Rotor in the Green - Author's Note

All my life I had felt different, unfulfilled. My wife and my many counsellors could not understand the reason why. Only one person knew the answer, and He would show me in His own good time.

But before all the suffering and pain there was my all-consuming passion. Exposed to flying at an early age it became my dream, pursued often at the expense of my family. This is the story of achieving that dream, but only to find it just a step; a necessary step to attaining the real secret of peace and fulfillment in my life.

In 1972 at the age of twenty-two I faced a selection board for attendance at the Officer Cadet School Portsea. Before the board was a record of my achievements: learned to fly at sixteen, joined the Commandos at seventeen completing parachuting, assault swimmer, unarmed combat, and small craft handling courses, and a keen skydiver with thirty jumps under my belt.

I was asked at one point whether I regarded myself as a “spectacular person.” Not quite sure of the purpose of the question I simply stated that while I felt privileged at having had the opportunity to undertake all these activities, I certainly didn’t feel “spectacular” in any way as a result.

They must have been satisfied with my answer because several months later I was up to my eyeballs in officer training.

 Throughout my life I have indeed been fortunate to do many things. Around ten years ago I first thought about sharing my experiences one day so I began keeping notes, newspaper cuttings, letters and any other relevant information. I believe now, with my flying career temporarily on hold, that the time is right.

 The title comes from helicopter terminology. A helicopter engine(s) drives through a transmission to the rotor mast and hence the blades. The speed of the rotor is normally indicated to the pilot by means of a needle on a dial. The rotor is kept within a governed range, generally shown by a green arc on the dial.

I met the author of the poem, Wayne Johnson, when he served in Australia as an American exchange pilot in the early 1980s. Some insight into Wayne’s poetic inspiration is given at Appendix 1.

In the context of Wayne’s poem the title to me invokes a state of mind whereby: the mission is complete, the housekeeping is completed in the cockpit, the instruments are arranged in an eye-pleasing manner and I’m flying off home into the setting sun.

 Surely then I will have my Rotor in the Green.