Last weekend I had the honor and privilege to meet Colonel Ruffin W. Gray, USAF (Retired). I met him by way of my Aunt. Ruff's son Jon attends the same church as my Aunt.
My Aunt contacted me and asked if I would be willing to give the Colonel a ride in my Stearman. It was the better part of a year before Jon, one of Ruff's sons, arrived at my hangar with Ruff, another brother of Jon's, and a grandson of Ruff's.
In the lead up to this I wondered what kind of physical condition a 90 year old would be in. My own Dad passed away last year at 81 and was no longer mobile. I figured no matter what I would get Ruff into the cockpit and we'd go flying. Well I have a new hero and someone to aspire to. Ruff exited the SUV on his own, got up and down stairs with no railings, walked on uneven ground, and stood on the concrete hangar floor, refusing a chair, telling me war stories for the better part of an hour. And when it came time to get in the cockpit he did that on his own as well (with me there to catch him if need be).
Ruff trained in Arizona in 1944. His first training flight was in a Piper and resulted in a mid-air with another student and instructor. As the story goes the other students instructor was known to be a hot dog, and when Ruff and his instructor rolled out of a turn the other plane hit them trying to go underneath, shearing off the landing gear in Ruff's plane, while Ruff's propellor sawed off one wing of the other - sending its instructor and student to their death.
As you can imagine Ruff did not want to continue flying, but his instructor convinced him to stick it out till he soloed, then decide. The remainder of Ruff's primary training was done in a 1943 Stearman. Ruff only had one real problem with flying, it made him airsick. All the time. His instructors all, recommended he be washed out. None would give him his check ride. Not to be deterred one day when the base commander landed in his Stearman Ruff was right there begging for a check ride. The commander agreed and up they went. Ruff completed his checkride successfully, but then the commander took the controls and commenced every aerobatic maneuver the Stearman was capable of.
Ruff knew if he threw up he'd be washed out, so everytime it came up, he swallowed it back down. Finally the commander put the Stearman in a spin and kept it there. Round and round and down and down they went. This time Ruff could not hold it back and threw up he did.
When they landed the commander informed Ruff that he would be washed out. Everyone hoped Ruff would get over his airsickness, but it was now evident he would not. Ruff of course denied he was airsick. The commander told him he'd seen Ruff turn all shades of colors, look like he was throwing up, then one time he saw it. The commander asked Ruff how many times he'd thrown up. "Once". But what about all those other times? "I swallowed it." The commander was so impressed with Ruff's desire to fly that he decided to not wash him out.
During WWII Ruff mostly flew P-38 Lightnings, equipped as reconnaissance planes, in the South Pacific. Dead reckoning over hundreds of miles of open ocean with no armament and no armor, just cameras to shoot at the enemy.
After WWII he fought in Korea and Vietnam, flying Jets.
It was now my honor to take him back up in a 1943 Stearman. The big radial coughed to life, and an equally big smile came over Ruff's face. Once up, I called over the intercom "it's your plane", he grabbed the stick with one hand while keeping the other propped on the comb. His feet were on the pedals. For the next hour we did graceful turns, dives and climbs. All the time Ruff kept the ball centered. As the fuel gauge started to bounce below the quarter tank line I grabbed the stick and shook it. Ruff's hands immediately came off and up, and he looked at me in the mirror holding both hands above his head. I suppose it had been 40 or 50 years since he'd last flown, but his flying memory hadn't forgot a thing.
We landed, put the Stearman away, and went out to lunch. There were only two things he kept saying to me over and over. He'd forgotten how fun it was to fly in an open cockpit. And he'd forgotten how fun it was to fly low to the ground. Ruff, you are truly a hero, and my life is better for having met you, heard your stories, and shared some flying time with you.
Just today I received this from Jon, Ruff's son.
"Phil,
I wanted to take a moment to say thanks for all that you did for us this past Saturday. In case you weren't aware, you made an old pilot very happy by taking my Dad up in your plane! It was incredibly generous of you and you'll never know how much we appreciate donating your time and use of your plane. The flight is all that he can talk about these days....Again, thanks so much for taking both my Dad and I up in the plane. I'll never forget our experience and I know that this past Saturday was one of my Dad's best experiences ever."
It certainly was one of mine as well.
