The field of combat aviation psychiatry evolved symbiotically with the war. Psychological stress, combined with the little-understood effects of high-altitude flying such as hypoxia, often resulted in airmen being removed from duty and sent to one of many convalescent hospitals that had popped up across the French and British countryside. The destruction of a German biplane may have affected its attacker as well as its pilot.Ĭombat stress among fliers, known then as “aero-neurosis,” became more common as the war progressed. Renowned English physician Charles Moran noted that “men wear out in war like clothes.” When these pilots confronted their humanity, their victims, or both, they often suffered, and each man had a finite amount of emotional capital and courage. The Great War’s aces won lasting fame, but success came at a price. In contrast, almost everyone has heard of World War I’s Red Baron (German ace Manfred von Richthofen). Tom Crouch, an aeronautics curator at the National Air and Space Museum, notes that even though World War II remains one of the most documented wars in collective memory, few can remember the names of the pilots who became aces in it. The mythology of the ace generated hope that aerial warfare might save the day. Those who excelled at the new type of warfare gave birth to a new term: ace. If a new tactic worked, a new maneuver was born if it didn’t, the man conceiving it often died. It was created in the moment, and pilots tested their ideas using their hides as collateral. Unlike the antiquated thinking that had led to the stalemate of trench warfare, aerial warfare was unfettered by old ideas. Though aviation was in its infancy, little time had been wasted in fitting the day’s frail airplanes of spruce and canvas with machine guns, giving birth to a new phenomenon: aerial combat. Troops were mired in the mud and blood of trench warfare, and a despondent public desperately needed hope, leading many of them to look skyward. The Great War was in its second year and was not going well. I have the ability to trust and believe that, at times, I’m still experiencing the chokehold of post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms - but what I see is the true reflection of me.“I zoom up violently, the pressure pushes me into my seat, my sight goes for a second, then more shots, they’re both at me, I’m skidding madly, zooming, doing flat turns, quick rolls, anything to stop them getting a bead on me, throwing the poor old Pup around, my gentle sensitive Pup, her startled shudders of protest almost hurt, but there’s no smooth flying in a shambles like this, it’s ham-fisted stuff or you’re out.” –Arthur Gould Lee Now, my inner light shines through, giving me hope that I have the ability to face each day, to stay the course and continue to heal and grow. I acknowledge the courage it takes to stand there and refuse to look away because of shame. Today, when I stand in front of my inner spirit mirror, I see my reflection. I could have turned away and continued to believe the lies, or I could believe my truth and trust my reflection. At first, it was hard to trust the truth of the mirror. The reflection of who I am, who I want to be and what they couldn’t take from me started emitting a stronger and stronger beacon of hope. Then, to my amazement, as I stood steadfast in front of my spirit mirror, I began to see a light emerge from my core. At that time, all I could see was the hurt, pain, fear and wretchedness of the first 20 years of my life. At first, all I could name were the lies that were told to my soul - the lies that perpetrators tell their victims to legitimize what they are doing or have done.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |