Dan Morrissey

“ Or lying on our backs in the dusty grass, we watched the silvery specks high above us as they dipped and soared and looped, or came fluttering down in long, giddy tailspins. We knew the different makes of planes, their horsepower, their speed, their dependability. We knew the names of the instructors and cadets, and their nicknames. ”

“ Our eyes followed the planes all day. We talked of nothing but airplanes; we read of nothing but airplanes; we dreamed of airplanes at night.
Hundreds of flying cadets were in training at this and other near-by fields. They were all quite young, some of them boys not many years older than ourselves. And all of them were objects of our admiration and envy.
At Brooks Field the more advanced students received instruction in combat maneuvers and stunt flying. It was a small field with a group of hangars in one corner and a row of neat barracks where the cadets and soldier mechanics lived. ”

“ Hooking a ride on an airplane, while it was a hundred times more daring, didn’t seem utterly impossible to us.
One hot, dazzlingly bright July afternoon, Frank and I decided to visit the field. Coming around the corner of the hangars we saw there was something of special interest going on. A group of officers and cadets was gathered about a trim little monoplane standing headed out toward the field with its engine throttled down and running smoothly. ”

“ We knew each one’s reputation for skill and daring.
The possibility that sometime we might be taken for an air ride ourselves was a thing we often discussed. I would have given my right arm gladly for such a chance. The cadets would promise us rides easily, but when we approached anyone with real authority, we were summarily dismissed and threatened with being chased off the field.
I don’t remember how the idea of stealing a ride first came up, but it grew to be our most absorbing topic of conversation. Frank and I had hooked rides on the big army trucks that lumbered up and down the road. ”