I’m Proud To Be An American (Bird Photographer and Blogger)
I’m proud to be an American and very glad to be alive and healthy. Kudos to Lee Greenwood. He sang this song at Yankee Stadium on September 11, 2026, the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.
Summary
In my last post, I invited anyone who’s ever had a brush with death to share their story in the comments section. When I read what photographer/friend Warren Robb posted, I was floored by his incredible and harrowing combat survival story. Keep reading and I am pretty sure that you will be too.
Note: General information, copy editing, re-crafting, technical refinement, and formatting for this blog post were assisted by Gemini AI.
In the Last Blog Post
In the last blog post most folks went with Image #3, the Sanderling flock in front of the large wave blur as their top pick for a variety of good reasons. I loved Image #2, the banking skimmer flock blur over the rough sea. Why? I loved the green water brought to life via an ACR mask and because it most reminded me of the power of the ocean that day.
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Image #1: LT Warren Robb, USN
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LT Warren Robb, USN
This photograph was made in 1973 at NAS Cubi Point, Philippine Islands, a year after Warren’s jet was shot down over Vietnam. He was 29 at the time.
Warren Robb/September 13, 2026 at 8:44pm
Artie, you survived because when you found yourself in a situation you couldn’t control, you relied on your experience to stay calm and recognize your chance to escape once the surf stopped pounding on you. Those who panic or get injured often have a very different outcome.
I’ve been there too — not in the surf, but in the air. I had no prior experience surviving an A-7E after taking a hit from North Vietnamese anti-aircraft fire. The burst ruptured the main fuel tank feeding the TF41 Rolls-Royce engine, resulting in a fuel-fed fire—a scenario that historically always ends badly. But I did have extensive training on how to survive.
When the situation first developed, I was far from the relative safety of the ocean. I chose not to eject immediately — despite the handbook’s emergency procedures demanding it in bold type — because I valued avoiding capture over possibly not surviving. Although I could clearly see flames reflecting off the port-side wing pylons in my left rear-view mirror, and I had lost all electrical power and communications, my plan was to eject after crossing the coastline outbound. I figured I would take my chances in my survival raft, assuming the ejection seat, parachute, and gear all worked as advertised.
When I reached the coast, the large number of fishing boats just offshore surprised me. Knowing there was a bounty on recovered American aircrew, that wasn’t encouraging. However, I could now see the USS Jouett (CG-29) manning the North SAR station a few miles in the distance. I eased into a gentle turn toward her, planning to eject alongside the ship so they would clearly see me and the jet wouldn’t hit them.
That’s when the fuel tank must have emptied, allowing the external fire to flash inside and trigger a catastrophic explosion. The blast instantly separated everything aft of the wing — including the engine, vertical tail, and horizontal tail — from the wing and forward fuselage. I was at roughly 10,000 feet and 400 knots with zero control when my plan ended so abruptly. The immense kinetic energy in the remaining section of the aircraft had to dissipate before settling into any kind of steady state where I wasn’t pinned against the upper-left canopy by extreme negative G-forces. It felt unending.
So there I was, unable to reach either ejection handle, knowing that even if I could, the rocket seat would likely kill me because I was so far out of position. I was calmly watching the sea surface rapidly spinning through the front bulletproof glass, thinking, “This is just like the movies,” followed by, “So this is how it ends for me.”
Then, a voice in my consciousness that I didn’t recognize said clearly and matter-of-factly: “No, not yet.”
At that exact moment, positive G-forces returned and slammed me backward into the seat. I pulled the ejection seat’s face-curtain handle as fast as I could move. That was the start of an E-ticket ride like no other. But to my amazement — and with profound gratitude to the many people who made that moment possible — everything worked. Seeing the fully inflated parachute canopy above me is a sight I’ll never forget. Soon, I was floating in my raft in the relative safety of the ocean as I had envisioned.
The ship had no problem seeing the fireball emerging from enemy territory, the explosion, and my parachute. They had two rescue helicopters airborne while I was still struggling to get into my raft. In the rough sea conditions, they temporarily lost sight of me, but my survival training paid off again: I popped a smoke flare from my vest, allowing the helicopter crew to reacquire my position and gauge the wind.
They dropped a rescue swimmer into the water, and the helo backed off while he assessed my condition before signaling the aircraft to approach. He hooked my harness to the lowered hoist, and we were soon on our way back to the cruiser. Meanwhile, I believe the second helo fired on my abandoned raft to sink it so enemy boats couldn’t recover it as a decoy.
I returned to my starting point that evening — the USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) — on another helicopter, which is where I finally realized how badly beaten up I was. After a few weeks of recovery and some time on crutches, I was happily flying missions again, needing only a little help from my willing plane captains to make that big first step up the boarding ladder.
The crew of the H-53 “Big Mother” that day was from Helicopter Combat Support Squadron 7 (HC-7). The three aircrew in the back were awarded Navy Commendation Medals some years later for fishing me out of the Gulf of Tonkin on that September afternoon in 1972 — a day I call “my bad day at the office.”
That near-death experience permanently changed my view on death. I’ve since learned that many people in similar extreme circumstances experience that same voice. In his book on NDEs, John Geiger calls it “The Third Man Factor.”
The takeaway from both of our stories is clear: when the unexpected happens, keep your wits about you and rely on your training and experience to maximize your chances of survival. If it’s not your time to go, you just might survive until it is.
Arthur Morris/BIRDS AS ART/September 14, 2026 at 8:56am
Hey Warren, Huge thanks for sharing the above. And thanks for your service to your country. I was in tears half way down. Your “bad day at the office” made mine seem like a day at the beach. Which it was . And your tale brought to mind my Dad, Private First Class Robert Edward Morris, getting his right arm shot off in Okinawa and then spending 19 months in the hospital recovering from numerous additional injuries and wounds.
And thanks also for the great advice.
Much love, artie
ps: a single comment like yours above leaves me feeling that all of the hours I put into the blog are well worth it. In spades.
ROBERT DEBARTOLO/September 14, 2026 at 10:45am
Good Morning. Well first off, thank you for your service Warren Robb and for sharing your experience with us. Many lessons to be learned from that and I’m so happy that you were able to survive and be able to share this incredible experience with us. Clearly your extensive training and quick thinking was the key to your survival. God bless you and thank you for your service again! It pays to be tough when you need to …
Artie is a tough cookie too. I got to work with him last weekend on Long Island, and despite being extremely ill, and I do mean extremely ill, he still showed up for our instructional session at 6:00am! He needed to stay in his car to be close to the facilities but he still came to meet me and try to help. He also had Anke there to help where he couldn’t due to his illness. He even took us all out for coffee and bagels afterwards! Never have seen such dedication to his craft and exceptional teaching ability. I learned so much and was hoping to get just “one” great shot. Artie help me get several. He changed the way I thought about this bird photography thing. This new perspective is incredible, He was recovering and still managed to get out again later in the week — hence round #2 of being ill. He’s UNSTOPPABLE!
My favorite is #3 Blast off. Great composition and I like the birds somewhat more in focus. Beautiful image.
Thanks for everything Artie!
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This image was created by Warren Robb on 10 January 2025 on a BIRDS AS ART San Diego IPT. Tracking: Zone/AF-C with Bird-Eye/Face Detection performed perfectly. Click on the image to enjoy a larger, inexplicably sharper high-res version. Image #2: Brown Pelican — Pacific race preening
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Fighter Pilot/Photographer
Warren Robb has been on numerous IPTs with me over the years including Homer, San Diego, Fort DeSoto, Morro Bay, and my very last IPT to the Ramirez Ranch in Roma, TX. In 2020 Warren was one of the first to follow my advice, sell all of his Canon gear, and switch to Sony. He is a happy convert.
During a group dinner on a 2025 BAA San Diego IPT, Warren, a retired US Navy fighter pilot, had us all on the edge of our seats at dinner in the AirBnB as he told the harrowing story of taking off and landing on his carrier in a driving rainstorm during the Vietnam War. The cockpit was drenched when he entered his aircraft (an A-7E) and got strapped in. Not surprisingly, he could not see the target for his load of ten 500 pound bombs. As you cannot land on a carrier with your bombs, he was told to jettison them over the jungle. None of several bomb release methods worked so he was ordered to fly 200 miles south, land at the airbase in Danang, and have the bombs off-loaded. He was surprised when they ordered him back to the USS Kitty Hawk as all the other planes had already been landed.
When he got back to the ship, he couldn’t see a thing as the rain still poured down. During an instrument landing the rule is that if you cannot see the carrier at 1/2 mile 200 feet, you must abort the landing. He told the landing officer that he could not see the ship. The Landing Signal Officer (LSO) told him to keep coming. So, on blind faith, he did after turning on his taxi lights as instructed. The first things he saw were other planes on the deck as the plane’s hook caught the three wire! Later, Warren thanked the LSO and told him that having him turn on the taxi light was a great idea. The guy confessed that he had never seen the plane until it landed but that it had sounded good!
Warren summed things up by saying that his scariest landing ever had been quite an e-ticket ride.
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This image was created on 8 January 2024 by the pier parking circle at Indian Lake Estates, FL. Seated in the front seat of my X5, I used the handheld Sony FE 200-600mm f/5.6-6.3 G OSS lens (at 362mm) and The Latest Greatest Sony Flagship Body, the a1 II Mirrorless Camera. The exposure was determined by Zebras with ISO on the rear wheel — ISO 2500: 1/1000 second at f/6.3 (wide open) in Manual mode. AWB at 8:08:03am on a barely sunny morning. Upper right Tracking: Zone/AF-C with Bird-Eye/Face Detection performed perfectly. Click on the image to enjoy a larger, inexplicably sharper high-res version. Image #3: Turkey Vulture on flagpole flying the American flag
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Created as a Stock Photograph
I shot this one thinking that I would submit it to Getty but have not yet gotten around to doing that. The image, however, goes well with today’s post.
AF Tip
By moving the Zone AF brackets around in the frame, Sony folks can improve autofocus performance and efficiency and reduce the time of initial focusing acquisition. Here I used the Joystick to shift the brackets to the upper right position. You can do the same thing with any of the single AF points. You can always return to center by pressing the Joystick straight in.
Typos
With all blog posts, feel free to e-mail or to leave a comment regarding any typos or errors.
Wow, I’m blown away by all your comments! Thank you so much! Wishing you all the best light!
Warren, truly an American hero and a person I would want by my side when the world looks like it is falling apart. I am grateful we have such cool headed persons protecting this country, so we can do all the things we take for granted.
Thank you for your service, and thank you Arthur for sharing the story with us.
Steven Baglione
You are most welcome, Steve. And 100% correct.
with love, artie
What an amazing story. We have so many hero’s to be thankful for and for most there story is never told. Thank you Artie for sharing.
Astonishing tale of calmness of mind and resilience.
An inspiration to all off us how to face off against the unexpected.
Bird photography is the perfect place for him after this tumult.
Big Thank You for your service
Lucky for Warren no airborne adversaries around while this went down.
Robert Sabin
Thank you Bear Bob. See you in Homer before we know it.
with love, artie
Hi Artie. Thank you for sharing Warren’s story, and thank you, Warren, for your service. I’ve done some really stupid things in my life (e.g., hiking Cascadilla Gorge Trail in Ithaca, NY at night at age 14; going to the beach at age 18 to watch Hurricane Gloria come ashore on Long Island), but I’ve been fortunate never to face an imminent life-or-death situation like Warren’s.
The one moment of pause I have had came on April 19, 1995. I was in Oklahoma that week visiting customers with the local sales representative when, at 9:02 a.m., the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building was bombed – the deadliest act of domestic terrorism in U.S. history. I had been in the basement of that building at 9:00 a.m. the day before. Twenty-four hours’ difference, and I might not be here.
Lucky always works! Thanks for commenting Steve.
with love, a
Warren, I have read your story a couple of times now, and I’m still not sure I have the right words.
The details are incredible, but what really stayed with me was the calmness you described in those moments when everything had gone catastrophically wrong. At 10,000 feet, in what was left of an airplane, unable even to reach the ejection handles, you had the presence of mind to understand exactly what was happening. And then came those words: “No, not yet.”
That part gave me chills.
Training and experience clearly played an enormous role in getting you home that day, but there is something about that moment that seems to reach beyond either one. Whatever a person believes about experiences like that, I can understand why it permanently changed your perspective on life and death.
More than 50 years later, I also appreciate that this is still difficult for you to talk about and that you were willing to share it here. There are stories we should not allow to disappear with time, and this is certainly one of them.
Thank you for your service, Warren, and thank you for telling your story.
And Artie, thank you for giving him a place to tell it. Sometimes a bird photography blog winds up being about a whole lot more than bird photography.
Drew. Huge thanks for sharing your eloquent words.
with love, and see you in Homer.
a
I have never forgotten what our military and its’ heros have done for me and frankly all of us. We shouldn’t take it for granted. Many of my college classmates served in Viet Nam having attended VMI and graduating in 1966. I lost 12 classmates in that war and that’s the largest loss of any VMI graduating class during Viet Nam. But many lives were lost in WWI, WW2 and Korea. all these men and women saccrificed their greatest treasure – their lives so I could live a wonderful and free life. The US may not be perfect but its miles ahead of any other country in the world in my opinion. Some of us have a harder time getting to where we want to be but we all have the chance. That chance was afforded to us by everyday heros like Lt Warren Robb. Stonewall Jackson was quoted as saying “You may be whatever you resolve to be.” RESOLVE not hope or wish but RESOLVE. We all have that right. The US is great because of its patriotic citizens who unfortunately more recently haven’t been appreciated as they should have. Today I only want to surrond myself and be influenced by those like Warren Robb and those who see, appreciate or great country. That includes Arthur Morris and his father.
Well said my dear friend Red.
with love, harry
Thanks Artie, for sharing Warren’s story. What an incredible captivating story. Sure, some luck involved but Warren had that incredible will to live and fight another day. Thank you, Warren and all the other women and men that serve our great country. Artie love the preening Pelican with the fanned tail.
We agree on everything: great country and great image.
much love, a
What an amazing story! Thank you for sharing this powerful near-death experience, Warren. And thank you, Artie, for creating a community where we can discuss not just birds, but life, death, and everything in between.
🙂
much love, a
I loved the “NO NOT YET” voice Warren heard that ultimately led to him successfully ejecting from the falling plane, and his ultimate rescue and survival. We hear of this type of experience frequently in near death experiences that give hope for survival. His composure under incredibly stressful and scary seconds was a tribute to his bravery and training.
What a story!
Two wonderful survival stories. Thanks for posting both.
It’s great that “the good guys” made it thru safely.
Great points, Jim.
much love, a
Artie
I remember Warren and his stories he would tell us about some of his missions OMG. It was an honor to have met him and his combat missions and his one story landing on the ship he couldn’t even see wow. Warren is lucky to still be with us. I was telling my Nephew Adam who is in The Marines Special ops and he was blown away by the stories. Adam gets in some crazy bad ass spots but his team of 12 always seem to get the job done. and home safe even after one of humvee’s ran over a mine and it blew em 50 feet or more from the road but again all were safe.
Thanks Warren
Always with love b
Love you man. Talk soon.
a
Warren,thank you for telling your amazing story. I’m sure everyone reading it has tremendous admiration for you and your calm and rational way of approaching your situation. In addition, we all are grateful and have great admiration for your service, especially those of my age. I was in training in neurology at the time of your adventure. Its one thing to think about being cool, and calm and relying on training, and another to be able to do it.. i’m sure each of us reading this is wondering what we would have done. I was in training in neurology at the time of your adventure. You have my admiration and I am grateful for your service and I’m sure all reading were overwhelmed by your story and very grateful to you for your service and grateful that you survived such an incident.
Artie, thanks for sharing your story and thank you for providing a place for Warren to tell his story.
I almost always learn something about bird photography when I read your blog, but you’re near death story and Warren’s amazing story are very much appreciated.
Of course, there is a common thread. In a life-threatening emergency, it is critical to keep your wits about you and figure out how to overcome a very difficult life-threatening problem where the odds are against you.
Wow, photography and critical life lessons in one place thanks Artie and thanks, Warren!!!
Thanks Mike, Overwhelmed is the perfect word.
with love, artie
Warren, thank you for your extraordinary service and for having the courage to write down such a intense, vivid story—it really hits home. And that brown pelican image is gorgeous! Artie, thanks as always for providing a space where these incredible stories and photos can be shared.
My pleasure, Vasili. I trust that the family is doing great.
with love, a
Artie, thank you for featuring Warren and his near death experience. While reading Warren’s harrowing story, I was struck by the calm eloquence with which he related both the events, as well as what went through his mind.Then to read that he has had difficulty talking about it previously makes his openness here even more special. Warren, I’m glad it ended well, and thank you for your service as well as your sharing. I am in awe of your level headedness. Artie, I confess that because I knew you were safe, I was laughing a bit imagining your interchange with the lifeguards.
Thanks, Ellen. Yes, Warren is a beautiful writer (and person). Whenever I see those five young lifeguards jumping out of their truck I pretty much crack up too 🙂
with love, artie
Warren thanks for sharing your extraordinary story of courage and clear thinking in an extremely intense situation. Also a huge thank you for your service to our country.
My dad served in the Navy Medical Corps in the Pacific Theatre and never talked about it. My uncle was a medic in the Marines; he was in the Battle of Iwo Jima and wrote a book about the battles wounds he saw and cared for.
Artie glad you stayed calm in your situation and were able to tell about it and thanks for sharing Warren’s great image of the brown pelican preening.
Huge thanks, Monte. My Dad was injured on Okinawa — he was hit by 13 70mm machine gun rounds, and survived.
with love, artie
Artie: Thanks for sharing Warren’s amazing story and thanks to Warren for his service. I had wondered what I would do in a life-threatening situation, and on the two occasions I was in them in my own airplane I kept cool and as a result I am here to tell the tales. In one case I had a friend with me. When we were safely on the ground and out of danger she looked at me and said “that was neat!” I just sat there, saying nothing. She said “Was I supposed to be scared?” I replied, “No, Lorraine, I was quite scared enough for both of us!” She had no idea, because I was totally focused on flying the airplane.
You are welcome and thanks, David. That had me laughing!
with love, artie
Artie, Thank you for posting Warren’s story. He is obviously a true hero who has exhibited calm and resilience in trying times. We could all use his calm in today’s world where there is so much conflict and hatred. Artie, you on the other hand are the Energizer Bunny. I admire your energy and persistence. JJ
Thanks, JJ. I just wish I had some energy in the afternoons 🙁
much love, artie
Warren, your service is truly appreciated. I find it challenging to adequately express the depth of your courage and skill. Your story is akin to a thrilling movie but you lived it for us!!
And, your photography is simply phenomenal. Artie’s Dad’s story is equally noteworthy and should not be underestimated. And we are all grateful that Artie stayed calm in that horrible situation in rough water.
Thanks times three, Sandy!
with love, artie
A true leader and an inspiration on many levels. We need more of this type of humanity. Bravo!
Thanks, Dr. Greg!
with love, a
Incredible story. Warren, all I can say is THANK YOU for your service. Artie, thanks so much for sharing Warren’s story.
My pleasure, Pugs. And I agree 100%.
with love, a
” . . . pinned against the upper-left canopy . . . ”
Visceral–“The Right Stuff”. The man writes as well as he flies. Only wish the geriatrics in DC were worthy of the folks who do the work.
:-). Warren’s was the best ever comment here.
with love, a
Artie thanks for the opportunity to tell these stories again. The survival one has always been difficult for me to talk about, but writing about it seems to be easier. Thanks also to Robert and Pat for the kind words. I’m also honored to be your friend as well as a student on all the memorable IPT experiences we have shared. Hopefully even more in the future.
You are welcome, Warren. My Dad never-ever talked about the war but when my late wife Elaine brought out a tape recorder he opened up and shared the whole story: “Bob Morris — The War Years.”
with love, artie
Warren, we all owe a great deal to people, like yourself, who served this country so valiantly. Your near death experience — and how you saved yourself — was remarkable. I know that Art’s experience was not at the same level but I’m so glad that, he too, kept his head and survived.
Thanks Pat for appreciating Warren.
IAC, dead is dead 🙂
with love, artie