A bright idea
occurred to us. If he wanted to play at shooting us
down, why shouldn’t we play at shooting him down?
Not from our plane, of course, which had no guns,
but from the ground? All the artillery units
underneath us were generously equipped with
machineguns for defense against low-flying aircraft
as well as against ground attack. Why not equip each
machine gunner with a camera to "shoot
down" (that is take a picture of) any hostile
plane that pursued a Cub so low as to present a good
target? This would render the picture war a
stalemate. This was done, and the game was entered
into with enthusiasm by all concerned: the fighters,
the Cubs, the men on the ground. The ultimate in
evasive maneuver by a Cub pilot was reached one day
when Lieutenant Couné came in from a mission with a
section of pine tree about 3 inches in diameter and
3 feet long stuck in the leading edge of his right
wing. Attacked by a fighter, he had barely pulled
out of his evasive dive when he flew through the top
of a pine tree, clipping off a piece. The plane was
repaired in the field and remained in service.
Brigadier General Mark Clark came by to have a
look at this, and I took him for a ride from a
secondary road with pine trees close to our wing
tips on both sides. We landed on the same strip. He
seemed favorably impressed.
After a few weeks at Camp Blanding, I went to Ft.
Sam Houston, where Gordon Wolf was leading Flight B
through a highly successful test with the 2d
Division. The field tests at both places were soon
over, and enthusiastic reports from both generals
concerned went on their way upward through channels
to Headquarters, Army Ground Forces. A curious thing
happened here. Lieutenant General Lesley J. McNair,
who commanded the Ground Forces all over the United
States and did a magnificent job of training them,
was away on an inspection trip at the time and his
Chief of Staff, General Clark, who had flown with
me, was in charge. Ever willing to take
responsibility, General Clark promptly approved the
reports and sent them up to the War Department Chief
of Staff, General Marshall, recommending the organic
air observation for Field Artillery be adopted as
standard. The War Department approved. It was
rumored that General McNair, upon his return, was
somewhat displeased at this precipitate action. I
asked him later about this, believing that having
served under him at Purdue ROTC I had his
confidence. I asked him didn’t he believe we could
do what we claimed we could do. He said oh, yes, he
believed the concept was sound but that the Air
Corps, being the traditional operator in the flying
domain, should have been allowed to handle it if it
wished. However, he made no effort to undo what had
been done. He and General (Hap) Arnold, chief of
Army Air Forces, were very respectful of one
another’s prerogative.
So it came to be that on 6 June 1942, a War
Department directive established "Organic Air
Observation for Field Artillery," allotting two
planes, two pilots and one mechanic to each field
artillery battalion, and the same to each group,
division artillery and corps artillery headquarters.
It was wealth beyond our wildest hopes.
A Department of Air Training was instituted at
the Field Artillery School. I was appointed
director, and most of the personnel who had been in
the test group remained as members of the initial
staff. The course of pilot training was refined and
somewhat extended, and training of mechanics was
begun on a corresponding scale. When the supply of
persons already holding civilian pilot licenses gave
out, the Air Corps contracted with civilian flying
schools to fill this need. Volunteers from all over
the Army were first given primary training at the
civilian schools, coming later to Ft. Sill for
advanced and special training. It was a great
satisfaction to those of us who had been the
pioneers in this activity that, although starting
from scratch after the war began, it developed fast
enough to supply each field Artillery headquarters
entering combat in any theater of operations its
organic air section.
That, then, is how Army Aviation got its start
though under another name. How it went on in World
War II to fulfill richly the predictions which had
been made for it; how it came to serve many needs
beyond those of the Field Artillery; how it came to
employ a new type of aircraft, the helicopter; how
it proved itself over and over in two more wars; how
it stands today in robust maturity and is still
developing – these are chapters in a remarkable
story for which there isn’t the beginning of
enough space here. Some other time; some other
reporter.
