Ben and Bob and I were all of draft age and we knew we were going to be inducted soon.
Ben said, “There’s a training film unit at Fort Dix in New Jersey. I’m going to enlist and see if I can get into that.”
He volunteered the next day and the Army was happy to get him. One week later he was on his way east.
“What are you going to do?” I asked Bob.
“I don’t know yet. I have asthma. They won’t take me in the Army. I’m going back to New York and see what I can do to help. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to join the Air Corps.”
On October 26, 1942, I applied for the Army Air Corps.
In order to have my application accepted, it was necessary to get three letters of recommendation from prominent people. I did not know any prominent people. I started writing letters to members of Congress, telling them that I was determined to serve my country and that I needed their help. It took me two months to finally collect my three letters.
The next step was to make an appointment at the Federal Building in downtown Los Angeles, to take a written examination. There were approximately two hundred applicants in the room. The test, which covered logic, vocabulary, mathematics, and general knowledge, lasted four hours.
The mathematics section baffled me. Because I had changed schools so often, I had never really learned some of the basics of math. I missed most of the questions in that section and was sure I would be rejected.
Three days later, I received a notice to report for an Air Corps physical examination. To my surprise, I had passed the written test. I later learned that only thirty applicants in the group had been accepted.
I was sent to an armory uptown for my physical examination, sure that I would pass with flying colors.
When the examination was finished, the doctor asked, “Any physical problems I should know about?”
“No, sir.” And as I said it, I thought about my herniated disc and I wondered if that was important. “I—”
“What?”
I knew I was on dangerous ground. “I do have a problem, sir, but it’s very minor. I have a herniated disc that slips out once in a while, but—”
He was writing on my application, “herniated disc.” I watched him pick up a rubber stamp with the word DISQUALIFIED in red letters.
“Wait a minute!” I said.
He looked up at me. “Yes?”
I was not going to let anything stop me. “That disc doesn’t go out anymore. It’s cured. I can’t even remember the last time I had a problem. I only mentioned it because it was something I used to have.” I didn’t even know what I was saying, but I knew that if he red-stamped my application, I was through. I kept talking until finally he put the rubber stamp down. “All right. If you’re sure—”
In my sincerest voice, “I’m positive, sir.”
“Very well.”
I was in! All that remained was the eye test, and that would be no problem.
I was sent to another office, where I was handed two index cards, each one containing the name of an optometrist who could approve my application.
“Take this card to either doctor,” I was told. “When you’ve passed your eye examination, have him sign it. Then bring it back here.”
I went back to Gracie’s and told Richard how well everything was going. It looked like I was going to be in the Air Corps.
Richard was devastated that I might be leaving. “I’ll be here all alone.”
“Gracie will take care of you,” I assured him. “And Mother and Marty will be out here soon. Anyway, the war can’t last very long.”
Sidney the prophet.
The following morning I went to see Dr. Fred Severn, whose name was on the first card. His reception room was crowded with men waiting to take their eye tests. I sat in his waiting room for an hour. Finally I was ushered into Dr. Severn’s office.
“Be seated.” He looked at the card I handed him and nodded. “A pilot, huh?”