The dramatic plane crash at the Hausen airfield

The following story is aimed at the women who occasionally bundle up the magazine for recycling. That’s because, for once, the content contains no technical data or design details. Instead, it features the thoughts of family members who attend such an air show with their model-airplane-enthusiast father. The story is a mix of facts and a bit of fiction, and this combination has resulted in a narrative that isn’t entirely true to life. The author asks his tech-savvy readers for a little leniency.

“Both planes are definitely based here in the hangar in Hausen. They were already here on the last flight day,” the little girl said to her sister. The father claims that the two planes were certainly stored at their owners’ homes, in some kind of single-family house. Mom thinks it would take a truck to transport them here. Dad disagrees with her. He thinks a medium-sized delivery van would be enough for that, too.

The name “Etrich” is painted on the wings of one of these historic-looking airplanes. So this aircraft must belong to a Mr. Etrich, who simply painted his name legibly on the wings. Unlike those speedy jet planes, anyone watching from the ground can easily tell who is soaring so majestically through the sky above the spectators’ heads. Mr. Etrich is also dressed appropriately. He’s wearing a thick brown flight jacket lined with cozy, warm lambskin. His head is well protected by a padded leather cap. To make sure he doesn’t catch a cold, he’s also wrapped a white wool scarf around his neck. Mr. Etrich’s airplane is further analyzed by the parents. The mother remarks, with a slightly mocking undertone, that the wheels on this airplane must have been secretly removed from an all-terrain stroller at some point. The father teases her a little in response, saying that sooner or later, someone has to do something like that. That way, the spoiled kids would finally learn to stand on their own two feet instead of always letting Mom drive them around in the “diaper Mercedes.”

It’s almost 5 p.m. The mother wants to finally go home. She’s actually not all that unhappy with how the day has gone. At this event, she ran into her former colleague from the volleyball club for the first time in a long while. Her colleague was out with her handsome boyfriend and is still single. From her, she learned just how affordable vacations in the Maldives have become. Everything is included—even the daily massage and the fitness club. Even the sun tan is practically included in the affordable package deal. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find out what one could do there with bored and whiny children. With two small gliders in her bag, today turned out to be a bargain. While walking through the booths at the model-building trade show, the mother successfully managed to talk her husband out of buying a ready-to-fly helicopter. It was definitely too big for the living room. And if one were ever to take off there, her dear husband would have to personally collect every speck of dust it stirred up with a dust cloth. You certainly couldn’t fly it on the lawn in front of the ground-floor apartment either, because that would disturb the neighbors while they’re barbecuing. And even at the playground in the housing complex, there are so many other kids who would absolutely want to fly it themselves. Since a helicopter like that also has sharp rotor blades, it’s too dangerous. Whether this applied only to the helicopter or to the children as well, however, she left open. So the helicopter they’d had their eye on remained on the store’s display rack. And they could always spend the money they saved on something more meaningful during their next vacation in the South Pacific. But Mom didn’t dare voice that thought out loud anymore.

After lengthy negotiations, the two girls, too, were convinced of the advantages of the extremely sturdy foam airplanes. Electric airplanes with propellers are meant for older children, they were told. That requires quite a bit of flying experience. Otherwise, such an airplane would break easily. And that’s true even if you could glue the pieces back together afterward. If the motorized plane really were as sturdy as the salesperson claimed, then the windowpane would just shatter. And she, the mother, would then have to deal with the hassle of the property management company all over again.

So in the end, they stuck with the two very sturdy foam gliders. They could take them on their next hike and throw them down from a small hill there. The children would then have to retrieve them from below, and hopefully this kind of flying would tire them out enough that they wouldn’t feel like arguing in the evening and would, for once, go to bed on time. At the same time, this purchase would also be easy on the family budget. These were further considerations from a mother who was already quite experienced. Now it was finally time to go home. After all, dinner still had to be cooked, and the children needed to get to bed on time. Because tomorrow morning, the young ladies would have to be at kindergarten on time again, the mom explained in an impatient voice.

But things didn’t go as planned. Apparently, Mr. Etrich still wanted to take off on a farewell flight. We couldn’t miss that. Especially not now that the crowd in front of the red-and-white barrier tape had finally thinned out. So off we went to the prime viewing spot. My father also thought that heading home now wouldn’t do any good. After all, at that very moment, all the visitors were heading back at the same time. So we’d just end up stuck in unnecessary traffic, while there was something great happening here once again. At that very moment, the announcer on the field recommended one last time the delicious bratwursts, which could now be bought quickly and cheaply without an hour-long wait. Meanwhile, Mr. Etrich and Mr. Fokker, who had just joined them, were already waiting on the runway with the engine running. Soon they’ll take off in a magnificent two-plane formation. If, instead of Mr. Etrich, a small child of kindergarten age could be sitting in that plane, it would surely be a dreamlike flying experience. For once, it could look down from above at all the grown-ups and maybe—if no one’s watching—secretly spit a sticky piece of gum on the head of a particularly grim-looking man, the little sister now fantasizes. The father concludes that, strictly speaking, it’s actually forbidden to carry children in a model airplane. This is an insurance requirement.

Well, insurance companies have always been the killjoys of the adult world. They’re the reason you’re not allowed to play soccer in the garage parking lot—because they don’t want to pay for the broken windows. Even at preschool, you’re no longer allowed to climb the tree with the low-hanging branches. Because if a child were to fall from the top, it could result in an insurance claim. And insurance companies really don’t like that.

Meanwhile, the pilots have apparently decided to fly in pairs. The father is completely fascinated by this. He says this is the true art of flying. Already, an announcement comes over the loudspeaker that another fox hunt is planned. That’s why the pilots will have to land again soon. Mr. Fokker is up first. Skillfully, he steers his plane toward the runway centerline, reduces engine power, and transitions into a shallow descent. As usual, he aims for the strip of grass between the runway and the newly plowed field. The landing is perfect—probably even better than was ever possible 100 years ago. Mr. Etrich follows close behind. He, too, flies exactly parallel to the runway axis.

Flying at a slightly reduced speed, he hovers parallel to the grass strip. After a precise touchdown, he now rolls his plane toward the Fokker, which is already neatly parked. Now he should slam on the brakes immediately. But then there’s a crash. Wood and pieces of the fabric covering fly through the air. Came to a rather abrupt stop, Mr. Etrich’s dark yellow plane now stands next to Mr. Fokker’s. Although everything unfolded very realistically, the landing was probably not planned this way. The damage is limited, to be sure. But among the knowledgeable spectators, the incident immediately caused quite a stir. Who is to blame for this accident? How much is the damage? Will liability insurance cover it, or will it require a court case? The best course of action would be to immediately commission the Aviation Accident Investigation Bureau to conduct a detailed analysis of the causes.

Such questions were heard from the agitated eyewitnesses to the incident.

It’s immediately clear to the mother. Anyone who attaches stroller wheels to their airplane can’t expect them to brake properly in an emergency. After all, that hardly ever worked on their own stroller either. The father thinks that even though the two airplanes look pretty rickety, they would have survived the crash much better than the originals. Modern building materials are to blame, he says. These vintage planes just aren’t quite that authentic after all. While the adults are still debating the question of who’s to blame at length, the two children just want to know whether the two pilots survived the crash unharmed. “Did the pilots break any bones or even get their feet trapped? The planes could have caught fire or even exploded”—these were the anxious questions the children were now asking their parents. Perhaps it really is much safer for the children to watch the flight from the ground, protected by a large net, the girls now thought to themselves. But such a tragic landing collision also sparks the imagination. They had to get the two foam airplanes right away. The first glider is thrown and lands a few meters further ahead on the lawn. The second was supposed to follow its counterpart exactly so it would collide with it on the ground. What had worked perfectly with just one try next to the runway proved to be a huge struggle here. No matter what they tried, they couldn’t get the planes to collide,

Even after the forced merger was finally successful, there’s still some damage to the little planes. But now it’s finally time to go home. Tomorrow at preschool, though, this exciting event will really come to life all over again. More dramatic than any plane crash on TV. For this terrible misfortune was cruel and unjust for the two lovable vintage plane pilots. There is said to have been a massive fire with a gigantic column of smoke and a tremendous explosion at the airfield. Even though these events took place in a slightly toned-down form in another show, they aren’t even made up. And real aviation lore isn’t just found in kindergarten. ■

Hermann Mettler