homes when their parents had written letters to the commanding general of the Central Training Command. I informed mother about this and she immediately wrote to the general. When the orders came out near the end of October for us to go to primary flight school, my name was missing right out of the middle of the list. I was on another list with totally new, to me, cadets. We were sent to Tulsa Municipal Airport to the Spartan School of Aeronautics.

At Last! I was really going to learn to fly. Here there were no fences with guard gates, no military police. We still marched to and from classes, it was the most efficient way of getting a group of men from one place to the other if they were all going the same way.

By now the spit and polish of military life was the most efficient way of getting things done. We still had ground school but we also were introduced to the most beautiful bird I had ever seen; the Fairchild PT-19. It had tandem open cockpits with a rubber hose connecting the front cockpit speaking mouthpiece to a pair of headphones in the rear seat. This rather primitive method of communication worked quite well. The instructor took the front cockpit and the student was in the rear. All the student had to do was follow instructions. There were some other signals used. The instructor would tap himself on the head when he wanted to take over the controls. He also had a rear view mirror so he could watch the color of the student's face during maneuvers. Most of the instructors were civilians at the Spartan School. The check pilots were all Air Corps.

My instructor seemed to prefer flying upside down to right side up. Consequently, I spent a lot of time turning green. I lost my breakfast the first morning. I skipped breakfast the next day and I was OK even though green in color. Then on Wednesday I lost my breakfast again. This got me a check ride with the Air Corps check pilot. On this flight, which I was afraid would turn out to be my last one; I managed to hold on to my breakfast until we were almost on the ground. My stomach emptied itself into my mouth, but I kept my lips sealed until we stopped. Then, I crawled over the side and let things go on the ground. This time I didn't have to clean up the cockpit for the next student. I never learned whether this first test of my survival in pilot training was deliberate on the part of the school or just my instructor’s way of testing me. Anyway, I learned to eat lightly at breakfast and never had any more trouble.