Along with our trials and worries went the fascination of flying together with the priceless goal before us of graduation with an Air Service commission. The wings of the service would be for those of us who were able to survive the rigid training and discipline of a year in the United States Army flying schools.
Always there was something new to look forward to. The start of actual flying; the first solo; learning various stunts and maneuvers; transitions from Jennies to faster and quicker ships; and finally our transfer to Kelly Field, the alma mater of Army fliers.
The Army Air Service was an exacting instructor. There was no favoritism shown and no amount of politics could keep a cadet from being washed out if he fell down in flying. As a result, only a small percent of those entering Brooks ever graduate from Kelly. In our class of one hundred and four, thirty-three finished their primary training and only eighteen of us received our wings. This appears on the surface to be an unusually low number but as a result of the rigid requirements and careful instruction, our Air Corps schools rank among the best in the world today. They have an extremely low fatality list, not one man in our class being seriously injured.
Probably the most exciting period in our flying training was when the soloing began. The instructor would climb out of his cockpit, tie a white handkerchief on the rudder as a danger signal, indicating that the ship was usually out of control, and signal his student to take off. In some cases the plane would take off nicely, circle the field and make a comparatively good landing. In others the landing would amount to a series of bounces, resulting in the necessity of a second or third attempt before the wheels would hold contact with the ground more than a fraction of a second at a time. In one particular instance, after several futile attempts to get down, the cadet began circling around overhead. His apparent idea was to clinch the chances of landing on his next attempt by waiting until the gasoline ran out. His instructor was out in the field trying to flag him down without the slightest success and for half an hour we watched the ship intently for the first signs of a lowering gas supply; hoping that the fuel would not hold out much longer as the morning flying period was nearly over and we were all anxious to see him land. After half an hour, however, he apparently regained enough courage and determination to make a last attempt at a landing, which turned out much more successfully than the others.
When the solo flights were more or less successfully completed the flying instruction was divided into two periods of forty-five minutes each. One of these was used for dual and the other for solo practice.
The instructor would attempt to smooth out the rough points in his students’ flying and demonstrate the method of going through new maneuvers so that the cadet could be given the opportunity to go up alone and try out the maneuvers for himself.
One of the first lessons was the “three sixty”—so named because its completion required a total change in direction of three hundred and sixty degrees. The cadet would take off and climb to eight hundred or a thousand feet. The higher he went the less difficulty he had in properly completing the maneuver. Then he would fly into the wind directly over a landing “T” in the center of the field. As the plane passed over the “T” he throttled his motor and made a quick bank either to the right or left depending upon his preliminary instructions. The object was to make a complete circle and land without using the motor, bringing the plane to a stop beside the “T.”
“One eightys” were the next requirement and they were probably the cause of more crashes than any other maneuver. They were started in the same manner as the “three sixty,” but with the plane heading down wind and at only five hundred feet altitude. They required quick manipulation of controls and a steep bank into the field just before landing.
Next came acrobatics. Loops, spins, barrel rolls, Jenny Immelmans, figure-eights, wing-overs, and reversements, every one of which each cadet had to master thoroughly during his course at Brooks.
After the first few weeks had passed we became more or less accustomed to life in the cadet detachment, and found a little time now and then to look around the country and even spend a night in San Antonio. Our examinations were purposely given on Saturday morning so that we would not spend the weekend studying. It was well known that too much studying affected a cadet’s flying and the school schedule was arranged with that in mind.
Our day began with first
