Belle of the Brawl: A Biographical Memoir of Walter Malone Baskin

By Thomas P. Reynolds, Ken Covington and Walter Malone Baskin

Belle of the Brawl is the story of 1st Lt. Walter Malone Baskin, a World War II bomber pilot who volunteered to do an extra tour of combat duty in the 8th Air Force. This riveting story tells of a young man from Mississippi who left his family to fight for freedom in the war-torn skies of Europe in a variety of combat pilot roles in various aircraft. He flew with skill and courage, finally giving his life, but leaving a legacy of being a genuine hero. Features hundreds of photos including actual aerial combat; indexed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Turner Publishing Company
• Release date: Jan 1, 1996
• ISBN: 9781618587756

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Once every so often in the course of human development, one star shines brighter than all the others. The dark backdrop of war serves to further illuminate these bright stars. Walter Baskin was such a star.

I awoke on a sunny morning about the end of February, 1945. My mother and I slept in a big double bed in the front bedroom of Maw and Pop’s Vaiden, Mississippi farm house, located in the red clay hill County of Carroll in the center of the State. Lucille and Weldon Baskin were my mother’s parents, Maw and Pop to me. World War II was in full swing, so my father and all the other young men in the family were off fighting either Japanese or Germans. We had moved to the farm, when my father went into the Army. My one-year-old brother was in a crib in our bedroom. As my mother and I began to arise, we noticed two Red Cross officials, an older man and woman dressed in their uniforms, coming up the grass-covered brick walk. My mother knew immediately to expect the worst. They were local people and had agonized over how to tell old friends of the loss of their son in the air war over Europe. Instead of the usual telegram or phone call, they were here in person to help Maw and Pop receive terrible news. Oh God - It’s WALTER, killed in his P-51 fighter plane.

If ever a mother loved a son, Maw’s love and concern for Walter was so intense that it was evident to all. With her oldest son, Jack, in the Pacific in combat against the Japanese, and the realization of the danger Walter faced as a combat pilot in the 8th Air Force fighting the Germans, Maw aged noticeably from the stress of those terrible times. Even though she had the loving support of a large and close-knit family, a wide circle of close friends, strong religious convictions, and many blessings, the death of Walter just broke her heart. She made haste to join Walter in Heaven, dying of cancer of the throat at the age of 56.

UNTIL THAT TIME

(A poem that Lucille placed in a scrapbook of Walter’s life at the time of his death.)

The golden sun has disappeared... The sky is dull and gray... And I am lonely in my heart... Because you went away... Not just around the corner or... A measurement of miles... But to the vast eternity... Beyond our tears and smiles... I miss you more each moment, love... And, oh, I long for you... The while my life goes on and there... Is nothing I can do... Tomorrow is an empty word... And if I say good-night... It seems to have a hollow sound... That switches off the light... And I can only wait and pray... Until the time when we... May look upon each other in... That vast eternity.

J.J. Metcalfe.

We all suffered the feelings of an enormous loss. That day I was sent across the road to old man Vince Gee’s house to get me out from under foot on this day of grief in our home. He made a rubber-band gun for me with a clothes-pin trigger and cut up an old inner tube for plenty of ammo - to keep me occupied and to keep our minds off what my family was undergoing.

Until then, there was nothing that equaled the grandeur and exhilaration in combat that the young men of the U.S. 8th Air Force experienced. Walter was the only 8th Air Force pilot to fly all four of the great War Birds of the time - B-24, B-17, P-47, and P-51. These planes were so sleek, deadly, and beautiful to behold that even today, 50 years later, they still thrill anyone with any interest in aircraft. But in the early 1940s, these young airmen had come from a quiet world of model T’s, mule and plow farming, and the like, had entered the world of the most incredible modern aircraft that seemed so ahead of their times. They pitted themselves with a confident spirit against the war-tested, experienced, and innovative German war machine. And what a fight it was! Walter’s diary, letters, and newspaper accounts tell what it felt like to fight the many deadly battles of the 8th Air Force.

Walter was not only a very brave person, but also one who pushed himself to the limit. He flew and fought the War Birds to their limits both as bomber pilot and as a volunteer to do an extra tour of combat duty, in fighters. One can observe as much in his diary, newspaper accounts and watching him press on the attack in his gun camera film. He was a Point-Of-The-Spear person. Walter rode his Mustang like Bellerophon on his Pegasus, literally with wild abandon. His life goals were qualitative not quantitative. He could escape only so many close calls before fate caught up with him. Hence, when the much bemedaled pilots and combat crews of the 34th Heavy Bombardment Group and the 356th Fighter Group boarded the Queen Mary after V-E Day, for the trip home to begin the rest of their lives, Walter was not destined to be with them.

Lucille and Weldon Baskin, Walter’s parents, were asked by the War Department to decide whether to reinter Walter’s body back home or leave him buried in England. Given the assurance of perpetual care and their desire not to disturb his body, the family decided to leave him at rest in Cambridge. A reburial, particularly for Lucille, would have been too much to bear. A medal plaque was placed in the Baskin plot alongside the graves of his mother and father in the old Shongalo Cemetery in Vaiden, Mississippi. It reads - 1st Lt. Walter Malone Baskin - b.12-25-21 - d.2-13-45 - 356th Fighter Group - 8th Air Force - U.S.A.A.F. - Buried Cambridge - England. He lies buried among so many brave men, and it took their greatness to defeat the formidable German war machine that Hitler had unleashed upon the world.

Lucille always used to say; As long as people remember and talk of someone, they remain alive in our minds and are not simply dead and gone. It is in this spirit that I hope the life and being of this remarkable young man will live on for many generations as readers experience his life, and those times, in the pages of this biography. Walter was the epitome of his era - before and during the explosive and pivotal World War II.

CHAPTER I

AIR CADET BASKIN

One weekend, a big air show came to Greenville. Pop took the whole family to see the thrilling display of aerial showmanship put on by the barnstormers. Somewhere among the graceful and colorful swooping and rolling stunts of the WWI Spads and Jennies, the Call of the Wild Blue Yonder caught the imagination of a young boy in that Mississippi crowd. When the world exploded into World War II, Walter was a pre-med student at Millsaps College in Jackson. When he got enough educational credits to qualify for Army Air Corps pilot training, Walter volunteered for service in the Air Force. These are his letters:

U.S. AIR CORPS LETTERS - TRAINING PERIOD

Dearest Mother & Dad,

I just finished a card to you because I don’t know when I’ll get to finish this letter. We got to Memphis at 7:30 last night and ate supper and got on the sleeper about 9:45. The train didn’t leave Memphis until 11:30 but we were able to go to bed. I had a good nights sleep and got up about 6:15 this morning, washed up, and dressed in the spacious wash room of the Pullman and stepped off in Nashville about 6:45. Two Army trucks were waiting for us and about 25 of us got into each of them and after about 15 or 20 minutes of riding, unloaded in front of a typical, long army barracks. We went inside and signed our names on the dotted line and then went to another barracks and got two Army blankets and then came down to our barracks where we are right now.

That is a blow by blow description of all my activities since I left home. When I walked into this building, the first person I saw was Leon Davis. He has come back here for reclassification and to be assigned to another school - probably a bombardier school. He has just washed out of pilots training - there’s the call for breakfast.

20 minutes later

They lined us up and marched us all over this end of camp and finally up to the door of a mess hall and we came to a halt. Then two or three officers went into a huddle and when they came out we were all ready to eat. Well, we about faced and marched back to the barracks and were told to go inside and wait. I don’t mind them not feeding us, but I hate to be tantalized.

e9781618587756_i0007.jpg

Note: In latter years, Leon Davis sure enjoyed the magnificent dove hunts hosted by Dan Smythe on his plantation at Tribbet. Dan pampered his doves and had broad trails of newly disced hunting turf through a water oak forest that took dove hunting to its highest art. TPR

Dearest Mother & Dad,

The group I was with was extremely lucky in going through the first stages of this place.

Yesterday morning we were assigned barracks and given uniforms. The slogan of the Army should be - Hurry and Wait. We hurry from one line to another and sometimes have to stand in one line for two or three hours. You can’t do anything unless you stand in line for a half hour or more first. We are getting kinda settled down and next Wednesday will start taking our tests and physical exams. The food is tops and I am getting my fill of meat. I will send my bag home sometime but I don’t know now when I will get the chance. I forgot my slippers - please send them if it is convenient.

Love to all, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

I guess you are still wondering what happened to me on that leave. The leave was only open post which lasted for six hours, just long enough to go to town to see the bright lights and eat supper. The reason I said leave was that words were limited and after two weeks in this place, that six hours seemed like two days. So I’m sorry that I didn’t make myself clear.

To-day we got two of our shots and have five more to go. Some of the boys are having chills and fever, but I’m getting by, so far, with two sore arms. We were standing in line and while I was watching one man sticking my left arm, another had shot me in my right arm before I knew he was over there. It knocked some of the boys out cold and the ambulance was standing by to haul them away.

About two thirds of the men in my squadron have been classified, but I am still waiting and more anxious than worried about it. There have been about 130 men classified and about 30 have been disqualified. That means being reduced to the status of enlisted men and its not a very bright future there.

Aunt Elizabeth wrote to me and made a very generous invitation to come to visit them every week-end. That would be fine and I would like to do that, but its not very easy to get away from this place. Air Corps Cadets are strictly the babies of the Army. They are pretty good to us but watch over us just like hawks.

I hope I didn’t give the impression, in my last letter, of griping about this Army life. If I did, I didn’t mean it that way, I was just telling you how it was. I like it fine and have a lot of fun watching some of the fellows who are having to do a little work for the first time of their lives. All that talk about how far we have to run and how tough it is - is just a lot of talk. We haven’t run over a half mile at a time since I’ve been here, but even at that some of these boys have to drop out. We don’t just trot along as we please, but have to run in formation and keep strictly in step.

Mother - you mentioned Roy being at home - If he is let me know - if he doesn’t watch out I will catch up with him. First I’ve got to see if I’m qualified as pilot - I’m sure to know by tomorrow -

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

Just a line to let you know that I am at Maxwell - There is something to do every minute and if you get a few seconds extra, then you must spend that time shining shoes & polishing brass. Think I am going to like it O.K. although they are trying to make us hate it. Let me know about Roy Hall - maybe he is here and I would never find him unless I know his Squadron & Group.

Left Nashville 2AM Monday & got here Monday at 1PM - If you don’t hear from me, don’t worry because for about 4 weeks we won’t have one second to ourselves.

Just got classified, PILOT!!! Don’t have time to write much, but just wanted you to know that I at least have a chance to fly one of those P-38’s, and that is all that I could ask for. I am slowly getting my clothes down to the point where they might look like they fit. Will send my civilian clothes home sometimes - don’t know when. The only reason I have time to write this is because they are just giving our dinner time to settle so we can march all afternoon. Will let you know more later -

Love to all, Walter

P.S. Got the money O.K. - Thanks.

P.P.S. I really enjoyed the pictures a lot - keep them coming!

Dearest Mother & Dad,

Really got down to business and they really put it to us. The upperclass stay on our necks all the time, but it is not the college hazing that we got at school. The officers see to it that they keep us on the ball or they gig the upperclassmen.

We get up at 5:00AM - shave, make-up bed, clean room and go to formation. Then we fall out and come back to the room and polish brass & shoes, and tidy up the room then fall back out to chow formation. We would have a little spare time, but we (the underclass who are called ZOMBIES) must be on the line 15 minutes before each formation. We go out there and just stand at strict attention until the upperclass comes out. After breakfast is lecture and then drill, then exercise, then more drill then dinner, then immediately after dinner we go to classes until 4:30PM then drill ‘til supper. After supper we have two hours to study - but we have no time to study - every night we must wash our tie, wash our belt, polish all our brass and bathe. Then if you have time to study you are a fast man. We polish our shoes at least 10 times a day with polish. My classes are Math., Aircraft Identification and Code. Not hard but they go mighty fast.

Please let me know Jack’s address -

Lots of Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

This week has gone by so fast that I haven’t been able to keep up with the days. Our day is taken up with classes, drill, exercises and standing in line at attention. On Saturdays, we get up at four o’clock and start getting the room ready for a weekly inspection, so by taps we don’t have any trouble going to sleep.

For the past week we have been in strict quarantine for spinal meningitis and I don’t know how much longer it will last. We have about 13 men out of our class in the hospital now - of course we don’t know how many of them have spinal meningitis, but we know that some of them have it and we have a daily medical inspection. But don’t let that get you worried as far as I am concerned, because I am fit as a fiddle - never felt better.

Mother - you mentioned a key to a cabinet in the County Agents office - since about 2 or 3 weeks before I left I gave all my keys back - don’t know anything about it.

You asked again about my bag of clothes - It will be impossible to send them until I am an upperclassman. They are stored away safely in the supply room at the present so don’t worry about them.

Those pictures were really good and they were the next thing to a visit home. Mother, I’m not so anxious to see how Mickey looks - you had your head bowed looking at the dog and you were almost hiding your face. You never did send me Jack’s address - he will think that I don’t intend to answer his letter.

Had two more shots to-day and it only made my arm a little stiff - I feel like a sieve.

There is a dance to-night for the underclass - our first release from our grind and we are not going to get to go because we are under strict quarantine - When I get a little freedom I won’t know what to do. Feel almost like a prisoner.

In spite of how busy they keep me, I believe that I have written more letters home than I have received. Let me hear from you all a little more often - letters help -

Love, Walter

P.S. Two more weeks and I’ll be an upperclassman!!

Dearest Mother & Dad,

A combination of rainy weather and quarantine has given me a little time to do some of the things that should have been done weeks ago. I got a letter from Roy Hall yesterday - He’s up around headquarters somewhere but I won’t get to see him until I am an upperclassman and then it may take a week or two. That gives you some idea of what kind of a rush we are in. Every time taps blows, I hate to think about going to sleep and wasting all that time sleeping. But the minute I hit that bed, I go out like a light and don’t stir until 4:45AM. The wet weather is pulling a few more down, and last night the boy just across the hall from me went to the hospital with the measles - that means at least a week longer in quarantine. The new has worn off now and this hazing gets a little trying at times. Upperclassmen are just like officers as far as discipline is concerned and some of them are pretty hard to get along with. But we only have a week and three days longer as under-classmen so it won’t be hard to put up with that long. There goes another whistle -

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

We finish our lower class work Wed. and get our first open post Sat. and Sun. We also start taking over the duties of Charge of Quarters and my time is to be Saturday, our first open post in five weeks - and I’ll be working. I’m sure it won’t hurt me, but it’s not doing my morale and good. Our lower class starts to arrive Saturday and it is rumored that they will be the last of the regular cadet classes - A new schedule begins whereas all aviation cadets will undergo a five months pre - pre - flight school in different schools and colleges - So you can see that I just made the deadline that would have made me five months later.

I am trying to write and listen to Lowell Thomas broadcasting from the field. He has a son, who is a Lt. here, and I don’t know why he is broadcasting from here - Short note but time is scarce -

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

Got out of the hospital to-day - Took four tests to-day so I’m pretty tired - Can’t even find a chair to sit in so I’m writing this standing.

The times slipping by fast - Too tired to write more -

Love to all, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

I tried to call the other night, but they said that the phone was out of order. Didn’t have anything on my mind except to let you know that there was nothing wrong with me in the hospital. Had a little fever for a couple of days and it took me six days to get out of the place. They put me in the pneumonia ward but I survived it. Now I have been excused from all formations for a week so I get a little of that much needed rest and relaxation. One more week of Maxwell Field - in two more weeks I’ll be stationed at some Primary School - maybe in Mississippi - and I’ll be flying.

How is that seed that you planted last week getting along? It rained hard over here all day yesterday and is cooler to-day. We put away our wool uniforms after today and start wearing our sun-tans. It will really be a relief to get out of this sticky wool.

We will rush it up this last week and finish four weeks work in three weeks so that will probably mean night classes.

As far as furloughs are concerned - we can just forget about those entirely. You won’t have me hanging around the house unless I am lucky enough to get sent to some field close to home. They just don’t give us furloughs. You all stir around in that desk and let me hear what’s going on back home -

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

I’m still at Maxwell and don’t know when I am going to leave. We shipped our baggage, with everything except the shirt on our backs, to Florida last Thursday. Besides being dirty and sleeping on a dirty mattress without sheets or pillow case, I just think of these five days that I could have been home. I don’t know whether I told you before or not, but we are going to Ocala, Fla. - I hope. Rumors, as to what we are going to do, are a dime a dozen. Saw Billy Hendricks the other day. He has just finished his lower class work. Robert Calloway is here too and bunks down in a group next to mine. We had open post last Saturday and Sunday, and one of the fellows took off and the last we heard of him he was in Jackson. He must have gotten afraid to fly and decided to back out. But if he gets kicked out of the Cadets, he won’t have much of a chance in the G.I. Army.

If our schedule had not been interrupted, I would be flying this morning. So I guess you know how I feel after waiting this long.

I’ll write just as soon as I start somewhere. Plans are no good so I’ll wait ‘til I’m on the train.

Love to All, Walter

Note: Billy Hendricks was a B-26 pilot in Europe and feels very lucky to have survived his combat tour of duty in the Flying Coffin - as this twin engine, low level bomber was dubbed. TPR

Dearest Mother & Dad,

Left Montgomery yesterday and got here this morning at 7:00AM. Spent the day getting everything straightened out and went down to the flight line and got our flying equipment. This is a real nice field - small but comfortable. Ocala is a more or less sleepy town of about ten thousand and the field is about a mile and a half from town. The minute that we hit the place, a dark cloud seemed to come down over us in the form of the constant threat of wash-out. And that’s the foremost thing in a cadets mind all the way through. He can wash-out for thousands of things, some of which he can’t help. So the only thing to do is just hope and pray and try to stay on the ball.

I started this last night and now this morning in just a few minutes we go to the flight line.

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

This is really the place-The only draw-back is that we have to work like the very devil. They feed us the best food that can be had and it is prepared by the best cooks. We fly in the mornings and go to school all afternoon for a week at a time, then we swap and fly in the afternoon for a week. I have the sum total of 1 hour and 24 min. flying time and feel like a veteran. I like my instructor fine and can’t wait to fly that plane with him on the ground watching.

The wash-out rate here is mighty high so don’t be surprised to hear that I’ve washed out any day now. The first two days they washed out 11 out of our class and the upper class has lost about 70%.

Flying isn’t exactly what I had expected it to be, but I like it just as much, so far, as I thought that I would. There is no sensation of speed and when you bank around a turn, it seems like you’re just sitting in a chair and somebody tilts you over - no speed or moving feeling. Some of the fellows want to get close to the ground and see how fast they are moving. They are in the hospital now.

If we were not kept at a break-neck speed all the time, we would just be a country club. They really treat us like white folks and I just hope that I’ll be able to make the grade.

Love to All, Walter

P.S. Mother, the Mothers Day greeting was short because the regulations said, No Mothers Day Greetings, so that’s all I could send.

Dearest Mother & Dad,

I’m flying every day now and liking it more every day. Our class is getting smaller because a good many of our boys are either being washed-out or are just quitting. I have about five hours in the air now and expect to solo after a few more. The time adds up pretty slow at first because we only fly about 45 minutes a day. But later we will be flying three or four hours a day, and before I leave Primary, I will have about 60 hours.

Some of our upperclass are going to Greenville for their Basic and I will either go Gunter Field, Ala. or to Greenville, Miss. Gunter Field is the last place that I want to go. Maybe I’ll be lucky for a change, and get to come home. But the place has not even been decided on yet so its just a possibility. One of my room mates is having a rough time with his flying and every time he goes up, he and his instructor almost have a fight and end up cussing each other out. All of the instructors are civilians and they are really a fine bunch of men. I really like my instructor and he can really fly that ship. We are flying PT-17’s and they look just like the planes you see poisoning cotton. I pull a few boners now and then, but my instructor can always get us out of ‘most any mess that I can get us into. Maybe by this time next week I will have soloed - Hope so anyway -

e9781618587756_i0021.jpg

PT-17s

How’s the cotton crop? Let me hear from you.

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother and Dad,

I soloed Monday! After about eight and a half hours dual, my instructor finally climbed out and turned it over to me. I had always wondered how I would feel flying by myself but for the first thirty minutes I was too busy to think of anything but that plane. On my first landing I made a good one and started patting myself on the back and telling myself that there was nothing to it. But the second time around I tried to land it several feet up in the air and down I came with a bang. When you hit the ground in one of those planes you are still going about 75 miles per hour and since the wheels are close together, its pretty hard to keep it balanced. If it tips over and you scrape a wing you get a check ride the next day - and check rides and wash-outs go hand in hand. So-every time I landed I began to have just a little more respect for that airplane. Its tricky.

One of my room mates washed out today and it has made him sick. He was trying so hard!

General Welch, the commanding general of the Southeastern Training District stationed at Maxwell Field, was down here yesterday and I got to talk to him for a few minutes. The general came down here to see what was the reason for such a high wash-out percentage. And especially why were ten percent just quitting when they get down here. Over half of our upperclass wash-out and they have already gotten about 25 out of our class. Maybe his visit will make it a little bit easier on the rest of us.

Tuesday it rained again (it rains every day) and we didn’t get to fly but today I got a little more solo time. They have cut our training period down a week so we will soon be flying at least four hours a day. Friday about thirty of our upper-class leaves for Greenville, Mississippi. I just wish that I was going with them - that’s something I forgot to ask the general while we were talking - Dad, I wish I could send you some of this rain and swap some good flying weather for it, because we are going to need it.

You are worried about my clothes and bag. Well, I still have them because when they move us I need the bag and I just haven’t found time or energy to wrap up the clothes and mail them. Now I’m holding out and hoping that I will get sent home for basic and then I can deliver them in person - that’s the way it should be!

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad.

Just a short note to let you know that I’m still around. I have about 28 hours now, just passed my 20 hour check yesterday and now I’m feeling pretty good about my flying. I’m so tired I can hardly sit up. I fly 3 hours every morning and that is a full days work in itself. Then classes in the afternoon and then exercise, then link trainer, then supper, then back to night class. I’m all run down and mighty tired, so I’ll try to write you all about it Sunday -

Love, Walter

Dearest Mother & Dad,

Another Sunday and now its only three more weeks before we will be off to Basic. I just hope that these next three weeks won’t be as hard as the last one was.

Monday

It seems that I just can’t sit down for more than two minutes at a time without some interruption. This week we get up one half hour earlier but since we fly in the afternoon this week, we have a little spare time between classes and dinner.

I haven’t heard from Jack since his vacation - let me know where he is. My letter writing has almost stopped for the last week or so, because I haven’t had the energy to do anything except what I have had to do. Its so hot down here I feel like I’m going to bake. We should be taking salt tablets but they don’t issue them so we just keep on dragging around.

I got your letter, Dad, and I really was glad to hear from you. I believe the family has appointed Mother as official letter-writer and lets it go at that. How is the cotton crop looking? It would do me a lot of good just to see a few stalks of cotton for a change. All you see down here is lakes, woods, swamps and peanuts.

If we are going to get our choice of going to one of two Basic Schools, they should let us know this week. But if they ship all of us to one place, we won’t know where we will go until just before we leave.

About twelve student officers came in with our underclass. A few of them are first lieutenants and the rest are captains. They didn’t like the way things were being run when they got here so they have taken it upon themselves to see that we play soldier for the rest of our stay here. When they start flaying for four hours straight, then their feathers will droop.

What is Bobby doing this summer? And how is the cook situation? Have Margaret and T.P. gotten that house yet? Tell Margaret that I’m still waiting for her to mail that letter that she wrote me about two months ago.

Love, Walter

Dear Dad,

I hope you didn’t think that I forgot that to-day is Fathers Day, because I’ve been thinking about it all week. I would have liked to call you but pay day was a long time ago. And the telegraph company won’t send any kind of a greeting, so I hope a letter will do. I mailed a picture home yesterday so you have probably already gotten it.

I wonder how you and that crop are making out with the labor shortage we are hearing so much about. I have a few minutes, now and then, to look at the papers and things don’t seem to be going so good. I guess there are problems on the home front too.

We will be here at Ocala for one and a half weeks but they haven’t told us where we are being sent for basic. I have about 56 hours in now so that leaves me with only nine hours to fly next week - then I’ll be through. But before I leave, I’ll have to stand a 60 hour check ride and they are always a good source of worry.

There is a lot of operational flying going on around here and it seems that whenever a plane gets into trouble anywhere in the vicinity, they always pick this field for a landing. Two weeks ago, we had a B-26 come in on one motor and almost run into our planes parked on the runway. He used his brakes from the second he hit the ground ‘til he had stopped - ruined the tires. Then day before yesterday an A-24 - the Army dive bomber - came in and lit with his wheels up. Caused quite a bit of damage, but didn’t hurt anybody.

I had been hoping that I would get to come home for my basic training, but I hear that Greenville is being turned into an advanced school. If its to be a single engine advanced school, I still might get to go there. And that will be my only chance to get home for quite a while.

You should be here to see me crawling into