Day 12.2: Dangerous Skies

NOTE: I finally went back and updated Day 11.2 to include footage of the seapuppies.

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Carrying on with the fantastic mannequin displays and dioramas is the WWII aircraft collection, Dangerous Skies.

Here’s just some of what I saw.

The notched coin

When I bought entry to both collections (for either can be viewed separately from the other), I received a metallic coin, notched along both faces. I received no explanation as to its use.

Although logic suggested it was for entry into an exhibit, to keep the mystery going, I didn’t inquire as to its purpose.

… and sure enough, it was just for a little entrance gate for the second exhibit. I recorded this next video (badly, apparently) because I had kept hold of the coin so carefully for hours:

Nkay, let’s move on to the good stuff.

The first thing I saw was a set of four big plaques commemorating female pilots and women’s air divisions.

From the left: Melitta von Stauffenberg, the Air Transport Auxiliary, the Night Witches and Hanna Reitsch.

They also had some prints of old wartime posters in the entrance hallway.

This next diorama represents the moment RAF pilot James ‘Spud’ Hayter Parachuted into a cocktail party after being shot down by a Bf-109 somewhere over Kent.

He had a minor head wound, which was attended to by a female doctor at the party. With a reputation as somewhat of a ladies (lady’s?) man, he was reportedly nonplussed to have received a bill for the medical attention after the party.

More to come…

There was a hallway after the last segment, that led to a waiting area. It was decorated with prints of posters In Russian and a hanging model aircraft.

A red light on the roof indicated that the door wasn’t to be opened yet.

A clock on the wall had green highlights on each eight minute segment, indicating approximately when the following room could be entered.

The eight minute experience that followed was moving.

It started with a simulation of what it may have been like in a burning, war torn Stalingrad. Enemy bombers stalked the sky and aircraft were dogfighting just overhead. One crashed nearby and I was conscious that it would have contained a person of only about 20 years old. Their life was suddenly snuffed out…

The presentation then carried on with a summary of deaths sustained during the war.

I recorded the presentation with the phone sitting on my lap, pointing roughly towards the screen. I was lucky to have aimed well enough to have captured the image along with the audio.

I’ll trim the video later and post snippets.

The last display was of a Lockheed Hudson, crashed and forgotten in the jungle:

I exited the museum, impressed, grateful and thoughtful. I stood outside, shaking my head at the horrors of war, the loss of life and the lessons we clearly haven’t learned.

Perhaps we’re just destined to go around the same wheel over and again after all? Surely not… hopefully not.

I ranted for about six minutes straight outside the museum, about loving the planet and the people around us, the futility of conflict, the magnificence of the displays and my next destination, Kaikoura. I managed to cut it all down to about one and a half:

Ever onwards. Thanks Omaka!