WHAT DO THE TOPS OF CLOUDS LOOK LIKE? (Page Two)

In the mid 1950s I joined the Navy. After Boot Camp at Bainbridge, MD, and then Airman Preparatory School, Norman, OK, and finally Aviation Electronics School at Memphis, TN, I joined Patrol Squadron Twenty-Three (VP-23) based at NAS Brunswick, ME and was soon assigned to a flight crew on the Lockheed P2V-7 Neptune. Now I would have the chance to find out about the tops of clouds, but by this time I had become more realistic. I did know something about cloud formation and the makeup of the various types of clouds. Perhaps I had become a little jaded by the ripe old age of 20 because my inquisitive nature regarding the subject of clouds had somewhat worn off.

On one rain-soaked and overcast day, and on one of my early flights as a crew member, we took off and began a climb through a solid layer of cumulus. Wonder of wonders, I was dumb struck as we began to break out on top of the clouds. White vaporous threads appeared to be clinging to the tiptanks as the inside of the Neptune became brighter and brighter. Suddenly we burst into a stunning brilliance I had never experienced on the ground. The sun reflected off the tops of the clouds and dazzled the eye. Here was a view of clean white cloud tops billowing all around me like freshly laundered sheets hanging on a clothes line in the back yard of my childhood house. I couldn't take my eyes off the rolling cloudscape. I took in the beauty of it all and thought that I would never tire of it. This was a good place to be, and I didn’t want to return to earth. I thought about the pilot in the P-47 —so this is what he saw.

Because I enjoyed aviation so much, I started flying lessons and eventually worked my way through the various pilot certificates, instructor's ratings, and the instrument rating. The tops of the cloud decks remained inviting, and they continued to hold the beauty I first discovered as an aircrewman. The thrill of it still remains after forty plus years. Think about it, is there anything like breaking out of the clouds into the sunlight after climbout, or racing your shadow across the cloud tops? Night flying always offers its own special rewards; seeing the eerie glow of a city’s lights penetrating the undercast, heat lightening flashing in the distance where the horizon should be. Or is there any thrill like sliding back down into the billowy softness and shooting an approach to low minimums?

Naval Aviation introduced me to these wonders, and now if any one asks me what the tops of clouds look like, I can try to explain. Still, it’ll be an imperfect description. It isn’t that I’ll purposely hold back what I’ve seen or experienced; it’s just that I don’t have the words. But one thing I do know, I now have a relationship with my pilot from 1944 that only we, as airmen, can share.

Ron Wheeler, AT3, VP-23: 1955-58

ATP, CFII, MEI, AGI, IGI

Former Freight Dog