Andrew Schrauben

Seven years ago today began like any other day... except for the crow.

As I walked towards Hazelrigg Hangar where I worked as a flight test engineer, my gaze drifted above the building's distinct external truss roofline to marvel at the glowing purple pre-dawn sky over the Chesapeake Bay. Perched on the peak of a truss I noticed a crow and for some strange reason the deep purple sky behind the bird suddenly felt ominous. "Something is going to happen today" I found myself muttering; quickly I silently chided myself for being so superstitious.

Soon I'd forgotten about that silly crow and was busy with the work of getting my F/A-18F Super Hornet ready for testing. I can't remember what we were testing or even if we flew that day, but I do remember when an image appeared that afternoon on the TV screen from a camera monitoring the runway at Patuxent River Naval Air Station.

A small aircraft sat motionless on the runway with a white sheet covering the cockpit, surrounded by rescue personnel. We recognized the aerobatic aircraft as one of two Extra 300's being used by the Navy Test Pilot School (TPS). One of our colleagues was enrolled there and we all had trouble focusing on our work until we were able to check the schedule and confirm that our buddy wasn't flying at the time.

Later that day our boss, test conductor Howard Gofus, got a phone call. The news wasn't good - he relayed to us that LCDR Christopher Tragna had died in the accident. "Trags?!" was my immediate reply; I can still hear the surprise in my voice.

Trags had been one of the test pilots assigned to our group, flying the Super Hornets we tested before he moved on to become an instructor at TPS. He was the pilot for several test flights on my aircraft and our personalities were a good match; preflight and postflight briefings always went well when his name was on the flight cards.

One of my favorite memories of Trags occurred during a test plan review. The plan was not very well written and I frequently proposed changes to improve the document. The plan's author became impatient with me, asserting that since all of the correct technical information was in the plan, why bother fixing the language?

Most test pilots always seem to be in a hurry and would've sided with the author, eager to approve the plan and go flying. When the author lamented my attention to detail, Trags responded that he was happy to see an engineer who knew how to write. In fact, Trags had a long list of his own suggested changes! I replied that it was equally refreshing to have a pilot who appreciated good writing.

Trags was a quiet and thoughtful guy - not your typical test pilot - yet he was also intensely intelligent. Unfortunately I didn't get to know Trags more closely; I began working at Pax River just six months before he transferred to TPS. Eight months later he was gone.

As I walked out of the hangar after work I looked over my shoulder and was startled to recall the eerie premonition from the morning. If nothing had happened I would've completely forgotten about seeing that crow.

The sun was setting and I thought about the advice my mentor, Chris Blundell, had given me about the culture of flight testing: "Remember that sooner or later, one of the guys sitting across the table from you in the preflight briefing won't come back."