The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1945-07-19
VIM. RELEASE

more certain, the game would get
slower. More and more words would
be left hanging in the air, more
sentences would never end, nervous
laughs would become more frequent.
You'd realize finally that you were
listening to that damned telephone
and to nothing else, and wishing
subconsciously that you could pull
it off the wall. But there would al
ways be more to come, with Chinese
saying "Wey, wey - wey wey."
More little flags would form a line on
the map, and more Chinese would
walk soundlessly across the room;
no jabbering from them-it was
their business, and they knew when
the flags got to certain point, or
quit advancing and turned back, that
something would happen.
Maybe at this stage someone in
the game would get up to investi-
gate, and would come back and say,
Eighteen unknown in L-5," or
Heavy engine noise to the East"
1t might be the something that let
the tension off a bit, such as, Zone
enemy plane over in SIS" Then
somebody else would grin hopefully
and say, That's old reliable-he re-
ports every day.. ".---.s.s-4==uassr-
Perhaps the Squadron command
er or the officer who was on the
alert that day would move out of
the game and start looking the map
and the flags over, sizing up the
situation. AS the picture formed
and it became apparent that this
was real attack he'd just go over
and tell the card-game about it. Or
maybe two or three men would be-
gin to get helmets out. The game
would silently break up, with cards
and CN left where they were. Hell
NETS and gloves would be put on.
Men who were pretending to be
sleeping in the bags on the floor
would be awakened.
And the tension dropped off like
cloak. 1t wasn't the actual combat
these fighter pilots feared, for we all
wanted combat more than anything
else; it was the damnable uhcer-
tainty-the ringing of a telephone,
an ominous sound that most of the
time meant nothing.
When men went out of the door to
get into their ships and take off
there was no handing to friends on
the ground of last letters to take
care of, no entrusting of rings and
watches to room-mates. For fighter
pilots don't think of not coming back.
They are invincible, or think they
are, and they have to be that way.
Down in our hearts we may figure
that some accident will get US some
day, when we are old and gray,
when our boards get in the way of
the controls, or we get to where we
don't see well or react fast-but we
know that no enemy fighter is good
enough to shoot us down. If that
happens it's just an accident.
These thoughts are the chips"
that we carry on our shoulders, and
they have to be there-arrogant, ego
tistical chips mellowed by flying
technique and experience and forti-
fed by the motto, Attack" Never
be on the defensive. Shoot the ene-
my down before he can shoot you
down. You are better than he is,
but don't give him a chance. He
may get in lucky shot but you're
invincible. Move towards any dot in
the sky that remotely resembles an
airplane. Move to attack, with
switches on and the sight ready. If
it's not ship or if it's friendly
one you'll be ready anyway, and
your arrogant luck will last a lot
longer.
The worry comes before you get
to take off for combat-wonderin
whether or not you'll do the right
thing out of habit. After you're in
the air it's all the fun of flying and
doing the greatest job in the world.
You are up there, plying all earth
bound creatures who are not privi-
legged to breathe this purer air on
high. Your training makes you do
the combat work that is ahead with
out thinking about the movements.
Months and years of training :.
hours of waiting on the ground
high-powered engines pulling you up
and up to the attack-and then in
few feeting seconds the combat
is over, your ship is all that's in
the sky, and you're on the way home
again to base, whistling and think
ing how easy it was and what a
great and glorious life it really is.
You're wondering if you can pick
those cards up and finish the game
and take your CN back from Ajax
or Johnny or Mack. You might be
thinking how good that sleeping bag
is going to feel, or wondering wheth-
er the transports that can land on
the field, now that the air raid
alert is over, have brought you any
mail "Dog-gone, ! wonder If
that woman is writing me?"
Maybe they've even made some
mistake back over there in the
States and have sent some new
planes out here, and we're going to
get the best in the world, planes
that go a hundred miles an hour
faster and climb 4,500 feet minute
to fifty thousand feet. But there's
your crew-chief now, waving you in
and he's looking at the patches
you've shot from the blast tubes of
your guns and knows you've fired at
the enemy. Or maybe your "vic-
tory roll" warned him anyway
Who knows?
Day after day. through the early
part of November, we actually
prayed that the weather East would
clear, SO that we could stop our
small, piddling attacks on Burma
and On hank 70 HOnnlrnnn kraxu