The Power of Testimony

’TIL WE MEET AGAIN
the aluminum Luscombes on the ground was enough to
fill me with a sense of freedom and excitement. I was sure
flying would come easily, and I had no doubt my academics
would fall into place too. As the first three months drew
to a close, I allowed myself to dream a little more seriously
about getting my wings.
When nobody was dropped at the end of the first part
of the course, I felt even more confident about the next
phase. When it was time to move on, the cadets were
scattered to a number of different locations across the
country. I was sent to Washington State, where the Navy
Air Corps had taken over Gonzaga University, an old Jesuit
school in Spokane. I was excited to be heading to the West
Coast—​farther from home than I’d ever been before. This
adventure had even more appeal for me because everyone
knew Bing Crosby had a house that backed up to the
grounds there.
So far, my naval training was everything I’d hoped it
would be. My new instructors told me I was doing well,
and after a total of just eight hours of flying with an
instructor by my side, I was allowed to fly solo—​ the first
one in my group. Climbing into the two-​ seater Luscombe,
with an empty seat to my right where there had previously
always been an officer, I felt like I didn’t even need wings
to fly this machine.
As I taxied to the end of the runway and prepared for
takeoff, my nerves kicked in. But it wasn’t long before
they were left behind, along with the ground. Alone in the
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