A Tiger Is Tamed

I GREW up in North Louisiana, first on a farm in a small town, then in a moderate-sized town, then in a city. After I had worked my way through high school and one year of college, I got flying fever and joined the Army Air Force on my eighteenth birthday, in 1942. I breezed through flying school in good shape, graduating as a second lieutenant in October 1943. My assignment to fighters fulfilled my fondest aspirations, and early in 1944 I went to China, where I flew the shark-nosed P-40's of Chennault's Flying Tigers. This was my cup of tea; I loved to fly; and a fighter pilot in China came about as near as possible to being his own man. I liked it well enough to volunteer for a second tour of combat, but to my disgust the war ended just as I got back to China.