Confessions Of An Airshow Announcer – The Missing Man

"Now Lieutenant," Randy often said. "You know you've been in aviation a long time, when the list of people you knew, is longer than the list of people you know."

When he first said that to me over three decades ago, I didn't fully appreciate what he meant. Now, after announcing aviation events since 1991, I understand his message. Randy Sohn, and many others, all part of my aviation experience and life, have "Gone West."

It was Al Pike at Planes of Fame-East, who first handed me a mic. As show boss, he planned and coordinated the flying. At each Memorial Day Weekend show at Flying Cloud, the Missing Man was the show finale. The flyer's salute to those who'd passed. Since 1991, I've called Missing Man flights at Flying Cloud, Holman, Fleming, and Anoka County, involving all kinds of World War II fighters and trainers.

At first the honorees were people I didn't know. As the years went on, many were friends and pilots I'd flown with.

In over 45 years of covering airshows, first with a camera, later with a mic, I've witnessed formations of modern

military jets, World War II aircraft, and dissimilar aircraft, including a six ship at Kalamazoo, Michigan, with the four Grumman piston "Cats" joined by a Navy F-14A Tomcat and a vintage Grumman F9F Panther.

One show at Oshkosh used a pair of B-25Js, a B-17G, and a Lockheed P-2 Neptune. Another at Oshkosh featured four aerobatic aircraft. Where did this solemn tradition come from?

Flyovers honoring the dead go back to World War I. Squadron mates would fly over the cemetery as the funeral ended. Stories exist of aircraft from the "other side" flying over dropping flowers or if the fallen aviator was buried behind enemy lines, of dropping the dead pilot's possessions over his home field. What is performed today, with a slot empty in the formation, has a strong Minnesota connection.

According to an article by Daniel Ford called "High Honor" in the April/May 2001 issue of Air & Space magazine, the first empty slot formation appeared during the funeral flyover in May 1931 honoring Minnesotan Charles "Speed" Holman.

Noel Allard's book Speed (Flying Books, 1986) describes "as many as 30 military and civilian planes" flying over the funeral cortege. "Close behind came a formation of Naval planes in a broken 'V' paying witness to the fallen aviator below."

Today, most Missing Man flights are composed of four aircraft in what is called a Finger Four. This evolved during the 1930's as more flexible fighter formation than the rigid, tight, parade ground flying of airshows.

While the tight formations were visually appealing to an audience, they were tactically worthless for combat. Keeping one's eyes on the formation leader and not looking for the enemy was a recipe for getting shot down.

The Finnish Air Force adopted the concept first. Being outnumbered by their possible enemies, the Finns opted for two ship elements working flexibly with a second element. With plenty of horizontal and vertical separation and not having to play follow the leader, pilots were able to maintain situational awareness. This formation was superior to the traditional VIC formation. Each element could attack an enemy to greater effect. This was proven effective in the Finn's battle with the Russians in the Winter War.

Around the same time, the Luftwaffe's Condor Legion, flying in the Spanish Civil War, adopted the concept, adapting it to their pilots' skills. Led by Werner Molders and Gunther Lutzow, what the Germans called the Schwarm (four ship) and the Rotte (two ship), first with Heinkel He-51 biplanes and later Messerschmitt Bf-109s, was successful against the Spanish Republican forces that were equipped with Soviet aircraft. The Luftwaffe continued to use the Finger Four during World War II. Other air forces followed.

Today's airshow Finger Four, flown in tight formation, is used to recognize those who have "Gone West." As the formation passes, often over the crowd, the second element leader pulls heavenward to the west in honor of those who've died. In my years of announcing Missing Man flights, we've accompanied the pullout with "Taps." The trumpet's sound fades away as the honor aircraft disappears from view.

The wind is down Two Eight Right at 9 knots. It's almost 1500. "Crank at 1510, over the field at 1530," reads the schedule.

"OK, that's a wrap," Chuck says and looks at his formation mates. "Any questions?" Then he looks at me. "You all set?"

"You're calling the pull?"

"Just before we hit mid-field it'll be smoke on. Then over the parallels, Bruce pulls west."

We bump fists and we're ready to fly.