Airplanes have always fascinated me. I grew up during WWII and was really into them then. I watched all the war movies and all the newsreels. I knew every military airplane our pilots flew and many of the enemy’s too.
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This was one of the reasons I joined the Air Force later in my life, during the Korean War. I also didn’t want to be a foot soldier in Korea. So, instead of being drafted into the army for two years, I enlisted for four so I could be in the Air Force.

As an enlisted man, I went through the standard basic training program, where they put us through something very much like brainwashing, intentionally trying to break our ties to our old lives. They wanted us to see the Air Force as our new family.

However, part way through my basic training, something happened that changed my time in the service. I got very sick, exhausted mostly from the lack of sleep and the bad food. Because of this, I was taken out of my training group and was able to hang out on the base for awhile as an almost unnoticed individual.

During this time, I saw a notice, offering tests for Aviation Cadet Training. I easily passed the tests and was accepted for training to be a flying officer. They even let me go home for thirty days before reporting to the officer-training base in San Antonio, Texas.

They tried to teach me to be an officer there. They told me and the others that we were the elite of our nation, that we were special, that we were all officers and gentlemen. I knew it was all bullshit, but most of the other young guys bought it.

A year later, finished with my officer training, I was stationed in California, near Sacramento, training to be a flight engineer on a B36 bomber. By then, I was going crazy. I didn’t like being bossed around all the time, and I was seriously thinking of deserting. Instead of deserting, I began to drink heavily. But I did finish my training, in spite of being drunk or hung over most of the time.

I was on my way to report to my new assignment in New Mexico when I heard on the radio that a B36 had just crashed. It had been caught in a tornado and had gone into a flat spin. Everyone on the crew died.

When I got to the base, I was told that if I had arrived a week earlier I would have been on that crew. I was glad I had missed it. From the start then, I was aware of the dangers facing me. Fortunately though, the worst I ever had to experience, as a flight engineer was carburetor ice. We were flying at forty thousand feet, when all six of our engines lost power and we dropped like a rock – until we finally managed to restart them at twenty thousand feet and continue on with our mission. That was sort of scary.
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The B36 was a giant of an airplane, with a crew of thirteen – three pilots, two engineers, three navigator-bombardier types, two radiomen, and three gunners. During flight I would sometimes have to use the little sliding cart that went through the long tunnel between the front and the back of the airplane, through the bomb bays. I would also have to crawl out inside the wings several times on almost every flight to check for electrical problems or fuel leaks.

Sometimes we carried hydrogen bombs. That was really scary.

Once we were stationed in Guam for three months as part of a SAC (Strategic Air Command) mission. We even flew to Japan once while we were there. I remember when our assignment in Guam ended. Our commander decided we would fly back to the states nonstop. It would be quite a haul. He told the other engineer and me to overload the airplane with fuel so we’d have plenty for the trip. He promised he’d get us off the ground.

He did too, although he used up the entire runway. Once in the air, we flew nonstop for over twenty-seven hours without refueling. We took turns sleeping in the bunks whenever we could. It was a wonderful feeling when we finally came to the mainland.

Over time my eyesight worsened, and the Air Force finally grounded me. I was bummed out at the time, although now I thank God. Otherwise I might have stayed in the Air Force. I might even have become a Colonel or General by now.

While finishing my tour of duty, I worked as a refueling officer. I supervised the refueling of all the B36’s in our particular squadron. Mostly I just let the enlisted men do what they already knew how to do. But sometimes I would forget on purpose that I was an officer and do some of the work. I remember towing one of those giant planes, driving the huge tug myself. That was fun.
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Nowadays, my heart still quickens whenever I drive by the airport and see the planes taking off or landing. I still have a love affair with airplanes; but being somewhat contrary, I have decided I’ll never fly in one again. Now, whenever I want to fly, I do LSD instead – and I get much higher too.