Walking next to his father near a lake he fished as a boy, Navy Lieut. Markham Gartley looked up at the clear, blue sky and filled his lungs with crisp autumn air.
The 28‐year‐old pilot noted the colors of the northern Maine woods—the McIntosh reds of the sugar maples, the pumpkin yellow of the hardwood birch and the evergreens of spruce and balsam fir. The setting sun was riding low on the mountains, sending orange sparks across the wind‐rippled water.