[Tommy]

flygirl,

I had been flying in the Air Force for about fifteen years when I found myself in a two-ship formation of T-38 jet trainers. All four pilots in the two aircraft were experienced T-38 instructors like myself. We had briefed a routine formation flight that included a maneuver to separate by about a half mile followed by a turning rejoin. During the rejoin, the leader (in the other aircraft) flew a steady gentle left turn while I flew a tighter turn inside his to catch him. We briefed that rather than completing the rejoin in the customary way on the leaders left wing, I would cross behind him and rejoin on his right wing. All went as planned as I slid into position about fifteen feet from the leader's right wing. He smoothly rolled out of the turn, paused, and then rolled abruptly to his right. He was preparing to do a hard turn directly into his wingman, something you never do. I was completely surprised by his action. Before I could react, the other pilot in the leader's aircraft grabbed the stick and shoved it back to the left. If he had not reacted as quickly as he did, I have no doubt that all four of us would likely have died. .... We all breathed heavily for a few seconds before continuing the rest of the flight as briefed. In the post mission debrief, the pilot of the other aircraft acknowledged that he had just forgotten that we were on the right side.

Seeing how close I came to death that day, and knowing that I was saved by someone else's actions rather than my own, I had an entirely new appreciation of how valuable each day is. I've tried hard to retain that feeling so I never take even ordinary days for granted. If you let your engine failure experience give you a keener appreciation for how precious each day is, and for what is truly important in life, then you were more than a little lucky that day.