February 1, 1955
Yesterday I saw a movie called “The Bridges at Toko-Ri,” a real Gung-Ho-Three-Cheers-for-the-United-States-Naval-Air-Force type thing that will make a tremendous impression on the public in general and a rather adverse one on the young gentlemen who are currently training to be Naval Aviators. As the picture fades out on the teary-eyed fatherly old Admiral, he looks into the screen & says dramatically to himself, the camera, & several thousand viewers—“Where do we get men such as these?” I could tell him!!
Be sure you see it, though—it’s quite good, in spite of making all the NavCads DOR-minded.
Today was a beautiful day—all the planes were out—all but one, that is. Number 229 was sitting calmly on the sidelines waiting for me & my instructor. I was scheduled for a 1230 hop—I’d signed out the plane, filled out all the necessary forms, & waited. Well, I waited…& waited…& waited. He never did show up, so at 1415 I called it quits & went home. Saturday afternoon I saw a guy in my class (34) who was out at Whiting—he’s on his A-15 & here I am on my A-2. So tomorrow, if I haven’t gotten up, I’m going to have to request a change of instructors; & when I say I can’t afford it, I mean it—every day extra I spend here, I lose $10 a day that I’ll be getting when I get my commission
Mother, are you still not smoking? If not, I’m very proud of you—if you have started again then you’d better quit, cause you promised me.
Saw the pictures of dear old NISTC in the paper & felt real nostalgic.
We’re through with ground school as of tomorrow, but I’ve still got 34 hours of Code to put in. I’m having one heck of a time with Morse code—I remember that it is one of the things that kept me from making Second Class boy scout.
As to my “rank”—which father is always inquiring about, I am now a third class cadet; which, comparatively, is about the rank of a snail compared to an ameba—not a very high step up the ladder of evolution, but a small one nevertheless.
Got to study now. I’ll write again sometime.
Till then, I am