Taking the seat for the night shift is fraught with challenges, the least of which is trying not only to remain awake but alert as well. Coffee helps immensely; it is a drink I couldn't stand until I became a pilot. The official air force policy is to refrain from using electronic devices or any reading material other than technical manuals, but that doesn't cut it at zero dark thirty crossing over the Atlantic, especially with all the modern improvements in communications and air traffic control that leaves pilots with less demanding responsibilities. What is really more important, an awake but entertained pilot or one who is asleep with the flight manual in their lap?
But the night shift can also be quite rewarding, especially as the coming day approaches. The first sign of the new day is a gradual lightening of the horizon where none was before. A subtle gray envelopes the sky even as the world below the horizon exists in a uniform shade of black. The thin line of the horizon becomes more and more pronounced, brightening in fiery shades of red, orange, and magenta stretching across the entire eastern sky. Clouds only magnify the effect, creating an almost surreal portrait that defies the imagination. Then even as the world sleeps in darkness below, the vault of the sky above turns the deepest blue. Pictures simply do not capture the scene appropriately.
Eventually, the sun flashes over the dividing line of bright and dark, destroying the vivid eruption of colors burning the sky. And as sun rises higher, blasting our eyes, we dig out our sunglasses, lower our seats, and cover the windscreen with our aviation charts, whatever it takes to shield our eyes from the blazing glare. There is nothing more to see now; perhaps the relief pilot is awake and I can hit the bunk for a few hours of sleep before landing in Europe.
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