He was rushed to Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington, D.C., where the plastic surgeons did a remarkable job of repairing his face, and the necessary steps were taken to ensure there would be no further injury to his spinal cord.
Rode was held in such high regard that within a few days after it was learned that he would be a paraplegic, he received job offers from several of the major aircraft companies, including Republic and Lockheed, relieving his mind of the worry of how he would be able to support his second wife and four daughters. After considerable therapy, much of it at the Long Beach Veterans Hospital, he went to work for Lockheed in military sales, where he remained for the next twenty years.
In 1969 he learned of a device — a hand control for rudder pedals — that would allow him to fly without the use of his legs. He started using it to fly rented airplanes. Later he bought a Piper Comanche 260 and installed the hand control. He became very active, flying hundreds of hours a year all over the country, often carrying his octogenarian mother to visit her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He helped found and was active in the Wheelchair Aviators, a group that is now international and includes about 150 pilots.
Rode's skill and determination in once again learning to fly inspired me to write the following poem commemorating his second first solo:
In 1984, at the age of 65, he made a remarkable solo flight around the world in his single-engine Piper Comanche. In slightly over four months, he flew 230 hours, covering more than 35,000 miles and visiting friends in many of the countries. He started and ended the flight at Washington National Airport, where I was proud to be one of those who welcomed him. Possibly to him, that remarkable feat pales next to the untold effort that allowed him, with crutches and leg braces, to walk down the aisle with his daughter at her wedding.
I had to hold a precise airspeed but couldn't look down into the cockpit when close to the bomber, so I read and recorded my airspeed on my knee board about twenty seconds away from the bomber, and Si recorded his at the time of the pass. Since we were in formation the airspeeds were essentially identical. The bomber held his altitude at 30,000 feet for the first half of each test and 35,000 for the second half. My passes were, of necessity, at the same altitudes.
Offsetting the passes turned out to be a wise precaution, because on the first series I was breaking away by pulling up, and it was obvious to Si, and to all of us when we viewed his films, that I would have collided with the bomber on the first few passes. Although I pulled the nose up in time to clear the bomber, the P-80 mushed momentarily at the same altitude before climbing. To miss the bomber I had to break off the attack before I was in effective firing range — not much of a surprise, as most of us in the test instinctively knew that breaking away downward was the way to go. Even without the mushing, when I pulled up I could no longer see the bomber. That might have been an advantage if we were going to collide, but that was not the object of the tests. The problem would have been even worse at 35,000 feet, where the fighter would have mushed even more in the thinner air. We decided, then and there, to use downward breaks for the remainder of the tests.
A series of offset passes using downward breaks at both altitudes indicated not only that it was safe to begin actual head-on passes but also that firing could be accomplished within effective gun range. I found that a violent downward break was not necessary; gravity is always ready to help a pilot descend. Only a slight forward push was needed to go down the ten or fifteen feet required to pass below the bomber. It also allowed me to keep my speed up to get back into position for another pass at the bomber.
We ran three test missions at each of three different airspeeds — 300, 350, and 400 mph — at both altitudes. I flew the fighter on two of the missions, then Si and I switched planes for the third mission. As expected, the firing could be done from shorter ranges at the slower airspeed, but it took longer to get ahead of the bomber for a second pass. If only one pass was to be made, it was desirable to make it at about 300 mph; otherwise 350 was better. At 400 mph the fighter had to start firing at about 1,200 yards to allow a one- or two-second burst and two seconds for the break. Twelve hundred yards would be out of range for a side or stern approach, but for head-on passes it was barely acceptable. The slower speeds allowed firing from closer in and left more leeway for the break.
Si and I had no problems with the head-on passes once we had worked out the method, but the bomber pilots said the passes were hard to get used to. They had nothing to do but fly straight and level and wait, and hope, for the fighter to break away. It could not have been a comfortable feeling to have a fighter pass about ten feet below you at a closing speed of more than 600 mph. I much preferred being in the fighter, where I could initiate the break and feel more in control of the situation. One of the bomber pilots told me that it was uncomfortable, to say the least, watching the fighter grow in the windscreen at an alarming rate, then dive away barely in time. He said he drew some comfort, especially on Monday mornings, from knowing that a teetotaler was flying the fighter. (Being a teetotaler was not too common a failing among fighter pilots.) In the final report we stated that head-on passes were feasible with jet fighters at the speeds tested, but that the advent of jet bombers and faster fighters would require the development of much longer-range weapons than .50-caliber machine guns. Today's fighters are armed with guns with higher muzzle velocities and consequently greater effective range, as well as long-range missiles. Also fighters and bombers are now equipped with excellent radar that allows them to determine range exactly. We had to eyeball it.