Darlings.
Today is Sunday but, we are flying and attending ground school just the same. Gosh! I wish they would give us a day of rest once in a while.
Dad asked how long a period in the air was. A period is an hour in length. The 20 hours checks are coming closer and closer. I’m scared to death. I wish I didn’t worry all the time about these checks.
Ralph Fleming, my roommate at Rankin, wrote me a letter the other day. It seems that one of my classmates from Rankin went completely out of his head when he washed out at Lemoore Basic field. Without permission he took off a new B.T. 13A with the intention of taking his last fling at flying.
He flew over Rankin Academy so low that the vibration from the motor shattered the plate glass windows in the control tower. Everybody at Rankin was scared to death. One of the flying officers went up and pleaded with him over the radio to land but, the kid just tried to ram him in midair. The West Coast interceptor command had orders to shoot him down on sight. The worst part of it is-some poor farmer riding on top of his load of cotton was scared into the ditch when the fool buzzed him. The cotton bales crushed him to death. Then when he decided to head back to Lemoore field, he climbed to 8000 feet and put it into a power dive, full throttle, low pitch. I think he had planned to commit suicide then. Evidently he chickened out and when he pulled out the rivets on the wings just popped out. I can’t see how he ever landed the plane. It was a complete wreck. He is court-martialed now. He must’ve been out of his mind.
Well, darlings, I must stop.
Miss you terribly,
Jim