V1943-04NB.DOC

Airplane Mechanics School, Lincoln Neb, 1943

Each week students advanced to the next class, 700 mechanics were graduated each month and this was one of many such schools. We needed more and better planes fast and each new plane required trained personnel, 70% being ground crew – aptitude tests selected those with needed skills. Each aircraft was a unique combinations of the most advanced components and innovative systems achievable – in a life or death struggle. We from KC were in effect starting from scratch, we did not have access to advanced aircraft.

"I Sustain the Wings" was our motto and school time was devoted to learning all we could master in the allotted time – most shipped direct to combat areas.

Arrival by Train Our train from KC arrived midday, each of us found our Barracks Bags with names stenciled in black, one marked "A" and the other a "B". Their OD (olive drab) color had not yet faded to tan. Blue denim peace time bags were faded from many washings. Long dark OD Duffel Bags, were issued to those shipping overseas.

6X6 Trucks Motor pool military trucks, called a “6x6” were lined up awaiting us. Heavy duty trucks these, not the light weight repainted school buses of KC, we were back in the Army. We tossed our bulging bags into the trucks, climbed in after them, then waited on hard plank seats.. The trucks canvas cover blocked sunlight and ventilation except through the back opening. Air was stagnant inside, it would have been hot even with a breeze. Air conditioning was a luxury you purchased with a movie ticket.

Rear View Engines started and our convoy moved out. The canvas cover rear view, permitted a “port hole” view of the changing scene as our truck wove it’s way out of the city. We were driven several miles west on the main highway. Flat wheat land extended on each side as far as one could see – then the Air Base.

The Base The runway was parallel and to the south. After reaching the main gate we could see the huge hangers on the far south side of the runways. Single level wooden barracks covered the expanse south of the hangers, street after street of them. A perimeter fence separated the large base area from adjacent farmland, there was not a tree in sight.

Board walks Our trucks came to a halt on a street in the southwest part of the base. Clutching Barracks Bags we piled out and the trucks drove away. Someone yelled "Fall In". We did, each person and his bags raggedly aligned. We were assigned barracks number as roll was called. Side walks of wooden boards across runners made noisy clumping sounds as we carried bags to the barracks with our number.

Our Barracks The barracks had a pair of double doors at each end, with an anti room between, for weather protection – in winter we learned to close the outer before opening the inner. These ends were connected by a long dimly lit interior. The floor was coarsely struck concrete. Three coal burning stoves were centered and equally spaced as if to block passage along the single central walkway. “Home” was half of a double deck bunk, perpendicular to the walls – 2x4 studs covered with black tar paper under outside wood sheeting. It was a come down from our KC hotel but far better than our Florida tents, these had a sense of permanence. The studs supported rafters under a shallow pitched open ceiling. Light bulbs spartanly spaced dangled at the end of cords from the center roof beam. It was difficult to read at night except near the light source, our black wall paper absorbed all indirect lighting. We enjoyed all the necessities rapid wartime construction would permit, there were no frills.

Footlocker Footlockers were issued, one each, olive drab plus the means to stencil our names in black. We sought a best way to place our meager possessions. Clean cloths in the bottom, shaving & shoe shine items in half of the top tray with writing material in the other half. Arrangement of articles in the footlockers was one of our few options. Everyone arranged and rearranged, all came out much the same. The lid of the footlocker was a chair, foot rest, table; a single universal piece of furniture.

Latrine There was a central latrine plus washrooms and showers with a bulletin board en-route. All bulletins were strictly official.

PX Our reward for passing inspection was permission to go to the base Post Exchange (PX)

Inspections Rules for Inspections were posted for new arrivals. Beds made, blanket drawn taunt, comforter rolled tight and properly placed. The extra GI shoes polished and placed at attention under the edge of the bunk. Footlocker lids were lifted open, the owner clean shaven, hair cut, shoes and brass shined. We were given plenty of time for preparation followed by a long wait. Abruptly the call "Attention!" brought everyone to alert. The inspection was brief and anemic compared with what would follow.

Off Base Pass To get off base you had to have a pass.

NCO club Our only access to news papers or magazines was via the Non-Commissioned Officers (NCO) club, it was a place to read or write letters, but seldom used if one could get a weekend pass.

Cards and Craps It didn't take long to settle in, then wait, always hurry up & wait. Many idled time with chit chat or a snooze. Others impatiently sought action in the form of a card game or shooting craps. The luxury of free time was brief, lasting two days -- then school.

Base Theater Comedians’ Abbot and Costello

Special Uniform Three weeks after arrival an all encompassing order was posted:

ATTENTION

All Base Personal

Fall Out in Special Uniform

GI Shoes and Raincoats - Only

We were dumbfounded till some guy in the barracks called out "short arm inspection!" Civilians are deprived certain experiences, this is one of them.

Such inspections were unusual, normally limited to personnel shipping in or out. Apparently an outbreak had prompted this massive check of all base personal. We were marched from our barracks area to the main street of the base. Our heavy duty shoes clomped, loose fitting without socks. There must have been several thousand of us headed toward our destination, the movie theater. They trailed from the theater back down main street passed Service clubs zig zagging down side streets to the barracks areas of origin. Barracks emptying were separated from those refilling by pre inspected post personnel directing troop movements.

The blacktop streets were hot, midday summer sun had no mercy on troops stalled in their imperceptible movement down the street. The bottle neck was the single file through the base theater.

Flimsy rain hats, on this rainless day, shaded eyes from a brilliant glaring sun, for those who happened to bring them. Everyone endured a steam bath from personal perspiration. The raincoats fit snug against ones body at the top, glued there by sweat. They hung outward from our bare anatomy, forming sides of a private tent, hiding private parts. Only bare legs above GI shoes showed. Perspiration from the upper body dripped from the periphery of the raincoat. This did not keep shoes from getting wet. Sweat would sporadically find its way down the hair on our anatomies to the soles of the shoes. Most persons have experienced trickles running down and dripping off their nose. These profuse trickles were like unswatable flies progressing, haltingly, downward. The raincoat underside had an unpleasant wetness that wouldn't blot.

The large PX and Service Clubs, normally occupied, were void of soldiers, female employees stepped out to look. Their expressions conveyed their puzzlement, why raincoats on a hot summer day? It was obvious they did not detect our bare truth or perceive the purpose, at least not at first. After they knew they no longer stared.

Our minds had nothing to do except trace the tingling progress of random & erratic beads of sweat. The trickle would start along the spine and proceed south to and along the crack; then branch to the left or right jowl, on down the thigh scurrying passed the ankle to the sole of the shoe. One could observe others involuntarily direct the path of their trickle with a squirming shift. After an hour and a half of this dehydrating process the humbling, pull it back and strip it down, instruction from the inspecting Doctor was anticlimactic.

Physical Training building

March to and from chow To and from Standing Retreat

Physical Training After a rise and shine awakening, shave and breakfast it was march to physical training area for vigorous but not strenuous morning calisthenics – weather ranged from hot to cold, windy or still but most often began as a crisp bright new day.

Marched to and from We always marched to and from except for off duty hours. We would fall in as we came out of the mess hall, when enough had gathered someone would take the lead and we'd march away. There was no loitering except for off duty hours at specific places.

Standing Retreat We adhered to an ancient custom, lowering the flag at sunset, I suppose this had some purpose in the horse cavalry – but to us it was a pointless ritual.

Base Mess Hall served in continuously in allotted time slots

KP We students were still stuck with KP (Kitchen Police) duties. The majority of us on KP had been in KC and some in Tent City together – we were used to singing and sing we did. We had a glorious time. Only later as an instructor did I find singing while on KP was a rare thing. We were oblivious that others didn't and had a great time while doing our menial chores. I enjoyed singing, would start and my buddies joined in.

90 day wonder It was 4:30 am on a cold winter morning as I walked hunched over along the street to the Mess Hall for KP duty. With my wool helmet liner cap pulled down over my ears, my flight jacket collar turned up and my hands in my pockets I tried to ignore the olive drab military vehicle as it came by slowly – then someone called out, "Take your hands out of your pockets soldier!" Without thinking I responded, exposing my hands to the bitter cold. I glanced at the car with windows rolled up, it's warm exhaust emitting a condensate trail as it pulled ahead. Anger welled up as I put my hands back in my pocket yelling, "you bastard! There's nothing in the manuals that says I can't put my hands in my pockets!" I imagined that hidden “Officer Of the Day” busting a gut laughing. I thought that 90 day wonder should have washed out – my sense of humor had shriveled.

Consolidated B-24 (4) R-1830 Martin B-26 (2) R-2800

Hangers Hanger #1 & #2 to the east were used by the Airplane Mechanics school. Hanger #3 to the west housed a British Spitfire and a German Messerschmitt ME-109, these had been flown above Nebraska and Kansas in mock combat to measure relative performance. Such testing had been completed by the time we arrived. Hanger #4 to the west was used for B-24 flight operations. One of our fellows called out, look there’s Jimmy Steward. Sure enough he and his crew were walking to their B-24, as part of their Transition Training before being sent to England or Africa.

B-26 Flying Coffins At the east end of the field were some 30 early model B-26's referred to as Flying Coffins, considered unsafe to fly. Subsequent models had 13 feet added to their wing span!

Hanger Design The hangers were huge by the standards of the day. They contained two high bays on each side of a closed center section used for parts, latrines and class rooms. There was a balcony with offices along each side above the hanger floor. The hangers were a standard design used at many air bases across the nation. They were constructed of wood with windows along the sides. Each hanger side bay could pass a B-24 with its wings passing below the balcony. The main bays were high, much higher than required for the tallest aircraft, it was space not used. There were doors at each end, segmented in vertical panels, on rail rollers so one person could move them. The concrete floors were smooth. The hanger interior could be warmed rapidly by hot air blown from large overhead gas heaters.

Industrial Latrine The center latrine section included large circular granite looking wash basins about which 15 or more persons could gather at one time to wash. At it's center was a column on which brown soap with a consistency of Vaseline was placed. Water sprayed continuously from this center column as from a circular lawn sprinkler. The urinal was one of the walls. Water flowed continuously into a floor level drain. The hanger facilities were designed to accommodate many personnel and large pieces of equipment. This kind of industrial facility and architecture were new to those from farm and pasture lands.

Engine Test Blocks To the East were single level concrete block buildings called Engine Test Blocks. Each test cell consisted of an engine test stand and an adjacent control room. There was a place to gather at one end of the control room for class instruction. Kadelac, one of my buddies from Kansas City, would do the classic Shell/Pea game. The shells were three Fatigue hats, with brims folded up like a sailors cap, and the pea a wadded piece of paper. It was a case of the hand being quicker than the eye. After considerable kidding he showed us how he did it. He slowed his hand motions to very slow motion before our eyes could keep up with the motions of his hand as it picking up or depositing the wad of paper. We were learning many things and having fun doing it.

Curtis P-35 R-1820 Curtis P-37 Curtis P-40 V-1710 Curtis P-46

Live Planes At Lincoln we had live airplanes we could run up, the AAC made near new and experimental fighter aircraft available. The school hangers were dedicated to school aircraft, most of which could be taken out on the flight line and run up. We had P-35, P-38, P-39, P-40, P-43, one P-47 and one early model P-51 available for flight line run up.

Experimental Fighters We were exposed to experimental fighters. The P-37 had a turbo supercharger between the engine and cockpit putting the pilot back in the P-40 baggage compartment – he couldn’t see the runway. I believe the P-46 had a supercharger under the cockpit but I didn’t look..

Components and Subsystems The school was operated on a two shift basis. Classes were organized by subject matter. We began with fundamentals then components, sub systems, engine test, aircraft checkout and finally field test.

Tech Orders The primary instruction material was Technical Orders. These are instructions, prepared for the Air Force by the manufacturer for use in checkout and maintenance. These were excellent almost without exception. The full set was encyclopedic covering the spectrum of equipment and activities. Some were exceptional with exploded views.

Engines: The main focus of attention was the V-12 Allison with 1710 cubic inch displacement and the Pratt Whitney two bank 18 cylinders radial with 2800 cubic inch displacement.

Ignition V engines used an intake and exhaust spark plug, independently fired by a magneto with coil, points and distributor as a package. The exhaust fired at 28 and intake at 30 degrees before top dead center. By comparison the V-12 Rolls Royce 1650 cubic inch displacement fired 45 and 50 deg BTC. I don’t recall the V-12 firing order. Plugs on the radial were between intake and exhaust, angled toward the exhaust port and fired 20 degrees BTC.

Carburetors Carburetors controlled and measured air flow and metered gasoline according to the pilots mixture and throttle settings, these were mechanical computers. The throttle lever controlled the setting of a flapper to let in more or less air and the mixture lever changed mixture ratios. More air flow would move a metering pin to let in more gasoline to maintain a proper fuel - air ratio. These settings were fine tuned to achieve maximum range or maximum power. Our carburetors were a Stromberg design, and we were required to memorize how it worked and how to read exhaust flames to know it was working right.

Propeller blades There were aluminum blades and hollow steel blades of varying shapes, sizes, and number of blades. The blades were rotated to proper pitch to bite more or less air. These were similar to the transmission on a car. Engines could be run at an optimum efficiency rpm by controlling pitch via a propeller governor.

Hamilton Hydromantic P-47 Curtis Electric propeller

Propeller governors A mechanically driven fly weight worked against spring pressure set by the pilot and would control electric motor or hydraulic piston to auto adjust propeller pitch.

Hamilton Standard Pitch control This mechanism on B-17, B-24, B-25, B-29 used a piston powered by engine oil to orate the blades.

Curtis Electric Pitch Control This mechanism on the P-38, P-40, P-47, P-51. B-26 used and electric motor to rotate the blades which were then locked in place with a break, a solenoid lifted the brake to move the propeller blade.

Thermocouples Thermocouples, a junction of iron and copper wire, generated a low voltage as a function of junction temperature with output read by a high quality mili-ammeter. Thermocouples were placed on the #1 cylinder of a radial engine and cowling flaps opened or closed to maintain proper engine temperature. Liquid cooled V engines used “temperature bulbs” which generated a pressure in proportion to temperature read by a bourdon tube gage..

Rolls Royce with gear driven supercharger R-1830

Voltage regulators All aircraft used gear driving electrical generators to run the systems and charge batteries. The P-38 used a reed voltage regulator.. Later aircraft used a more reliable “carbon pile” voltage regulator.

Starters Most used some kind of electrically driven flywheel which was energized then engaged to rotate the engine. Some early models used shot gun shells for power.

Brakes The P-38 used a multi disk brake like on bicycled of that time. Most other models used Bendix shoe brakes.

Hydraulic & Pneumatic systems Most hydraulic system were 1500 psi using electrically driven gear pumps. Pneumatic systems used engine driven vane pumps.

Oxygen systems All aircraft went to low pressure oxygen systems, the same kind of system adapted to the needs of each aircraft..

Airframe care of the airframe was essential to be sure the leading edge of wings were not dented as leading edge contour was critical to proper air flow.

Other systems There control cable systems, landing gears and struts, trim controls, ejection seats, protective armament. Many items such as guns, radio, special instruments bomb racks etc were the work of specialist.

P-51 The P-51 was unique, most agree it was the premier propeller driven fighter of WW 2, and for good cause. North American chief engineer Atwood was requested to bid on building the P-40 for the British, but was not comfortable with the huge drag penalty of it’s cooling system. He was aware of British research on converting coolant heat, an amount of energy equivalent to that harnessed by the propeller, to deliver thrust and convinced the British to fund a new design using their idea combine with the Rolls Royce with it’s gear driven supercharger. With air inlet from below he could remove the top inlet duct and improve visibility.

P-40 Coolant Radiator P-51 P-51 Coolant Radiator

Allison V-1710 Roll Royce V-1650 P-51 air inlet

Atwood implemented the British idea by adding a cooling air inlet plus heat exchangers shaped to achieve a “jet effect” expansion nozzle under the cockpit – few people including us mechanics knew of this effect. Atwood wrote of discovering, with wind tunnel tests it was essential to move the air inlet away from the boundary layer out into the slip stream to reduce drag. The Germans ran many wind tunnel tests, trying to determine how the extra performance was achieved and never caught on that the coolant radiator arrangement converted 5% of coolant heat energy to thrust.

Republic P-43 Republic P-47 Pratt Whitney R-2800 .

“The Jug” The P-47, “The Jug”, had a distinct roar of it’s own due to it’s R-2800 engine, four blade prop, with electric pitch control, and a turbo supercharger in the baggage compartment. Four 50 cal machine guns were in each wing. It used water injection for “war emergency power” – to cool the engine at maximum output. They were used as dive bombers cutting off German supplies to the Italian front.

P-43 wouldn’t start A class ahead of us couldn’t get a P-43 to start so a buddy and I ran out to see if we could start it. The class had just walked away having tried unsuccessfully. I said we should trouble shoot as if it was a Model-T – check for spark at the plugs. The P-43 had a tail wheel and you had to look up at it's 18 cylinder radial engine with two banks of 9 each. I climbed up on the wing from the back then moved near the leading edge to reach out and up to the top of the engine. I pulled myself up to rest on the engine and get at the top spark plug. I lay spread eagle on the engine to hold the ignition wire. On a model-T the first time I held a screwdriver against the plug then almost touch the tip to the engine, spark from the model-T coil shot through my arm and body to ground instead of to the engine! It was a body jerking jolt! Electricity activated muscles in my arm which threw the screwdriver high and far back over my head. That's something you don't forget! That screw driver was part of a repair kit for a Model-A Ford. The blade passed all the way through it's wooden handle so the metal could be hit with a hammer and not break the wooden grip – I took great care to never use a screwdriver made like that again to check spark. With that experience in mind I used a piece of wood to hold the spark plug lead slightly away from the P-43's engine, yet be able to observe if there was spark.

Before calling back to my buddy I checked if I was vulnerable to any moving parts? I was laying on the valve rocker covers. There were no "V" belts or fans, only the big propeller at arms length in front of me. I was wary due to an experience at the top of a grain elevator. When oiling the bearings of a big shaft it was necessary to slide out on the shaft while holding on to the roof beams. Some one had started the machinery and I had to ride that rotating shaft till the truck load of grain had been moved and the equipment was turned off. The prop was very close but it would only rotate about once and not fast.

There was no seat for my buddy in the cockpit. Normally a pilot sat on the seat and on top of his parachute pack lifting his field of view. With no seat my buddy had to stand on his knees to see the instrument panel, it was awkward. We'd been trained to keep the stick pulled back on a tail wheeled airplane by fastening the safety belt about it. This lifted the elevator surfaces so wind from the prop would hold the tail down, if not held down the tail could lift and let the prop grind into the concrete.

I couldn't see my buddy in the cockpit and he could only see my rump. We yelled, "Are you ready?"... "Yeah".... "OK try it". I could hear the electric motor start spinning the flywheel starter as he held the starter switch on energize. It sounded like an old hand operated cream separator as the fly wheel gained speed to a high pitched whine. Then he flipped the switch to engage.

The engine moved under my belly, I could feel the torque and hear the clatter of the cold loose fitting push rods that rocked the valves. Startled I lost concentration to watch the spark.....then VAROOM.........!!!!!! The damned engine caught on and raced to quarter throttle..... it should have been set near idle cutoff....It wasn't suppose to start..... The shaking stopped as torque pulled the engine into it's shock mounts. I grasped to hang on, my yells were lost in the turbulent wind – I yelled anyway!

My buddy taken by surprise wasn't prepared for it to start! He'd felt the tail lift and pulled back on the stick, he'd forgot to buckle it back...he was stunned, his response was delayed, there were no preconditioned instincts; slow reasoned thought overcame his shock, it was not a natural state to be on your knees with the stick held into your gut and reach the ignition switch with fingertips. It seemed to take him forever!

The feeling of panic left as the engine torque released and the prop wind milled to a halt, with great relief the last push rod clicked. Whew, what a surprise!...whew wee! Fright gave way to exhilaration! We were soon yelling and laughing, "It started, the damn thing just start"! "It scared the hell out of me when it took off like that!" "But why, we didn't fix anything?" "Why in the hell did it start?" Calming down we reasoned the guys in the class had flooded it, that’s why it wouldn't start The excess gas had evaporated, it was primed and ready like a loaded gun waiting to be fired! The instructors, on their break, heard it start and watched the prop spin. Hands on hips they looked at us as we returned. They called out, "What the hell did you guys do to start that thing?" Grinning ear to ear I yelled back, "Aw nothin, you just gotta hold your mouth right.", something my Dad would say to me.

P-38 This was one of our first advanced fighters, excellent yet flawed, it was costly to maintain. It used electrically controlled props driven by separate electrical systems, if a battery was low on one and high on the other propeller pitch control would differ on take off. Existing production lines were kept going but it was not the plane of choice against top enemy fighters.

Cold Flight Line When we got up we found snow had blown through the crack in out outer barracks door, and the pot bellied stoves had turned cold – we knew the flight line would have a direct link to the north pole. None the less we left the hanger warmth and went out onto the flight line to learn how to check out engines. There was ice on the runways and our wool stocking caps were pulled down over our ears meeting our buttoned up flight jackets. With wool gloved hands in pockets I hunched into the wind as we made our way to a Lockheed P-38 Lightening. The instructor had motioned I was to begin the mornings class by start up and checking out the P-38. The assignment was a pleasant surprise as I'd not run up a P-38 before. The fellows assigned to man the fire extinguishers turned their backs to the wind hoping I'd hurry up and get it over with. The rest of the class and instructor huddled behind a wind break.

Lockheed P-38

P-38 Checkout The cockpit of a P-38 is a pod placed forward of the wing between two booms housing V-12 Allison (General Motors) engines. Behind the engine was the landing gear, a supercharger, oil cooler and a diminishing fuselage section that supported a tail fin. The horizontal stabilizer spanned between the aft end of the twin booms. The cockpit pod rested on the nose gear. The three blade props with Curtis Electric pitch control motors projecting in front were clearly visible. I looked over the controls and instruments, all were familiar by then. I energized a starter flywheel, primed the engine and engaged to start. I marveled at how readily this cold V-12 engine started, in moments it was running very smooth, none of the coughing and sputtering typical of a radial engine. I then started the other engine. I continued to marvel how quiet and smooth they ran. The exhaust ducting to run the superchargers behaved like mufflers. One prop rotated clockwise and the other counterclockwise.

On Ice I change my focus from day dream to checkout this P-38. I was soon engrossed reading the instrument panel and experimenting by changing manifold pressure, mixture controls, throttle settings, watching rpm change with propeller pitch changes..... I was fascinated.... I had given it full throttle several times.... I lifted my head to look at the prop as it changed RPM I saw guys waving urgently at me!! I looked about. My God! The airplane had been sliding with it's wheels locked and pushing chocks ahead of the tires. There had been moisture from melted snow on the concrete apron, it had frozen onto the concrete, there was not enough grip for the tires to hold the airplane when over half throttle. The airplane had slid some 30 feet this way before they caught my attention. They were not about to run up behind to pound on the fuselage with me jockeying those throttles at random. Golly it spoiled the fun I was having.

British P-322 The British purchase of the P-322 fore runner of the P-38. It’s early model V-12 Allison engines rotated in the same direction. The plane turned rapidly to the right and slow to the left causing the design change so P-38 engines rotated in opposite directions. The Allison engine nose was shortened by about 18 inches. The British found the P-38 was difficult to service, changed to the P40, then to the P-51.

Hand Crank Starter The batteries on the training planes were shot, thus we were given the privilege of hand cranking, storing our energy in the starter fly weight. This was tiring when the engine refused to start. One had to store a lot of energy in those flywheels to turn a cold engine over enough times to start. It was like pushing a car up hill so you could coast back down to start it. We had plenty of practice cranking. On one occasion when starting a P-40 I got my head too close to the exhaust, it backfired and singed the hair on the right side of my head.

Field Test The last part of the program consisted of three weeks of Field Test. The site was on flat land near a creek with clearings among the trees for tents and planes. We were sometimes marched with full pack but mostly worked on randomly dispersed airplanes.

The Shooter The day we settled into Field Test tents I watched a guy do wonders with a pair of dice. As soon as we settled in fellows started crap games in the dirt streets between our tents. I started watching a group from various squadrons, they were mostly strangers to each other. A lot of people had gathered in a circle and the stakes were high, the barracks nickel ante was now a dollar. One fellow was taking a lot of money out of the game, he'd filled his pockets and was stuffing bills in his shirt. Others held their money in one fist, folded with ends poking between their fingers; behaving like big time operators. I focused on the guy trying to conceal his take. As his winnings became obvious, prudent shooters dropped out, all remained to watch. Slowly all backed off – yet wanting to watch this guy roll the dice.

Paid to demonstrate Money was bet just to watch him roll, to study how he picked up the dice. The dice were changed, fellows held the ones just rolled replacing them with new ones. Money was volunteered so he’d roll again. It was astonishing artistry. He was rolling the dice on open ground with no back stop. He would shake the dice in a conventional motion, you could hear them click. Few believed he was truly letting them randomly move about in his hand. His release was a downward bowling sweep of the arm, the last moment rotating his hand at the wrist. His palm was vertical and outward as his fingers extended to release the dice. It was an odd and unique delivery. The dice went into a flat high speed spin in the dirt stopping on the number he had to make. He'd leave the dice laying in the dirt till money was bet. Money was bet on his rolling a given number on the next roll. He winced, smiled and took the bets with no comment. He'd pick up the dice with no detectable arrangement of how to place them in his hand. Perhaps he could feel the dots and align them in his hand, while seeing if anyone else was going to bet. He was like a pitcher with the ball in his hand behind him looking for the signal for what to throw. He would not roll for less than five bucks. When not enough were willing to contribute, he just tossed the dice into the dirt, smiled and walked away. No one that I knew had seen him before or after.

The reaction was one of admiration for his skill, none were sore losers. All agreed he could not do that if the dice bounced off a back stop. I believed he pre-aligned them in his hand. The delivery, with them spinning like a top, let them come to rest on the desired number. He had paid his dues learning how to roll them and had been well paid for the demonstration.

“Aircraft !” In the field we were march with full pack. While marching along the Lt would yell "Aircraft" and we would hit the dirt becoming as small as possible. I'm not sure what good that would do unless more out of sight down than upright.. I hit the dirt with vigor as if prompted by the real thing when - Wham! I was hit in the back of my head, under the helmet! Damn.... still face down in the dirt I reached back and felt... It was my mess kit. I rolled out of my pack, put the mess kit in place and discovered there was a button over the mess kit pocket. I didn't need a lecture on the benefits of it's use.

“Sniper” We made our way through woods with instructions to "look out for snipers." We wondered if they planted snipers, then concluded they had not, the Lt was leading us in a game of "play like". Our imaginations became active in this "playing like" My thoughts transferred to "what if" this exercise was for real, could we outwit a sniper. Again for the "n th" time I was thankful I was not a rifle combat soldier. In all likelihood I would not survive, by instinct I’d take the lead, which would prove fatal. This was a realistic self evaluation. The young seem willing to take risks, not due to ignorance, but from a sense of duty. Thankfully we were spared harsh realities.

P-39 with cannon through prop hub

P39 Check out A Field Test instructor asked me to help check out a P-39. A class had repaired a valve cover oil leak and he wanted me to stand on the wing to see if the leak was fixed while he ran it up. The fuselage rested horizontally and I stood on the back part of the right wing to look down on the engine. The instructor became engrossed in what he was doing, forgetting I was there, and continued to give it a full power check! The wind tore at my fatigues trying to hurl me into the thin hard edge of the horizontal stabilizer. My hands grasped the bare sheet metal, my toes sought to somehow grasp the wing through my shoes – there was nothing to grasp. I wanted to pound on the outside of the cockpit, for him to cutback, to let me off.. Three times he let up and I yelled, he’d gave if full blast again.... each time I thought my feet would loose their grip. There was time to think and yell, it was pointless, I couldn't kick or pound else I'd loose what grip I had. I looked at the horizontal stabilizer, there was no way to catch myself , ribs, arms, head would hit. Finally he pulled the throttle back, I didn't wait to pound, I jumped off the wing. Whew that was close! Moments before I'd felt like hitting the instructor over the head. Angry words formed but never came out. There was a delay before he climbed down but I was waiting for him saying "Sergeant I recommend, you find a better way, there was nothing to hang on to, you damn near blew me off onto that horizontal stabilizer! He looked surprised, he'd been oblivious and was sincere in his apology.

Curtis Conqueror Engine During a break my P-43 buddy and I found a V-12 Curtis Conqueror engine in a clearing under some trees. Someone had taken it apart and never got it back together. We looked it over, it was like a jigsaw puzzle of pieces. We'd have to reason how to put the parts in their place and properly time them to make it work, it would take quite a while. We went back to our instructor and asked if he'd let us work on it rather than what he had the class doing. He gave us a puzzled look, as if we had rocks in our head, then shrugged and said OK. We ran back to where the engine rested on a primitive mount and started in. There were no manuals or anything to go by. This made it more of a challenge. We were eager to apply what we'd been learning. The crankcase, crankshaft, blocks with pistons & valves were in place, all else was in disarray. We first determined where the pistons were then used the firing order from a similar V-12 Allison engine to determine what the valves should be doing. We studiously figured out how to index the gears to rotate the cam shaft just right, then determined how the magneto should be indexed. It took several tries to coarsely set the cam and magneto rotation, then fine tune the valves and magneto points. We completed it and wished we could place it in a mount to try and start it, we were confident it would.

Entertainment We were confined to the field site for about three weeks. On week ends the regular personnel put on entertainment. One of the officers was a natural entertainer having worked up several routines. He’d sing songs with pantomime motions to go with them. One song began “I’m the Sheik of Aerobe" another “My Little Grass Shack" One went:

"As I scanned the beach

there stood a peach a doin a Hoola Hoola.

I could plainly see she was flirtin with me

and my heart was filled with hope.

But how could you make like a Romeo

through a rusty periscope!"

We laughed uproariously during the entertainment completely enjoying ourselves. The quality of the entertainment was remarkably good, void of foul language or dirty jokes; fun stuff like the little poem above.

Willy & Joe and Sad Sack The Post Paper contained articles, cartoons and sayings. It included Bill Malden’s cartoons of characters he created called Willy & Joe, these became quite famous. Bill did most of these while in the Italian theater of operations. Another artist drew the character Sad Sack. Sad Sack began as a comic character then was "inducted" becoming a "GI." Cartoon strips of Sad Sack became semi official training documents. You always laughed at the situations of Sad Sack. Willy & Joe conveyed situations, sometimes humorous and sometimes sad, always poignantly expressed.

The Post Paper printed the following, author unknown:

Ode to a Bra

A bit of silk, a hank of lace,

plus straps to hold two things in place.

Graduation Ceremony The Field Training phase was the last part of our Airplane Mechanics School. There were some 700 for our graduation ceremony. The main speaker was De Pollo, an Indianapolis 500 winner. A Navy pilot, also one of the speakers, told us a Torpedo story.

Torpedo Juice Torpedoes were powered with alcohol. Sometimes sailors rewarded their efforts with Torpedo Cocktails. Before one flight a sailor came running up to the pilot who was climbing into his plane and asked how far the torpedoes would go. When informed the sailor made a hurried estimate and yelled back, "you'll have to fly in a little closer this time Sir, sorry, we drank about 500 yards off your torpedo!"

Special Interview Prior to Field Training I reported as told to an officer and found myself being interviewed regarding my prior experience and future plans. I told of completing 1 1/2 years of Mechanical Engineering with the intent to finish after the war. He was reading from a folder, which I assumed was my file, and asked of my military experience thus far. I said I served as drill instructor in Basic Training and as shift leader at Missouri Aviation Institute in KC. I had no idea what was in my file he was looking at. He said there is a Potential Engineering Cadet Program, and if selected you would remain here as an Instructor pending being called up – would you be interested? Without hesitation I said "yes sir”. He said understand there is no assurance you will be selected as there are others to be interviewed. These sounded like “canned words”. Then he paused while reading my file. He said you certainly had exceptionally high grades at the Kansas City school. I said before we left KC I was told my name was submitted for ASTP (Army Specialized Training Program) but I’d heard nothing since. He looked, again saying there is nothing in your file, but you should qualify. He paused and said, "you would not be bound by the engineering cadet program if the ASTP program materializes." I responded, "I would much prefer the Engineering Cadet program if given the option." He seemed to be pleased by this response. He rose indicating the interview was over and said, "You will be notified if accepted." I saluted and departed in a military manner, then heard nothing more.

Bulletin Board. After our graduation ceremony each of us checked the bulletin board to see if our name was listed. New lists were posted several times a day, it took time to disperse everyone to various destinations. I checked each list as it was posted. On the third day a single separate sheet carried my name only with orders to report to the Instructors Squadron. To the best of my knowledge I was 1 of some 700. Those good grades from KC seemed to have tipped the scale my way. The fellows I trained with were either sent to Britain, the battle for Italy, or for retaking islands in the Pacific. Persons preceding us had stopped the advance, we inherited the task of reversing the tide. I never heard of or saw any of these buddies again.