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MUMBLINGS November 17, 2005
Continuing thoughts on my military service in the Army Air
Corps and upon arriving in San Antonio, my rugged training began.
With 19 to 25 year olds in my class of 44A, I was rather
old at 27 and it was quite a struggle for me physically to keep up with them.
But, it was perhaps one of the best things that ever happened to me because I
had been sitting at a desk and taking no exercise and here, I immediately
started taking calisthenics with long marches. Like most of the beginners, I
got blisters, was tired and struggled but did make it.
Interestingly, out of those who were my age, only two or
three of us made it all the way to receiving our wings.
After spending ten weeks in San Antonio, taking ground
school and other training, I was shipped off to Sikeston, Missouri for primary
flight training. You were supposed to solo at the end of 10 or 12 hours. I had
15, so my instructor sent me up for an elimination ride, which was simply
saying goodbye. However, Mr. Blair who was an expert pilot, took me up and
tried me at all the maneuvers and, finally, he said, “Land there in that
field.” I did. He then says, “Take off and land again,”…I
did. Then he says, “Let me out and you do it by yourself.” I did.
Because of his experience and patience with me, I continued my flight training
and went from Sikeston to Coffeeville, Kansas for basic.
During war years, it was very difficult to find a place to
live, particularly if you had a wife and children. It was risky but I took them
along and we found an upstairs apartment. The lady who owned it insisted on no
children. I told her I had two boys and they were rascals but their mama tried
to make them behave. She laughed and consented.
Our training plane was a BT-13, which was a known killer
and in which I had a crash…but fortunately, it only destroyed the plane
and not me.
At that time, you had to decide whether you wanted to be a
fighter pilot or a bomber pilot. I knew that I did not like the single engine
stuff and decided on multi- engine training. Fortunately, I did make the right
decision because from then on I was considered a top pilot and received such
good grades that they made me an instructor in Pampa, Texas where I stayed.
My family was still with me and while there, Jimmy Jr.
entered the first grade. I was a pilot instructor for five classes, each
lasting ten weeks. Out of 40 students (had eight each class), 38 received their
wings. The other two were killed while flying with another instructor or
student.
More people were killed in the Air Corps in the training
command than overseas. For example, the crash I had was number 13 of such at
Coffeeville and all of the other twelve were killed. I was lucky.
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