AN
AIRMAN'S STORY
Part
I
After
four years of easy courses, little or no study, football, school
plays and fun I graduated from high school in 1951. Without a plan or
ambition I just knew that I did not want to stay on the farm with my
brothers and parents. To many sons and too little land when combined
with ten years of milking cows twice a day, 365 days a year were
factors leading to an aversion to farm life.
Looking
around at my buddies that spring I realized that they had plans such
as going to college or joining the service. Since the idea of a
military life didn’t appeal to me and with the Korean conflict
increasing the chances of being drafted, marriage or college were the
only options. With little preparation or forethought I choose the
college route. My teachers had often reminded me that I was capable
of much better academically than my grades indicated. and with this
rationale I thought all I had to do was start studying to be a
successful college student.
That
fall Woody Hayes and I started our tenures at OSU. I moved into the
stadium dorms and began a new phase of my life. Many of my open bay
dorm mates were old men of 20 to 25 years old and attending college
on the GI bill.
I
learned a lot that year. The veterans taught me to play poker, to
their benefit and not mine. I learned to drink pitchers of draft beer
while taking part in pseudo-intellectual conversations in the High
St. bars. Most importantly I learned that without a math background
and with poor study habits, college was not going to be an extension
of high school. Lacking the basic math skills required for chemistry
classes I was unable to grasp even the basics of the gas laws I
decided to cut class and learn tennis from friends. College was not a
total loss because I absorbed some intellectual insights from my
exposure to the serious students and the general academic atmosphere
of a university. The lessons learned outside of the classroom have
served me well in my life.
I
did succeed in the mandatory ROTC program. I didn’t choose the Air
Force branch the Air Force got me by default. On our first day of
class the instructor had us line up in front of him in our Army
uniforms. He then shouted that all men on his left were in the Army
ROTC and all on his right were Air Force.
Woody
lost his first game to lowly Indiana and I joined the chorus singing
“Goodbye Woody, Goodbye Woody, we hate to see you go”. We
predicted that Mr. Hayes would not last more than one season at the
“grave yard of coaches.” I barely survived my first year earning
a stellar 1.75 GPA
I
headed back to the farm for the summer with no idea of what I would
do. After unsuccessfully applying for summer jobs my welcome at home
was wearing thin. In those days young men were expected to leave home
seek his own life or accept a subordinate position in the family
business of farming. I received notice that OSU had placed me on
academic probation. That information when coupled with increasing
family tensions at home drove me to find a way out.
One
afternoon in mid July of 1952 I hitch hiked the 18 miles to the Army
recruiting station in Springfield. Sgt Klontz, the recruiter asked
me what branch of service I preferred. Because my main reason for
enlisting was to get away from home. I answered that it made no
difference. Luckily he choose the Air Force for me.
When
I informed my parents of my impending departure for the Air Force I
noticed a barely suppressed smile on my father’s face. On the first
day of August of 1952 my Dad dropped me off at the recruiting station
where we said our goodbyes
Myself
and several other recruits took a bus to the Ft. Hayes induction
center in Columbus. We were given physicals, aptitude tests, sworn
in. We were then bused over to the train station and given a train
ticket to Syracuse in upstate New York.
At
the end of my first ever train ride we were met by a blue Air Force
bus and hauled of to Sampson AFB, across Lake Seneca from Geneva, N.
Y. Sampson, like Parks AFB in California was a WWII Navy base that
had been reactivated by the newly formed Air Force to accommodate the
huge influx of new recruits for the cold war build up of forces.
Sampson, Lackland and Parks in California were all basic training
bases without planes or runways.
Getting
off the bus at Sampson we newly minted Airman Basics were greeted by
the ubiquitous shouting drill instructors, some still dressed in Army
uniforms. We were issued our winter blue and summer khaki uniforms
along with one-piece, olive drab fatigue coveralls. Thus began the
time honored military tradition of breaking down individual
personalities and instilling fear of, and subordination to,
authority.
I
realized that I would have to bury my anti-authority attitude if I
was going to succeed in this program. I considered it my last chance
to do something with my life.
Near
the end of the eight weeks of training we were asked to list our
preferences for an Air Force career field. My first choice was
gunnery school and the second was a six months long aircraft and
engine (A&E) maintenance school at Shepard AFB at Wichita Falls,
Texas.
Against
all odds I completed basic training and received my first promotion
from Airman Basic to Airman 3rd
class and was assigned to A&E school.
A
chartered DC-3 carried a planeload of us potential aircraft mechanics
from Syracuse Airport to Shepard AFB. When we deplaned in the middle
of the night the first thing I noticed was the pungent odor of the
Burkburnett oil refineries in the air. Now, whenever I detect that
aroma, I am transported back to that October night in 1952.
The
Korean conflict was at its peak in 1952 and the newly formed Air
Force was in a major buildup phase to recover from the post WWII draw
down. Sheppard’s sole mission then was to train aircraft mechanics
for all the aircraft in the AF inventory, mostly WWII vintage planes.
The
school operated in three shifts, 24 hours a day. My student squadron
and flight were assigned to “C” shift from 16:00 to 24:00 hrs. We
were required to march to and from school each day, passing in review
and paced by a stationary military band. The academic courses were
divided into phases such as engines, electric, hydraulics etc.
At
the completion of each phase the flight was given a day off. The
squadron, however used these “phase days” to assign the students
to extra duty, mostly as KP slaves. We would report to the mess hall
at 05:00 and work until 20:00, cleaning tables, scrubbing pots and
pans etc. We worked under the supervision of sadistic of full time
mess hall personnel. The work was hard and degrading.
We
were allowed to go to down on weekends on day passes and wear
civilian clothes. In those low paying times the civilian clothing
consisted of khaki uniform pants rolled up at the cuff, black low
quarters, a civilian belt and some form of aloha shirt. The civilian
items were passed back and forth as the need arose.
The
residents of the then small town of Wichita Falls were less than
welcoming to military people. “Lock up your daughters”. The
Yankees are coming.
I
spent most of my off duty time on base. I did send home for some of
my college clothes including pegged pants and white bucks. I had to
have the clothes altered to compensate for the 40 pounds I has lost
since enlisting. Many of us went to the on base movies when not in
school or on extra duty. The three theaters were open 24 hours a day
to accommodate the three shifts of school. The movies were first run,
uncut versions of the latest from Hollywood.
The
petty graft that I had first encountered in Basic continued at
Sheppard. Each payday we were required to contribute to the “red
cross fund” in order to receive our pay. I later learned that my
squadron commander, a non-rated Captain, faced a court marital and
was found guilty of fraud and extortion.
(To be continued)
(47.4%)
(52.6%)
33.7 years
40.5 years