The Baby Faced Ace

By Frank Hibbs

Tommy Cannon, a seventeen year old youth with the face of a very young boy volunteers for service with the Army Air Corps in WWII. His father has already trained him as a pilot and he enters service as a skilled aviator. Throughout his military training, he endures the Baby face tag but in the fierce aerial combat over Europe becomes known as the Baby Faced Ace. He finds great love in England and strives to survive the war and take his great love home with him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 8, 2006
• ISBN: 9781462830220

Frank Hibbs

Frank Hibbs was born and raised in Sevier County in southwestern Arkansas, the son of a lumberjack. Drafted in 1944 he served with the Army in WWII as an infantryman with 3rd Army in the ETO. Reenlisting he became a B-29 Flight Engineer in the Air Force and few 21 combat missions in the Korean War. He ended his 21-year service in the military with the Strategic Air Command flying b-36's and C-124's. Married with two children he worked thirty years as an electronic technician in industry and retired in 1992. After retirement he began painting and writing all types of fiction.

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Copyright © 2006 by Frank Hibbs.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

Tommy Cannon finished his after landing routine and taxied the high wing monoplane his father has dubbed, The Peoria Sparrow, toward a line of parked, identical built aircraft. His father named the very agile, high wing monoplane The Peoria Sparrow after watching the small birds fly in his back yard. The sparrow lived up to its name and was widely preferred by private pilots that had to operate at low altitudes very close to the treetops.

The flight line foreman watched Tommy’s approach and prepared to guide him while he parked the airplane. Tommy watched the flight line foreman’s signals, followed his hand waved directions, and parked the Peoria Sparrow in its ready line slot in front of the main hangar. The foreman, Joe Hendricks, signaled for him to cut the engine and gathered two chocks for the landing gear from a rack nearby. Tommy picked up the clipboard holding the test reports and began to make final entries on the form.

Tommy had just finished the final test flight of The Sparrow in the air above the airport. The Sparrow was to be the last built non-military model of Cannon Aircraft Company aircraft for the duration of the war. Tommy finished with the final entries on the test report and exited the cabin of the high wing monoplane after Joe called out, Chocked.

How did the last of the Mohicans check out Tommy, Joe inquired.

Ok Joe, the forest service can now run their own acceptance checks on the last of the Sparrows. Dad will start tooling up tomorrow for that Army contract to make something called an L-10.

Yea I know, Tommy, the plant doesn’t have one of those big assembly lines but it looks kind of funny with the line shut down in there. The line will be a little longer when we start up again with the additions to the main hangar.

An army B-25 just landed behind me, army brass visiting us again, Joe?

Yea, big conference up in the office later tonight, rumor is your dad may bid on a contract to build wing sections for a bomber.

He said he might, Colonel Hatch is pushing him to. The colonel estimated we have the space to put in another line. What’s the war news today Joe? Anything new on the Dolittle raid on Japan?

Naw, nothing except several ships went down in Jap territory. Guess they have had the lick because those Jap bastards kill most of the men they capture.

I guess so Joe but I hope they make it out. I intend to talk to the recruiter’s downtown soon and I hope Dad and Mom will sign the papers so I can volunteer for the Army Air Corps.

Hell you say! Dammit, you are only sixteen. Your pa told me just last month that you would turn seventeen in June. Aren’t you still in school?

I finish early Joe, this May . . . next month. The Army has something they call early entry for military training of skilled under eighteen men. Colonel Hatch, who is running the new L-10 program here in the plant, told me about it.

Come on Tommy, don’t do that, stay here and test hop for your old man. That should be exciting enough for any young firebrand like you.

Mebby so Joe but I am still going to try to talk mom and Dad into signing the papers and they may balk on that.

I hope they do balk, pecker head, because you are too young to go. Hell! You still have a little boy’s baby face.

Come on Joe, I don’t look that wimpy. I think I am leaning up in the face the closer I get to seventeen.

Ok, ok, not baby faced but you could pass for a fourteen year old boy easy. Too bad you will not be in school for next year’s football season, you will be missed.

There may not be a team next year, Joe; they are talking about shutting down the football program until the war is over.

Yea I heard that from my grandson, he will be a sophomore next year. Think about what I said, Tommy and wait a year to go into the Army.

"Ok, I’ll think about it Joe, Gotta get this test report into Mrs. Jones in basket before I get chewed out by Her Majesty."

Take it easy Tommy, see you later, with a wave of his hand the foreman walked away.

Mrs. Marie Jones watched her boss’s son enter the front door of his father’s office with his radio headphones still hanging around his neck. His wide billed aviators cap was cocked at a jaunty angle and pushed slightly back on his forehead. Gawd, she thought, he looks too young and boyish to be a licensed pilot and an instructor pilot at that. My silly acting, hot assed fifteen-year-old daughter is simply daffy about him and can hardly keep her hands off him. She touches him ever chance she gets and I hope Tommy continues to see her as beneath his notice or trouble could erupt. She only got mad when I cautioned her to take it easy that she had plenty of time. This dam war is making everyone crazy and the kids are trying to grow up overnight, she reflected

Marie continued to watch Tommy and reminisce while he paused at the water cooler and drank thirstily then stood talking with chief accountant Ben Riley. Marie and her family were neighbors to the Cannons and she and her husband, Gene, were heavily invested in Norman Cannon’s aircraft manufacturing business. She and Margaret Cannon were close friends, as far back as childhood and she had been one of the first people to hold Tommy Cannon in her arms when he was born.

Tommy finishes school this term and he will be only seventeen when he does, Marie remembered while she continued to watch him. Margaret got him jumped ahead in the eighth grade when he seemed to run out of anything to study and the teachers were agreeable that he needed a challenge to keep him busy. Margaret also taught him to play the piano by the time he was fourteen but could never keep him interested enough in music to take it up seriously. She said music teachers just threw up their hands and said he would not discipline himself to stick with the written music; he just wandered off into one of his own ideas. Ha! Margaret proved them so wrong. Tommy can sure play sacred music in church when he fills in for Margaret and Glenda says he can really ‘beat’ out popular Boogie Woogie, whatever that is. He really excelled in something else for the first time when his dad Norman taught him to fly when he was fifteen. Since then he spends all the time he can in the air.

I hope Norman puts the quietus on that dam Army Colonel that I heard encouraging Tommy to go in the Army early. Haa, Norman looked so dam startled when I warned him but what are friends for unless they watch out for friend’s kids. The way things are getting around this town after this damn war started parents need all the extra help they can get. Here he comes again and like always looks sweet enough to hug.

Did the last Peoria sparrow check out ok, sweetheart, Marie asked archly as Tommy grinned and laid the report on her desk.

Yup, just fine, Mrs. Jones. The last of the sparrows flew according to specs. Is dad working late again today? I saw the brass hats B-25 land behind me.

Yes, they have already taken over the conference room. You get to see me home in my old ford again today so park yourself somewhere for an hour and let me finish my work.

We simply have to stop meeting this way, Mr. Jones is going to get suspicious.

Phooey, Gene would never notice, he forgot our anniversary last month. Beat it, Tommy, so I can get to work.

Yes maaam, don’t beat me Missus Scarlet maam, I is going, he whined and backed away from the desk grinning.

Will you be at the piano in church Sunday or Margaret?

Mom will. She is over the sniffles and feeling good again.

Tommy chatted amicably with his neighbor while she drove them home an hour later. Marie probed gently to find out if the colonel had made any headway in convincing Tommy to volunteer for the Air Corps and was dismayed to learn Tommy planned to see a recruiter. After they arrived and parked in the Jones’s driveway, he walked toward his own house with her last words ringing in his ears to tell Glenda to, Get home ASAP after homework, and help with supper.

Tommy entered the spacious kitchen of his home and drank a glass of milk to hold his hunger in check until dinner then entered the living room. Tommy sat down on the couch in the family living room and began scanning a comic book he found lying atop the cushions. He half listened to his younger sister, Heidi and Glenda Jones giggle as they worked on their homework across the room while he read the comic book. They usually did homework upstairs in Heidi’s room but today they had elected to work in the living room, probably because he was there. The comic book was without a doubt the property of Oscar, his age nine younger brother. Oscar’s mother, Margaret Cannon, believed if schoolbooks were printed in the form of a comic book, her youngest son would become an A’ student instead of a limping C’.

Tommy had left his senior class early this Monday to fly the test hop his father did not have time to do. He was well caught up and ready for the final tests that would end the school term and see him graduated from High School. All the teachers had warned of the impending finals and the dire need to review, review and review. He was not worried about the tests, just wished they were over and done with.

He wondered what his final grade would be in English Literature because he suspected that Mrs. Creswell was still miffed at him for not taking a part in the class play. It was the first year she had taught him and she pushed at him the entire school year to take part in class plays after she heard him play the piano once in church when he filled in for his mom. She sure is steamed at me for not wanting to play piano while dumb assed stuck up Carlton and Susanne sing off key, he mused.

Early in the school year, Mrs. Creswell had sat him down and urged him to expand on his knowledge of the classics and join the drama club. He reluctantly explained to her that acting in school plays made him nervous and he only enjoyed reading the classics. She pointed out that he was excellent when he recited poetry or even passages from Shakespeare in class. He had stubbornly resisted her urgings to overcome his shyness, become more outspoken, and try acting in school plays.

He wondered if Mr. Dawson would excuse him tomorrow afternoon again so he could go see the Army recruiter the colonel had recommended he go see. He vaguely remembered the coach mentioning the Army’s early entry training program before the first of the year when he was still sixteen. The Colonel told him about the program when he learned that Tommy was an almost seventeen licensed instructor pilot. Tommy grinned as he remembered the Colonels face when he handed him his pilot’s license to examine. He half felt or heard someone come up behind him and tensed.

Will you help two poor lovely sophomores with their math homework? a voice intruded into his musings and a hand slid over the couch and tickled his ear.

No Glenda, you don’t need any help, you just want to bother me.

You are just reading a silly comic book.

Get lost, Glenda I got things to do. Your mom, Marie, bragged that you make straight A’s in Algebra.

Be a meanie then, Tailspin Tommy, next time you want something from me I will not be available.

When did that ever happen Glenda Jones? he asked scornfully.

Just you wait Tommy Cannon, everyone has a turn, she spat and walked back to where Heidi was busy with a paper.

"Remember your mama said home ASAP after homework."

Tommy watched Glenda walk away with a pert flip of her rear end to show her contempt for him. Tommy was suddenly aware of the pleasing shape of Glenda’s rear end and the developing legs tied to it. Her blue eyes, heart shaped face with golden honey colored hair toping it made Glenda a very pretty girl. In addition to these choice assets her once childish lips were changing to lush and her breasts were budding nicely. The rush along his nerves that pretty girls created subsided when he reminded himself that Glenda, the next-door neighbor, was taboo in more ways than one.

The pretty girl’s thrill that caused him to stop and stare had started at age fifteen and was getting to be more than a simple thrill, a yearning thought had appeared. He was still a virgin and had just lately realized that the eighteen and nineteen aged boys in his senior class told big lies about their sexual conquests. His father, at his mothers urging, had already advised him that it would be the wisest course to wait until he was married to indulge in sex.

Tommy arose and walked thru the dining room toward the kitchen where his beloved mother was preparing the evening meal. They could afford a cook and even a maid but his mother steadfastly refused to employ someone to do her house work. His mother, Margaret, loved to dress well but that was as far as she would go as a wealthy woman. She claimed that housework kept her trim, fit, and not sloppy fat like the mayors wife who was far overweight.

His father, Norman, never at any time, put on the dog, in a display of wealth either other than living in a comfortable house or driving a good car. Both Tommy’s parents encouraged their children to avoid being snobs and had succeeded in that endeavor. His father had earned a lot of money in the aircraft industry in his lifetime but tried hard not to show it like some of the other industrialist in town.

Tommy entered the kitchen, stood behind his mother and opened his mouth to ask if she would sign papers allowing him to enter the service early. He chickened out before the words appeared on his tongue when she turned and simply said, What?

Nothing Mom, just getting a drink of water.

He reasoned that he had to talk to the recruiter downtown first any way. Tests had to be taken before they would even consider anyone so the rumors said. His mother turned away from the table with flower on her hands, smiled and presented her cheek to be kissed. Tommy kissed her and asked the standard question What’s for Supper?

Pork Chops. Now run along until dinner time, we eat without your father tonight, he has to work late.

Yea I know. Ok mama, I’ll be in my room.

Still wrestling silently with his plans to try to enter the Air Corps early training program Tommy went to his room to think and plan further. He knew better than to try to sit in the living room where he would be a temptation for the two girls to pester. Entering his room he turned on the radio he had built in shop class and tuned in a music station. He settled down to listen to the music and decided that nothing could be done at home until he got past the recruiter.

Tuesday afternoon Tommy approached the post office where he knew the Army, Navy and Marine recruiter offices were located. Prominent signs in the lobby directed him to the correct office and he soon found himself sitting in front of a buck sergeant in a wool olive drab uniform answering questions. The grizzled looking recruiter looked like a real vet that may have served in World War One.

What can I do for you son? the grizzled sergeant asked.

I want to volunteer for the Air Corps, Tommy replied.

Good God kid, you can’t be more than fifteen. You have to be eighteen to get into this mans Army.

I am interested in the early entry something program, Tommy said as he handed his birth certificate and pilots license toward the sergeant for him to examine. The sergeant took the papers, leaned back in his chair and silently spent the next five minutes going over them.

Well I’ll be dammed, you are sixteen with a birthday ummm . . . next week. You are still in High school I bet. A pilot, holy smoke what else should I know?

I graduate this month. Colonel Hatch urged me to come see you.

Oh yeaaah, Colonel Hatch. Do your Parents know what you are doing?

Not yet Sir, I wanted to find out if you would take me before I told them.

Hell kid! Do you realize what you are getting into?

Yes Sir, I thought about this for a long time and decided nothing ventured, nothing gained, Tommy quipped.

You know you will be going to war? The old US of A is in a hell of a big fight right now, the recruiter retorted.

I know that, sergeant and I know I am not asking to join a Boy Scout Troop. I will be training for war then go fight a war, Tommy grimly answered.

Parents have to sign papers for this, Tommy and most parents refuse. Why don’t you talk it over with them then come back. Preferably accompanied by your father.

No Sir, I want to find out if you will take me first.

Your attitude is of the best and your patriotism is most evident. I’ll have to check out these papers you know.

Are you acquainted with Coach Richards at Woodrow Wilson High? He can vouch for the truth of these papers because he has coached me for four years.

Yea I know Richards, I’ll call him, the sergeant said, as he apparently seemed to come to a decision. Ok Tommy, I am going to give you several test papers that I want you to take to that table over there across the room and fill in the answers. When you are ready I will start timing you. When you are done we will fill out a formal application if you are acceptable and I will issue you the parental consent papers. If they sign I will schedule you for a physical and if you pass that the officer in charge in this district will interview you. Son, licensed pilots over eighteen we recruit almost always get a direct commission when they volunteer but you will have to endure cadet officer’s school.

Ok by me Sir. Let’s get started.

Ok here are the tests, tell me when you are set to begin.

Tommy swiftly completed the tests while the sergeant timed him and used the telephone to call the coach. The tests were swiftly scored and the recruiter nodded that all were graded much better than passing.

Mr. Richards confirmed the data on your birth certificate and the Chicago FAA office confirmed your pilot’s license. Take these papers to your parents, get them to sign and preferably have one of them accompany you back here and we will schedule a physical. Mr. Cannon, good luck with your parents.

They shook hands then Tommy departed for home with the envelope containing the papers riding in his coat pocket. He dreaded the session he knew he must have with his parents but there was no getting around the need for their permission.

Tommy waited until dinner was past, the dishes done and his mother in the living room with his father listening to the evening international news. The news hour played out and a popular radio comic drama began to pour out of the large AM radio set. Tommy took the papers out of his pocket and indicated to his parents that he needed to talk to them.

Dad, mom, I want to join the Army Air Corps for a early entry into the Army. I have already talked to the recruiter, passed the required tests and need only to become seventeen and graduate from High School. I need you to sign these permission papers before they will take me in, will you sign them? Startled, his father quickly snapped off the radio set and his mother stared at him with a tense look on her face.

Marie tried to warn me that Colonel Hatch was urging you to join up for this program, Tommy, and I simply don’t want you to go. I will not sign; I need you here at home and in the plant, among many other reasons.

Norman, I want to keep Tommy home until they try to draft him and I hope by that time he gets deferred because he is working at the plant in war industry.

I want to join the Air Corps and fly fighter planes. Dad you flew fighters in the First World War and shot down four Germans so why can’t I go do the same thing?

Because, because . . . because I don’t want you to that’s why. Hell! They told us in 1917 we were fighting the war to end wars but look what’s happening now. Hell fire and brimstone, I want my son to stay home like a lot of men did in World War l and make weapons. Goddammit, you will do as much for the war effort by staying here and test flying for me as you would riding one of those Damn aluminum projectiles modern fighter pilots fly.

Norman don’t start cussing and send your soul to hell because you lost your temper. The Army can just wait to draft him after he is eighteen and it could be over then.

This one will last a long time Margaret, you can bet on that. We can handle the draft when it comes around, her husband assured her.

Mom have you considered that you cannot keep me from being drafted? Mr. Hines the teacher couldn’t get deferred and Dad couldn’t get Mr. Tinker off either, they had to go. Mr. Hines wound up in the infantry despite his many talents and Mr. Tinker is in a tank outfit when he should be an aircraft mechanic. This way I have a choice, if I wait to be drafted I most certainly will not have a choice.

Tommy’s mother silently stared at him and his father out of respect for his wife’s sometimes fiery Irish temper remained silent. Marie’s family name was McMahan, pure Irish and she was all Irish except her hair was golden brown. When she taught Tommy to play the Piano she had also, in addition to hymns, taught him all the old Irish rebellious fighting tunes. Sometimes she would sing while he played The Rising of the Moon, Arthur McBride, Marie’s Wedding, or Loch Lomond. Tommy had no singing voice and would not sing with her. At this moment, her eyes were almost misty but her voice reflected growing anger at the thought of losing her oldest son to the Army.

I don’t care, I still will not sign for you to go like Mrs. Tolbert did for Jimmy to join the Marines. Look where he is now, hardly eighteen and in Australia.

Look mom, I know I can fly rings around most pilots but I don’t know if I can outshoot some hulking German infantryman.

His mother simply stared at Tommy with a dismayed look on her face but his father suddenly fell uncharacteristically silent with a thoughtful look on his face. He run his hands through his thinning hair like he always did when he was thinking hard about something.

He has a point Margaret, mebby we better look at this again. I know the Army cannot send Tommy overseas into combat until after he turns eighteen. Heck the war could be over by then. Tommy knew when his father made that statement he was halfway to his objective.

That’s right mother I might have a better chance of staying alive this way than the draft, Tommy quickly pointed out.

Tommy’s mother set her mouth in its most stubborn configuration and wouldn’t budge. His sister Heidi entered the room and listened a minute then burst out, Boy oh boy, you would be a fighter pilot? Hey, keen.

Go to your room Heidi, this doesn’t concern you, her mother snapped.

Once she caught the glare in her mother’s eyes Heidi raced back to her room and stayed there. Tommy made his plea all over again and he countered all his mother’s arguments well but to no avail. An hour later his father with a very serious expression on his face made the point that finally tipped the scales.

"Margaret, I never talked to you much about the war in France in 17 and 18 but when I flew over the trenches and looked down at the

Reviews for The Baby Faced Ace

[Andrew Stevenson · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

This book was poorly researched and utter drivel. Waste of time