It's not the plane, it's the pilot

Like many aspiring aviators, I must have seen Top Gun dozens of times before I turned 16. The movie played a pivotal role in inspiring me to join the Royal Australian Air Force, and it shaped my focus and determined what subjects I studied at school

Top Gun was extraordinary. And the opening three minutes and 57 seconds always induced visceral awe. The musical build up, the burnt orange hued carrier deck, the professional orchestra of naval aviation, tension balanced through calm teamwork... followed by the anticipated and relieving transition to Danger Zone and Tomcat catapult launches. I loved the details - the steam swathing across the deck; the slow motion preparations of an F-14 launch; the aircraft handling officers directing aircrew amidst the noise, fire, and heavy metal; and then taking a moment to pump their fists and do a little dance on a successful landing or takeoff.

Those few minutes depicting multi-million dollar aircraft, a focused team, precise execution following intense planning, of each individual carrying out their role and it all coming together in the form of results - that is what I wanted to be a part of. And, the best way that I figured I could be a part of it in Australia was by joining the Air Force and becoming a pilot.

Top Gun: Maverick

This weekend, my family and I went to see Top Gun: Maverick. I had avoided spoilers, trailers, and social media leading up to it. I was apprehensive in not wanting to have the original, particularly the inner motivation that the first movie provided me with, ruined by a poor sequel. My partner, Luana, sensed I was not as excited by it as I should have been. She was more excited! I was nervous about being disappointed.

I needn't have worried. From the nostalgic first musical note, to that final climb into the sunset, I was back in my teens. Only this time, I got to enjoy the experience next to my twin flame, on the big screen, and with whispers back and forth when we loved a scene, recognised a nostalgic throwback, or needed some connection during a tense moment. When the movie finished, one of my daughters was crying such was the emotional journey she had been on. Before we had left the cinema both of our daughters exclaimed their desire to come flying with me, and to pursue a career as a naval aviator - something neither had shown interest in before! I cried too, during the movie. This was a film not about aircraft, but about resilience, perseverance, loss, fatherhood, love, dreams, identity, and overcoming adversity. To me, the depth of the sequel makes the original all the more enjoyable as it provides more dimensions to the plot and its characters.

This film is the missing bookend to that whole generation. The original was there for the start of our young adult lives, and this new film now marks the end. It's magnificent. I'm 55, but yesterday, just for one last night, I was 19 again. Thank you. - Scott Edwards, IMDB

"The past is the past, for both of us."

It's a slightly strange feeling the morning after. I feel as inspired about aviation as I did 24 years ago. I love that our daughters enjoyed the movie, and that they had the same feelings as I did to the original. I love that the movie stands to inspire a generation of young people to pursue a career in aviation, military and civil.

But, I don't feel regret at not succeeding in my career aspirations of being a fast jet or military pilot. And that's a relief. Behind that feeling is also the real reason that I was nervous about seeing the sequel - because it was a reflection of what could have been had I succeeded in my Top Gun journey that started in about 1998, and ended abruptly in 2008, when I failed the RAAF's Advanced Pilots' Course (211). It then took ten years before I flew again, in 2018. Many of my friends have gone on to fly fighters and other military aircraft, and they are career Air Force, Army, and Navy pilots. I love and admire their journey - and they are the right people for the job.

It is only in the last few years, when I started flying again through Luana's encouragement, that I have reflected and taken the time to understand why I did not succeed, and accepted that the path I have been on has been the right one for me. Before I had accepted this, I think I would have felt turmoil on watching the sequel: regret, disappointment, and loss. I don't, now, though. I feel inspired, and fortunate that I had the opportunity to learn to fly through the military system and to have made some lifelong friends - fortunate that I am still able to fly, on my terms - fortunate to have the opportunity to continue my piloting experience & knowledge building - fortunate to have had a diverse career as a pilot, Caterpillar man, and co-founder - and fortunate that I am now working with exceptional people and teams and contributing professionally to aviation innovation, safety, training, and improvements. Everything that I sought on that carrier flight deck...

At the risk of comparing myself to Maverick, who went on his own arc during this sequel in coming to terms with his role in the death of Goose, I more readily relate to this Maverick than the younger one in the original. Has Mav spent the last thirty years without love, without purpose, running away from his demons by doing the only thing he knows how to do - be a fighter pilot?

Rear Admiral: Thirty-plus years of service. Combat medals. Citations. Only man to shoot down three enemy planes in the last 40 years. Yet you can't get a promotion, you won't retire, and despite your best efforts, you refuse to die. You should be at least a two-star Admiral by now, yet here you are. Captain. Why is that?

That was me, between 2008 and 2018. I did not face my own failings, and I did not learn from them. I escaped into another career, and other life distractions, so that I did not need to face myself in why I had not achieved the life goal I had set myself. But I had also miscalculated why I set that goal for myself - it was for the wrong reasons.

Been here the whole time

I failed to earn my Air Force Wings because I did not want them enough. I loved the idea of being a pilot, shaped no doubt by Top Gun, but I did not necessarily want or enjoy the realistic side of being a military pilot. I enjoyed and aspired to the Hollywood version. But the hard work, the monotony at times, the anachronistic and inflexible culture & learning modes (which have changed and continue to change for the better), the rigid operating rules (which rightly exist for the safety of all), the bare purpose that a fighter pilot is a weapons platform delivery mechanism - I did not enjoy those aspects of military life. I did enjoy the sensation of flying, of being so involved in piloting that it was a pure focus; I enjoyed solving problems through creativity and experience; I enjoyed working across broad and diverse teams, and in being curious and feeding my curiosity.

There is a scene in Top Gun: Maverick, where Mav is dismissed from his role as a TOPGUN special mission instructor. He delivers a monologue during which he gets upset, and cries. He says something along the lines of, "I'm doing the only thing I know how to do, being a fighter pilot. It's not what I am - it's who I am."

I find that scene sad too. I am not my job, although I love it. I am a pilot, but that is not who I am. And I am grateful that I am not defined by my role, my job, or my interests - but that I can enjoy, share, and appreciate them alongside my loved ones.

Top Gun: Maverick, thank you. For inspiring me on this aviation journey that I have been on (what other movies have that power?) and continue on, and to the sequel for showing me that it is OK when things don't work out. For enabling me to enjoy the original as much as I did as a teen, without the baggage of a career that was not to be. I hope Maverick allows others to feel this freedom too, for whatever their own reasons may be.

For a long time, I wanted nothing but my own set of velcro Wings to wear on my jacket and stick on my flightbag, like those awarded to military pilots - a physical badge to demonstrate that I had achieved something that meant so much to me. I made my own wings, I designed wings, and I had patches printed with wings that meant something to me. But after all that, I am now happiest wearing my original PC-9/A trainee namepatch on my jacket. It is weathered, it is old, it is frayed and discoloured. But it has been on the same journey that I have - it flew with me; we soloed, passed, and failed together; and it has endured adversity. It doesn't have even wings on it, only a PC-9 silhouette - but it got me to where I am today; it reflects the privilege I enjoyed in learning to fly in my favourite aircraft, with friends, through first-rate instructors; and it was wholly earned by me. Find your patch.