All language subtitles for animals.aloft.2019.internal.1080p.web.h264-cbfm

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]