There were claims that the reason for the "hold back" (and the "College Training Detachment" as well) was to delay the production of Army Air Corps pilots; because fewer of us were being lost in combat than the planning moguls had anticipated. Reportedly, General "Hap" Arnold was already being accused of having taken more than his share of the "cream of the crop" from among the troops. It was rumored that it had become a sticky situation among the silver stars.

The prospect of getting assigned to a P-51 fighter outfit kept growing dimmer. After graduating from the Aviation Cadet program I received orders to report to Randolph Field to attend the Training Command's Central Instructor School (CIS). I didn't care much for this turn of events; but orders are orders, as they say. However the few weeks there were a great learning experience. What's more, I felt greatly honored to acually be assigned at Randolph Field. I felt as though I was in the shrine of military aviation. As an adolesent aviation enthusiast I saw the Randolph Field Administration building as a symbol of, and the epitome of, aviation glory. I still do.

The CIS course consisted of both classroom and in-flight work. Each of us was assigned to a mentor for the fine honing of our flight skills. This preparation of its flight instructors is what assured that the Training Command's high standards of flight training for the Army Air Corps Aviation Cadet and other flight training programs would be fulfilled. My mentor was First Lieutenant Kirkpatrick.

One thing I began to learn at CIS is that surviving as a mentor or flight instructor requires intestinal fortitude and a constant alertness for sudden and wierd things that students may be apt to do. Even though Lieutenant Kirkpatrick was up to the mark in this respect, it is still a wonder that I did not cause him to have a siezure by something I did while "shooting a stage" with him. A "stage" is an exercise for testing the skill of pilots in landing their aircrafts. The two control officers parked their AT-6 in the middle of an auxillary landing field and set up their table there to score us on our landings. The "stage" rule was that the pilot had to make a power-off final approach glide path and make a three-point landing exactly in front of the control aircraft. A three-point landing is one in which the two front wheels and the tail wheel all touch down simultaneously. We had to do ten touch-and-go landings in the stage.

On the way back to Randolph Field, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick said over the intercom, "Well, you shot a perfect stage". Then after a pause he added, "With possibly one exception ..... No, not even that. It was a perfect stage". I didn't have to ask what that possible one exception was. In the final approach for my ninth landing I was coming in too high and would have overshot the mark. So without taking time to give a warning, I did something that my Advance Training flight instructor, Lieutenant Stewart, had taught me. I turned our AT-6 airplane on its side and cross-controlled the rudder and ailerons. We dropped like a rock. At the right moment I flipped us back into an upright glide and immediately pancaked the aircraft in for the three-point landing on the mark. It was nice to be able to do little things like this.

Soon enough, the Randolph Field CIS assignment was done. After that I was assigned to the US Army Air Corps Training Command as a Flight Instructor at Perrin Field near Sherman, Texas; and there I remained to the end of the war. You would never know it by the look on my face, but I was a bitterly disappointed young man about that outcome. I had been eagerly looking forward to a tactical assignment; especially hoping to be assigned to a P-51 fighter outfit. But that was never to be.

However, I am now priviliged to recall that the aviation pioneer, Chuck Yeager, and I were, at that time, both flight instructors and were both quartered in Bachelor Officer Quarters-A (pictured here).

Of the nearly 14,000 P-51 (models A through K) produced, only about 300 still exist today (year 2005), and less than half of them are flying. The P-51's combat record of a 19:1 kill ratio includes 4950 air kills, 4131 ground kills, and 230 V-1 kills. The source of this information is Larry's Aircraft Page.

My first class of flight students might have been Aviation Cadets. I truly do not remember. My first few groups of flight students were from other countries: Brazil, Mexico, and the Philippines. We were training them under the wartime lend-lease agreement. We helped develop their "air forces" in exchange for their allowing us to build some strategic air bases in their countries.

One of my Philippine students, named Baldemero, had already shot down a Japanese Zero fighter aircraft shortly before the Japanese invasion of their country. He was in primary flight training in the Stearman PT-17 bi-plane. Because Japanese fighter planes had begun harrassing and shooting down their flight students, they mounted 30-caliber machine guns on the PT-17s with only hope moreso than any real expectation. However, one day Baldemero saw tracer bullets passing over his head from behind. Quickly as the Zero passed overhead also, he fired his 30-caliber pea-shooter at it. He missed it, of course, having had no gunnery training or experience. But, by aiming at it, his bullets "led" a second Zero right behind the first one exactly enough to shoot it down. That must have been a frightening surprise for the pilot of the first Zero. He made a hasty exit.

Following those flight students came the combat returnees into the Army Air Corps pilot training program at Perrin Field. These were first lieutenants and captains who had been navigators and bombadiers in combat. Only one of them had been a second lieutenant, like myself. He had been shot down over Europe and walked back to active duty through Spain. I had only two classes of these fine gentlemen and seasoned officers by the time the war ended. After that, I chose not to remain on active duty and had orders to report to the "Separation Center" at Randolph Field.

While clearing the post (going to offices of various activities of the post and signing out) I was told that I had a new duty assignment and was sent to Captain Greene in another building. He told me that we were going to be working together and training other pilots in precision flying, whatever that meant. He was very disturbed when I told him I was clearing the post. Sorry about that, as they say. I had my orders, and I was looking forward to attending college under the "GI Bill".

The North American AT-6 Texan continued in use as the aircraft for Basic and Advance flight training. It was truly an excellent aircraft. Its only shortcoming that I can recall was in its fuel system. The fuel regulator for the engine was a float chamber. The higher the float in the chamber, the more it would restrict the supply of gasoline to the combustion cylinders. In inverted flight the float would "drop" to the top of the chamber and cut off the fuel supply. When this happened the engine would stop, and fire would belch out of the exhaust port (which you can see just behind the engine cowling in the picture).

Also, there was a gasoline tank in each wing and a hand-operated control for switching from one tank to another. Besides "Left" and "Right", there was also an "off" position in the switch, which cut off the gasoline supply all together. This cost the life of my friend, Lt. Bretz, and one of his students. The investigation of the crash revealed that Lt. Bretz had given his student a simulated forced landing. Part of the procedure for those exercises was to turn the gasoline tank switch to the other gasoline tank (just in case the tank had become empty or had malfunctioned). Evidently, Lt. Bretz did not see that his student had accidently switched to the "off" position. They were at a very low altitude when the engine stopped again, and they crashed in a ravine. What a sadness that day brought to us all. A sadness lingering even to this day.

This is a picture of another good friend, Bill Carlson (left), with two of his friends in Japan after the war ended. On the back of the photo Bill wrote:

I don't have a photo of "T.A." (Theron A.) Campbell. "T.A." was from Sarasota, Florida. By the time the four of us graduated in November of 1944, there was such a surplus of pilots that many were placed in "pilot pools" with little or nothing to do, and some were given non-flying duty assignments. "T.A." was assigned to a squadron of "pre-cadets" as the Commanding Officer. In a recent search I was unable to learn more about T.A.'s life since 1945. It's amazing how quickly even the best of friends can simply vanish in this sea of humanity.

Close friendships developed in many of our progressive duty assignments. Shown with me here are my friends Gordon Campbell, Millie Kent, and Lee Ates. As with most of my WWII friends, I lost contact with Gordon. He was from Los Angeles, California. Millie was from White-wright, Texas. Millie and Lee became Lt. and Mrs. Ates. I was best man at their wedding. Lee was from Oran, Missouri. We were fellow cadets together in Class 44-I since Basic Pilot Training at Garden City, Kansas.

And, one more important mention. In 1945 I received a letter from Patricia Ann Moulton, in which she sent me her picture. She was still with the US Navy and was assigned to duty in a Navy operation at Hunter College in New York. I do not remember now if she was there in an administrative assignment or as a teacher.

Patricia Ann Moulton is perhaps the most gentle "light" among the finest friends I have ever known. Lord, bless this dear one with your love and joy and peace forever, is my prayer.

In August of 1945 the Enola Gay delivered our convincing message to the war-lords of Japan, and our struggle for peace was finally fulfilled. Some of my Army Air Corps friends remained to make a military career of it. But most of us wended our separate ways home. A lot of us had plans to attend college and launch out into other careers.

I was soon back at Randolph Field again, which had now become a "Separation Center". I had 30 days of terminal leave coming, and I spent it at home with my parents. They wanted just one more picture of me in uniform. That's when this one was taken (October of 1945).

Well: ..... Time to say "So long".

I never did get to fly the P-51. That's just the way it was. But then, we can't win them all. Besides, I just thank God our Lord and Savior for protecting me and blessing me far beyond anything I ever deserved. And I wish the same for all of you .. as time goes by

Sincerely yours,
John Christian