By
Jerry Lightner
From the time I
was a little kid, I wanted to fly. I
graduated from high school in June of 1941 and the next month, July 1941? I took
a train to Chicago and enlisted in the Army Air Corps at the ripe old age of 17.
They sent me to Jefferson Barracks, Missouri where I got my shots and learned a
little about marching and the manual of arms.
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During
one of my interviews, I applied for the airplane mechanic course at the
Technical Training Center, Chanute Field, Illinois. I figured that being an
airplane mechanic would be good training for a future pilot. After a few more
weeks of living in a tent, I was sent to Chanute Field. Shortly after arriving
at Chanute, I started the course in airplane mechanics and was still living in a
tent.
One
day I was lying in my tent listening to the radio. What I heard that day played
a great part in my future. The radio announcer was talking about the need for
pilots in the Air Corps. He described a new program in which individuals with a
high school education could apply for pilot training. Up to this time, two years
of college was required and trainees were called Aviation Cadets. The high
school graduate trainees would be called Aviation Students. The training was
exactly the same. The same airfields, the same aircraft, and the same
instructors. But there was one large difference. Upon graduation, the Students
would be given the rank of S/Sgt and the Cadets would receive 2nd Lt. Bars.
Hearing
this broadcast on the radio was my first good break. As soon
as the announcement was over I headed for the orderly room. I told them I wanted
to apply for pilot training under the new pilot program. No one in the orderly
room had heard anything about this new program. The sergeant told me they would
no doubt be getting the official information soon and promised he would call me
as soon as they did. To my surprise, a few days later I was told to report to
the orderly room. Sure enough, they had received the information regarding the
new pilot training program. So I applied for it, completed some written exams,
and took a physical. The orderly room assured me that I would be notified if I
were accepted. So I continued with my airplane mechanics course hoping to soon
hear about the pilot training course.
Weeks turned into
months and the day arrived that I graduated as a Full-fledged airplane mechanic.
I was assigned to the 68'h Materiel Squadron which was at
that time organizing at Daniel Field, Georgia,
to go overseas. I checked in at Daniel Field and we mostly just hung around waiting for our shipping orders. I was living in a tent again and we had to carry our rifle and gas mask all the time. One day I was lying in the tent first( just like the first time) when a Gl came in and told me to report to the orderly room right away. I thought, damn, now what have I done.
So I reported in at the orderly room
and was told to see the Adjutant. I went into his room and popped him a salute.
He asked me if I had applied for pilot training. I nearly dropped my drawers.
That was months ago and I had completely forgotten about it. But I told him yes,
I did, several months ago. He said I had been accepted and was to pack my bags
right away because I was to report to Kelly Field, Texas, for pre-flight
training. I couldn't believe it! But I was on the train for San Antonio that
day. This was good break number 2.
Pre-flight
training was where they tore you down to build you up again. Lots of hazing,
eating square meals, sitting on the first 3 inches of your chair, etc. Only a
very few weeks later, I went to a movie in San Antonio with a couple of buddies.
They were showing one of those world news programs and I couldn't believe
what I saw. There was my old outfit, the 68th Materiel Squadron, getting off a
ship at some overseas destination. I recognized some of my buddies. They must
have left the States just a few days after I left for San Antonio. I guess we
could say that the timing of my departure to Kelly Field was good break #3.
I
finished pre-flight training and headed for Cuero, Texas for primary pilot
training. It was a civilian contract flying school with civilian instructors. My
first solo was somewhat unusual. We were flying the Fairchild PT-19 which was an
open two seats, low wing, and monoplane. My instructor was disliked by everyone.
If he didn't like something you did he would push the stick hard to one side and
crack
your knees.
All his students
had very sore knees. Well, I had a few flying hours and my instructor had me
shooting landings in some pasture. It was about my 3'd take-off when he started
knocking my knees with the stick and yelling that I wasn’t lined up with the
“T”.
I was turning on
final approach about
that time and l decided I was not going to take any more of his crap. so I held
my arms high in the air and told him I was not going to fly the plane any
longer. He said I had better take control or we would crash. I refused so he
eventually landed the plane. He taxied over to the edge of the field and got out
on the wing. He said if I thought I was so damn good I could just go fly the
airplane by myself. I said thanks, I would be glad to. So he jumped off the wing
and I taxied out and took off. I shot a few landings and then picked up my
instructor and flew back to home base. That was my first solo so I got the
traditional shower treatment.
Following primary
training I went to Enid, Oklahoma for basic training. We flew BT-13s and i5s.
They were all metal, two seated monoplanes, and had a canopy. The cockpit seemed
gigantic. It was obviously built for big men. I had trouble reaching the
controls. I had to use several back cushions to reach full rudder. The back
cushions pushed the parachute seat pack so far forward that I couldn't get the
stick all the way back. Conversely, if I used fewer back cushions I could get
the stick all the way back but couldn't reach full rudder. Depending on how many
cushions I used that day, my instructor would criticize me for not using full
rudder or not getting the stick all the way back. He was confused that I could
give him both but not on the same flight. So, after a flight one day, I was in
the cockpit and I asked my instructor to jump on the wing. I showed him the
problem I had with reaching full control. He was sympathetic and very
understanding. Actually, it became sort of a joke between us. Before each flight
from then on, I would ask him if he wanted full rudder or the stick all the way
back.
My
advanced flight training was in multi-engine AT-9S, 11s, and us at Ellington
Field, Houston, Texas. The AT-9 was a silver, all metal plane that looked
somewhat like a tadpole. It took off, cruised, and landed at 120 miles an hour.
We were told that if you could fly it, you could fly anything. That was almost
true. So, I graduated flight training at Ellington, Field, Texas. By this time I
was 18 years of age. Those of us who were Aviation Students were presented with
our silver wings and S/Sgt stripes.
The
Aviation Cadets received their silver wings and a commission as 2nd Lieutenant.
There were a total of only about 500 Sergeant Pilots. It soon became apparent
that enlisted pilots did not work for many reasons. So we were all promoted to
Flight Officer, another new rank. There was no insignia for Flight Officer so we
made our own. We took the cellophane tab used to open a pack of cigarettes and
glued it around a 2nd Lt. bar and we had our insignia. Sgt pilots were often
stopped by the MPs in town and told to take off their pilot wings. I would tell
them that I was a pilot and would not take off my wings. So they would haul me
in and after much checking they would learn that there was such a thing as a
S/Sgt pilot. I think it was some time in the 6os when the Air Force Times had
some kind of a promotion about the youngest, the oldest, the first, the last,
etc. Anyhow, I was in the program as the youngest pilot in the Air force (fixed
wing, of course). I was 18 when I got my wings and I don't think there has ever
been anyone younger. Ex-President Bush is proud of his young age as a pilot and
he was 19. Of course, the fact that I could enter pilot training without college
contributed to my younger age.
When I finished
flight training I went to the Air Transport Command. I picked up airplanes from
the factory and took them to an operational unit. In this job I flew everything
from primary trainers to B-17S and B-24S. That's how I happened to be assigned
to the China, Burma, India Theatre. I was delivering an airplane to Karachi,
India, and when I got there, they assigned the airplane and me to
the base. You have no doubt heard of the "hump". I had a little of
that and 2 monsoon seasons before I got back to the States. From S/Sgt pilot I
was promoted to Flight Officer and then to 2nd Lt. I made Flight
Officer on 19 January 1943 and I made 2nd Lt. on 6 June 43.
Now I
must warn you that the subject of rank is a sore one for me, but I will give you
the basics. From Vietnam I had my base of choice. I wanted to go to Florida and
sure enough, I got it. That was one of my worst decisions. I was assigned to
Headquarters Air Force Eastern Test Range (AFETR). This was not a flying job and
my boss was non-rated. Let me set the stage a little. When
we were in England I applied for, and received, a commission in the Regular Air
Force.
The promotion system for
regulars is different than for reservists. A regular is given a promotion list
service date which determines when he will be promoted to the next higher grade.
The promotion is almost automatic unless he screws up
badly. As a regular officer, my service prior to age 21, called minority
service, could not count toward promotions, but it did count toward total time
in the service. This was enacted so that young reserve officers like me would
not get the jump on those regular troops who graduated from one of the
Academies, since they would be about age 21 or 22 before they graduated and
started their career.
So for
promotional purposes, my regular career started io years after I actually
enlisted. I was given a Promotion List Service Date of io Oct 1951- After the
required time in grade, I would be promoted to the next higher grade on io Oct.
of that year. At the Eastern Test Range I was assigned to the operations
division. I had a ground- pounder as a boss and I was in a non-flying job. I was
aware that I would never be promoted under this guy. After about five years, the
chief of the engineering division asked me if
I would work for him. He promised that, unlike my current boss, he would get me
promoted. So I changed jobs. To my dismay, this colonel had no idea how to get
anyone promoted. So I wasn't. As you can imagine, I was completely fed up. I
felt that I was locked in and had no way out. So, even though I was due to get
my regular promotion in about a year, I said to hell with it. You're right, I
have regretted it ever since. So, I served 8 years at Patrick AFB as a major and
that is the grade I retired in which was on l June 1971 at Patrick AFB, Florida.
Yes, I really liked the old
B-29 very much. I had gone through the heavy bombardment training in B-29s at
Randolph. I think if you know the plane and its systems you will be more likely
to enjoy flying that plane. I guess that's about it. I'm sorry I dumped my lousy
experience at Patrick AFB on you, but it sure ruined my Air Force career and I
would rather forget I was ever associated with those "missile men".
Take it low and
slow and throttle back in the turns,