1/4/40
Randolph Field, Tx
Hi Angel:
Gee, am I a bad boy! I haven’t written in ages. But I have been busy, which is somewhat of a reason although not much good as an excuse.
Lemme see. What’s new! We’re all through with ground school with the exception of two courses. Since I am exempted from radio code, I have only meteorology. Honey, I’m getting lazy. I find it extremely difficult to study, and I only have one course to do. Guess I’ll have to get on the ball.
The lower class seem to be in fair shape now, so I haven’t much more of that with which to be concerned.
I spent another hour under the hood today. Flying on instruments is far from easy, but I seem to be catching on. Today was also devoted to 180 degree side accuracy landing stage. I made a C, much to my amazement. I wouldn’t have given myself a bit more than a D, if that. My instructor is in a better mood now, and I’m having more fun. After flying these ships for a while, things seem to move slowly at 80 m.p.h. in landing. There is plenty of time for everything. At first, things happened so rapidly one was always in hot water.
At one time, I used to laugh at aviators as a tribe of dumb bunnies. But I’m beginning to see the light. They have to know more to start out with than an engineer does at the finish. An engineer can make a score of 90% on his decisions, most of which are made after careful study, and yet maintain his reputation of engineering integrity. A flyer makes his decisions under the worst conditions, no possibility for study, and must be 100% right. It only takes one mistake. That, for one thing, is what makes fliers a bunch of cocky “youngsters”, no matter what their physical age. They have to stay young.
From the sublime to the ridiculous in one line. The following are by lowerclassmen at my table:
Every Day’s A Holiday
I
Come little K-dets
Said the upperclassmen one day
Come out on the ramp with us to play
Belt on your bayonets
And bring your rifles too
We aim for your feet
To be sore before we’re through
II
So out we all scrambled
One and all
To march and drill until exhausted
Fatigued—ready to fall
But that’s just the beginning
The day’s hardly begun
There’s never a spare moment
You’re always on the run
Heil Hitler!
To Me
We came in here as pilots to be
But they put us in the infantry
Then our flying hopes they stifle
By handing us a *G.I. rifle
We aren’t allowed to see the lasses
The upperclass eat out our asses
We eat ** square meals and take a brace
But worse of all is Stafford’s face!
*G.I. Government Issue
** Square meal—eyes straight to front, all food brought vertically up from the plate to level of mouth and then move horizontally to mouth.
To Randolph
When shadows fall and bugles call
For mess at Randolph Field
The sight to see is (1) 40-B like
Vultures at a ball
They grab and yelp like
Last year’s help
Til only crumbs remain
While meek and mild
Without a smile
The (2) gunners driven insane.
(1)40-B—my class
(2)Gunner—lowerclassman who gets food for the table
The Proper Spirit
Oh happy day! Oh happy day!
The day I got to Randolph.
They make me (3) brace
They make me (4) bruss
And all I do is cuss and cuss
I’ve polished brass
And shined some glass
But I’ll be damned if I’ll kiss their ass.
(3) Brace—exaggerated position of attention
(4) Bruss—exaggerated brace!
Well, Honey, now you know what the lowerclass thinks of us! Is I mortified!
It’s time to hit the books and I yet have a letter to write to Dr. Aiken. So goodnight for tonight. Damn—another bell.
Sleep tight tonight, angel. Cy