NIGHT LANDINGS<br >In easy orbits we learned to land<br >night fighters by the numbers.<br >Line up the propeller cone a thousand feet<br >above the lighted runway， pitch sixty degrees<br >and hold it， back pressure， back pressure，<br >a nudge on the rudder to hold the nose up.<br >Roll out， trusting the darkness，<br >drop the landing gear and count one thousand one<br >one thousand two， and turn back to base，<br >airspeed falling， nose falling in the turn<br >to final， lights of the runway pulling you home<br >like a magnetic compass， wings rolling level<br >as the nose lifts， the tire-streaked runway<br >dim between the skimming lights， at last<br >the shudder of wheels scudding along on asphalt.<br >All by the numbers， easy.<br > The night I soloed，<br >red lights rolled flashing into the woods，<br >searching for Pennington， his third solo， a nice kid<br >eager for everything. What happened in those seconds<br >approaching the base we only guessed，<br >The tower controller reported granting<br >clearance to land， watching the T-28 approach<br >and pitch-out steep as it should， but it kept on<br >rolling in the turn until inverted<br > I!<br >