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Thunder birds4/10/2023 ![]() My eyes failed all the flight test requirements for the Air Force in the 50s. After the war, he managed an airport, instructed civilians and became a corporate flying foreman, all part of another story. In 3 years, my Dad taught 1,800 pilots to fly for the Army, Navy and Marines. Most of these pilots found their way to Iwo Jima, in one way or another. The Navy and Marine pilots were trained in J-3s to PT-19s before being sent overseas. A greater shortage of instructors existed in Navy and Marine training in Waco, Texas. We moved from Pennsylvania to Missouri in 1942, where Army pilots were being trained in open cockpit biplanes called JN3s. He was told his greatest value to the country would be as an instructor of military pilots. ![]() Yesterday, today and tomorrow came together faster than I would have imagined, in this way: My father was a civilian pilot at the beginning of WWII. You can look out those porthole windows at landscape from 20,000 feet for only so long. I find myself daydreaming as we used to do on cargo plane flights around the world. Nostalgia is a force that is hard to resist. experiences that speak to who we are and in whose lives we made a difference. (This feature is reserved for those alumni who wish to share special, personal experiences with our family.
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