At daddy’s request, after graduating from Washington-Henry High School at the age of 17, I enrolled as a part time freshman at William & Mary College in Williamsburg, Va. I worked part time at the Yorktown Naval Mine Depot. A bus would pick up a load of students three mornings a week to work there.

The bomb shells were all empty, so the danger was minimal. There wasn’t much work to do. We were expected to look busy all the time, or be out of sight. Smoking was allowed on the loading dock, but I didn’t smoke. I would light a cigarette to hold in my hand so I could take a break with the others. Sometimes we would climb on top of some cartons and sleep. The fork trucks steered backwards. To turn right, the steering wheel had to be turned counter clockwise. It took some getting used to.

My room assignment was, temporarily, in the attic of Old Dominion Hall. It was a large room with many beds. Before long, the president’s old kitchen (it was a separate building) was made ready for students. Four of us were assigned to the president’s kitchen. It was in the middle of campus next to the Wren building. The president greeted us and invited us to visit him any time. We didn’t. It seems that that deluxe quarters would be reserved for seniors.

I seldom went home on the week-end. For one thing, I didn’t have transportation. Daddy would come and get me occasionally. Mother wanted me to feel at home when I did go. She would see to it that I had chores to do - like cleaning the chicken house. Do you blame me for not wanting to go home?

One week-end that I was home, I asked Daddy to tie my bicycle on the car so I could have it at school. Apparently, Daddy thought I shouldn’t have it there. He said that if I wanted the bicycle at school, I would have to ride it there. I did. All 60 miles in about 5 hours. Maybe he was right in not wanting me to have the bicycle at school. Once I was riding it on campus approaching a narrow gate in the brick wall. Someone was coming through the gate about the time I would get there. I was going fast. The wall stopped me.

Daddy was chairman of the local draft board. He was criticized for sending their sons to war while his son went to college. It was unfair criticism because I wasn’t even draft age. I wasn’t doing too good with my studies, so when I became 18, daddy suggested I enroll in the Air Force. This appealed to me.

At Daddy's request, I joined the USAF as soon as I was eighteen. My first assignment was at Miami Beach for basic training. We did the usual stuff including KP. Most of the KP was in modern restaurants - easy to clean, not much work. I didn't have to pull any guard duty. Just before my group was scheduled for bivouac, I got the flu. Sick call was geared to gold brickers. My room was on the fifth floor of a motel. We were not supposed to use the elevator = I did. We were not supposed to ride the city bus - I did. When I got to the doctor, my temperature was 103. I had to go back to the motel, pack my belongings, check them at supply and return to the hospital. By then my temperature was 105. I stayed in the hospital for several weeks while my group went on bivouac. I never did go on bivouac, but I stayed with my original group. We were not given any passes while in basic training. While in the hospital, after I was well, I spent time on the beach and was taken to movies in Miami.

I qualified for flight training. I was sent to NC State College in Raleigh for some classes. The only one I remember was Geography. From there I went to Macon, GA for some ground school and flight training in a Piper J-3 by a civilian instructor. We got eight hours of dual instruction which entitled us to solo. However, the Air Force did not include solo flight at this site. Some of the cadets did pay to solo on their own - I didn't. My next assignment was preflight training at Maxwell Field in Montgomery, AL.

From Montgomery to Basic Flight training. I don't remember just where that was. I don't find any of my military records before getting my wings. I have a complete record including each flight since then. Basic Flight training was in Steerman by-wing, open cockpit P-17s. The landing gear was narrow which made the plane prone to "ground looping" (tipping so a wing hits the ground spinning the plane around) when landing. I managed not to have that happen to me. I was one of the first in my class to solo. The P-17 was great for acrobatics. It was a fun plane to fly. I enjoyed doing acrobatics. After doing a "whip stall" (aiming the plane straight up until it fell backwards) which bent an aileron making it difficult to keep level, I learned that "whip stalls" were not recommended. I wrote the plane up as being left wing heavy.

A hurricane was forecasted while I was in Basic Flight Training. The planes were flown out of the area for the duration. The students in the final phase of Basic Flight training flew them out. The wind was still high when they came back. We went out to the runway to catch the wing-tips as soon as they landed. The wind made it so they landed at almost zero ground speed. The Steerman landing air speed is about 40 miles per hour, so that must have been the wind speed. Several "ground looped".

My next assignment was to Shaw Field, Sumpter, SC for a month. The war was running down so the training schedule was delayed. I missed the first muster at Shaw. I don't remember why. At that muster, the cadets were assigned work details. One other cadet also missed the muster. We checked the bulletin board for our assignments. Our names were not there. Instead of being disciplined, we were assigned to the finance office. This was in the dead of summer. Most of the cadets were assigned to the flight line to fuel airplanes, etc. The finance office was air conditioned and they had very little work for us to do. The head officer in the finance office told us that as long as one of us was there during office hours, the other could do as he pleased. He even issued us permanent passes to town so we could leave and return without restrictions. The other cadets had to apply for a pass each time they left the base. It seemed like a long month because there wasn't much to do. We didn't fly any while there.

After being assigned to a barracks, a cadet asked to borrow $10. I gave him the money. After he left the other cadets said, "He owes everybody. You will never get it back." So I gave him $10. I never asked for it back. I think I was the only one he did pay back.

Finally we went to Napier Field at Dothan, AL for advance training. Three of us were assigned to one instructor. He was peeved because he was made an instructor instead of being a fighter pilot. He took it out on us. The other two cadets asked to be, and got, transferred to another instructor. I stayed with him. I think he taught me well. The need for pilots was diminishing. Cadets were washing out right and left. My roommate had a minor taxiing accident and was out. My roommate was heart-set on being a pilot. He was heart-broken. I figured my time would come so I relaxed. Somehow I made it.

I was one of the last in my class to solo the advance trainer (AT-6). When it was finally time to solo, I turned on the final approach with my wheels up. I realized it when I called the tower to report "turning on final, wheels, oops, not down." The instructor lowered the wheels, I landed, He gave me a pink slip (indicating that I failed the lesson). I just knew that would be my last lesson, but not so. The next day he let me solo.

One of the exercises we did was to fly a low level cross country course. We were supposed to fly at 200 feet. Most of the others flew at tree-top level. I started that way, but while flying along a rail road track, waving at the section crew on the ground, I looked up to see power lines staring me in the face. I pulled up sharply too late. I heard the "ping!" but kept flying. Needless to say, I finished the course at 200 feet. After landing, I searched the plane over for evidence of contact, but found none. I told no one until after I was out of the Air Force Reserve. I didn't hear about it, either.

Some of the new pilots went directly to gunnery school after graduating. I had my first furlough. I arranged for a flight on an Air Force Transport (C-47) from Tallassie, FL to Washington, DC the day after graduation. I figured it would be easier to get home from DC than from Dothan. I asked a permanent pilot, that was in the youth group at the church I went to in Dothan, if he could fly me to Tallahassee that afternoon. He said he could but he had an errand to do first. Three of the new pilots had to be flown to another field for gunnery training. The twin engine plane he usually flew was in for maintenance, so he needed two other pilots to help him fly them in AT-6s. I asked if I could help; he said, "yes". We landed at a main base and then we were directed to an auxiliary field. I was the third to take off and expected to follow the leader to the new location. I wasn't briefed on where it was. My plane was hard to start; they were about out of sight by time I was ready to go. Another plane was in front of me on the taxi strip. It sat there revving its engines. I pulled off the taxi strip and went around him and took off. I kept full throttle at low altitude until I could see the other planes. On the way back, I had one of my worst scares while flying. We had radio contact with each other. The permanent pilot asked if I wanted to "dog fight". It sounded like fun to me. We tried to get on the other's tail. Once we approached each other head-on. I veered to my right, he veered to his left. I just knew we would hit. We didn't.

The permanent pilot took me to Tallahassee where I spent the night in the BOQ (Bachelor Officer's Quarters). I was low priority on the passenger list. The DC-3 was supposed to carry only 22 passengers. I was number 24. We all went. In fact I sat in the co-pilot's seat and piloted most of the way.

In the ready room in DC there were several pilots. I asked if anyone was going to Richmond. A Lt. Colonel offered me a ride in the back seat of an AT-6.. I checked out a chute and went with him. I turned in the chute in Richmond and, luckily, got a receipt for it. (several years later I got a bill for the chute (I sent a copy of the receipt and heard no more about it.). Once in Richmond I hitch-hiked to Central Field, rented a Piper Cub and landed in the front pasture (we didn't have a telephone then). There was a hay-stack in the middle of the pasture. The wind was such that I had to come in over the silo. I side slipped the Cub to loose altitude fast after the silo and curved around the hay-stack. There wasn't a lot of room. Daddy had said that he would only fly if it was the only way to get somewhere he had to go. He jumped in the plane and said, "Can you take me up?" That Cub had a break on only one wheel. I held that break and revved the engine until the plane started to turn. I released the break and took off, barely clearing the power lines. I think that was the only time Daddy was ever in an airplane.

After the two week furlough, I was assigned to Brooks Field, San Antonio, TX. This turned out to be a four month holding period. My only duty was to maintain my flying skills. I flew a lot. We also practiced shooting Skeet. Some of the pilots were lazy and allowed me to take their turn at the Skeet field. I wasn't too good at it, but I enjoyed it.

The Mess Hall was over a mile from the barracks. We were expected to walk. The Motor Pool was close to the barracks. I obtained a military driver's license so I could check out a bus. I would take a load to the Mess Hall, park the bus, eat, go back and return the bus.

In October 1945 I was separated from active duty at Randolph Field, right next to Brooks. I stayed in the reserve.

A civilian but still in uniform, I hitch-hiked east from San Antonio. One of my rides was in a 1938 Ford four-door convertible with two divorced girls. They called the car "Caledonia". Caledonia got tired several miles from a town. A Military Police on a motorcycle stopped to see if he could help. I suspected the fuel pump, but didn't have any tools to do the "end of belt" trick I did on the school bus. The MP pulled us to the next town with the motorcycle. It was the fuel pump. On down the road, we were stopped at a spot check point. Both of the girls' driver's licenses had expired. The Judge was in. I went with them to pay the fine. The Judge asked if I had a valid driver's license. I showed him my military license. He let us go as long as I drove. We parted somewhere in northern Florida.

Daddy had enrolled me in the University of Virginia to start, I think, the second semester. I would go, but I wasn't ready to go home to clean the chicken house and do the milking. I Stopped in Raleigh, NC, got a job at The Raleigh Chick Hatchery. I stayed at the hatchery and had to turn the eggs every four hours during the night. I had other duties during the day like making deliveries, picking up supplies and boxing chicks. I wrote home, as I had done every week while away, assuring Daddy that I would go to the university as he planned. He wrote back that I was ruining my life, come home at once. I did for a visit one week-end. He had bought a small saw mill for me to be interested in. I wasn't.

I attended church and youth group while in Raleigh. I was allowed to use the company step van for personal use. I even used it on dates.

A Japanese US citizen worked at the hatchery. His job was to determine the sex of day old chicks. He tried to show me how. I got about half of them right. He never seemed to miss. His parents were put in a special camp even though they were also citizens. I asked why not him. His reply was that only Japanese had good enough eye-sight to do his job so he was exempt.

I tried to buy a car while in Raleigh. I picked out a 1932 Ford Coupe that I figured I could make payments on. Wrong! I was under 21 so I did not qualify for a loan. I'm glad; now that I know more about old cars. It wasn't a bargain then, but would be now.

I went to the University of Virginia. I was lucky again. I was assigned to a room usually designated for upper classmen. It was a one story building near the Rotunda. My room opened to the outside. I don't remember roommates. I am sure I had at least one.

I ignored the Fraternity bids. I saw enough of fraternities at William & Mary. I didn't want any part of them.

My grades weren't too good at the University, either. I didn't apply myself. I wasn't interested.

One date I had while there was exciting. I rented a Steerman air plane (like one I trained in) and took my date up to do some acrobatics She agreed to the acrobatics, but I told her to kick the back of my seat if they were too much for her. (we couldn't talk over the engine and wind noise.) She didn't kick the seat. When back on the ground, I asked how she liked it. Her reply, "I was too scared to kick the seat."

Two semesters of U. Va. was enough for me. The next year I stayed on the farm and went to Richmond Professional Institute (now The Virginia Commonwealth University)

I drove Grandfather's '36 Chevrolet to class. One day the street where I usually parked had "No Parking, Street cleaning" signs posted. I parked elsewhere. The next day the signs were gone, but no cars were parked on that street. It was early, so I assumed it was OK to park there. After class there was a parking ticket on the car. The street cleaner had gone around the car. A storm had delayed the cleaning. It also blew down the signs. No excuse! I paid the $5 fine.

There is an island in the James River near the Boulevard Bridge. There is a factory and an abandoned stone quarry on the island. The stone quarry made a good swimming hole. The water was clear and deep. Some other students and myself drove Grandfather's car through the factory lot to get to the quarry to swim. I passed a truck that was backing up on the factory lot. As I approached the truck it turned, ripping the rear fender from the car. It didn't hurt the truck. I had to buy a fender. The water was fine.

When it came time to register for my second year at RPI, I sat on the steps of the administration building for some time pondering whether or not I really wanted to register. I finally did register for my junior year. I stayed in the dorm for most of that year.

Uncle Sam was still paying my way. Money didn't seem to be a big problem, though I didn't have much. I noticed an ad on the bulletin board for a math tutor at the University of Richmond. I answered the ad and got the job. It was for a freshman who lived in town. Part of my pay was a room in his family home. The home was in the West End of Richmond near the University. It was a glamorous house. I don't remember the boy.s name, but he was not interested in learning math. He just wanted me to do his homework. I didn't stay long.

A chemistry professor lectured about combustion. She said that rubbing a match on a rough surface raised the kindling point of the match head until it ignited. I raised my hand to correct her. "The kindling point is constant. The temperature increased until it reaches the kindling point". She looked at her notes and replied, "I have been using these notes for 10 years. They say the kindling point is what increases. See me after class." The after class meeting was unproductive. She didn't give me a chance to speak. She only called me down for interrupting the class. I got a "C" for the semester.

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