Experimental projects at Vought Aircraft were exciting and involved great preparation. All engineers knew slide rules like front-line soldiers know their rifles.

In early 1947, I was the pilot on a project that our customer (Navy/Marines) wanted: a F4U Corsair that would go 450 mph at heights up to 40,000 feet, continually for a minimum of 1 1/2 hours. That seemed doable since our new F4U-5 Corsair’s max speed was 470 mph with a 41,400 service ceiling and carrying 4×20 mm M3 cannons plus two 1,000 pound bombs.

As engineers began calculations using their slide rules like ol’ west cowboys used their six-shooters, I concentrated on proving the dead stick (without power) glide path in case of emergency.  After several test flights, I began our final one: 40,000 feet over Boston, and headed north to Portland, then down to Montreal, and south to Albany, following the Hudson River to New York City, with 97 more miles to our reach our goal - Philadelphia. This would be 600 miles in 1 1/2 hours. The ride had been smooth, “without a hitch”; then, WHAM - like a right cross to the jaw when you drop your guard! I saw, but couldn’t believe, the oil pressure rapidly dropping to zero. I cut power immediately and called our flight control, advised them of my plight and plan - dead stick to base.

Minutes became seconds. No one called, knowing I had had cameras on since Boston. I thought of Idlewild Airport (now JFK), but they had not yet opened for emergencies.

The silence was eerie, but my mind was rushing, reviewing my options in case I was short of the runway. I didn’t like any of them. Ditching in Long Island Sound was dangerous with so much boat traffic. Parachuting was even worse. A plane crash without a pilot generally killed people.

I prayed. I can’t remember for what, but I prayed. I do remember, though, the tranquility that followed.

I saw our airport and appraised the tower and Vought’s flight control of my position. I’d have to go straight in, no circling. That was not good… my error on the slide rule, or maybe different wind direction.

My controls, stick, and pedals became sluggish, but I couldn’t raise the nose any further because she’d stall. Finally, I opened my canopy and raised the long nose. I hit “wheels down,” then flaps slightly. The beginning of Runway 30 swished beneath me. I gently pulled back and stalled. The bird dropped; a fast, hard, 3-point landing. I braked and rolled to a stop. A fire truck was speeding toward me.

I sat amazed at how fast it all happened, how lucky I was…. No, it wasn’t luck. I looked up at the beautiful blue sky, smiled, and whispered, “Thank You, Father, Thank You.”

Later in my life, in other industries, I have found "an edge" exhilarating and important. If reading His Edge leads you to develop "an edge," you will have captured the esprit of the esprit de corps found in the successful people around you.
~Wayne Harding _______________________________________________________________