11/22/39
Randolph Field, Tx.
CBS Flying Cadet, A.C.
Company C, Room 43
A.C.T.C.
Darling:
You’re lucky this time. I borrowed Junior’s typewriter and everybody else will be out this evening so that the noise won’t bother anyone. The ribbon is in shreds.
I was beginning to wonder if I had a gal any more, as it has been ages since last
week. Gee, weren’t the pictures awful! The one of Chuck and I on the back porch was the worst, and of you and Chuck inside ran a close second. We both look like we were millions of years old. The one of you and I together was a little better, but I still looked like about 40 yrs or more. The rest of them were fair.
I’m glad that Jack has decided to go to college. I believe he will never regret it although there will be times when he thinks that it was a lot of hooey. Tell him that when I worked for J.E. Fast I designed quite a few condensers for DeVry, and he may run into them. If he runs into anyone from Fast’s, letting them know that he knows me (nickname of Kayo or Skeeziks or Cy) won’t hurt anything.
I’ve about given up the idea of a portable machine after operating this thing. It is too tiring. We’ll manage to struggle along with the old one for a while. Just don’t say anything to the folks about it. Chuck isn’t sufficiently mechanically-minded to turn him loose on one yet.
Life here is funny as hell. They use the same disciplinary action on a class of average age of 23 as they would use on high or prep school kids. It has no effect. Everyone is just taking it and forgetting it. As usual Stafford leads the class—on demerits this time. I hooked 9 gigs over last week-end, which means two hours confinement to quarters or an hour walking the ramp for each gig. Tsk, tsk! I’m doing four hours confinement tonight and two hours on the ramp in the morning. Then I shall have open post until tomorrow night. Burt and Tom and I may go into SA for the afternoon. This will be our first open post. We had freedom of the post over last week-end.
Class work to date has been confined to lectures on etiquette and Army organization. The instructors and officers in general seem to be better than average. The upper class has a few good men, but most of them are heels of the first order.
We flew yesterday and today. These BT-9’s certainly fly a hell of lot differently from the PT-13A’s we used at Curtiss. Honestly, it is an awful sensation to get in a ship with the same controls but with entirely different reactions to the controls. The ailerons are hardly ever used and both the direction of flight and the banking of the wings are controlled by the rudder. In addition to this, we have controllable pitch prop (equivalent to a gear shift on a car), flaps (air brakes), about 10 more instruments (including radio), and a landing speed of about 10 miles per hour faster. Today was the second day and it certainly was a lot better than the first crack, but all of us are still a little baffled by the things. Tom* and I are sitting here chewing the fat about the darned ships. The way it stacks up, if we pass our forty-hour check in these ships, we are almost sure to get through. These ships are about twice as heavy, half as big, and have twice the motor as the PT-13A’s had.
My instructor, Lt. Harman, is an almost English type and is an awfully nice chap. I hope I can say as much for him when I am through, hi. The flight line is very informal and there is none of this super-saturated discipline or subservience. One acts as a gentleman and that is sufficient.
The corps is going to a tea next Saturday, and I don’t see any way out. Maybe it won’t be compulsory. It is given by the mothers of San Antonio’s debs for the season. I can just imagine me dancing with some buck-toothed female that can’t get a date without dragging in the Army for help. Oh, well, maybe it won’t be compulsory.
Burt just dropped in and is chuckling over the pictures.
Part of the upper class are putting in a little night work tonight and the flares they are dropping are gorgeous. They last about 5 minutes and are suspended from a 12 foot diameter parachute.
Honey, did you get the enclosure in my letter of last week-end? I didn’t like to send cash, but there wasn’t any other way.
Gee, Darling girl, there is so much to say and I just can’t seem to write it all. Yes I am well and happy, and being well, too well, taken care of. But I am far from complete.
Show Willy or Gord or both the circular on Randolph if you think it would be interesting. Write to me honey, for it isn’t an easy life by any means, and a little help from you goes such a long way.
Lots of love, Cy.
*Tom Gerrity