The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1945-05-11
CHAPTER XIV

Pilots waiting for the order to go
into the air. Sitting at the crude
table, waiting for the chow wagon
or for an alert. Listening with keen
ears for the jingle Of the telephone.
Playing gin rummy or poker, but
hearing everything that was going
on. A player would be dealing the
deck, and in the middle Of the rou-
tine Of dropping card here, and
one there, the phone would ring. The
card would stop in the air, poised
over the table while we all heard
the Chinese interpreters pick up the
magnetic phone and utter the famil-
lar "Wey-wey," as they say shell
TO-" The card would remain there
over the table, undealt throughout
the telephone conversation-until
the player realized what he was do
ing. Then he'd 60 hesitatingly on.
Perhaps the call was one OF the
hundreds that meant nothing; only
the Chinese really knew, and we
could only wait and find out. Then
again, the receiver Of the telephone
might drop back into place and the
interpreter would say something to
another Chinese. This second one
would 60 to the plotting-board, look
at the marked co-ordinates, and quiz
city put little red flag down over
"a certain city towards Japanese ter
ritory. Even then, with one warn
ing only, the game could 60 on for
long time in confidence.
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 60 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 ON 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 a
cloak. It wasn't the actual combat
these fighter pilots feared, for we all
wanted combat more than anything
else; it was the darnnable uncer.
Itainty-the ringing Of telephone,
IAN oninous sound that most OF the
time meant nothing.
Hl,ax, -, an xxyoya& or1k ~ %In I5AA~ 80
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 mvincible, or think they
are, and they have to be that way.
Down in our hearts we may figure
that some accident win 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 me1lowed by flying
technique and experience and forti-
fled by the motto, Attack" Never
he on the defensive. Shoot the enc
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 a ship or if it's a friendly
one you'll be ready anyway.
The worry comes before you get
to take off for combat-wondering
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 i.
hours of waiting on the ground
'high-powered engines pulling you UP
and up to the attack-and then in a
few fleeting seconds the combat
lis 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 1t really is.
You're wondering il you can pick
those cards up and finish the game
and take your CIV back from Ajax
lor Johnny or Mack. You might be
thinking how good that sleeping bag
lis going to feel, or wondering wheth-
Ter the transports that can land on
the field, now that the air raid
alert is over, have brought you any
mail "Dog-gone, ! wonder II
that woman Is writing me?"
Maybe they've even made some
mistake hack over there In the