Although I have no experience as a writer, for some time now I have thought it would be interesting to record some recollections of my military service during World War II. Since retiring in 1983 I have enjoyed using a personal computer for letters as well as preparing reports in connection with some occasional consulting work. Those who have used this modern tool will certainly agree it beats the typewriter by quite a large measure. Without the computer and good word processing software this project would probably never have been started. Today is December 7, 1991, the 50th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and it seems logical to begin this story on that same date in 1941. After fifty years, it may be belated to attempt writing memoirs at all, but feel that it will be an enjoyable and nostalgic undertaking. In order to set the stage perhaps I should use a few lines to go back in time and describe what happened to me on that fateful day.

It was my senior year at Clemson and my fiancee' and I had just completed a wonderful dance week-end and were winding down her visit with a drive around campus. It was a beautiful day and as we drove around were listening to those wonderful sounds on the car radio that we now refer to as the "Music of Your Life". Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a special news flash announcing the attack on Pearl Harbor. To say we were shocked is an understatement, although there were many people who thought that the U.S. might soon become involved in a war and to some extent were preparing. However, the actual radio announcement seemed quite unreal to us; more like the Orson Welles radio show some years earlier - just make believe.

Within minutes we realized that this was definitely not make believe but was very real. I do not remember all of the details of our parting, but am sure that with much sadness, concern and fear of the future Margaret went back to Limestone College, where she was a Junior, and I returned to my barracks to listen to the latest news reports, talk with other students and speculate on coming events.

The six months following the attack at Pearl Harbor passed rather quickly, graduation and commissioning ceremony took place and on June 12th, along with others, I boarded a train that would take me to my first duty station as an army second Lieutenant of infantry at Camp Wolters, Texas. There were almost 100 of my classmates also posted to this base and we were assigned to various units. Even though our contacts were limited during duty hours we enjoyed some pleasant off duty times together during the following months.

In July, about six weeks after reporting for active duty, my true love Maggie and some family members came to Texas and we were married in the base chapel. We all thought the chaplain was about as nervous as we were - later learning that he had never performed a double ring ceremony before. After a very short honeymoon week-end, it was back to duty with the troops. Our life at Camp Wolters was rather standard; an apartment off base in a private home, enjoying being newlyweds and attending officers club functions from time to time. My classmates on base, both married & single, made these new surroundings seem more like home and there were ample opportunities to make new friends, many of whom we kept up with for many years after the war.

Camp Wolters was classified as an Infantry Replacement Training Center (IRTC) and its function was to provide basic training to new recruits (both volunteers and draftees). The course lasted thirteen weeks and included at least an introduction to all basic infantry skills: close order drill, rifle and weapons range, physical training, field maneuvers & bivouac, bayonet training, sanitation & first aid just to mention a few. As a brand new second lieutenant, not yet 21 years of age, I often had almost as much to learn as the recruits, but with the invaluable assistance of a regular army Tech Sergeant and a Corporal, we managed. It was a bit intimidating to learn that some men in my platoon were nearly twice my age.

Just a few weeks after our wedding, I was assigned as Officer in charge of two cars of a troop train to deliver newly graduated basic trainees to their new duty station near Shreveport, LA. Maggie and I were not too thrilled about being separated for several days this soon after our wedding, but I had my orders, so off I went. The troops were loaded into day coaches and a staff sergeant was assigned to accompany me on the trip. The train departed Camp Wolters early one morning with arrival at our destination in Louisiana scheduled for the following afternoon. The train consisted, if my memory serves me correctly, of our two coaches, several others that were going to other bases and a kitchen car for preparing meals for the troops. The trip went smoothly, none of the soldiers caused any problems, meals were served from mobile carts rolled along the aisles. Sometime after the evening meal, probably nine o'clock or after, some members of the train crew came through to make up the berths for the night. Our troops settled in and everything went satisfactorily during the night. The following morning we got the men up, folded away the berths and had breakfast as the train rolled along through southeastern Texas.

At this point my Sergeant and I re-checked our orders and found that our troops were not all scheduled for the same destination; a detail that was not made clear to us before we left Camp Wolters. After reviewing the options we decided that the Sergeant would take charge of the group that was being sent to one base and I would remain with the others and see them safely to their destination. I do not remember the names of the bases, but both were located not too far from Shreveport. Fortunately, the train crew seemed to know both destinations so when the train made the first stop, the Sergeant off-loaded his group on to G.I. trucks that were waiting. I gave him the Service Records and orders and off ‚he went to deliver them and I traveled on with the remaining soldiers and turned them and their records over to an officer who was waiting at the station. By the Grace of Providence both groups were delivered to their new duty stations and then the Sergeant and I, separately, made our way back to Camp Wolters. Fortunately, this was a one time experience for me and I was most grateful that it worked out with reasonable success.

For the next several months I was assigned to duty as platoon leader in one of the companies of the 62nd Battalion ‚and with the help of two able NCOs, took these new recruits through the three month basic training course and rather enjoyed seeing the men start the transition from civilians to soldiers. They were not ready for combat, but were on their way to becoming part of a diversified military force that took the battle to the enemy in all theaters of war around the world.

Sometime in the late Fall of 1942 I was re-assigned to the Battalion Headquarters as the Assistant Adjutant - an administrative job with an assortment of staff duties including personnel record keeping, kitchen and mess inspection, and overseeing the operation of the Guard House and the Battalion Day Rooms. Not a real soldiering type of a job, but it was an interesting assignment for a short period of time.

After about eight months of active duty as a platoon leader and the brief staff duty it occurred to me that there might be a better way of fighting a war than on the ground, in the heat, cold, mud and other miseries which the Infantry & other ground services must endure. During my senior year in high school I had earned a Private Pilots license through the Civilian Pilot Training Program, so in early 1943, with Margaret’s blessing, I began to investigate the Army Air Corps pilot training that was available for junior grade officers. Not being experienced in the ways of the Army I wrote directly to the Headquarters, U.S. Army Air Corps, Washington, DC requesting an application for pilot training as a student officer. Some weeks later I received authorization to report to Sheppard Field, Wichita Falls ‚Texas for a physical examination. The battalion adjutant approved a 24 hour pass and Margaret & I drove up for the exam, returning the same day. Shortly thereafter notification arrived indicating that the physical requirements had been met and on April 7, 1943 was ordered to San Antonio for pre-flight training.

It was wonderful having Margaret with me during this time of transition. We were fortunate to have an almost new 1941 Studebaker President (a wedding gift from Margaret's parents) and were able to pack and carry with us all of our possessions - which weren't all that much, but we felt right at home and were full of all the confidence of youth. Having the car made it possible for us to travel rather casually between assignments. Normally we had several days to make the trip and enjoyed seeing parts of the country that we had never seen. Each change of station was rather like a mini-vacation. Even with rationing we always had ample gas coupons for the trips plus a few extra gallons for a bit of sightseeing.

During the next nine months or so we made it through the three phase pilot training system that was standard at that time. The training at San Antonio lasted about 30 days and consisted primarily of indoctrination, several preliminary ground school classes and then assignment to a Gulf Coast Training Command Primary Flight Training School. For us, it was Corsicana, Texas. After the drive up from San Antonio, we were quite lucky to find an apartment in a private home and had a day to settle in before reporting for duty.

I don't remember exactly, but it seems that our class had about fifty aviation cadets and eight student officers. The trainer was the PT-19; quite a nice low wing monoplane with a 175 HP in-line 6 cylinder engine and a pleasure to fly. This airplane had two open cockpits which required the wearing of helmets and goggles and gave us the feeling of being barnstormers or even World War I flyers. The civilian instructor pilots, in the front cockpit communicated with the students by a gosport tube which was just a rubber tube system connecting to our helmets at the ears. The instructor talked, or blew into, a funnel-like mouthpiece and was very difficult to understand above the engine noise and the wind rushing past the windscreen. When students did something particularly poorly or frustrating, the instructors had a way of flapping the joystick rapidly from side to side - rather painful to the inside of both knees or thighs! After about three months and in view of the critical need for pilots, quite a high percentage of us completed some sixty hours of flying, about the same in ground school and moved on to Enid Army Air Field, Enid, Oklahoma for Basic Flight Training.

Many of the cadets and student officers from Corsicana were on the same orders for basic flight training at Enid, and I believe it was here we became known as the class of 43K which in typical military jargon meant that we would be completing our flight training in December of 1943. Some of us that is, since there were always the inevitable washouts, occasional casualties and holdovers for various reasons. The drive from Corsicana to Enid was only a matter of one day and we arrived in high spirits, looking forward to the next phase of my training.

The aircraft used for basic training was the BT-13, often referred to at the "Vultee Vibrator"; a nickname whose true meaning became quite clear the first time the power-off stall was demonstrated. It was a toss-up whether the wings would come off or we would lose our teeth! Initially this characteristic was quite un-nerving, but in the end became just another endearing trait of this workhorse trainer. This plane had a 400 HP radial engine, manual crank down wing flaps and a two way radio and intercom system. Quite a step up from the primary trainer which had none of these refinements

During the three months at Enid my wife and I had a beautiful, almost brand new garage apartment in a lovely residential section of town. Maggie had found the apartment and we fell in love with both the owners and these‚deluxe living quarters. Mr & Mrs Humphries, the owners, as part of their contribution to the war effort had converted the second floor of a large double garage into a most pleasant, perfectly furnished and efficient apartment which provided us with most comfortable living accommodations. We felt as though we were living the good life - and were.considering other quarters that we had later on during the training. Almost every Sunday, when I was not scheduled to fly, our landlord invited us and another couple to their home for most delightful breakfasts, often with juice, eggs, bacon or sausage, potatoes, toast and coffee.

Such memorable times for us when we were far from our own families. Maggie and I exchanged Christmas cards with this lovely couple for many years after the war ended. After Mr Humphries death we continued the exchange Christmas cards every year. I shall never forget one of the last Christmas cards she sent us that included some little stick figures of herself with the following comment: "I'm still taking the same number of steps, but I don't seem to cover nearly as much territory". She was such a dear person and we felt blessed just to have known her.

Flight training at this level took some rather giant steps including additional aerobatics, cross country trips, some formation flying and night flying - even one three leg solo night cross country of about 150 miles. During this basic training phase we were also introduced to instrument flying and spent a few hours in the Link Trainer. All rather intimidating to a student pilot with less than 100 hours of flying time. But, in the end, this part of the training was completed and we were about ready to move on to the final phase - Advanced flight training.

As a sidelight, I recall an incident that occurred at Enid that will probably always remain in my memory. It had to do with an aircraft known as the B-26, a twin engine medium bomber manufactured by Martin and nicknamed the "Marauder". This airplane had a reputation which in todays computer lingo would be referred to as "user unfriendly". Although I never had any personal experience, it was reported to be somewhat difficult to fly and newly assigned pilots were cautioned to exercise extreme caution. The stories may have been exaggerated, but nonetheless most of us developed a healthy respect for this airplane and its reputation, figuring that those who flew them must be quite expert. But to get back to the incident; one afternoon as we waited our turn to fly, three of these birds circled the field, landed and taxied to the transient ramp. Our interest being quite high several of us wandered over to look these airplanes over. You can imagine our surprise, if not shock, when the pilots exited the plane. They were all young ladies, members of the WASP, ferrying the planes from one of Martin's manufacturing plants to some air base. To say our egos were considerably deflated is definitely an understatement. In spite of all that was rumored about the B-26, the plane did herculean work in Europe & elsewhere and was generally well liked by those who survived the initial hours and mastered the peculiarities of this aircraft.

During our weeks of Basic Flight Training all trainees, both aviation cadets and student officers, were observed and tested to determine our individual paths to graduation. I was never sure just how scientifically the selections were made, but by one means or another some went to single engine advanced training and would fly the AT-6. The rest of us more conservative types were assigned to twin engine advanced training which, for me, was Frederick Army Air Field, Frederick, Oklahoma. At this base there were two aircraft in use; the Cessna UC-78 "Bamboo Bomber" or "Bobcat", as it was more affectionately known, and the more sophisticated Curtis AT-9. This was a rather formidable all metal airplane with two 280 HP radial engines, retractable landing gear, electrically operated flaps, side by side seating and a full panel for instrument flying & some basic radio navigation equipment. One of its more notable features was the power off glide characteristic of a rock! After the initial shock wore off and with a few hours under our belt we found the aircraft quite an adequate trainer, but did require constant attention until parked on the ramp and the engines shut down.

Off-base housing was very limited in this small Oklahoma town and Maggie and I felt quite lucky to find a room in a private home, with limited kitchen privileges. Since my flight schedule was often early morning, we were able to be up before the family and fix our breakfast. Usually, quite a simple meal of juice, dry cereal, coffee and either toast, donuts or sweet roll. We seldom had a full breakfast, except eat at a little restaurant on the way out to the base. We often had our main meal there although, occasionally, we did prepare meals at our home. Margaret usually kept the car, since I had no need for it at the base and she was able to do the shopping and visit with other wives.

After the first month, advanced flight training took a turn toward the serious aspects of combat flying. Our flight, consisting of four cadets and two student officers, was "lucky" to be assigned to an instructor who was using the AT-9, and was himself a frustrated fighter pilot. He put us through some strenuous exercises, including all of the confidence maneuvers, with emphasis on precision flying, close formation, often at tree-top level, and more instrument time both in the air and in the Link Trainer. Daytime navigation was pretty simple since most of this part of southern Oklahoma was relatively flat with N/S & E/W section lines rather like checkerboard squares, little changed from the original governmental layout of sections and townships. On the other hand, night flying was another matter. The old lighted beacon system was the thing during the forties and we learned our way around this part of the state by this method

At the end of our three months training at Frederick we began to feel somewhat more at home in the air and looking forward to our next assignment - something more related to the combat role than student piloting. On average, most students had a total of about 150-200 hours total flying time at the completion of the three stage flight training program and probably about the same amount of time in ground school with navigation, Morse code, and a modicum of aircraft and engine maintenance. Standard physical exams were routine at each station, checking eyesight, depth perception, hearing and general physical condition. Daily physical training was scheduled and supervised.

In early December 1943, the class of 43K was ready for graduation and receipt of the coveted silver wings. The base personnel setup a meaningful graduation program and many of us had our families from all over come to witness this milestone event in our lives - and theirs. Margaret's parents were not up to the trip, but both of my parents came out to attend the ceremony. Afterward there were the usual sad goodbyes and promises to keep in touch with other graduates, but seldom kept under the wartime conditions ahead. Getting a ten day leave was pretty standard at this point so Maggie, my parents and I drove to Dallas, put our car in storage and boarded the train a chance to relax, get out of uniform for the trip back to our hometown of Greenville, SC for an enjoyable few days of rest and for part of the time and visit with friends and family that we had not seen in more than a year.