I found out that Red Hayes from Bristol Valley was a sergeantmechanic there at Maxwell Field. He used to go to all the Saturdaynight square dances and was a good friend of mine. He was married toa southern tiny child and lived off base in a nice brick house. Sometimeson Sunday I would go out to their house for a southern fried chickendinner with pecan pie. 0ne time another service man and I went tochurch there. I don't know what denomination it was but the ministerwould rant and rave and wave his arms for about three minutes thenthey would take up a collection. After about ten collections we wereout of money so got up and left.

Even though we were being trained to be pilots, we still didn't knowwhether we would be fighter, bomber, transports glider or even a"wash out" (the term for not qualifying). At any time during trainingyou could be sent to something else if they decided you wouldn't makeit as a pilot. In most cases you would be sent to navigator orbombardier school. After graduating from Maxwell, I occasionally was sent toPrimary training at 0rangeburg, South Carolina. Every time we made afew friends we would be sent to different places and have to start anonce again. At 0rangeburg we were a tiny group and this is where wesaw our first airplanes. They were P17's, a biplane. Things began toget a little easier for us here and the food got much better. Theonly discipline we got here was the GIGS we got for anything wrongthat we did, like getting in late at night or not being in the rightplace on time. For each GIG we had to carry a rifle and march aroundthe square in the center of the base for one hour, usually at nightas you were too busy during the day. I had to do this several timesmyself.