Original subtitles

NARRATOR: What do the dashing flying aces of World War I,

the Hollywood stunt pilot who filmed "Top Gun,"

and thousands of other explorers of the sky have in common?

[lion growling]

They all chose animals as their co-pilots.

Meet Gilmore, a famous flying lion...

Titina, the first dog to cross the North Pole in an airship...

Ham, the astrochimp...

and the war dogs that served their country

in some unusual ways.

ANNOUNCER: You wouldn't expect the dogs

to enjoy a parachute jump, but they do.

Take a look at that wagging tail.

NARRATOR: What a flying circus.

If only they could speak, what tales animals aloft could tell.

♪♪♪

Just as you'd expect, the National Air and Space Museum

houses all the great airships...

stories of daring pilots and astronauts...

but a closer look reveals a surprising number

of very strange tales--

photos and artifacts

about animals that were never meant to fly.

It's the Air and Space Museum; it's not Natural History.

But there seem to be a lot of pictures

of airplanes and animals, and it got me interested

in what the stories were behind all these.

NARRATOR: Janus collected the stories

in his book, "Animals Aloft,"

but it's within the museum's vast collection

of aircraft and artifacts

that the stories of flying animals really take off.

Some of them are downright bizarre.

One of the stranger things we have at the Air and Space Museum

is this parachute and parachute harness that belonged to a lion.

NARRATOR: And the parachute isn't all they have.

Inside the museum's vault,

steel doors guard the final resting place

of an animal that traveled 25,000 miles by air--

a Hollywood legend, Gilmore the lion.

Gilmore was the beloved flying partner of one of aviation's

most flamboyant characters, Roscoe Turner.

TURNER: Wake up. Hey.

[lion growling]

Wake up. Wake up.

[lion growls and snarls]

NARRATOR: In the 1930s,

a time when racing airplanes was bigger than baseball,

Roscoe Turner was its biggest star.

Americans loved his dashing good looks and singular talent.

Turner was a master showman, daredevil,

and one of the very best pilots of the day.

BOB LINDEN: Roscoe Turner was a very serious racer.

He was very accomplished.

He's the only person ever to win

the Thompson Trophy Race at the National Air Races three times.

People flocked to see the likes of Turner.

He brought aviation to, you know, thousands,

if not millions of people.

NARRATOR: Movie stars like America's Sweetheart,

Mary Pickford, turned out to wish Turner luck on air races.

I think you better go with me on my Australian flight,

go over there and star there, too.

That sounds perfectly marvelous.

NARRATOR: But it was Turner's idea of adopting a lion cub

named after his sponsor, the Gilmore Oil Company,

that really captured the public's imagination.

BOB LINDEN: It was great marketing.

And Gilmore flew with Roscoe for two years,

and wherever they went,

Gilmore was with him and was his best friend.

And cameras followed, which was exactly what he wanted.

Gilmore, talk to him. Talk to him.

[lion growling and chattering]

[laughter]

- Gilmore... - [chattering]

...you have a nice trip? Huh?

Did you have a nice trip? Did you have a nice trip?

[lion chattering]

Why, certainly you had a nice trip.

ALLAN JANUS: Gilmore was probably

one of the more famous lions back in the '30s.

Well, in the pantheon of lions, he certainly was up there.

Now, he was as famous as Roscoe.

No one thought of Roscoe Turner without Gilmore and vice versa,

until the day Roscoe died.

MAN: Hope you have a good trip, Roscoe.

- Thanks. - [lion growls softly][

NARRATOR: Gilmore was just three weeks old

when Roscoe bought him,

but the two were an instant hit.

Before long, no one thought of one without the other.

Roscoe even had a parachute custom-made for the little cub.

Luckily, they never had occasion to use it.

BOB LINDEN: It took Gilmore quite a while

to get used to flying.

He was a very nervous traveler, as you might imagine.

So when he got scared or nervous,

he would hop into Turner's lap,

which is all well and good when you're seeking comfort,

but when Turner's trying to fly the airplane,

that did get them in some trouble from time to time.

That's a very large, 100-, 125- pound cat in your lap, scared.

But they managed to survive, and did fine.

See his parachute?

[lion growling softly]

That's in case we have to get out,

I put him out first, and then I go after him.

- MAN: Who pulls the string? - [laughter]

You pull the string yourself on him?

No, I tie it to the plane and throw him out.

- Roscoe, uh... - [lion growling]

...is this to be a non-stop flight?

NARRATOR: After a time, Gilmore seemed to love flying.

He was on board when Turner set

two transcontinental speed records in 1930.

How many hours do you expect to make it in, Roscoe?

Well, we expect to make it

in a shorter time than has been made before, but...

NARRATOR: Roscoe and Gilmore flew together for just two years

until Gilmore reached 150 pounds

and was just too big for the cockpit.

But by then, the two were inseparable.

It might interest you to know

that this cat has traveled 25,000 miles by air.

He's been to New York, Chicago, Cleveland, Cincinnati, Dallas,

and then Canada, and then Mexico.

He was brought up right in this home, too,

weren't you, Gilmore? [laughing]

BOB LINDEN: Turner was very fond of the cat,

and the cat was very fond of Roscoe.

And when the cat was too big,

Turner just moved him into his home in Beverly Hills.

All right, step up. Step up now.

- Here you go, Gilmore. - Okay.

- Was that so good? - Hmm? Want some more?

Want to have some more?

Set up a nice little house in his backyard

and a place for him to play,

and he'd visit him all the time and show him off to friends.

And they'd be in the house for dinner,

and the cat would be underfoot.

He was a pet. He was just a beloved pet.

NARRATOR: Gilmore stayed with the Turners

until they moved to Indiana.

Then Roscoe left him with a breeder,

where Gilmore had more space.

But Roscoe continued to pay for Gilmore's care,

and visited him until his death.

BOB LINDEN: Many trainers were astounded

because Roscoe would not see him for several years,

and he'd walk up to the cage, the cat recognized him.

There were times Roscoe would just hop over the fence

and go through the cage

and sit there and wrestle with his friend,

and the onlookers were absolutely astounded

and scared out of their minds, but everything was fine.

Gilmore loved Roscoe, and Roscoe loved Gilmore.

NARRATOR: When Gilmore died at the age of 22,

Roscoe had his old companion mounted

and proudly displayed him at home.

After Roscoe passed away,

his entire collection of aviation memorabilia

was donated to the Smithsonian.

For years, Gilmore continued to draw new fans

at the Air and Space Museum,

until he became too fragile to display.

ALLAN JANUS: He looks pretty good for a 70-year-old lion.

BOB LINDEN: That's true,

but you have to be careful with him

because we don't want any more hair to fall out.

We do hope to put him on display sometime

out at our Udvar-Hazy Center.

But we need a special case for that.

Well, he's got a lot of fans who I know would...

- Oh, absolutely. - ...love to see him again.

People ask about him every day.

- Gilmore, Gilmore... - [growling softly]

...look up here, look here, look here.

[lion growling and snarling]

NARRATOR: Gilmore was just one

of many animals to brave life aloft.

Throughout the history of flight,

animals have been celebrities, mascots, even pioneers.

Today we think of air travel as a human endeavor.

But in 1783, when the Montgolfier brothers launched

the first passenger-carrying balloon,

the intrepid aeronauts were a sheep, a chicken, and a duck.

Kiddo the cat was an unintentional pioneer--

a cat whose curiosity could have killed him,

but wound up making him a star.

In 1910, two explorers of the air,

Melvin Vaniman and Walter Wellman,

attempted to be the first to cross the Atlantic by air

on the airship, the America.

Whether Kiddo snuck onto the America by himself,

or was smuggled aboard by a crew member remains a mystery.

ALLAN JANUS: Kiddo was the first cat

to attempt to cross the Atlantic by airship.

He was a little gray tabby, and he belonged to Murray Simon,

who was hired as the navigator

of the Wellman airship, the America.

NARRATOR: Poor Kiddo had no idea what was in store.

At the first roar of the motors, the cat began to howl.

As a result, Kiddo made history.

ALLAN JANUS: The America happened to be

the first flying machine to have a radio apparatus onboard.

And so, the very first historic message

from an aircraft in flight concerned Kiddo.

It was, "Roy, come pick up this goddamn cat."

He settled down, and he actually began to enjoy himself.

NARRATOR: In 1910,

airships were the very latest in flying technology,

so the press covered the launch of the America

with enormous fanfare.

Although she flew for a record-breaking 71 hours,

in the middle of the Atlantic...

disaster struck.

ALLAN JANUS: They began to lose buoyancy,

they were losing gas, and they came down in the water.

NARRATOR: But a creature with nine lives

makes a good explorer.

Kiddo and the America were very lucky.

Just as the giant airship

dropped its lifeboat into the ocean,

a passing steamer came to the rescue.

ALLAN JANUS: The whole crew and Kiddo were rescued,

and they were brought back to New York,

where they were heroes.

Kiddo was photographed all over the place.

He was on newspapers, he was on magazines,

and for a time, he was even displayed

in a golden cage in Gimbels department store in New York,

which is about as famous, I think, a cat can get.

NARRATOR: When it comes to famous polar explorers,

names like Ernest Shackleton,

who led the British expedition to Antarctica,

and Roald Amundsen, the first man to reach

both the North and South Pole, top the list.

But in the canine explorers hall of fame, the legend is Titina.

She was the very first dog to fly over the North Pole

in an airship.

Early in the 20th century, the advent of airships

brought a whole new dimension to polar exploration.

Titina made her historic voyage to the Pole

as the constant companion of Umberto Nobile,

a leading Italian airship designer and explorer.

ALLAN JANUS: He did some very advanced designs

during World War I,

and he also was enthusiastic for polar research via airships.

NARRATOR: In 1926, Nobile's ship, the Norge,

was one of the best.

Along with the legendary polar explorer, Roald Amundsen,

Nobile and his little dog, Titina,

set out on the greatest adventure of the day:

the quest to cross the North Pole.

Battling arctic winds, the explorers triumphed,

crossing the Pole and making history

when they landed in Alaska two days later.

And while Titina's coat wasn't nearly as lush as her owner's,

she seemed quite happy to bask in the limelight of success.

Unfortunately, that famous flight

wasn't the end of Titina's adventures in the Arctic.

ALLAN JANUS: In 1928, Nobile, in another airship, the Italia,

set out to repeat the expedition.

And they made it to the North Pole,

but they crashed on the way back.

NARRATOR: Several crewmen died when the Italia went down.

The rest were stranded in the Arctic, miles from civilization,

and the chance of rescue looked bleak.

ALLAN JANUS: At one point,

Nobile wrote a note saying that Titina was happy,

but she would probably prefer to be at home.

NARRATOR: Sadly, the search for the Italia

proved fatal for a number of rescuers,

among them, famed explorer Roald Amundsen.

His plane disappeared over the Bering Sea

while searching for his old friend, Nobile.

ALLAN JANUS: He set out to try to rescue his old comrade,

and was never seen again.

NARRATOR: Over a month later,

Nobile, Titina, and the crew were rescued.

Thankfully, that was the last trip to the Pole for Nobile

and his brave little dog, Titina.

Five seconds...

four, three, two, one.

Fire!

NARRATOR: When America began to explore space flight,

NASA famously sought only those with the right stuff

to brave the last frontier.

But long before human astronauts blasted into space,

NASA called on mice and monkeys to test their rockets.

ANNOUNCER: Rocket ships... supersonic speed...

the vocabulary of a new era.

NARRATOR: Despite the Air Force buildup, by today's standards,

the technology seems positively primitive.

The animals are being taken to the launching tower.

NARRATOR: In 1952, the Air Force had to know

how living beings would react in zero gravity,

and if they could survive the crushing force of re-entry.

ANNOUNCER: Monkeys were chosen for the test

because they most nearly approximate

the physiological structure of man.

NARRATOR: With the animals in their compartments,

the countdown began.

ANNOUNCER: One question remains-- will everything work?

Three, two, one.

Fire!

NARRATOR: After takeoff, the rocket accelerated

to an astounding 1,900 miles an hour,

subjecting the mice to four Gs,

or four times the normal pull of gravity.

In zero gravity, the mice became disoriented.

ANNOUNCER: The first mouse is more disturbed than the second.

NARRATOR: The animals survived their rocket flight

and returned safely to Earth.

ANNOUNCER: Aerobee-3 flew according to plan,

bringing back its passengers to lead normal animal lives.

They've earned their title

as the world's first rocket passengers.

NARRATOR: Mice and monkeys did their part,

but it was Ham the Astrochimp

who truly paved the way for human space flight.

Benjamin Lawless, former head of exhibitions

at the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History,

remembers Ham's famous space flight well.

It came at a time when the Soviet Union

had the undisputed lead in the space race,

and America's space program was in trouble.

All you saw in the newspapers were rockets tumbling down

and exploding on the pad or being exploded in space

because they weren't performing.

The American space program was talked about by the newspapers

as "Kaputnik..." [laughs] ...and it was.

We couldn't do it right.

NARRATOR: Space flight was a deadly, dangerous business

when Ham, named after

the Holloman Aerospace Medical Center,

joined the space program.

Russia had sent a dog named Laika into orbit,

but it was a one-way mission.

There was no way to bring her back.

America had to do better.

Scientists needed to know

if humans could actually function in space.

So for the mission known as MR-2,

NASA turned to chimpanzees,

animals that could be trained to perform specific tasks.

Along with five other chimps,

Ham went through a battery of medical tests and training

every bit as tough as human astronauts.

The chimps were drilled to pull levers

in response to flashing lights.

If they pulled the right lever, they got a reward.

If they made a mistake, they were punished.

ANNOUNCER: The electrodes on his feet

will give him a gentle shock

in case he forgets what he has been taught to do.

But Ham learned his lesson well.

BENJAMIN LAWLESS: It seemed kind of cruel,

some of the things they did.

And I don't suppose they were purposely cruel.

They just wanted to get the animal trained

to do what they wanted him to do,

and that was the way to do it, I guess.

NARRATOR: The day before launch,

all six chimps were brought to Cape Canaveral.

But only one would be selected for flight.

ANNOUNCER: And the honor goes to an astrochimp

who is nicknamed Ham,

a friendly little fellow in a form-fitted couch

about to make his mark in history.

NARRATOR: In the predawn hours,

Ham arrived to take his place in the rocket.

Astronaut Alan Shepard was on hand to watch the launch

and wish Ham good luck.

Then, just before noon on January 31, 1961--

MAN: Three... two... one...

zero... lift-off.

NARRATOR: Ham was on his way.

Suddenly, something went horribly wrong.

In Mission Control,

the flight surgeons watched Ham's heart rate soar.

BENJAMIN LAWLESS: It was terrible.

When it lifted off, the fuel valve didn't shut off.

So now you had a rocket going higher and faster

than it was supposed to go.

It was supposed to go about 4,000 miles an hour.

Suddenly, this rocket was moving along

at about 5,800 miles an hour, almost 6,000 miles an hour.

So now we had an ape in a rocket going higher, faster,

and farther than anybody had ever gone before.

NARRATOR: Just as Mission Control got the abort signal,

the rocket suddenly began to respond,

and Ham's heart rate returned to normal.

After the initial phase of the flight,

Ham settled down to complete his mission,

proving that living beings could carry out basic orders in space.

And Ham proved that you could, yes.

You could receive signals and press buttons.

It's exactly what Shepard did and what John Glenn did.

NARRATOR: Ham performed like a champ.

But the rocket's initial misfire sent the capsule far off course.

And the recovery ships had to race to find it.

BENJAMIN LAWLESS: Consequently,

they were looking for him downrange at about 260 miles.

He wasn't there.

He was still flying overhead at 96 miles a minute.

NARRATOR: On splashdown, the impact was so great

that seawater poured into the capsule.

BENJAMIN LAWLESS: The waterproof bulkhead in the capsule

was punctured, and we were gonna make a water landing with Ham,

so that was pretty dangerous.

NARRATOR: By the time the ships reached the rendezvous point,

no one knew what they'd find inside the capsule.

Ham had sustained 18 Gs, rather than the 11 expected.

If the little chimp died,

it would be yet another crushing setback

for America's space program.

BENJAMIN LAWLESS: And everybody at Canaveral

thought he was dead.

They didn't know he was alive

till they actually pulled the capsule out of the water.

NARRATOR: When the capsule opened,

they found the little chimp up to his neck in water.

But much to everyone's relief, Ham not only survived,

he performed his mission flawlessly.

When Ham went up and he had a successful flight, I mean,

it gave everybody a lift.

Everything was depending on this little guy.

ANNOUNCER: MR-2 was a significant milestone

on the highway to man's flight into space,

and the evidence is a live, space-experienced chimpanzee.

NARRATOR: Ham made it back to earth and made history.

His success made headlines around the globe.

But what happened after his 15 minutes of fame

is a bittersweet story.

NASA sent Ham to the National Zoo.

At first, he was a big attraction.

But after a while, his star faded.

In 1973, when Melanie Bond,

one of the very first female trainers, arrived at the zoo,

Ham seemed a very lonely guy.

MELANIE BOND: Chimps are social,

and they really need the companionship of others.

And here's this poor guy sitting in a,

basically a cell, all by himself.

Because back in those days,

we really didn't know about environmental enrichment

and what social needs of chimpanzees were.

So we didn't know anything.

He looked lonely to me, and he seemed to really need company.

One of the things I would ask was,

"Do you want me to tickle your toes?"

and he would offer his feet,

but he would always seem to be very reluctant,

and he would kind of whimper and cry a little bit.

And he would do it, and I would tickle his toes

and he would laugh, and he really seemed to enjoy that.

And I never understood it until years later,

I learned that part of his training involved

having his feet strapped to metal plates,

and if he didn't perform

the behaviors they wanted him to perform,

he would receive an electric shock.

That memory stayed with him years after.

That made a very strong impression

on a young and impressionable ape.

NARRATOR: Ham and Melanie struck up quite a friendship,

but still Ham had never been socialized with other chimps,

so he was alone.

BENJAMIN LAWLESS: It is a sad tale.

I mean, here he was, every bit the astronaut

that any of the Mercury 7 were, and anybody after him.

He did exactly what all the Mercury 7 astronauts did,

but they went on to become congressmen and senators

and presidents of universities, and poor Ham was put in jail.

He arrived at the National Zoo in 1963,

and he was still there in 1980.

Now, that's... 17 years in the slammer,

and that just didn't seem fair.

NARRATOR: Then those who cared

heard about another possibility for Ham.

A zoo in North Carolina began resocializing chimps

to live together as a troop.

They were asked to take Ham.

And I will always give them high praise for saying yes,

but they felt very strongly that Ham deserved a chance.

NARRATOR: And his sendoff was poignant.

At least some hadn't forgotten

Ham's contribution to the space race.

He was being transferred to Asheboro by an Air Force plane

because the Air Force considered him

still a member of their group.

When we started to push that cage towards the airplane,

this young captain said, "Stop, wait a minute.

And he lined all those guys up on either side of that runway,

and as we pushed Ham along to the airplane, they saluted him.

It was his only parade, which was lovely, I thought, yeah.

NARRATOR: At the North Carolina Zoo,

Ham was reintroduced to other chimps,

found a mate, and his place in a troop.

Ham lived at the North Carolina Zoo until 1983.

He never sired any offspring,

but he had family of sorts around him.

NARRATOR: One day, keepers found Ham

lying in his favorite spot in the sun, but no longer moving.

MELANIE BOND: And he had passed away.

He apparently died of a heart attack,

but what a great way to go,

sitting in the sun, surrounded by your family.

NARRATOR: While some animals made history as pioneers,

others served in wartime as fabled mascots,

treasured companions,

and sometimes as four-footed soldiers.

The Bell Huey helicopter on display at the Udvar-Hazy Center

brings back vivid memories for Vietnam vet John Burnham.

As a scout dog handler, Burnham and his dog, Clipper,

flew many a mission in the Huey.

JOHN BURNHAM: We'd ride with the doors open.

And that's when the dog loved it the most,

when that chopper took off 100 miles an hour,

his head out the door,

and his eyes squinting and that hair blowing,

and my hand hanging on to the leash trying to keep him inside,

so it was a wonderful ride for him.

NARRATOR: Alongside their handlers,

scout dogs faithfully braved the dangers of battle.

JOHN BURNHAM: When you're flying into

what we call a hot LZ,

meaning that red smoke is coming up from the ground,

that the enemy is there and maybe even firing at us,

so that was the scariest part for us and the dogs.

When you're working with a dog and you're only 19 years old,

he becomes your best friend, he becomes your pal.

NARRATOR: For two decades,

veterans like Burnham have been on a mission

to build a National War Dog Memorial

to honor all America's canine soldiers.

Dogs have a long history of military service.

In the First World War, 20,000 dogs served France and England

as rescue dogs and messengers.

In the early years of aviation,

even the most daring aviator appeared bolder

with an animal along, or at least a faithful buddy

waiting on the airstrip for his master's safe return.

DR. JAMES SERPELL: The dog is in many ways

a perfect companion for a solitary person.

NARRATOR: Dr. James Serpell

is an expert in the animal-human bond.

Go! Go! [chuckling]

DR. SERPELL: It's like having a lieutenant there,

single-mindedly dedicated

to your welfare and your well-being,

and that's pretty unusual to get from another human being.

But for a dog, it sort of seems to come naturally.

NARRATOR: All the World War I flying aces

seemed to have mascots.

Some German pilots seemed to favor small, fluffy dogs.

Others, like the famous Red Baron, Manfred Von Richthofen,

preferred larger breeds.

ALLAN JANUS: He had a Great Dane that he named Moritz

that he adopted as a puppy,

and Moritz would wait for him between missions.

And there's even an account that Moritz flew once with him

in a very tiny cockpit of one of his fighters.

NARRATOR: Perhaps Moritz was still a puppy then.

NARRATOR: But of all the World War I mascots,

perhaps none were more colorful

than those of the brave American pilots

known as the Lafayette Escadrille.

ALLAN JANUS: Fighting men have always liked mascots.

But these guys, they had dogs, they had cats, they had a fox.

But the most famous of the Lafayette Escadrille mascots

were the two lions, Whiskey and Soda.

NARRATOR: Two little lion cubs,

the perfect pets for this storied group

of fearless airmen.

Named after the famous Marquis de Lafayette,

the Frenchman who helped America in her fight for independence,

the Lafayette Escadrille volunteered to fight

for the French before America entered the war.

They were the most famous American flyers of the day,

larger-than-life heroes.

They were really an interesting cast of characters.

There were only 38 people

who actually flew in the Lafayette Escadrille

during the time that it was in existence.

Many of them came from fairly wealthy circumstances.

And these were young men who, when the First World War began,

were looking for adventure,

and went to fight in the great cause.

NARRATOR: There was plenty of adventure

for a fighter pilot in World War I.

Military aviation was in its infancy.

ALLAN JANUS: Life for a pilot in World War I

was very exciting,

but it was often very short.

Training in those days was... tended to be a little sketchy,

and in times of crisis,

a pilot would be rushed to a frontline squadron very quickly.

Pilots at that time did not wear parachutes,

so if you were shot down, you rode the plane all the way in.

NARRATOR: Living on the edge as these pilots did,

a fearless lion seemed a perfect choice of mascot.

They found Whiskey on a trip to Paris.

PETER JAKAB: He got the nickname Whiskey

because one of the pilots one evening

put a saucer of whiskey down to see if the cub would drink it,

ended up lapping up the whole plate of whiskey

and became known as Whiskey.

ALLAN JANUS: He was supposed to be just about the cutest thing.

He loved to suck on your finger.

He liked to eat articles of your uniform.

He loved to wrestle.

One thing they enjoyed doing

was to have strangers come onto the grounds of the squadron

and they would be ambushed by Whiskey,

who liked to jump on people.

Must have been a bit of a shock.

NARRATOR: Whiskey doted on the pilots,

but when they adopted a companion for him,

the female cub they named Soda

turned out to be much less friendly.

She was much more like a lion and pretty feisty.

But there was one pilot, a fellow called Raul Lufberry,

who she bonded with,

and Lufberry was sort of the closest to both the lion cubs.

NARRATOR: Whiskey and Soda

stayed with the Escadrille for over a year,

and then were sent to live at the Paris Zoo,

but they were not forgotten.

Lufberry and other pilots

often went to visit their old friends at the zoo.

And the lions were always happy to see them.

By World War II,

military mascots had soared in popularity,

both as symbols of bravery, and as treasured companions.

Amidst the harsh realities of combat,

a dog offered rare moments of affection and warmth.

Dogs are a link with home.

Dogs are a link with peacetime.

Dogs are our buddies.

DR. SERPELL: In wartime, where people are dying all around them

and the situation is about as terrible as it could be,

there's something very reassuring and very calming

and very domestic about having a dog there,

because the dog is not really going to change.

He's still going to treat you just the same.

NARRATOR: Most of the mascots of World War II

were mutts adopted along the road to battle.

But fighting men were especially fond of breeds

that embodied courage and tenacity.

The first one that springs to mind, of course,

is the British bulldog,

which becomes this symbol of British identity.

The original bulldog was of course, a very strong, powerful,

decisive kind of an animal.

ALLAN JANUS:: The British bulldog is very emblematic,

often mistaken for Winston Churchill,

so that might explain their popularity.

Scrappy terriers were very popular, too.

NARRATOR: Terriers, known for their persistence and bravery,

were favored mascots in both World Wars.

Skippy, a Pit Bull/Pointer,

was the tough little mascot of a B-17 named after him.

Skippy had his own oxygen mask,

and logged over 200 hours of flying time.

But perhaps the most celebrated mascot of World War II

was a little Scottish Terrier called Stuka.

He was named after the German dive bomber.

ANNOUNCER: At a British flying field,

a special assignment for the crew

of the flying fortress Memphis Belle...

NARRATOR: If Stuka performed any great acts of bravery,

history didn't record them.

But the dog had the instincts of a star,

and knew how to endear himself

to just the right pilot on just the right plane.

ALLAN JANUS: He belonged to Captain James Verinis,

who was the co-pilot on the Memphis Belle.

NARRATOR: The Memphis Belle was the most famous B-17 of the war.

As the first U.S. bomber

to complete 25 missions over Europe,

the Belle became a symbol of American bravery and heroism.

ANNOUNCER: Washington Airport and journey's end...

NARRATOR: In reward for a job well done, the young crew,

and, of course, Stuka, returned home to a victorious welcome.

ANNOUNCER: Stuka, the mascot terrier,

speaks for the crew, or does he?

Woof, woof, speak to 'em.

MAN: Say something smart.

[laughter]

The crew was taken on a massive war bond drive

all over the country.

There were rallies, there were parades.

And Stuka went with them wherever they went.

And later on, the captain of the Memphis Belle, Bob Morgan,

commented a little wistfully

that it was Stuka that got most of the attention.

NARRATOR: Most mascots never enjoyed

the same star treatment as Stuka,

but surely America's working war dogs deserved it.

Dogs had a long history of military service in Europe,

but it wasn't until World War II

that America fully realized the value of a working canine force.

America's official war dog program was launched with

a massive recruitment campaign called Dogs for Defense.

Families across America donated their pets

in defense of their nation.

Over 10,000 dogs were trained for service

as sentries, messengers, and scouts.

But the strangest canine duty had to be for dogs

brave enough to jump from an airplane-- the paradogs.

ANNOUNCER: An air crash hundreds of miles from base,

a grim situation, but overhead there's a new type of rescue,

nothing less than flying Huskies.

You wouldn't expect the dogs to enjoy a parachute jump,

but they do-- take a look at that wagging tail.

NARRATOR: That's perhaps an overly upbeat read

of the tail wag.

But paradogs were a lifesaver

for downed pilots lost in the Arctic.

By the end of the war,

over 100 air crew members were recovered by sled dogs.

They faithfully served in Alaska until the mid-'50s,

when helicopters took over the paradogs' work

of search and rescue.

In peacetime, some dogs continued to work the skies,

most famously at air shows.

ANNOUNCER: Here we go!

Whoo! No parachutes!

Standing on the top wing and the airplane just looped.

NARRATOR: Across America,

a flying circus of barnstormers and daredevils

draws fans every weekend.

And from the earliest days of aviation,

some dogs stood out as true stars of the sky.

Perhaps the most famous air show dog belonged

to one of the greatest aerobatic performers of all time.

His name was Art Scholl,

and his co-star was a little terrier named Aileron.

SUZANNE OLIVER: They were both crazy about each other.

Art loved Aileron and Aileron adored Art

and would do anything for him.

They were just a pair.

NARRATOR: For 30 years, Scholl thrilled audiences

with heart-stopping stunts--

using smoke and fireworks

to trace his spins and loops across the sky--

and later by including his little dog, Aileron, in the act.

SUZANNE OLIVER: He was like the god,

primarily of what he could do with an airplane,

and his whole act-- he was never not on.

NARRATOR: Scholl's precision moves

like the inverted ribbon cut

made him an air show legend.

Art's ribbon cut was different from anybody else.

He would actually take the airplane out of a maneuver

and go vertical, slide the airplane backwards,

pitch the airplane nose forward, or over,

and keep right on going into an inverted position

and recover just above the runway,

like 10 or 12 feet above the runway, upside down,

fly between two poles and cut a ribbon held up by 'em.

That's the kind of flying that Art Scholl did.

NARRATOR: Scholl was a colleague and friend

of veteran air show pilots Steve and Suzanne Oliver.

Together, they shared a common love of flight-- and dogs.

The Olivers' dog, Pax, has logged hundreds of flight hours.

SUZANNE OLIVER: She loves to take off.

It's like she's always up, and she's all excited.

NARRATOR: Pax has done her share of aerobatic flying,

but her favorite time aloft

seems to be when the sky is clear and the ride is smooth.

The Olivers describe Pax as a companion,

rather than a performer.

Aileron, on the other hand, was top dog of the air show.

She was a star.

Hands down, Aileron was the most famous dog

that's ever been in the air show industry.

Aileron was a smart dog, had a lot of tricks,

and so Art would entertain the crowds with the tricks.

NARRATOR: Aileron had quite a résumé.

She did a parachute jump with the Golden Knights--

and seemed to love to fly in anything,

including the completely open cockpit of an ultralight.

With nothing but a simple safety harness

which held her clipped to the aircraft,

Aileron was free to savor the joy of flight.

DOROTHY COCHRANE: Aileron really did love to fly.

It's just, there are certain animals that do that.

They enjoy the motion. They enjoy the excitement.

NARRATOR: As a pilot, Art Scholl did it all--

stunt flying, air racing,

and filming some of Hollywood's most celebrated aviation movies,

among them, "The Great Waldo Pepper,"

"The Right Stuff," and "Top Gun."

DOROTHY COCHRANE: When he did his stunts in movies,

he wanted them to be perfect.

And he was very precise,

because he had a Ph.D. in aeronautics,

because he had been a racer and aerobatic pilot.

Those are precision aviation accomplishments and disciplines.

NARRATOR: It was Scholl's excellence as a pilot

that allowed Aileron to fly along

on daring acrobatic routines.

DOROTHY COCHRANE: There's absolutely no danger

to the dog whatsoever.

When he's doing rolls or loops, he's doing them so perfectly

that the centrifugal force

basically just keeps the dog on his shoulder.

NARRATOR: In flight,

Aileron wore a special harness and hearing pads

to protect her ears from the noise of the engine.

DOROTHY COCHRANE: She just enjoyed flying,

and she just jumped right in the plane.

Her favorite spot was on his shoulder,

or standing on the wing as he taxied in, in his Chipmunk.

NARRATOR: Scholl originally shot this footage of Aileron

in the ultralight to make a film.

Tragically, his life was cut short

before the film was completed.

Scholl died flying alone without Aileron

during the filming of the movie "Top Gun."

His camera plane never recovered from an inverted flat spin,

and plunged into the Pacific Ocean.

Scholl and his plane were never found.

The movie "Top Gun" was dedicated to Art Scholl.

As his legacy, he shared a great love of flight with millions.

Since the beginning of flight,

animals have offered humans great comfort aloft.

The words of Lafayette Escadrille pilot Edwin Parsons

reveal how much some animals were cherished.

EDWIN PARSONS: "To all those dumb friends of ours,

I for one, am deeply grateful.

They deserve the citation every bit as much as we humans,

for they were our constant companions and comforts

in all of the black hours,

and endured every hardship with us

cheerfully and uncomplainingly.

Knowing that we loved and appreciated them,

may their souls rest peacefully in the animal heaven."

NARRATOR: A fitting tribute

to honor all the faithful companions and protectors,

and for the animals who enjoyed the unique experience,

and sometimes the joy... of life aloft.

WOMAN: Sit. Stay down.

You stay there. Good dog. Here.

[indistinct chatter]

WOMAN: Hey.

MAN: Okay, we, uh...

WOMAN: That was my bad.

Here you go... sit.

Good. Stay.

MAN: Okay, I need attention towards camera, guys.

[barking]