Post on 09-May-2020
transcript
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
2
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
3
SSAABBRREE
TTHHEE JJOOUURRNNEEYY
VVIITTOO TTOOMMAASSIINNOO
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
4
©© CC oopp yy rr ii gg hh tt 22 0011 11,, VV ii tt oo TT oo mm aa ss ii nn oo.. AA ll ll RR iigg hh tt ss RR ee ss ee rrvv ee dd
FF ii rr ss tt EEdd ii tt iioo nn
NN oo pp aa rr tt oo ff tt hh ii ss bb oo ookk mm aa yy bb ee rree pp rr oodd uu cc ee dd oo rr tt rraa nn ss mm ii tt tt ee dd iinn aa nn yy ff oo rrmm
oorr bb yy aa nn yy mm ee aa nn ss ,, ee llee cc tt rr oonn ii cc ,, oorr mm ee cc hh aa nn ii cc aa ll ,, ii nn cc lluu dd ii nn gg pp hh oott oocc oopp yy iinn gg ,,
rree cc oo rrdd ii nn gg ,, oorr bb yy aa nn yy ii nn ff oo rrmm aa tt iioo nn ss tt oo rraa gg ee ,, aa nn dd rree tt rr iiee vv aa ll ss yy ss tt ee mm ww ii tt hh oo uu tt
ww rr ii tt tt ee nn pp ee rrmm iiss ss iioo nn ff rr oomm bb oott hh tt hh ee cc oopp yy rr iigg hh tt ooww nn ee rr aa nn dd tt hh ee pp uu bb ll ii ss hh ee rr
ooff tt hh ii ss bb oo ookk ..
PP uu bb ll ii ss hh ee dd bb yy
TThh ee cc oovv ee rr pp hh oott oo ww aa ss tt aa kk ee nn bb yy tt hh ee aa uu tt hh oo rr ww hh ii llee ff ll yy iinn gg aa tt 33 55 ,, 0000 00 ff ee ee tt
oovv ee rr tt hh ee NN ee ww MM ee xx ii cc oo dd ee ss ee rr tt jj uu ss tt aa ff tt ee rr ss uu nn ss ee tt ..
AA LL LL RR II GG HH TTSS RR EESS EERR VVEE DD
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
5
BBooookkss bbyy VViittoo TToommaass iinnoo
NNoo nn-- ff iicc tt ii oonn
CClloo ssee CCaa ll ll ss aa nndd OO tthheerr NNee aatt SSttoo rr iieess
SSaabbrr ee TThhee JJoouu rr nneeyy
FF iicctt iioo nn
KKrraaccee kk
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
6
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
7
To Ezdy
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
8
CONTENTS
Dedication………………………………………….7
Author Foreword………………………………..9
Preface………………………………………………11
Prologue…………………………………………...18
Sabre The Journey…………………………….25
Epilogue………………………………………….. 73
The Pictures………………………………………77
Acknowledgements…………………………..109
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
9
AUTHOR FOREWORD
Awed by a sea of white crested giants that stretched out before me
I realized, the first time I flew over the European Alps, that flying was
truly a poetry few would ever know…a gift that had to be shared. Sabre
the Journey is the literary child of this pilot’s life-long pursuit of that goal.
Its unique marriage of prose, poetry, and photography enables the reader
to experience the world of flight as though he or she were in the cockpit
of an F-100 with its pilot.
Filming the magnificent scenes I was privileged to witness on my
journey was the first step. Expressing my feelings in words would be the
second. Written years later they, not surprisingly, took shape in the form
of a narrative poem. While serving a one year non-flying assignment to
South Korea in 1971, I wrote the first draft. It was completed in two nights,
and although it has gone through many edits since then, very little of the
original wording was changed. Five years later, when I searched my files
for the ideal images to complement my words, I was surprised by the ease
I was able to find them; leaving me to wonder if the words had not already
been written in my mind before the pictures were taken and sub-
consciously directed my camera to the scenes they were describing.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
10
Many books have been written about flying, but few that capture the
essence of the experience; fewer still, that awaken the human quest within
us to pursue our individual voyages of discovery, as Sabre The Journey.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
11
PREFACE
Why would a fighter pilot , trained to destroy the world, turn
to poetry to describe his journey through it? The answer, very
simply, is that Sabre The Journey celebrates the beauty of flight,
not the ugliness sometimes associated with it. Indeed, I had
little choice in the matter of what form it should take, for when
its moment finally arrived the words li terally flowed from my
pen, taking the only shape that could properly contain them.
More than a few photos used in the book are of the U.S.
Air Force Thunderbirds, some of the Skyblazers . I was never
a member of either group. Nevertheless, I did have the good
fortune of f lying with two former aerobatic team pilots, Sam
Johnson and Kermit Haderly. Sam flew the slot position for the
world famous Thunderbirds, Kermit, the left wing of the
Skyblazers, their former European counterpart—a little known
fact of Air Force history.
Flying their wing these talented flyers put me through
almost every stunt they had performed in shows around the
world. They taught me things about precision formation flying
that, short of being an aerobatic team member, I could not have
learned anywhere else.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
12
It was hard work, which often found me gripping the control
stick so tightly under the tremendous maneuvering forces I
thought I would leave new impressions in the plastic handgrip.
Nonetheless, neither the physical effort, nor the intense
concentration it demanded could dampen my enthusiasm, or
discourage the need within me to discover the limits of my
piloting skil l. Despite muscles that were being taxed to their
limit , and the sweat that ran down my furrowed brow, I was
smiling under my oxygen mask, loving every minute of it. I
wanted more, and more I got.
USAFE Skyblazers over Whellus Air Base, Tripoli. 1958
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
13
Our movements were executed with power and precision;
yet, viewed from the earth below, they appeared graceful and
flowing—a beautifully synchronized aerial ba llet performed
in a huge three dimensional theater. The only constraint to a
seemingly unlimited freedom to express our unique artistry
came from our old nemesis, gravity—nonetheless, it too un-
wittingly lent itself to the incomparable pirouettes boldly
spun against a backdrop of infinite blue.
No earthbound choreographer could have displayed his
creative genius with such sweeping perspective on so grand
a stage. That unique privilege was our s to share, as was the
humbling realization that we were creating something truly
extraordinary.
Thanks, Sam, Kermit, for teaching me how to dance.
There were others who contributed to the making of this
fighter pilot, men who unselfishly shared the knowledge that
made them stand out from the rest: Karvonen, Neubeck, Bode,
Johnson, Whisner, McConnel l , Detering, Cheney, Loftus, and
others whose names remain etched in my memory. Each of
them contributed to my growing repertoire of piloting skills.
All were exceptional aviators who helped me fulfill my potential
to join their dist inguished ranks.
Indebted as I am to the pilots whose lives touched and
influenced mine, I feel an even greater obligation to the aircr aft
I was privileged to fly, my “old friends.” I t was they who gave
me the power to break free of earth’s comforting bonds, and
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
14
the wings to let the eagle within me soar. Through them I was
able to explore the world from the vantage point of powered
flight, and experience its beauty in ways unimagined by earth-
bound mortals. Their friendship was a unique gift, one for which
I will always be grateful.
F-100D returning to Cannon AFB, NM from Adana, Turkey. 1962
Flying Lead in 932 was my good friend, Captain Eddie Level.
If the F-100 seems to dominate the pages of this book it has
earned the right. Nearly three thousand hours, amassed over
more than a decade of my flying career, were logged at the
controls of this preeminent air machine. There was nothing in
the diverse and challenging realm of tactical air operations we
had not accomplished together, few crises we had not rushed
to defend against. Yet , despite the dangers, we always returned
to fly again
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
15
A fighter pilot’s airplane, it demanded much from all who
would master its awesome power, and gave as much in return.
Each time I climbed into it was l ike the first, an uncompromising
test of my flying ski lls , one that never failed to exact my best
effort. Like all great thoroughbreds it responded with spirit to
firm, deftly applied control input. Pushed beyond that , it
rebelled with equal fervor . No fighter pilot worthy of the name
would want it any other way.
More than just a machine, more even than a trusted
companion, the F-100 became an extension of myself, enabling
me to embrace the heavens in body as well as spirit. Never, in
the many times each of us entrusted our life to the other, were
we ever forced to “part company” before our mission was
completed. If we took off together, we landed together, always.
An old flyer once said: “Any landing you can walk away from is
a good one.” Sabre and I always “walked away.”
To honor this great airplane by giving its name to my book
should come as no surprise. For it was the F-100, more than any
other, that opened the world to me in all its panoramic splendor.
Earth and sky became my artist’s canvas, one that stretched from
horizon to horizon—the tabula rasa upon which this poem would
be written.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
16
On deployment to Adana, Turkey, just off the coast of Greece. 1961
My camera filmed the rare sights below as we sped across
our planet, capturing the beauty that inspir ed my words. The
photos provide a visual journal of a f l ight that took us across
oceans, seas, and continents, and bear witness to our presence
in Europe, the Far East, and the Americas.
It was a voyage that carried us across the towering peaks of
the snow covered Alps, and sent us sailing across a history rich
Mediterranean Sea, mother to many of the greatest civilizations
man has ever created. Their majestic ruins still stand proudly
along her ageless shores, eternal reminders of the genius and
nobility of our ancestors.
With visions of ancient empires held in my thoughts, we
raced across the blinding white sands of a barren, yet strangely
captivating North African desert, soared over the steaming
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
17
jungles of a war-weary Southeast Asia, and chal lenged the lonely
vastness of the mighty Pacif ic—that grand lady of inexhaustible
moods and faces. These places and more would mark our passing
before we logged our final landing.
In the two decades we were given to explore our fascinating
world, my “friends” and I completed more than four thousand
hours in the air—a voyage of nearly two mill ion miles. Not an
extraordinary amount of time; others had accumulated more.
Nonetheless, we made every moment count, as we strove to
expand our knowledge and sharpen our flying skil ls. It was
from this unrelenting pursuit of excellence that we would learn
to see beyond our mundane accomplishments and lay bare a
greater truth.
That, Sabre and I were not merely partners seeking to
perfect our craft, but co-conspirators in a quixotic, yet futile
attempt to seduce the sky itself, that enigmatic mistress who
encouraged her own conquest. She beckoned with al l her
irresistible charm and we, like love-struck young suitors, eagerly
flew into her elusive embrace.
A thousand and more times we would obediently respond
to her siren’s seductive call, naively believing that we were the
conquerors and she the vanquished. Did it matter, that either
of us reign supreme?
Through a desperate merging of their material bodies, man,
machine, and sky sought to transcend their earthly existence , to
reach a place we had not yet been…a place that would always
remain just beyond our grasp, exhausting ourselves in the effort,
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
18
but coming away wiser for the attempt and more determined to
succeed.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
19
PROLOGUE
It was a crisp winter morning when Sabre and I first tested
our wings over a bleak Nevada desert. I could not know then
how much a part of my Air Force career, and my l ife, this one
airplane would become. That initial fl ight together was merely
one of hundreds more to fol low, the beginning of a unique
partnership of man and machine that would last for more than
a decade.
That would come to be in another time, a future my mind
was not yet prepared to contemplate. More immediate concerns
occupied my thoughts that morning, as my instructor and I
hurried our pace across the expansive parking ramp of Nellis
Air Force Base, urged on by the bitter cold wind that pressed
relentlessly against us. Neither of us complained, for we were
about to engage in one of the most exhilarating pastimes man
had ever created for himself.
Sabre stood before us proudly, defiantly it seemed, poised
to receive yet another aspiring young fighter pilot. Despite its
intimidating aura, I wanted more than ever to take the controls
of this magnificent air machine . How could I not?
For a brief moment I was swept back to a time when a small
boy looked to the sky at the first sound of an airplane passing
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
20
overhead, and followed it until it disappeared beyond the
horizon, taking a part of him with it . Even then, I knew that
flying was something I had to do; that , one day, I must gather
back the pieces.
As I reflected upon the fulf illment of that boyhood dream,
the sun crested the distant horizon and spread its golden l ight
across the desert landscape, bathing us in its warmth. Sabre’s
silver metal skin glowed with a beauty I had never seen before.
Nellis Air Force Base, Las Vegas, NV 1958
I completed my pre-flight inspection and climbed into the
front cockpit. My instructor settled into the rear seat. A fighter
pilot of the “old school,” he didn't believe in the “dollar ride;”
one in which the student merely observed his mentor
demonstrate the aircraft’s fl ight capabilities. His more practical
approach to teaching emanated from the belief that he had
nothing to prove to me. I , on the other hand, had a great deal
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
21
to prove to him.
Consequently, neither that first hour, nor any to follow,
would be wasted on the luxury of a “dollar ride.” It was a lesson
I never forgot, one I would later use during my own tenure as an
instructor pilot.
As I went through the fighter pilot’s time -honored ritual of
“strapping in,” I remembered the countless hours I spent in the
cockpit of the F-100, memorizing the location of every switch,
every control, every circuit breaker, and every instrument , until
I could physically touch each one with my eyes closed. A smile
crossed my lips as I recalled the persistent, self-imposed drilling
of checklist procedures: s tart-engine, take-off, landing, engine
shutdown…repeated over and over again until they read like
famil iar passages from a favorite book, practically memorized.
Every maneuver I would be asked to demonstrate on that
flight had been visual ly accomplished in my mind a hundred
times and more. Never , was I more ready to take on the
challenge of a new airplane.
A brief wave of my gloved hand s ignaled the crew chief to
unleash the starting unit’s pressurized air, causing its flexible
tubing to convulse like a giant yellow serpent. The super
charged air raced through its writhing host like an enraged
tornado in a frantic search for freedom and blindly plunged
into the F-100’s intake portal, only to find itself trapped in the
belly of the beast. Then, in a final desperate attempt to escape
its unnatural prison, it thrust itself against the engine’s cold
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
22
steel turbine blades, ending its fated journey in death, even as
it breathed life into the sleeping tiger within.
My Crew Chief locks down the hydraulic pump panel as we ready the aircraft for flight. Chaumont AB, France. 1959.
A crescendo of deafening sounds emanated from deep
within its bowels as the powerful jet roared to life, triggering
an unexpected rush of adrenaline within my veins . Sabre nudged
impatiently against its wheel chocks, as my crew chief and I
“walked through” the after-start checks like a well-rehearsed
play.
Cleared for takeoff, I lined up on the runway center , “stood
on the brakes,” and slowly pushed the throttle to the forward
stop. That simple action triggered a tidal wave of energy that
engulfed the airframe and awakened every fiber of my being.
The “joining” had begun.
I scanned the instruments to confirm that everything was
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
23
still “in the green;” then, released the brakes, slammed the
throttle outboard, and waited in anticipation of the F-100’s
renowned afterburner jolt. I would not be disappointed.
Thunderbird F-100A, ready for takeoff. Nellis AFB, NV 1958
Raw fuel poured into the engine ’s aft section and exploded
with a fury that spawned a primeval-l ike howl from a time long
past. It scattered frantically in every direction, as though trying
to escape its own anger, and, were it not trapped in the
surrounding hills, would have been lost forever in the infinite
silence of the desert . Instead, the mountains, acting like giant
echo chambers, ampl i fied Sabre’s defiant cry and sent it
crashing back into the valley in a thundering avalanche of
sound.
Despite the violent forces raging within it Sabre embraced
the added burst of power as we raced down the runway, our
escape from earth’s grasp just seconds away. Nearing takeoff
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
24
speed I eased the stick back with measured care, shedding our
concrete launching platform, and l ifted us into the element in
which we were meant to be.
With landing gear and flaps neatly tucked away my aircraft
was ready to respond to every maneuver demanded of it. I , of
course, was not. Nevertheless, with my instructor to guide me,
my knowledge of maximum performance flying was elevated to
a new level.
I had executed the same maneuvers in other aircraft in my
previous flight training, but none matched the F -100 in raw
power and speed, or attacked the elements with such sound
and fury. Indeed, no other would present a greater challenge
to my flying ski lls, or generate as much excitement within me
each and every time I “strapped it on.”
Selfie taken six miles above the Pacific Ocean. 1966
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
25
For me, Sabre was the ideal flying vehicle, the consummate
partner that enabled me to explore the world of flight to the
outer reaches of the envelope. Our more than decade-long
association—formed on that cold wind swept day over the
Nevada desert—began a quest for flying perfection that would
never cease in my twenty two years as a pilot.
It would also, never be satisfied.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
26
SSAABBRREE TTHHEE JJOOUURRNNEEYY
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
27
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
28
Old friend,
take us from here.
Undo the shackles
that bind us to this world . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
29
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
30
Lift us
into the endless blue above . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
31
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
32
There held in the radiance
of our nearest star . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
33
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
34
Speed us to nowhere,
but with incomparable beauty of style,
a style limited only by my imagination
and your inherent power . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
35
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
36
Respond eagerly to my touch,
now light and delicate,
now demanding,
never harsh . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
37
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
38
Feel the blood and nerve of my body
fusing with your life systems,
uniting us in intimate closeness.
We are one now,
you and I . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
39
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
40
Every new maneuver skillfully executed
brings us closer still .
Not enough to merely occupy a place . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
41
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
42
We must rule the sky,
conquer it, and make it ours
as no one else before us.
Its every domain must feel our knowing touch . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
43
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
44
Down,
down we hurtle
into the inviting folds of Mother Earth . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
45
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
46
Feel her warmth against our naked skin,
her womb, longing for our return.
But not for us comrade,
not this day . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
47
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
48
We are free now,
free to burst forth from her fertile valleys,
to span her vast deserts
in but fleeting moments . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
49
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
50
Lonely, spiny inhabitants
speed beneath us in blurred imagery,
as our wings brush the face of giant mesas . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
51
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
52
Ruins of ancient civil izations
materialize from out of the past,
then, melt from view,
as we trace a hurried shadow
across once venerable land . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
53
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
54
White crested mountains
erupt from the desert floor,
as if to end our sacrilegious trespass.
They too fall before us . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
55
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
56
Humbled by an unrestrained excitement,
that propels us in spiraling dance
high above their proudest summit . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
57
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
58
There to pause,
suspended in time,
to gaze, in privileged awe
of its unrivaled magnificence . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
59
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
60
At last, the sea,
sister element to our own,
an emerald enchantress
who opens herself invit ingly before us.
Beautiful, yet as untouchable
as the shore she caresses . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
61
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
62
Enough,
our mistress above once again
beckons to be filled with us.
We’ll not disappoint her . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
63
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
64
Up, ever upward
do we reach for the heavens ,
piercing friendly white clouds
that guide our way.
Now vertical in rolling climb,
the world revolves dizzi ly about us . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
65
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
66
Higher, higher we soar above the earth,
hopelessly seeking to escape
the gravity that imprisons us.
Then,
our valiant effort finally spent . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
67
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
68
We fall,
in sweet exhaustion,
exhilarated by our daring attempt . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
69
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
70
Homeward, my Sabre,
thrust your proud nose
into the blood-gorged rays of f ire
in eclipse at the edge of the world . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
71
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
72
Time to reflect upon our recent journey,
and tomorrow.
No bitterness for us,
only a deeper wisdom . . .
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
73
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
74
EEPPIILLOOGGUUEE
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
75
EPILOGUE
Not until my voyage in the sky had seen its final sunset, and
the words to this book were penned, did I ful ly understand the
meaning of my flying odyssey. The realization that there was
something more—something beyond the exhilaration of
unbridled freedom, or the desire to perfect my piloting ski lls—
began with my first flight over the European Alps.
For, even as I watched the world speed by from the quiet
isolation of my cockpit, I sensed the uniqueness of the gift
entrusted to me; that what I had been privileged to share,
through that marriage of man and machine, was truly a poetry
few would ever know.
Thus, the words to faithfully record the poem that was being
written in the sky would one day have to be transcribed onto
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
76
paper. Only its term of gestation remained uncertain. For it
was up there, lost in the ecstatic throes of lovers joined in
a mutual need to become one with the other, that Sabre The
Journey was conceived. Its birth would come much later, in
the “Land of the Morning Calm.”
It was fitting that I should return to Korea for its arrival,
because it was there, eighteen years earlier, a young marine
made his decision to become a f ighter pilot. There , cradled
in the tranquil bosom of Korea’s be loved hills—crowned in
white by the first snows of winter—I would find the time to
reflect upon our still to be completed journey, and the calm
to create the words that would breathe literary life into the
poem germinating within me.
I was writing another sonnet when Sabre The Journey kept
intruding into my thoughts; not just words, but complete lines,
stanzas. Soon the entire structure of the poem fil led my mind
and excited my imagination. It was ready. I had only to serve
as the instrument for its imminent delivery.
Looking back upon that auspicious moment, I see now that
it was, in many ways, like giving birth to a child. Although no
physical pain was involved, the anxiety, the desperate struggle
to emerge, the final impulse to enter the world, to sever the
umbil ical cord of the host mother and become a separate,
independent being of its own…to be…these things were all
present.
”Sabre” entered the world a complete entity. At the time,
I thought it was flawless—as any mother would. However, the
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
77
years to follow, distancing me from the immediacy of the
event, allowed me to more objectively view my creation.
Consequently, just as a father might turn a more critical
eye toward a son he hopes will one day surpass his own
achievements, I began to see the poem’s rough edges and
sought to make them smooth. From that continuing effort to
perfect my original work came the truth of what I had written.
Sabre The Journey is more than one pilot’s appreciative
salute to a great airplane, more than a celebration of fl ight,
and more than an expression of love. It goes beyond all of
these things, even the worldly beauty that inspired it.
It touches upon the inherent need we all share to discover
the meaning and purpose of our existence, a timeless and
undaunted human quest that draws us outward to the stars...
to accept the challenge of the universe, no matter the
consequence.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
78
TTHHEE PPIICCTTUURREESS
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
79
THE PICTUR
Ezdy beamed with happiness and excitement, as she posed
in the doorway of this C-47 at Greenville Air Force base,
Mississippi. A prop-driven cargo aircraft, the C-47 came into
prominence during World War II and is still flown today in
countries around the world.
She readily endured the long Greyhound bus ride from
New York City to attend my graduation ceremony and pin on
my wings. Her beautiful smile reflects her joy at being there
to share that special day with me.
It was July 1957. We were married in August of that year,
and began our long, still unfinished journey together.
Taken with a Kodak Pony 35mm and Kodachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
80
Old friend take us from here.
Undo the shackles that bind us to this world…
Framed against the backdrop of an early morning sky, is
the distinctively shaped tai l of the F-100—a memorable scene
that greeted me as I walked out to my aircraft for the first
mission of the day. It was the winter of 1961, Incirlik Air Base,
Turkey.
The Super Sabre was built by North American Aviation in
the early fi fties to replace the F-86 Sabre Jet as the new air
superiority fighter for the Korean War. Though the truce was
signed before it could enter that conflict, it would see action
in Vietnam a decade later. By then it had been transformed into
a formidable air to ground weapon, and compiled an impressive
combat record in the early years of the war, flying more combat
sorties than all other fighter aircraft in Vietnam combined.
Despite its rich history, few people—save those of us who
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
81
were there, and our immediate families—know that it was the
first American fighter jet to see action in Vietnam; that in the
decade separating the Korean and Vietnam wars— long before
the inter-continental ballistic missile came of age— it was our
first line of defense against nuclear attack during the early
"Cold War" years.
From bases in Turkey, and other countries surrounding the
old Soviet Union, the F-100 and its pilots stood poised to fly
against targets in the USSR and Easter n Europe—some of which
were beyond the aircraft’s maximum combat radius. But the
stakes were high, and the dedicated men and women who
willingly stood that watch understood and accepted the part
they had to play.
I carried a camera with me whenever I flew, so I would not
miss recording scenes like this one. Taken with a Minolta 35mm
and Kodachrome fi lm.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
82
Lift us into the endless blue above…
Already immersed in a sea of blue this Thunderbird pilot
reaches for more. His “launch vehicle” is the T -38 "Talon," a
small twin-engine jet— the world's first supersonic trainer .
Fast, highly maneuverable, and fun to fly, it entered service
in the early sixties as the replacement for the T -33, and soon
established itself as the ideal transitional aircraft for future
fighter pilots.
Its fighter version, the F-5, was also built by Northrup
Aviation and, like the F-100, had its baptism of fire in Viet-
nam. Nicknamed “Skoshi Tiger,” it was considered the sports
car of the air. An old squadron commander of mine once
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
83
told me. "Every f ighter pilot should have one in his garage."
The picture was taken with a Nikkormat camera and
Ectachrome film during an aerial demonstration at Mather
Air Force Base, Sacramento, Cal ifornia, September 1977.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
84
There held in the radiance of our nearest star…
Its colorful red and white striped tail identifies this F-100,
as belonging to the 494 th Fighter Bomber Squadron, one of
three that formed the 48 th Fighter Bomber Wing—also known
as “The Statue of Liberty Wing,” based in Chaumont, France.
I joined the “Red Tails” in Ap ril 1958.
Photo taken with my Kodak Pony and Kodachrome film
at thirty f ive thousand feet while enroute to Wheelus Air
Base, Tripoli, Libya. Because of the poor weather in Europe
we had to deploy to the North African gunnery ca mp several
times a year to maintain currency in weapons delivery
techniques. Wheelus had great weather, warm beaches, and
the best flying in the world…a fighter pilot’s dream vacation.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
85
Speed us to nowhere,
but with incomparable beauty of style,
a style limited only by my imagination
and your inherent power…
Our return flight from Adana, Turkey to Cannon Air Force
Base, New Mexico, in January of 1961.
The sky and cloud formations on those long transoceanic
flights can take on a myriad of different shapes and colors.
This picture captured one of those scenes and gives visual
expression to the meaning of the words in this segment of
the poem.
Taken with a Minolta and Kodachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
86
Respond eagerly to my touch, now light and delicate,
now demanding, never harsh…
Flying classic diamond formation, the Thunderbirds begin
a slow barrel roll over the runway at Mather Air Force Base,
Sacramento, Cal ifornia. It was September, 1977.
From the ground their maneuvers appear graceful and
flowing; yet a twenty minute aerial demonstration is physical ly
demanding. Flying tight formation at speeds that can change
from near supersonic to stall in seconds, while undergoing
gravity forces ranging from minus two to plus nine, there is
little room for error. The slightest lapse in concentration by
any one of the team members could bring disaster.
Despite the intensity of the job most fighter pilots would
seize the opportunity of becoming a “Thunderbird,” to stand
among an elite group of pilots that epitomize the best of
our profession.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
87
Feel the blood and nerve of my body
fusing with your life systems,
uniting us in intimate closeness.
We are one now, you and I…
This picture embodies the essence of the poem, and the
idea of man, machine, and sky joining together a one.
The aircraft in close diamond formation are the U.S. Air
Force Skyblazers, as they performed their aerial magic over
Wheelus Air Base, Tripoli, Libya, in 1958.
The Skyblazers—the Thunderbirds European counterpart—
flew demonstrations throughout Europe, Africa, and the
Middle East; while the Thunderbirds covered the North and
South American continents. They were disbanded shortly after
the “T-Birds” acquired air refueling capability in the early
sixties.
Taken with a Minolta and Kodachrome film, while flying
at thirty five thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean on my
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
88
first deployment to Turkey in 1961. The one of the Skyblazers
was taken with a Kodak Pony and Kodachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
89
Every new maneuver skillfully executed
brings us closer still.
Not enough to merely occupy a place…
The Skyblazers flying a tight, perfect diamond formation
at less than one hundred feet above the ground during an air
show at RAF Wethersfield Air Base, England.
It was a typical cloud-ladened day in the United Kingdom.
Despite the “umbrella” weather, Ezdy, the kids, and I enjoyed
our short, one year stay in that great country, and took litt le
notice of it .
Taken in 1960 with Kodak Pony and Kodachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
90
We must rule the sky, conquer it,
as no one else before us,
Its every domain must feel
our knowing touch…
When a formation of jet f ighters approach at more than
five hundred miles an hour and less than one hundred feet
above the ground, can anyone dispute their command of the
sky?
I took this picture with a Nikkormat and Ectachrome film
As I stood about a mile off the end of the runway of Mather
AFB in September of 1977
It was an impressive sight to see from that vantage point .
However, not until I saw the result on film did I realize how
well it dramatized the words to the poem.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
91
Down, down we hurtle
into the inviting folds of Mother Earth…
I debated using this photo for the book, because of
the weapons of war carried under the wings of the aircraft,
reminding us of the ugliness sometimes associated with
fighter operations . Nevertheless, the beauty of a fighter
aircraft in flight, particularly when contrasted against the
soft white clouds in the background, more than offset that
concern.
Taken with a Canon 35mm camera and Ectachrome film,
as we headed for a target in South Vietnam. Nov 1965.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
92
Feel her warmth against our naked skin,
her womb longing for our return.
But not for us comrade, not this day,
we are free now…
Flying across a mountainous region of Turkey enroute
to a practice bombing range about one hundred miles west
northwest of Incirlik Air Base. It is November, 1961, my first
deployment with 428 t h Tactical Fighter Squadron, out of
Cannon Air Force Base, Clovis, New Mexico.
Eight squadrons at Cannon shared alert duties for
Turkey, rotating every three to four months. About a third
of our time at Incirlik was spent on "Victor Alert," another
third training. Weather was good…the flying even better.
Taken with a Minolta and Ectachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
93
We are free now,
free to burst forth from her fertile valleys,
to span her vast deserts
in but fleeting moments…
We leave behind earth's beautiful val leys to challenge
her most forbidding landscapes. The Sierra mountains, near
Lake Tahoe, is the background for this F -100. It was taken in
the mid seventies with a Nikkormat and Ectachrome film.
The photo of the aircraft was taken by Ezdy in France
in 1958, with a Kodak Pony and Kodachrome film. She was
standing in front of our chateau in Cirey Sur Blaise, a small
village nestled in a small val ley located twenty f ive miles
northwest of Chaumont Air Base, home of the 48 th Tactical
Bomber W ing. It’s the only exterior aircraft photo in the
book in which I was at the controls of the aircraft .
A Count’s castle stood in the middle of a huge meadow
in the valley floor. When he took his guests out on a wild
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
94
boar hunt we could watch the red-coated riders race their
horses through the lush green plain from the second floor
window of our chateau.
At the time, we were the only Americans living in Cirey.
Ezdy didn’t drive, and base transportation didn’t venture
out that far, so we enrolled our six year old son, Fel ix, in
the local school. His English suffered a little, but in three
months he was speaking fluent French and of ten brought
home the medal awarded to the outstanding student of
the week.
Ezdy used to caution him about winning it so often,
afraid that the vil lagers might become angry with us. She
needn’t have worried. The people of that wonderful town
could not have made us feel more welcome. Warm and
generous with their hospitality, they practically adopted
us as one of their own. We will never forget them.
Whenever I was flying solo, and fuel allowed, I ’d stop
by to give them, Ezdy and the kids, a private air show. The
people could not have been more receptive, or appreciative.
Ezdy’s picture of me was the first of many such visits.
My first pass was always unexpected, but before I could
swing around for a second the children were already running
out of the one-room schoolhouse and onto the bridge that
spanned a small creek, Felix, among them. I could also see
Ezdy and our neighbors standing on the street waving, as did
everyone in the town.
She told me later that, with every aileron roll I did ,
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
95
Madam Gegare's mother would shout, "Bravo, Monsieur
Tomasino!"
For me, those “visits” were among the most memorable
experiences of my flying career. There are many other stories
to tell of our time in Cirey Sur Blaise, but they would fill
another book.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
96
Lonely spiny inhabitants
speed beneath us blurred imagery
` as our wings brush the face of giant mesas…
The T-38 seen here appears to be making a high speed
descent into the desert landscape. However, when this
Thunderbird solo man dropped down for his low pass he
wasn’t looking at a field of saguaros, he was actually over
the runway at Mather Air Force Base , California.
Taken with a Nikkormat camera and Ectachrome film in
1977. The desert scene was photographed nineteen years
earlier, near Mt. Charleston, Las Vegas, Nevada , with a Pony
and Kodachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
97
Ruins of ancient civilizations
materialize from out of the past,
then melt from view,
as we trace a hurried shadow
across once venerable land…
Past and present meet at the crumbling walls of an old
crusader fortress in southern Turkey, bui lt seven to nine
centuries ago. The picture was taken in 1961.
Ruins like these are found throughout the Mediterranean
region—historic signatures of the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians,
Arabs, Persians, Turks, and others, all of whom left their unique
imprint on the land and its people. None, however, more than
the Romans.
Looking upon these ancient civilizations from my unique
perspective filled me with pride in our human heritage, and
left me to wonder what the “American Empire” would leave
as its legacy.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
98
White crested mountains erupt from the desert floor,
as if to end our sacrilegious trespass.
They too fall before us…
This picture serves to remind us of the majesty and beauty
of our world. We can fly above the earth at supersonic speed
in our amazing machines, but, measured against this leviathan,
we appear as an insignificant intruder, unworthy of its notice.
Perhaps not.
For this is Mount Ararat, which some believe to be the final
resting place of Noah's Arc. If true, this noble giant has, thus
far, protected its worthy charge from the curious, the treasure
hunters, and other more well intentioned seekers of the truth.
Taken in 1961 with a Minolta and Kodachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
99
Humbled by an unrestrained excitement
that propels us in spiraling dance
high above their proudest summit…
The Skyblazers were photographed with a Kodak Pony
Camera and Kodachrome film at Wheelus Air Base, Libya in
1958; while the snow covered mountain peak they appear
to be soaring over is located in the Swiss Alps. Taken with
a Nikkormat and Ectachrome film during a road trip to Italy
in 1970.
By combining the two I had hoped to recreate for the
reader a sense of the exhilaration a pilot feels at the controls
of a flying machine so powerful it can easily hurdle even this
colossus of nature.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
100
There to pause, suspended in time,
to gaze in privileged awe
of its unrivalled magnificence…
Perhaps the most impressive landscape picture in the book.
Any attempt to describe it in words would be inadequate,
simply redundant. Even at thirty f ive thousand feet the
mountains appear to reach up to touch us. To be held in the
frozen embrace of these magnificent giants is a humbling, yet
moving experience. Indeed, it is what first inspired me to write
Sabre The Journey.
The F-100’s distinctive red and white striped tai l places it
with the 494 th Fighter Bomber Squadron. We were on our way
to Tripoli, Libya. A Kodak Pony camera and Kodachrome film
recorded what I saw that day in 1958. The words only begin
to express what I felt.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
101
At last the sea, sister element to our own,
an emerald enchantress who opens herself
invitingly before us.
Beautiful, yet as untouchable
as the shore she caresses…
This the beautiful scene that greeted us as we approached
South Vietnam from the South China Sea after a long flight
across the Pacific Ocean. We were ferrying two replacement
aircraft to Tuy Hoa Air Base.
A small peninsula of land can be seen under the nose of
Lead's aircraft. The rest of Vietnam is hidden under the clouds
below. It was July 1967. Taken with a Petri 7S and Ectachrome.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
102
Enough!
Our mistress above
once again beckons to be filled with us.
We’ll not disappoint her…
Another selfie , taken as I was flying over the Pacif ic on
my way to Vietnam during the same ferry mission mentioned
in the preceding picture. Taken with Petri 7S and Ectachrome.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
103
Up, ever upward
do we reach for the heavens
piercing friendly white clouds
that guide our way…
The Thunderbird solo pilot was photographed as he pulled
his F-16 into a steep climb during an air show at Mather Air
Force Base, October 1983. Nikkormat and Ectachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
104
Higher, higher we soar above the earth
hopelessly seeking to escape
the gravity that imprisons us.
Then, our valiant effort finally spent…
The Thunderbirds are nearing the apex of their signature
"bomb burst” maneuver—one executed from the diamond
formation in a vertical climb.
The strange bright light they appear to be flying into at
the top of the picture is not the sun reflecting off a cloud.
The original slide was partially overexposed. Cropping out
most of it enhanced the dramatic impact of the picture.
Taken with a Nikkormat and Ectachrome
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
105
We fall, in sweet exhaustion,
exhilarated by our daring attempt…
Not even the Thunderbirds can sustain their powerful
thrust into the heavens, and succumb to gravity’s pull as
they plummet back to earth—their smoke trails boldly etched
against the dark gray clouds looming in the background.
It appears as though the picture was taken as if I were
standing just above the lower cloud deck. I t was actual ly
taken from the ground at Mather Air Force Base in 1977
with a Nikkormat and Ectachrome film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
106
Homeward my Sabre,
thrust your proud nose
into the blood-gorged rays of fire
in eclipse at the edge of the world…
The distinctive shape of the F-100, framed against a
golden-red Mediterranean sunset, presents a stunning visual
rendering of the poem’s words.
The background scene was taken off the coast of Libya on
The Fourth of July, 1969. The image of the aircraft was captured
three years earlier, as we made our approach into Cannon Air
Force Base, New Mexico. Taken with a Petri 7s and Kodachrome
film.
Two months after the sunset was photographed another
“shot” was taken, one heard around the world, signaling the
start of Libya’s revolution. Led by a young army officer by the
name of Moammar Gadaffi, it changed the political landscape
of the Middle East as surely as it did the price of oil.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
107
Ezdy, the kids, and I were there to witness the historic
event, that 1st day of September, 1969. We s tayed in Libya
until May the following year, never once concerned for our
safety, despite the increased anti -American tensions that
existed.
Through it all , our Libyan friends remained loyal until the
day we left their country. They were even there to see us off
when we boarded the aircraft for Germany, and presented us
with more gifts than we could carry. If we were we to go back
tomorrow, we know they would be there again to warmly greet
us.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
108
Time to reflect upon our recent journey,
and tomorrow.
No bitterness for us,
only a deeper wisdom…
Here we are flying over the Italian Alps with Italy under
the low cloud deck seen in the right half of the picture.
There is an almost mystical quality about this picture that
draws you into it, to reflect upon where we have been, and
where we are going. Taken with Kodak Pony and Kodachrome
film.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
109
Among the many pictures in my collection, this one best
portrays the sense of an unfinished journey…the wonder of
what tomorrow will bring.
As we look through this window into the universe, we are
moved by an inherent human need to know, to look beyond
the next horizon…to reach a place we have not yet been.
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
110
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
While many of my friends and associates supported me with
their enthusiasm and encouragement —something every new
writer welcomes—some also gave of their time and knowledge.
Foremost among them are Pat and Jim Stadley. Pat is a
talented writer, who has published several successful books—
one of which earned her the Edgar Allen Poe Award—and more
than a hundred magazine articles. Her knowing counsel gave
my work professional val idation, and encouraged me to have it
published. Jim, her husband and literary critic of many years,
has also reviewed my writing. His thoughtful comments have
led to some helpful changes in the manuscript. I could never
thank these two wonderful people enough.
Paul Lambert and John Parsons, premier photographers of
the photo lab at McClel lan Air Force Base, California, provided
the professional expertise I needed to compose the pictures
used to illustrate the poem; effectively putting the reader in
the cockpit. I am grateful to these two men for helping me
launch Sabre the Journey into its visual dimension.
Above all I thank my wife, that beautiful woman in my life,
and mother of our five wonderful children: Felix, Steven, Jimmy,
Robert, and Ezdy Lynn. Her unique name graced the side of the
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
111
aircraft I flew in Vietnam. Ezdy was with me in spirit there, as
she had been on every mission I f lew. She is, and always will
be, an unfail ing source of strength and inspiration for all I
that I do.
Ezdy leaving our trailer to attend the New Year’s Eve party at the “O” Club,
Lakenheath, England (1960). The aircraft I flew in Vietnam bore her beautiful
name. 1965
Though she is not a pilot , her love for flying is as strong
as my own, and gives her rare insight into the thoughts and
feelings I tried to express in this book. I often called on that
understanding, and her keen eye for artistic expression, to
help me select the pictures used to complement my words .
Indeed, the love and friendship we've shared these many
years have enabled me to better understand the real meaning
of my flying experience.
She is Sabre!
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
112
Vito Tomasino / Sabre: The Journey
113