning is the unknown future. Orville, wake up. What? Breakfast in 10 minutes. How's the wind? Too high for any tip. Where's it from? North. Over 30 miles an hour. Well, it's early yet. We'll put a clean shirt on today. Clean color, too. Why? You were elegant enough for both of us. I'd like to be comfortable. There are people coming over. Do you have to wear that moth-eating cap? How about wearing a decent hat for once, huh? Well, that wind has slackened. Might as well roll the flying machine out. You've invited all the local people to watch the test. Only a few have come. What enough so that they can witness the trial flight? Mr. Daniels will take a photograph when the plane leaves the ground. Well, let's start the motorwheel. Warmer up a bit, right? Make sure the rudders are all okay, huh? That's fine. Check the wind, will ya? I'll look at the rudders. So you're about ready to test your flying machine on the right. No fanfare, no crowd, no excitement. Last night's fear is all forgotten. Careful as you climb up into the plane. The plane is supported by skids. The skids will carry the machine over the rails until the moment it takes off. If it takes off. All set, old? All set. Good luck, old. Cast off the rope. Moving now, Wilbur running beside the machine, holding one of the wings to keep the plane on the rails. Will, she's tilting to one side. Hold her. I can't. The wind's too strong. The wind's too strong. Don't try to take off. Too late. Yes, too late. Gaining speed now. The plane lurches. Wind fares on a rudder. Formal! Stop the motor! Don't try to take off. You'll be killed! This is it, order. It's never been done before. You're the first man to fly a machine. Rising now two feet from the ground, three. The machine wobbles a bit. Careful. Keep the wind balanced. Rising still. Rudder still giving full. Five feet. Six. Still rising. Wind specialist. If you are still right, you have been battling the wind for years. Steady. Still rising. Nine feet from the ground. Ten. Orville, you all right? Yes. What happened? How long was I off the ground? 12 seconds. Orville, what? The machine flies. Let's make repairs. You try her. Another flight. A third. A fourth. Nothing much to do now. Except crate the machine for shipment back to Dayton. The job's done. The newspapers ignore your flying machine, but you will go on to further experiments. Just now, Orville and Wilbur right? You sit there in your sister's living room, waiting for Christmas dinner and for the rest of the family to arrive. You sit there, chatting idly. Wil, do you think there's any practical use for our plane? Oh, it might be used for exploring. Yeah. You know, or carrying mail to out-of-way places. Yeah. You can't know, Orville, right, that in a few years your brother will be dead, that you will go on into history alone. You can't know that within 50 years of this month, when you view the first airplane at Kitty Hawk, giant planes carrying 50 passengers and more will fly the oceans. In your lifetime, there'll be two major world wars. You'll live to see thousands of mighty bombers screaming from America across the Pacific and Atlantic to defend civilization itself. You'll see jet planes travel faster than sound in a day when the eyes of the world turn skyward. When survival of your country with allies may depend largely on air power, these things you can't possibly know, Orville, right, as you sit there in your sister's home on Christmas day, 1903. But vaguely you do know you've launched the world into a new era. Well, I've got an idea that if a country had a few of our planes, no one would care about attacking it. Yeah, I think you're right, Orville. Maybe our planes could even put a stop to war. Yeah, bring about peace. Now, here is Lieutenant General James H. Doolittle, Chairman of the National Committee to observe the 50th anniversary of powered flight. As we look at it today, that flight of the Wright Brothers made at Kitty Hawk, ushered in what has proved to be the most momentous 50-year period in modern history. During no other half-century have such vast changes taken place in the world. The aeroplane has been a great boon to mankind in drawing all the people of the world closer together and leading to better understanding. Unfortunately, it has also become an unparalleled medium of destruction. But we must never allow the specter of modern warfare to cloud our vision of the future. The aeroplane has brought knowledge where it did not exist before. It performed stirring missions of mercy. We must exploit to the utmost the advantages which this great social tool provides. I am glad to be chairman of the committee for the celebration of the 50th anniversary of powered flight. It is our purpose to further equate the American people with the great opportunities which aviation offers our nation. I am gratified that the ladies' auxiliary to the veterans of foreign wars has helped in this job by devoting a program in their American trail series to the story of the Wright Brothers and the beginning of the air age. Thanks to General Doolittle. This has been the 12th chapter in the story of the American nation brought to you by the ladies' auxiliary to the veterans of foreign wars.