Starting from that day in November of 1939, when I made my first solo flight and began to barnstorm with Dave Curry and others, I had my mind on one thing, airplanes. Although I had always loved airplanes, and wanted to fly, I was caught up in my dreams now, and totally engulfed in dreams about aviation.

My classmates in high school teased me a lot, and some nicknamed me "Ace" (an expert, especially in combat flying), in jest, but that did not bother me. I knew that I had a future in aviation if I just played my cards right. I spent every spare minute I had, away from my several jobs and school, studying and reading all I could find anywhere about anything pertaining to airplanes and aviation. Math, science, and geography became very much more important, and other subjects became less important. I wish now I had studied English and history a little harder, they are very important, even to an aviator.

I spent almost every Saturday and Sunday at the airport in Mexia or out barnstorming with Dave Curry, Dick Cardwell, or Richard Matthews. I was building flying time by hopping passengers, and learning stunt flying from Dave and Dick as we came and went to and from small towns all over central Texas. We were careful to stay away from big city airports and made sure not to cross an airway, because the airplanes we flew were not licensed and the CAA (Civil Aviation Administration) required the airplane and the pilot both to have a license if they entered a control zone surrounding a big city airport, or if they flew across any airway.

All the flying we did was "by the seat of our pants" because we had no flight instruments in the airplanes and consequently we did not fly at night or in bad weather. It seemed as if every weekend in the winter of 1940 was either rainy or foggy. That was the winter that Dave and Jacky Stewart got caught in the fog early one Saturday morning at the airport in Mexia. Jacky was a student pilot and had wanted to fly early that day so he could go to work on time at a grocery store in Mexia. They were doing some turns above the railroad track between Mexia and Teague when the fog rolled in over the Mexia airport, and when they got back and tried to land, they hit a barn on the approach to the runway and Jacky was killed. Dave was not hurt badly but never got over the tragedy. The airplane belonged to Jacky and was a total loss.

I decided then that I would learn all I could about instrument flying and be careful about getting caught by fog or darkness until I knew how to fly on instruments in an airplane that was equipped for instrument flying. I could hardly wait until I was 16 years old so I could get my license and fly some licensed airplanes that were safe and well equipped.

I became 16 years old in February of 1941, but did not have the money or the time, to go to Dallas and take the tests for my pilot license. The written test was free, but I would have had to rent a licensed airplane for the flight test, which would have taken about an hour, and that was $5.00 I didn't have. I continued to barnstorm and learn all I could.

My sister Loraine wanted to help me all she could and suggested that I write to Mr. William S. Knudsen, Secretary of War, in Washington, D.C., telling him of my ambitions and asking for his advise. I wrote to him and much to my surprise I got a reply in a very short time thanking me for my letter and telling me of a program that would be available to me when I became 18 years old. It was known as CPT (Civilian Pilot Training), and was to prepare young men and women to ferry military airplanes to air bases, and fly government personnel and cargo. Those pilots were known as "Service Pilots" and although they were civilians, they contributed greatly to the war effort of the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War II. I appreciated his letter very much but was disappointed to learn I would have to wait two years to get into the program.

About 2 o'clock in the afternoon of December 7, 1941, a Sunday afternoon, I was sitting on the wheel of an Interstate Cadet airplane, that Dick Cardwell and I were barnstorming with, just south of Thornton along side the Kosse highway, when Bobby Lynn Shelton came running up and said, "The Japs have bombed Pearl Harbor." That bit of news signaled a change in my life and is a moment in history that I will never forget. Anyone old enough to remember can tell you where they were, and what they were doing, when they heard the news that the United States was going to be in World War II.

I will always remember the speech President Roosevelt made to the Congress, asking that they declare war on Germany, Italy, and Japan. Those three nations were known as the Axis nations, and to go to war against one was the same as going to war with all three. The United States joined England, France, and Russia as the Allied Nations in war against the Axis Powers. The speech President Roosevelt made was a very stirring one in which he condemned the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor as a cowardly act by a barbaric nation intent on conquering the world.

Congress declared war and young men 18 years and older flooded the recruiting offices all over the United States to volunteer for service in the Army, Navy, and Marines. I was only 16 years old and felt very badly that I could not do something to help win the war. Then I heard about a training program for boys and girls where they taught aircraft mechanics. It required a Civil Service examination, so I applied, took the exam and passed.

In June of 1942 I received an assignment to Duncan Army AirField in San Antonio, Texas as a student in the Aero Repair school. My hours of study were to be from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., on Monday through Friday, and I was to be paid $30.00 a month while I was in school. I caught the bus to San Antonio and a whole new life began for me. I never lived in Thornton again.

I liked the school very much and studied hard. I was learning a lot about airplanes I had read about and was even getting to do some minor repairs on them. On occasion I would get to sit in the cockpit of one of the fighter planes like the Republic P-35 or Curtiss P-40, and daydream. I missed getting to fly but the next best thing to flying them was working on them. I was very happy, maybe a little homesick but happy.

I shared a room in a boarding house with 2 other boys from the school. The room had lots of windows and my cot was right next to two of them, so I got plenty of breeze to keep cool while I slept. It took a little while getting used to sleeping in the daytime, but I actually liked going to school at night better than going in the daytime, because I had time to build and fly model airplanes in the daytime after I woke up. One of the boys at the school later held the patent for the "U-line control" method of flying model airplanes. He also owned a factory to build U-line control airplanes. His name was Victor Stancell.

I would usually be so tired when I got off work in the morning, I would go straight to bed, sleep until about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, eat breakfast, and then work on model airplanes or fly them until it was dark. There was always some model airplane dope on the desk and one afternoon, when I woke up, I smelled dope very strongly, and my upper lip felt stiff. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror revealed a bright red mustache, bright red model airplane dope. My roommates slept with one eye open from then on. My upper lip was sore for quite a while.

One day I caught the bus to downtown San Antonio to look for a shoe shop to replace the sole on my shoes. The right sole had come loose and was flopping, so when I got off the bus I cut through an alley because it was embarrassing for people to see me walking with it popping every step I took. About half way down the alley I looked back and a man in a suit was following me. I didn't know why he was following me so I started running and when I came to the end of the alley another man grabbed me and the man that had been following me came up behind me and put my hands behind my back and handcuffed me. I was scared half to death.

They took me to the police station and started asking me lots of questions, such as when I got to town, where I came from, and how long I had been in town. I kept telling them that I was a student at Duncan Field, but they would not listen to me. After what seemed to be an eternity, they called the school and found out that I was telling the truth. They let me go and I never did know who they thought I was or what they thought I had done. I never spent much time in downtown San Antonio after that.

After I received my first paycheck, I rented a small apartment near Breckenridge Park and my mother came to live with me. We found that the two of us could live on the same money that it had cost me for room and board. Mother made several friends and did some sewing and quilting to earn some money to help with our expenses. It is hard now for me to realize now how well we lived on so small an income.

I kept in touch with my friends back home through letters from Ruth Joyce Kennedy, a girl friend from Thornton, and Mary Jo Allison, my very first girl friend, in Teague. They were good to write to me until they, like most of those our age, left for the armed service or for defense jobs. Ruth Joyce and Mary Jo both moved to Houston and later married, made their homes there, and raised families. I never saw either of them again until after the war was over.

In late August of 1942, I finished school and was certified as a journeyman aero repair mechanic and was temporarily assigned as an assistant instructor at the school. My instructor was a Mr. Pope, and he let me teach the class most of the time. That was when I learned that one learns more from teaching than being taught. I found out more about that as time went by.

In late September I received a transfer to De Ridder Army Air Base in De Ridder, Louisiana. Mother went back to Thornton and I caught the train for my new assignment. I was now an airplane mechanic and I felt that I would be able to contribute to the war effort and help my country win the war. So far I had dealt only with civilians, and had little, or no, contact with the military; all that would change shortly.

I had to spend the night in Beaumont and change trains to get to De Ridder. I spent the night in the Beaumont Hotel, which was in the downtown section of the city. I woke up about 4 o'clock in the morning to a lot of noise on the street below, and when I looked out of my fourth floor window, I could see people running all about, breaking out store windows, throwing rocks and bottles, and fighting with the police. I had to spend an extra night in the hotel because of the trouble on the streets. I had witnessed a race riot and felt lucky not to have been involved.

I arrived at De Ridder, rented a room at Mrs. Huffman's boarding house, and reported to the air base for assignment. I found out I was one of the first civilian employees of the sub-depot and was made a crew chief, even though my crew had not arrived yet. I was assigned to the aero repair department, in the inspection section, which included the flight line. I was thrilled because I could run the airplane engines and get to go on test flights from time to time.

I made application for one of the government apartments at the Brantley Heights apartment complex on the north side of town, and when my application was approved I wrote my mother to come live with me. She had Coleman Kennedy move her from Thornton to De Ridder and she remained there with me until I entered the army.

There were lots of new employees arriving every day from schools all over the country. I soon had a complete crew assembled, and much to my surprise, I discovered that I was the youngest in age but the oldest in seniority. Now I knew why I had been made crew chief. There was resentment among some in my crew because of my age and I soon learned to assign their duties and stay out of their way. I spent most of my time on the flight line.

One morning I looked up to see a group of girls coming down the flight line with their toolboxes, and when I greeted them, they said they were sent to change the spark plugs in the B-25 next to where we were standing. I told them to help themselves. A little while later one of them came up to me and asked where the spark plugs were. I don't know if it showed or not, but I could hardly keep from laughing. I couldn't believe their crew chief would send them out on the flight line to change plugs in an airplane and not at least show them how. I helped them pull the cowling and change the plugs. One of the girls caught my eye; I wanted to know more about her.

A short while later I was reassigned to the evening shift and so was the girl that had caught my eye on the flight line that day. I started a car pool to and from work and she was in the group that I picked up at Ma Hanchey's boarding house. I started to make plans for a date with her. Her name was Lois Cooper and she was from Alabama. She had a brother, Newman Cooper, stationed at Camp Polk near Leesville, Louisiana, and her first cousin, Verna Cooper, was in our car pool. I liked Lois; she was a very nice girl and had grown up in hard times. We had a lot in common.

The first time I asked Lois for a date, she said she already had a date, but I did not give up easily. I tried again in a couple of weeks and she finally consented to go out with me on our next night off. I could hardly wait for the workweek to end, because she had said she had never been to Texas and I planned to take her to Newton, Texas which was just over the state line.

An airplane mechanic had come to another crossroad that would change the rest of his life.