Part 6

Another evening it was reported that three pole-cats had crawled into a culvert in front of the barracks. For an hour we attempted to smoke them out. When that failed the fire department was called and we washed them out. The smoke had evidently taken effect, however, and soon three dead pole-cats came floating out from the culvert. The next problem was how to make use of such possibilities. That question was worthy of a most careful consideration. After a survey of the barracks we found that our cadet first sergeant was in San Antonio. There was scarcely one of us who did not have some small score to settle with him so we took one of the pillows from his bed and after removing the pillow case, placed it behind one of the pole-cats. The desired results were then obtained by stepping on the back end of the cat, and after cautiously inserting the pillow back in its case, we replaced it on the first sergeant’s bunk. The results were far above expectation. One by one the occupants of that bay arose and carried their cots outside, until by midnight, when our sergeant returned, there were only a half dozen bunks left including his own. By that time the odor had permeated through the other bedding and he was unable to locate the pillow as being the primary cause of offense. Any night for nearly two weeks thereafter our first sergeant and his cot might be located out behind the barracks, and the inspection of quarters, which was to have been held the following morning, was postponed indefinitely.

During our last six weeks at Brooks, life became much less difficult. Most of us who had survived the check pilots and “Benzine Board” were reasonably sure of graduating and although our studies were just as exacting as ever, we were able to absorb them much more easily. Also we had passed our primary flying tests and were making cross country flights in T.W.3’s; and learning formation flying in Voughts. And finally we were given a few hours in De Havilands in preparation for the advanced training at Kelly.

We were paired up for the cross country flights. One of us flew on the way out, while the second acted as observer. On the return flight we traded about, so that each achieved an equal amount of experience, both as an observer and as a pilot. These trips were usually laid out in a triangular course, and included landing at each corner of the triangle.

While on one of our first trips from the home airdrome, we landed in the designated field alongside of a road just as a load of watermelons was passing by, so we carried several of them back to the Detachment in our plane.

Always there was some new experience, always something interesting going on to make the time spent in Brooks and Kelly one of the banner years in a pilot’s life. The training is rigid and difficult but there is none better. A cadet must be willing to forget all other interest in life when he enters the Texas flying schools and he must enter with the intention of devoting every effort and all of the energy during the next twelve months towards a single goal. But when he receives the wings at Kelly a year later he has the satisfaction of knowing that he has graduated from one of the world’s finest flying schools.

VI

RECEIVING A PILOT’S WINGS

In September, 1924, we were transferred to Kelly. The time we had looked forward to for half a year had arrived. We were through the period of just learning how to fly and were entering a new experience; that of learning how to make use of our flying ability in actual service. We would no longer be floating around the airdrome in machines whose only purpose was to stand up under the hard knocks of inexperienced pilots; but we were going to fly planes which had an actual military value in warfare.

[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_

PARIS, FRANCE--PAUL PAINLEVÉ, FRENCH MINISTER OF WAR, EXTENDS HIS WELCOME. ON THE RIGHT IS AMBASSADOR MYRON T. HERRICK]

[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_

PARIS, FRANCE--WITH M. DOUMERQUE AND AMBASSADOR HERRICK]

We were old cadets and felt the importance of our experience. We were no longer treated as rookies but as potential officers. Before leaving Brooks we had conformed with cadet traditions and allowed groups of the new class to gather around us while we gravely spoke of examinations, check pilots, “Benzine Boards,” and “washouts.” We thoroughly enjoyed the awe inspired by our seventy-five hours of flying experience.

At Kelly our difficulties set in with renewed vigor. The De Havilands did not maneuver like the training Jennies, and we were required to fly as we had never flown before. If a cadet was not able to handle his ship in a maneuver which was at least equal to the standard, he was usually heading towards home within a week.

We were allowed a few days to become accustomed to flying the new type of plane, then an instructor would go up with us to see if our progress had been satisfactory. If so we were sent to the next stage; if not we went up with a check pilot.

From landings we went to the “eight” stage, where were assigned two landmarks such as a tree and a haystack several hundred feet apart, and required to do figure-eights around them. Then came the spot landing stage, when we throttled our engine at about a thousand feet and were required to land in a large white circle without using our motor. On this stage we were graded on our take-off, climb, approach, landing, roll, distance from mark, and method of handling the ship. In fact at Kelly we were constantly under observation and our only method of relaxation while flying was when the sky was cloudy and we could get above the clouds.

On one occasion we were flying with a low ceiling and the visibility was not very good. In fact it was an ideal day to do the things we were not supposed to. I was hedgehopping along over the country when I saw another D.H. playing around on my right. I flew over, and after chasing each other around for a while we proceeded to do chandelles, vertical banks, wing-overs, and everything else we could think of; all within a few feet of the ground as the clouds themselves were only about three hundred feet high. At last I decided to go up close to the other plane for a little low formation flying, but as I approached I saw that there were two men in the ship and that I had been breaking every rule ever established about low flying with an instructor watching me from another ship. I left that locality with wide open motor and for several days expected to be called on the carpet before the commanding officer on a washout offense. That instructor must have been a good sport, however, because I never heard from him and never was able to find out who he was.

On another occasion, near the end of my course, I came very near being washed out for something I knew nothing about. I had been practicing landings in an S.E.-5 on one corner of Kelly Field. When my time had expired, I landed on the pursuit stage, taxied up to the line, and turned the ship over to the mechanics. That afternoon I was called from class and ordered to report to the operations officer; whereupon he informed me that my flying days were over and that as I knew why, there was no use in explaining further. I was then ordered to report back to my studies.

It came out of a clear sky. I knew of a number of offenses I had committed but none of them at that time. I had actually no idea of what the operations officer was talking about.

When school was over I returned to the operations hut and requested an account of the alleged offense. It appeared that the propeller on my S.E.-5 was cracked, and the spreader board broken on the landing gear. The crew chief had reported this together with a statement that there were corn stalks hanging on the landing gear, and as there was no corn growing on Kelly Field, that was a sure sign that I had landed away from the airdrome without reporting the fact. A washout offense. We drove to the pursuit stage and found conditions exactly as stated, except that the corn stalks turned out to be weeds, and it was decided that the damage had been caused by a stake left standing in the corner of Kelly Field where I had been landing, although I had not felt the ship strike anything. The cadet who flew the plane earlier in the morning was using the same part of the field and said that he felt it strike a bump on one of his take-offs but did not believe any damage had been done. Who was flying the ship made little difference, however, because as long as he had not landed away from the airdrome without authority, the slight damage was of no consequence. I had come very close to the “Benzine Board” for an offense of which I knew nothing, but it was probably only the open-mindedness and sense of fair play of the operations officer that kept me from being washed out as a result.

[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_

PARIS, FRANCE--CROWDS AT THE CITY HALL AT THE OFFICIAL RECEPTION]

[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_

PARIS, FRANCE--GUESTS AT THE LUNCHEON OF M. BLERIOT

LEFT TO RIGHT: PAUL PAINLEVÉ, CHARLES LINDBERGH, M. BLERIOT, AMBASSADOR HERRICK]

One day during the beginning of our term at Kelly, someone decided that the cadets should stand reveille. How it came about or who caused the decision was never known by the detachment, but there was a strong rumor circulated to the effect that our beloved Cadet Sergeant had not forgotten the episode of the pole-cats. It was an unheard of thing for the cadets of Kelly to stand formations. We had graduated from that when we left Brooks, and the thought of continuing it in our advanced status was, we concluded, degenerating to the morale of the detachment.

Consequently, when our first sergeant himself delighted us with verbal visions of being tumbled out of bed at first call if we were not up at the blast of his whistle, we decided that if it were in the combined power of the detachment, the first call should not sound the next morning. We could not disobey an order; army training banishes even the remotest thought of that; but we might prevent that order from being given. The Cadet Captain and first sergeant were assigned to a private room together. The rest of us were given cots in the barracks. While supper was in progress that night the hands on the sergeant’s alarm clock were so manipulated that the alarm would sound exactly one hour after the time set. At two o’clock the next morning a padlock was placed on the hasp outside of his door, and when first call blew a few hours later the cadet detachment slept soundly on.

From spot landings we passed to hurdles. Hurdles require the ship to be brought down without assistance from the engine, and after just passing over a line stretched about eight feet above the ground, to be landed as close as possible to the hurdle. This gave us excellent practice for landing over a fence in a small field.

One of the traditions at Kelly was that anyone knocking down the hurdle must treat the rest to a case of refreshments. It often happened that a pilot was so intent on getting over the hurdle string that he did not notice that his plane was in a stall, and about the time he was over the hurdle the bottom would fall out from under him and his plane would pancake into the ground. Almost every class had one or two minor crack-ups as a result of stalling over the hurdle string.

The De Havilands were not considered safe for hard stunting and as a result we were only allowed to do wing-overs and split air turns. Diving in excess of one hundred and fifty miles per hour was also forbidden. Consequently only air work allowing us to be thoroughly accustomed to the plane was included in the flying schedule before our formation training began.

The strange field landing training was one of the most interesting parts of our schooling. An instructor would lead a number of planes and land in some field we had never seen before. Then each cadet was required to land and take-off after the instructor. Some of the fields were small and full of obstructions. Yet we had comparatively few even minor crack-ups. Later each cadet was given an opportunity to lead the rest and pick out a field for them to land in while the instructor trailed.

At Kelly we were given more and longer cross country trips than at Brooks. One of the most important parts of flying training is cross country experience. We made flights to Corpus Christi, Galveston, Laredo and a number of other places.

Each class spent about two weeks on a gunnery expedition at Ellington Field between Houston and Galveston. Ellington Field was one of the few double fields built during the war, but was later abandoned and, except for a National Guard squadron, was entirely deserted.

We set up our mess in the clubhouse and made the old building which had served as officers’ quarters as comfortable as possible. This was in winter and the weather was cold, even in Texas, unusual though it might have been. There were no stoves available so we contrived all sorts of makeshifts to hold a little fire in. If nothing better was obtainable, we shovelled several inches of earth on the floor and devised a hood of some kind leading through a few lengths of tin pipe to the chimney. Of course these fires could not be left unguarded, so it was necessary to put them out in the morning to be rekindled at the close of operations for the day.

Our gunnery work was divided into three parts: ground targets, shadow targets and tow targets. The ground targets were large sheets of paper similar to those used on a rifle range and were set up at an angle on the ground. We shot at these with both the Browning and Lewis machine guns.

The Browning guns on a De Haviland were mounted rigidly in front of the pilot and were synchronized with the engine to shoot between the blades of the propeller. They were capable of firing up to twelve hundred rounds a minute, depending on the motor R.P.M. when they were fired.

Several of us would form a large circle with our planes, and starting our dive from about one thousand feet, would fire short bursts into the target on the ground. After completing our bursts we would zoom back up into the circle while the next ship started its dive. Each plane had its individual target.

After emptying the Browning guns we gave our observers a chance with their Lewises by circling low around the targets. On the next flight the pilot and observer traded places.

The Lewis gun is mounted on a turret on the rear cockpit. Two guns were usually used together and they could be pointed in any direction.

After a few days on ground targets we were sent out over Trinity Bay for shadow targets. One plane is flown fairly high over the water while another fires at its shadow. The splashes from the bullets are easily seen and the accuracy of marksmanship very apparent.

The tow targets are by far the most difficult of the three varieties, and require skillful maneuvering and excellent marksmanship. They consist of a cloth sleeve similar to a wind sock which is towed a few hundred feet behind a De Haviland flying at sixty or sixty-five miles an hour.

When the forward or Browning guns were used, the attacking ship approached the tow target head on, firing one or two short bursts as it passed. In this way there was no danger of the occupants of the towing plane being struck by a wild shot. The De Havilands were much too large to use the forward guns effectively on a tow target. Any accurate shooting required the quick maneuverability of a pursuit ship.

The Lewis guns were used while flying parallel with the target and were very effective. When we were close enough we could often see the tracers pass directly through the cloth sleeve.

After returning from Ellington Field we were given a few hours in each of the various types of service airplanes. The M.B.-3 and the S.E.-5 scouts; the Martin Bombers with their twin Liberty engines; the T.W.-5 two-place transition planes; and the little Sperry messengers. In this way we obtained experience in each branch: pursuit, attack, observation and bombardment. Later we were given our choice of which we desired to specialize in. If our wishes corresponded with the judgment of the instructors we were assigned to that branch.

Together with three other cadets and four student officers, I was sent to the pursuit stage, where we spent the few remaining weeks of our course, piloting the S.E.-5 and the M.B.-3 single seaters.

Pursuit combines a little of every branch of the air corps. In addition to formation combat, dog fighting, and ground strafing, the pursuit pilot is often called upon to make observations and do light bombing.

A great deal of our time was devoted to formation flying. Air combat of the future will probably often be between large formations rather than individual pilots, and it is accordingly of utmost importance for the pursuit pilot to hold his place in formation instinctively, so that his entire attention can be devoted to the enemy rather than to his own formation.

We often maneuvered our flights while the individual planes were less than ten feet apart and it was not unusual to dive vertically for several thousand feet in a fairly close formation.

We learned the use of Lufberry circles, cross over turns, and other formation tactics. Our formations were often tight, it is true, but strange as it may seem, very few accidents occur from too close flying. A pilot is constantly alert when his plane is only a short distance from the one in front and nothing is allowed to distract his attention. On the other hand, when there is quite some distance separating them he is often more engrossed in lighting a cigarette or watching some object on the ground than in his own formation.

In pursuit flying we came to have great confidence in our parachutes. The planes we were flying were kept in excellent condition and none ever failed, notwithstanding the fact that we placed them under every conceivable strain imaginable. But the knowledge that we did not have to concern ourselves about whether they did fall apart or not was an invaluable factor in building up our morale. Our formations were tighter, the combats faster, and our flying better as a result.

We had a number of close calls but considering the amount of flying we had done, and that all of it was military flying, which cannot be ever compared to commercial traffic as far as safety is concerned, our accidents were remarkably few and none resulted seriously.

No one knows of the risk he takes better than the pursuit pilot and no one is less concerned about it. Every move, although at lightning speed, is made with a coolness born of experience and love of flying. The army Air Corps is built up of men who fly for the love of flying. Their only mission in life is to build up the finest air corps in the world, and their greatest desire is to be given the opportunity to do so without restriction. If an officer is lost in duty he would be the last one to wish for resulting restrictions on his comrades.

A week of our pursuit training was spent on a gunnery expedition at Galveston. We flew there from Kelly Field in M.B.3A. machines and fired on tow targets exclusively. Our field was close to the Gulf, and when the day’s operations had been completed we were free to go about as we chose. Consequently a large part of the evening was spent along the rocky beach.

On the night of our last day at Galveston several of us were holding a contest to decide which could reach the most distant rock between the breakers, before the next wave rolled in. One of the fellows was outstanding in his accomplishments. In fact he was so dextrous that none of us could compete, so we were all loud in our praises and unanimously agreed that there was not a rock in the gulf too obscure for him. There was, however, a rock a number of feet beyond the most distant point any of us had attained, which was visible only for an instant as the last breaker receded and before the next arrived. Even this was possible, we confidently assured him.

He watched that rock intently for several minutes; then bolstered up by our praise and his own confidence, he stood poised and ready. At the proper moment he nimbly leaped from boulder to boulder after the retreating surf but just before the final rock was touched a large wave towered above it. Too late! The chance of retreat had never been considered and its opportunity had passed. With do or die determination he leaped onto the boulder and into the breaking wave. This incident would not have been serious or its consequences important had we been able to carry any extra equipment in our pursuit planes, but as it was, extra clothing was a scarce article, and when we took off for San Antonio and Kelly the following morning, it was necessary for him to send his wet clothes back in a De Haviland and make his flight in a bearskin flying suit without insulation against the bearskin.

In warm weather these suits acquired an odor similar to that of a goat which has been in the barn all winter and the fur itself was far from comfortable. On the trip back a piston froze in the engine. For two days the cadet was alternately roasting in the southern sun and freezing in the Texas nights while he guarded his ship and waited for a new engine.

After our return from Galveston while we were practicing formation attack on two seaters, I experienced one of the incidents of the military pilot’s life. I made my first emergency parachute jump. When an Army plane crashes, the pilot is required to write a detailed report of the crash. My account was as follows: