The Boxcar Blues (31 page)

They thanked everyone and dashed back into
the storm, which had quieted to a rain shower. When they reached
the shoreline, Curly said, “The tide is in three or four feet
already; the plane might have floated out to sea. Lucky, the fuel
tanks were almost empty so it might float for a while.”

When they got to the crash site, they both
stopped in their tracks—the Vega was gone. For Catwalk and Curly
their worst dreams had come true. They looked off shore and saw it,
a half mile out with a wing up—going under. Curly screamed, “Holy
shit, Cat! We sunk a plane.”

Catwalk added, “Now, we’re fired for
sure.”

Two days later, Catwalk and Curly returned
to Valdez compliments of Wien Airlines. They were met with cheers
and congratulations for their feat, which made the papers from
Anchorage to New York.

Because it was his plane that had been lost,
Hank wasn’t as impressed as everyone else. Several of the local
pilots took up a collection to have the Vega salvaged and repaired,
but still, their notoriety notwithstanding, Hank fired Catwalk and
Curly.

When they inquired about jobs with other
outfits, everyone said they didn’t need anyone right now. Catwalk
and Curly knew this wasn’t true, but couldn’t press the issue.

They were in a bar when another pilot
explained it to them, “What you guys did was remarkable, even
heroic, but you took a plane without the owner’s permission. It
turned out good this time, but you didn’t show good judgment.
People don’t want you working for them.”

Catwalk and Curly decided to go fishing and
consider their future, which would probably not be in Alaska. Even
though Catwalk liked the people here and the way he was treated, he
wouldn’t mind returning to the states. He’d never gotten used to
the weather in Alaska. Being from Mississippi, and having spent the
last few years in the southwest, he was tired of the cold. He’d
also been thinking about Curly’s comments on joining the
military.

He wanted to enlist in the military for
several reasons: As an American, he wanted to serve his country,
and he’d like to do it as a pilot. Also, he’d like to show the
bigoted military men he could fly as well as anyone, better than
most. And, there was nowhere else to go.

There was one person who could give him
counsel on his dilemma, so he dialed the farm in Vaughn. Barney’s
voice sounded good when he said, “I read about you guys in the
paper. It said you lost a plane but saved two kids.”

“
That’s true but we still
got fired. I called because I’m thinking about going into the
military. What have you heard about them allowing blacks to become
pilots?”

“
I just finished reading
about General Hap Arnold. He assured Congress that the Air Corps
could enroll black trainees in basic and advanced courses. But I
don’t know how much stock to put in that because Arnold has been
critical of blacks since World War I. Those generals have a history
of saying one thing to the press and then doing something
else.”

Barney paused, then said, “I tell you, son,
it doesn’t sounds like anyone is making any progress against the
bull-headed military, but next year is an election year. Roosevelt
wants to get re-elected and he needs the black vote. Also, the
first lady is supportive of blacks in the military. I think you’ll
see black pilots in the Air Corps, but not right away.”

“
That’s good to hear and I
agree with you, it’s got to happen, but the question is
when.”

“
Are you serious about
leaving Alaska?”

“
Probably. All the people
up here have been real nice, but we wrecked a Vega on that flight
to Kodiak. The guy fired us and now no one else will hire us. Curly
is thinking about going into the military, and I’ve had my fill of
this weather.”

“
If you decide to leave
Alaska, you’ve always got a home here. Why don’t you spend some
time down here while you make up your mind on what you’re going to
do.”

This suggestion sounded good to Catwalk. He
had fond memories of the farm and couldn’t think of a place he’d
rather be right now. He said, “I think I’ll do that.”

“
Come anytime, the door is
always open.”

Catwalk and Curly spent four days fishing
and exploring parts of Alaska they’d never seen. As much as they
enjoyed their leisure time, the two out of work pilots knew it was
time to move on. Early on a Wednesday morning they loaded up the
Jenny and flew south. Curly thought it was time for him to finally
meet his son, so he was going to fly as far as Albuquerque, where
they’d part ways and Catwalk, who was glad to get out of the cold
weather, would continue to Vaughn.

Three days later, on the airport ramp, they
bid each other goodbye. Catwalk shook Curly’s hand and said, “Good
luck, man. Maybe I’ll see you at thirty thousand feet one day.”

“
I hope so, Cat. They
gotta let you join up because I know you’re a better pilot than
most of the guys flying now.”

“
Go get ‘em,
tiger.

Catwalk then flew to Vaughn, determined to
find a way to enter military service. When he landed at the farm,
he found out Barney had been busy, using every available resource
to help Cat realize his aspirations of becoming a military pilot.
In an effort to learn as much as they could about the integration
of the military services, his secretaries had been making phone
calls to local congressmen and politicians in Washington, D.C.

After he and Barney talked over the airline,
which was losing passengers and money at an alarming rate, Barney
told him he’d uncovered something that Catwalk might be interested
in.

“
Son, I don’t know if I’m
doing you a favor or not, by telling you about this military outfit
for black fliers. From everything I’ve learned, this outfit is
set-up to fail, and expected to fail. If by God’s will and a little
luck, it does succeed, you want to be a part of it.

“
It doesn’t hurt to talk
about it.”

“
Last year Congress passed
a law that authorized private training of military pilots by
civilian flight schools, but the law doesn’t apply to blacks or
black schools. The Army Air Corps, however, submitted a plan for an
experiment. They’re going to form an all black fighter squadron.
The black cadets will be trained at Tuskegee Army Air
Field.”

“
Why do you say it’s
expected to fail?”

”
This is a typical
government program conceived for all the wrong reasons. Some people
say Roosevelt backed it because it’ll help him get re-elected.
Others claim that the high and mighty white generals want to see it
fail so it’ll put to rest the question of segregation in the armed
forces. See, no one has the guts to come out and say that this is
the beginning of integration in the military. Everyone is
conveniently avoiding the tough issue, and this program will get
the same kind of support; half-hearted tokenism by officers that
don’t have the guts to stand up for their principles.”

“
Are you against the
program?”

“
Not at all. I think the
concept is outstanding, but I know how badly it will be
administered and that makes me sick.”

“
Maybe this program needs
some people who aren’t afraid to stand up and be counted. People
who don’t run from the hard issues.”

“
Oh, I agree, Cat. That’s
exactly what it needs.”

“
Any idea what kind of
equipment they’re flying?”

“
P-40s. Twelve hundred
horsepower, three hundred knots and a ceiling of thirty-two
thousand feet. Carries a five hundred pound bomb and six, fifty
caliber machine guns. They’re a little underpowered and have poor
armor plating, but there’s a bunch of them available.”

“
Well, I’d like to get my
hands on one and I don’t have anything else lined up.”

“
Are you saying you’ve
already decided to join this group?”

“
As soon as I can find out
where to sign up. I’m going to stop and see my family on the way to
Tuskegee.”

“
It ain’t gonna be any bed
of roses.”

“
War never is.”

Catwalk wrote his Mother about his decision
to join the military. He realized she wouldn’t be happy about it,
but he thought she’d support him, even if it was begrudgingly. When
he arrived at home, he found out this was the case.

“
Luke, I’m so proud of
what you’ve done, and I love this house so much that I can’t find
it within me to question your decision. I’d smile a lot more
though, if you’d let someone else fight this war.”

“
Save that smile for when
I get back.”

“
I will, son.”

Catwalk spent three days at home, working on
the new house and fishing with his brothers. When the time came to
board the bus for Tuskegee, he was as nervous as he’d been when he
took his private pilot check ride. He realized, however, this was a
four year check ride and unlike flying with a check pilot, those
four years will be filled with racially motivated problems and
attacks on his character, while fighting a war. Still, nothing
could have kept him from getting on that bus.

CHAPTER FORTY

When Catwalk arrived at Tuskegee, the Army
airfield and barracks were not completed. Their first barracks were
overcrowded tents. Water was trucked in and the mess hall was
outside, regardless of the weather.

The commanding officer at the Institute was
Major James “Straight Arrow” Elliot. A veteran of World War I,
Elliot had been in pursuit aviation for years. The word among the
troops was, although Elliot was white, he was a supporter of black
aviation training. Catwalk found this to be true. Elliot was just
there to do a job and color was not an issue.

Unfortunately, Elliot didn’t stay long. His
replacement was Lieutenant Colonel Frederick Kendall, who was not a
supporter of black aviation training. For him, color was an
issue.

One night Catwalk and several other men
talked outside their tent with a cadet who was about to graduate.
The cadet said, “The instructors are strict, but they’re fair.
Before you go up, they’ll tell you what you’re going to do on that
flight and that’s all he’ll grade you on. As soon as you land,
he’ll give you a slip with your grade. If you get so many errors,
you get a pink slip. Three pink slips and you’re out.”

A cadet asked, “What if we make a bad
landing, or other mistake on something that’s not in our
routine?”

“
The instructors know
you’re going to make mistakes, so they’ll overlook some mistakes.
They’re not there to wash you out. They’re there to make good
aviation cadets out of you.”

After a four week classroom and
indoctrination period, Catwalk marched out to the flight line one
morning with his class. His instructor, a tall white Captain called
out, “Aviation Cadet Jackson, follow me to the plane.”

They walked to a row of PT-17 biplanes, a
training plane not much different, but more powerful than the
Jenny. The instructor said, “Cadet Jackson, we’re climbing to ten
thousand feet today. Then we’re going to do loops, slow rolls and
immelmen turns. Do you understand?”

“
Yes, sir!”

Once they were taxiing, the instructor came
on the intercom and said, “Cadet Jackson, I understand that you
were once the president of Rocky Mountain Airways.”

“
That’s correct,
sir.”

“
Have you given any
thought to being an instructor at the Institute?”

“
No, sir. I’d prefer to go
to Europe to fight the Germans.”

The instructor laughed. “Cadet Jackson, the
Army Air Corps wasn’t formed to satisfy your desires. Every man
here want to go fight the Germans, but if we let them, who is going
to teach the new men?”

“
That’s a good point,
sir.”

“
We’ll talk more,
Jackson.”

Catwalk’s barnstorming experience came back
to him quickly and he went though his routine with no errors and no
problems. On the flight back to the base, the instructor said,
“That wasn’t bad, Jackson. I think you’d make a good
instructor.”

On the ground he was given his grading slip,
which read no errors. While he waited for the rest of his class to
finish, he thought about being stuck at Tuskegee as an instructor.
He was flattered that a white instructor thought him good enough,
when most of the instructors had forty or fifty combat missions
under their belt. To be considered for this job without any actual
combat experience was a compliment, but he couldn’t envision
spending a whole tour of duty at Tuskegee.

Catwalk found the flying enjoyable, but not
challenging. After each day’s flight was over, however, the
military routine was as ridiculous as he’d expected. Cadets were
grouped into advanced or lower preflight groups, with the lower
cadets being addressed as “dummies.” The advanced cadet slept on
the bottom bunk and if he wanted a glass of water during the night,
he kicked the upper bunk and the lower cadet jumped out of bed and
fetched his water.

On the second morning, a light came on at
two thirty in the morning. An advanced cadet entered the tent in
his flight gear and said, “What are you guys doing in here
sleeping? I’m up there lost and I can’t find my way home, and you
guys are down here sleeping. Every dummy hit the floor!”

If someone didn’t get up, the cadet and
their mattress were pulled onto the floor and told. “Go sit on that
red stool, Dummy.” But, there was no stool, only a pole. The dummy
had to prop himself against the pole in a sitting position. The
advanced cadet said, “Mister, what are you doing, sitting in that
position? Are you comfortable?”