I work near Hanscom, and on 9/11, I heard planes going over. Having been a jet mechanic, I can instantly tell the difference between a military aircraft and a civilian one just from the sound.
There were more than one, and I went outside and a bunch of F-15’s, I always felt like it was 15 or so, but I think that is my memory, and it was more like 8-12. More than civilians see in one fell swoop. They slowly flew right over us at probably 500 ft) in single file, each one slowly rocking from one side to the other (not in synch with each other) as if they were doing it to see the sky around them.
I remember for the group of about a dozen of us who were looking up from right outside our building, it was a somber experience.
After the Boston Marathon Bombing, that night, it was a clear, beautiful night if I recall correctly. Early enough there are no mosquitoes out yet, and it was a crisp, fresh spring day. The sun had just gone down, and the sky was turning that wonderful shade of blue as it darkens, and there is a quickly disappearing lining of yellow and pink, almost gone. The stars were becoming more prominent. I lay in my hammock in my backyard, just beautiful. My neighborhood is very quiet, and I have a sweet little quarter acre all fenced in. I can hear the bell in the famous clock tower downtown ring faintly on the hour.
I heard the sound of a jet approaching, and when you live in a flight path (as some of you likely know) you know the directions, speeds and altitudes. This one was coming straight in over my house from the Southwest, low enough where I wasn’t just seeing the underside, but the windows as well. It struck me because it was completely out of any flight path followed by planes in the decades I have lived here. I don’t know my business jets that well, but this one had five or six windows on the side with two engines on the tail. Nice looking plane.
It was low enough that I could see through the windows and actually see the shapes of people moving about inside. The windows were emitting a luminous gold light, and with the background of that beautiful, clean, indigo twilight, I had this feeling I could actually feel the gravity of the moment in an very encompassing way. I felt (and I simply don’t know why) exactly where I was in the universe and what I was doing there.
It was a beautiful feeling, exciting, serene, joyous and sad all at the same time. The sadness, by the way, wasn’t due to the bombing. It was an odd feeling of melancholy, like suddenly realizing that you are old, or realizing when saying goodbye to someone that you are probably never going to see them again in your life. They aren’t dying or anything, but...you realize the world is a big place with a lot of people living lives, and you may never cross paths again.
Kind of got off track there, but...thing is, I loved looking up at that plane. I think it is likely it was full of government officials flying into Hanscom due to the bombing. I have that same kind of odd, voyeuristic feeling I get that is both comforting and sad when I drive down a darkened rural road and see a single window giving off that yellow light. Or when you are landing at an airport and you can see the headlights of cars, and think...”Where is that person going...what are they doing?”
If you can’t tell, I love living in the flight path, I wish it was busier. Some people complain about it, but I love being around an airbase. My wife laughs at me, because my face is always to the sky...)
I am aviation enthusiast, and one day in my backyard, I heard the unmistakable sound of large radial engines, very low. I walked around my house, and saw a B-17 flying straight at me at about 500 feet!
At work, I have had an office in a trailer for about 20 years now (one of the few places in a hospital you actually have a window!) and when I hear that sound of planes or helicopters, I open the window and press my face against the screen.
I see all kinds...the big “guppy” that carries rocket engines and plane parts, Air Force 1 One, the occasional B-52, JSTARS, even Navy planes. Not a lot of volume, but interesting variety.
Thank you for your reply—very interesting reading. My son does not live on a flight path but also has an strong fascination with airplanes in flight, especially military.
I know exactly what you’re saying; as a kid I’ve lived in the flight path at Wright-Patterson AFB (Ohio) and at Wheelus AFB (Libya).
You know you’re living a different life when your school bus route passes the live fire range for Sabre Jets.