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RAY AND BETTY WHIPPS<br />
dropped from the V-5 program, I was grateful to have<br />
passed. Now it was on to the third location for training,<br />
where we would perfect our flying and come to grips with<br />
the complex math required <strong>of</strong> pilots. This time I was sent<br />
south to Saint Mary’s College near Berkeley, California.<br />
For a boy from Columbus, the idea <strong>of</strong> being stationed in<br />
the beautiful hills near San Francisco sounded almost too<br />
good to be true— especially when I was told that the debutantes<br />
from Berkeley were going to join us for a dance one<br />
evening soon after we arrived.<br />
Tradition stated that one cadet from each class would<br />
lead the dancing, and somehow the honor that year was<br />
mine. Even though I was in the best shape <strong>of</strong> my life, this<br />
was one physical challenge I felt wholly unequipped to deal<br />
with. I’d never been much <strong>of</strong> a dancer, and the thought <strong>of</strong><br />
being in the spotlight made me pr<strong>of</strong>oundly nervous. Still, I<br />
did as I was told and filled in my name, height, and weight<br />
on the card I was given. Apparently these cards would<br />
ensure that dancers were paired up correctly.<br />
What I didn’t realize until I stepped out onto the dance<br />
floor was that one <strong>of</strong> my colleagues had seen this as a prime<br />
opportunity to play a trick on me, and he’d made some<br />
significant edits to my vital statistics. So while my dance<br />
partner was expecting a six- foot- two, 200- pound specimen<br />
<strong>of</strong> male perfection, instead she got a gangly guy <strong>of</strong> five foot<br />
ten and 140 pounds who barely filled out his uniform.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re was no hiding the disappointment in her eyes.<br />
“Why did you lie?” she whispered as we fumbled our way<br />
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