My second ingrained memory of private aircraft flight involved a crash.

I was visiting relatives when maybe 11 years old, and some kids came running up yelling that a plane had crashed on the ball field. We all jumped on bikes to go see. Before we got there we could see the greasy smoke coming up and smell wood, fabric, and oil burning.

The fire department had extinguished most of the fire, but we kids were really excited to see a burning airplane. The wings were separated and lay a short distance behind the fuselage. Most all the fire was at the fuselage and later I assumed that this was from the header fuel tank igniting from the hot engine. This fuel tank was between the cabin and the firewall and was basically over the feet of the front passengers.

As the smoke was clearing we could see more detail in the fuselage.

We were not prepared – I guess few people could be – for the sight of two burned corpses sitting in aluminum tubes that once were seats. The corpses were black and had just a few scraps of stuff sticking to them. They were now the actual fuel for the fire around them. Their fat was dripping and continuing to burn.

Kids have a sense of the macabre much more so than an adult. We were spellbound and fixating on the scene before us. We were about 50' to the left side of the fuselage. I only remember two people in the fuselage...it was a four-place plane I am sure. I have no idea what sort of plane, but the fuselage was made from steel tubing with fabric covering. The wings were of wood with fabric covering.

The firemen started trying to stop the fire under the bodies and they finally used a fire extinguisher rather than water on them to quell all the flames. The firemen started trying to remove the corpses. We continued to watch. We couldn’t move. I remember no conversation by anyone although a crowd of maybe 50 people had gathered; they were all standing back. It was for the most part a very quiet crowd.

I remember no women or girls in the crowd, but I remember people coming forward to look and then immediately turning around and leaving – others who were just arriving would walk up, look, and turn around and leave. One look was enough.

When a couple of firemen tried to lift one out of the seat frame, the body started coming apart...charred muscle and floppy fat was falling away.

That was it for us!

It could get no worse. It could get no better.

We left. The excitement and jabber we experienced riding our bikes at top speed toward the smoke on the other side of a building was gone.We slowly rode away. Not really side by side as before, but in a loose, single file. We were in no hurry. There was little in our minds and the next day, the event was not mentioned among us. I do not think that any of us told any details to our parents.

And this is the first time I have put that event in writing.

Years later I knew that there was no easy way to die in an airplane. It was always by extreme trauma. I knew this before I read all the air combat stories. And I knew it before I had aircraft crash investigation classes while working as the Aircraft Safety Officer at a NASA test site. I was responsible for the airborne remote sensing mission designs and execution, aircraft operation oversight, and aircraft safety of a NASA Learjet 23 – tail number 933.

By extreme trauma...