Air Force Training

Basic Training

I began my Air Force training at Lackland AFB in San Antonio Texas. It was a six week course that covered many things, including military discipline, and military courtesy. We were placed in groups of thirty men with a Chief Military Training Instructor (TI), and were called a flight. We learned to march. We also attended classes in english, math, and history, and we were tested and evaluated. As a result of the tests and evaluations the Air Force determined into which career field we would be placed. However, my goal was to be a pilot and I applied for the Aviation Cadet Program. I went through another battery of tests, including a more thorough physical exam and physical coordinaton tests. At the very beginning we were issued our uniforms and instructed on how to fold and place them in our issued foot lockers. Along with memorizing our General Orders we learned how to make our beds so the TI could bounce a coin on them.

We also learned to peel onions and potatoes, and how to scrub pots and pans and mop floors. Of course we were taught how to fire a carbine, stand guard duty, crawl under barbed wire, and expeience tear gas. Hollywood seems to have been able to depict basic training quite well in numerous movies. My TI was exceptionally hard on me, and I was put on KP (kitchen police) quite often. I think it might have been because I had applied for aviation cadets. I was the only one in my flight to do so. I was really quite terrified of Officers, and if I was walking and spotted one of those "spread eagles" on their cap, I would change direction and walk several blocks out of my way to keep from having to salute.

At the completion of the six weeks, most of us proudly sewed one stripe on the sleeves of our uniforms. A few didn't make the grade. However, we all had our orders assigning us to our next training base and for the career path we, or the Air Force, chose for us. My orders were to Vance AFB in Enid, Oklahoma as a "pre-cadet."

After we were issued our uniforms, we were required to pack up all our civilian clothes and the Air Force shipped them home. After about one week, one of the men in our flight disappeared. A check of his foot locker revealed all his issued uniform items were there. The Air Police picked him up at his home and brought him back. We never found out if he had left the base naked, but a couple days later he was gone again. This time the Air Police didn't bring him back to our flight, he went straight to the brig.

Vance AFB

I spent eight busy months at Vance AFB, as an Airman 3rd Class. Pre-Cadets were frozen in grade and were not promoted as regular airmen were. However, for the first two or three months that was the least of my worries. I was assigned to work on B-25's, mainly cleaning and occassionally changing a spark plug or two. I enjoyed that part of my job, but I was always getting into some kind of trouble.

Seems like no matter what I tried, I always did something wrong and was put on restriction. As an example, I was on duty as bay orderly. My job was to clean the barracks, upstairs and down. This was an open bay barracks, that is, there were no partitions between the beds, just one great big room. All the men maintained their footlockers and made their beds, but the bay orderly was responsible for cleaning the bathrooms, one upstairs and one downstairs, and mopping the floors. In addition, we were there to stand inspection when the commander came in. I was upstairs and had just finished damp mopping the floor with my back to the fire escape when I heard the screen door downstairs open. I needed to call the barracks to attention, but I also needed to be downstairs greeting the commander. Instead of walking across the freshly mopped floor, I clambered down the fire escape, but much to my dismay the commander noting I wasn't downstairs proceeded upstairs, and I was gone. I cannot begin to tell you how much grief that episode caused me.

At home in Mexico City I was used to having maids clean the house, do the laundry, and generally take care of me. I didn't realize I had grown up in the "lap of luxury," including a chauffeur to drive me around and gardeners to take care of the yard. Now I was doing KP, cleaning bathrooms (once with a toothbrush as seen in the movies, but that's quite another story), and just a general flunky. I was broke most of the time and I didn't have any transportation so I couldn't go anywhere. In desperation, I wrote my grandfather Day and asked if he would lend me enough for a down payment on a used car. And, I waited!

To my surprise and everlasting gratitude, I received a letter from my grandfather saying he didn't want me owing anyone for a car and enclosed was a check for $2,500.00. This was truly unbelievable. In those days, a young enlisted man required the permission of his commanding officer to buy a car. I was already in trouble with him, after the barracks incident, and was really afraid to ask. I finally got enough nerve to ask for permission to see the commander. When I was granted that permission I asked for his permission to buy a car, whereupon he laughed and said, "and just how do you propose to pay for a car?" I wasn't trying to show off or anything, but I pulled out that beautiful check for $2,500.00 and he took one look and my whole world changed. No longer was I the little "Mexican kid" destined to pull KP and any and all other dirty details available. No sir! I must be from an influential family (not too many people could come up with that amount of money back in those days). I was actually treated with respect the rest of my time at Vance AFB.

Cars were in short supply because of a strike in Detroit. However, a fellow pre-cadet, Lucien Phoenix, from Ellinwood, KS invited me home with him because his family was friends with the Ford dealer in Ellinwood and he was sure I could get a car there. He was right. I bought a brand spanking new 1952 Ford Club Coupe, dark blue with the biggest white sidewall tires you have ever seen.

Later that year, on October 17th, I stopped in at Jacoby's Drive In for a bite to eat. The Drive Ins back then had a big parking lot in front and cars would park in rows there. Service was provided by "car hops," usually young girls who would come right up to the car window to get the order. It was cool that evening and this cute young thing came gliding up to my car, placed a number card under my windshield wiper and said, "what would you like?" I answered by asking, "what's your name?" and she promptly put me in my place by her retort, "I don't have a name, I have a number." I told her I would like a cheeseburger and she took off, and as I watched her sashay away I thought to myself "I really want that girl."

I had been to Jacoby's before and had met another girl, Jo, and as Jo came by my car I asked her for the name of that heavenly creature that only had a number. The story from then on is quite well known. The apparition brought my cheeseburger, I said, "thank you, Wilma" and she turned in disbelief wanting to know how I knew her name. I informed her I knew it because she was named after my Mother. Two days later we had our first date, and on the 31st of October I asked her to marry me as I said, "We've been friends long enough" while slipping an engagement ring on her finger. We were too young to really be in love, so we were told, and it wouldn't last. I suppose not, but we celebrated our 60th anniversary on June 6, 2013. I really think she fell in love with that blue Ford, and just couldn't back out.

It was the later part of January when I, along with several other Pre-Cadets received our orders to proceed to Lackland AFB for Pre-Flight training in pilot training 54G.

Pre-Flight was a rigorous restructuring of our way of thinking. This was a three-month program similar to Officer Candidate School (OCS). The first day we were gathered in an auditorium for briefing when an upper-classman walked up to me and asked, What's that on your sleeve mister," as he pointed to my one stripe. Before I could answer he reached down, took hold of it, and ripped it off my sleeve. Welcome to Pre-Flight. The first month we were "under-classmen." As such, we were bullied and yelled at by upper-classmen and I think we were made to move every rock from one side of Lackland AFB to the other, and back again. We learned very quickly what a "square meal" was and how to bury smiles. As plebes we would be in the open bay barracks when an upper-classman would walk in. Of course we had to call the barracks to attention as loudly as we could, and stand at attention. The upper-classman or two or three of them would come right up to our face and yell, "wipe that grin off your face mister." Once that was done he would ask, "where is that smile mister." The first answer was, "it's gone sir." to which the upper-classman would respond, "NO it's not, it's in your hand. Throw it on the floor and stomp on it to kill it." Needless to say, this would generate more smiles and additional killings. In the evening then, we would be required to go through proper military burial techniques for the dead smiles.

As I look back now it seems hilariously funny, but at the time it took all the nerve we could muster to eat our meals without ever seeing the food. As we entered the mess hall we were required to walk at attention. We had to look straight ahead and not allowed to turn our heads. We would pick up a steel tray and walk through the serving line without knowing what was placed on the tray. We would sit at a table, still looking straight ahead, with our knees together. We would pick up the food with our fork without seeing it and once in our mouth we had to chew three times and swallow. Upper-classmen swarmed all over us looking for infractions. This was known as the "square meal." Of course we became very adept at eating that way, but none of us gained any weight.

The second month was not as hectic, as there was now a new freshman class receiving all the attention of the upper-classmen. We were no longer required to eat square meals, and life was more bearable. However, we still had numerous fire drills in the middle of the night where we had assemble outside the barracks in formation wearing our rain coats and our garters. Yes, garters were a must even though we would not be wearing socks. An infraction would mean demerits and possible walking tours on the tour path as punishment.

We were allowed to visit our cars, which were in a huge dirt parking lot for one hour, once a week to run the engine and keep the battery charged up. During that one hour I would cry like a baby. I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into and figured I would never survive this ordeal, and I missed my true love back in Oklahoma.

The third month rolled around and we became the upper-class. It was up to us to harass the new plebes and make their life as misserable as possible. This was not all "fun and games," it was serious business as it was designed to "weed out"those that couldn't "take it." When the new class came and were in their barracks arranging their clothes, I walked in and spotted an individual with his blouse off. I ripped into him and dressed him up one side and down the other for being out of uniform. As he put his blouse on I saw where he had the wings of a flight gunner, and a purple heart. He was a veteran back from Korea, welcome to the aviation cadet program. I don't know if he made it through, as we didn't have much contact with that class once we left Lackland AFB. I made it through, with about 350 others, and I was sent to Goodfellow AFB in San Angelo, Texas for primary pilot training.