 From New York City, where the American stage begins, here is another program with a cast of outstanding players. Public service time has been made available by this station to bring you this story, as proudly we hail the doctors and technicians of the School of Aviation Medicine, a gift of the breath of life for thousands, men, women, children whose suffering will be alleviated, whose recoveries will be facilitated, whose courage and hope will be sustained by the successful completion of a project undertaken at the School of Aviation Medicine, United States Air Force, Randolph Field, Texas. Our first act curtain will rise in just a moment. But first, here's an important word today about your tomorrow. There's a future in flight. Yes, you young men between the ages of 19 and 26 and a half who are high school graduates and otherwise qualified. There's an excellent opportunity for a great career in your expanding Air Force. You can secure an important job as a pilot, navigator, radar observer or flight engineer and fly the mighty aircraft of this jet age. Remember, there's a future in flight for you. Visit your nearest United States Air Force recruiting station today for complete details. And now your United States Air Force presents the proudly we hail production, breath of life. This story has happened. Its facts and events are absolutely true. Names are changed. Some of the places are changed. But the work accomplished will soon reach out to touch the lives of thousands to bring new hope, new comfort to them. This needs to be understood at the beginning so that you will hear this story in its correct perspective. If there is one word which brings terror to the hearts of parents, one word that creates fear with all its stalking shadows, that word is polio. Soon the vaccine will be perfected, tested. Soon our children and our own hearts will be free of this fear. But meanwhile, when polio strikes and the victims gasp for breath and plead for help, one device has been their only relief, the respirator, the iron lung. And when the patients and those huge steel tanks must travel to home, to hospitals, this has been the scene. This is the scene at Brooks Air Force Base of the Military Air Transport Service of the United States Air Force. Doing all right, son? Yeah, sure. We're getting into Brooks Air Force Base now. Did I hear a siren back there? You sure did. You're traveling in style. What are you doing all the pumping? Gotta keep your lungs going, son. No electricity to run the pumps back here. They told me. What was that siren? Oh, we got a real parade for you. Jeep with red lights and siren to get through traffic. Then Air Force staff car with your nurse and the flight surgeon. Then us in the truck. Us. You, me, and my iron lung. Gee, this collar is uncomfortable. Don't be long, fella. Since we get your board the aircraft, your nurse will make it easier for you. Won't I be able to run the pumps in the airplane? Sure. We order generators. Don't they have electricity on airplanes? Oh, you bet they do. Only it's 24 volts. So we put generators aboard, hook them to the 24-volt con, and they'll make 110 volts for you. Uh-huh. In my iron lung. Gee and my iron lung. 1,500 pounds. So large only a huge 4-engine C-54 can carry it. Carefully, patiently, the doctor, the nurse, the aeromedical technicians, the ground and plane crews work. The truck backs slowly to the double doors of the aircraft. The generators, all the other equipment are loaded, booked up, checked. Finally, the respirator, with its patient, is hauled up the ramp into the pool interior of the aircraft. Easy does it. Easy. Gently, please. Gently. Keep the bait on the bellows, Sergeant. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Bellows must go on pumping. Air goes into the huge shell compressing the patient's chest. Air comes out, releasing the patient's chest. Air pressure and a vacuum, alternating. Replace the normal breathing movements. The regular rise and fall, without which there can be no breathing, no life. Literally, the life of the patient is in the hands of the man pumping the bellows. By hand. Respirator, lash down securely. Yes, doctor. The motors can be plugged in now. Yes, sir. All set, sir. Switches on. All right, Sergeant. Yes, sir. Air your motors again, son. There you are. All set for Travis Air Force Base. The weary technician takes a seat, straps his seatbelt, knowing that at the other end of the line, there will be another session of hand pumping, another trippin' at truck behind a jeep, and always the unspoken fear and the patient that the bellows may stop. The breath of life be gone forever. The huge sea pitch before takes off. It lifts from the long runway easily. It will come to earth on another long runway, gently. It's precious cargo safe. Another mercy mission completed. But what of those places where long runways are not available? What of the small town, the tiny airstrips, where the largest plane possible is a C-47? This was the question which came up with reason at the SAM. The School of Aviation Medicine at Randolph Air Force Base, not far from Brooks Air Force Base. Did they get off all right this morning, Mason? Oh, yes, sir. I was there. I was in the generators myself. Usual cavalcade? Yes, sir. Jeep, red lights, truck. That works. How'd the boy take it? The usual amount of nervousness, I'd say. You can't blame him. Or any of them. My own boy was like that. Yes, I remember. Brought him down from Detroit, didn't we? Yes, sir. Jackson was plenty beat, too. Mason, ever thought there might be some way to eliminate the hand pumping? Oh, there's a battery to power those respirators. No, I know. Mason, you've been master sergeant in this lab a long time now. Yes, sir. Well, have you ever thought of trying to work out a respirator that would be easier to handle? I thought of that when my youngster had it. Any ideas? Where's the whole thing? He might lay our hands at the whole thing. Just a mock-up, maybe, to start nothing expensive. I, uh... I'd like to work with you on something like that, sir. All right, Mason. Let's put our heads together. This will be the practical side of aviation medicine if I ever saw it. The practical side, the doctor said. It's all practical, of course. It's basic aim to protect the health and the efficiency of men in flight. But there was no theory or philosophy in this. Only the job of designing and building something which had never been made before. See what I mean, doctor? Shell of aluminum. Just big enough to fit over a man's body on a stretcher, sort of. Like in this sketch. I see. Not too much room inside, is there? Well, that's to keep the amount of air necessary to a minimum. And the problem of the patient's bodily needs? Parts can be cut in, pretty much like in the standard respirator. I've indicated that. Oh, yes. What are these things along the lower edge, Mason? Oh, trunk latches, sir. The opposite side of the shell would be hinged so that the whole thing could be lifted up. The patient made comfortable on the stretcher, and then the shell would be lowered over the body and latched in place. Is it aerotype? Oh, yes, sir, of course. How does this neck opening work? From the sketch, it looks, well, like the Irish diaphragm in a camera land. It should say. The material is plastic, and it would be sealed to this movable rim. Turn it one way, it opens wide enough to let the patient's head through. Turn it the other way, and it narrows down on the patient's neck. Light, easy, and as comfortable as possible. What ever gave you that idea? My son, sir. The big respirator he had to be in had the sponge rubber collar. He hated it. A beginning. Only a beginning. From the sketch, blueprints. Then bids for manufacturers of aluminum containers. From makers of rolling stretchers. Always lightness, comfort, ease for the patient. Always doctors and technicians working together side by side in the machine shop at SAM, the School of Aviation Medicine. Is this a plastic housing for the alternating gears, Mason? A loose-side doctor. It makes it easy to see what's wrong if anything should go wrong, sir. Very good, Sergeant. The technicians will appreciate that. The patient's too sick. Anything that eases their fear. Like this, sir. We're building a panic button. It looks more like a bar below, but not to me, Mason. Oh, it is. It's the handle for hand-pumping the bellows in case the batteries go out any time. I see. Good. Any progress on the motor design? Well, we could design them all right, sir, but that's the expensive way. There ought to be some spare parts around the base. I was thinking on the 24-volt side, we might try the motor that activates the flaps on an aircraft's wing. Certainly small and light enough. Any ideas on the 110-volt side? One of the men was kidding about using a vacuum cleaner blower, sir. He said the whole apparatus looks a little like a tank-type cleaner. He's right about that. We might look into the vacuum cleaner motors around quarters, Sergeant. There may be an idea in that. Martha! Yes, here. Martha, what happened to that old vacuum cleaner of ours? One we stopped using last year? Oh, dear. I think it's someplace in the garage. You never throw anything out, you know that. Johnny, remember when you were sick, I gave you the old vacuum cleaner to take apart and work on? Sure. Still got some parts around somewhere. I could use the motor over at the lab if you can find it. Check, Dad. I'll figure it out for you. Oh, that's a grand idea, Louise. We'll see you tomorrow night. Oh, oh, Louise, Dick asked me to find out for him. Do you have an old vacuum cleaner, the tank-type of the bad kind? Either one'll do. I don't know, Louise, something he's working out at the lab. He said to spread the word around the base there, collecting vacuum cleaners. Heaven only knows what he'll think of next. Motor number 12, Mason. That's quite a collection. You know, before she got through, my wife had a committee going, collecting old vacuum cleaners. Quite unorganized. She did all right there. Thank you, Jack. That was a good deal of power in some of these, sir, particularly from the tank-type of cleaner. Good blast of air. We might save time concentrating on that type then. Oh, whatever you say, sir. You're the boss, Jack. Mason, go on, do it. Thank you, sir. The boys finished welding the battery racks on a stretcher this morning, sir. We're moving along fine. Make it sound so simple when they tell about it. Just get an idea and work it out. Nothing is said of the long hours and metal lathe at the power drill. Nothing is said of the painstaking care, the experiments that failed, the records which were kept of every detail. Nothing is said of the pool of knowledge and skill and human understanding which were drawn upon until a moment came when Master Sergeant Mason said, Oh, sir, Doctor, put the switch. Right, Mason. Well, it runs all right. How does it feel in there, Jack? It sure makes my chest feel properly, sir. Nothing like a vacuum cleaner blower to help a man breathe. All right, Mason. Put the switch over to the batteries in that flap motor. Yes, sir. Any difference, Jackson? Skip the beat on the changeover, Doc. That's all. Right. Hey, Mason, where are you going with it? Down the hall, sir. If you'll just take the handles back there and guide it through the door, two of us can handle it easily, even with Jackson going for a ride inside it. Then to handle the respirator with the patient inside, the bellows pumping, the blower working. As a little 24-volt motor from an airplane's wing ran the current supplied by the batteries in their rack underneath the respirator. Only one point remained. With understandable pride, Master Sergeant Mason reported, The new respirator, sir, weighs exactly 150 pounds, batteries and all. Not 1,500. One tenth of that. A respirator. An iron lung weighing only 150 pounds. Built of aluminum and rubber and chromium and blue-site, its power self-contained. Yes, built of aluminum and blue-site, and the skill, the knowledge and the hearts of men in Air Force Blue. Now the test, the real, the definitive test from the communications center at Randolph Air Force Base, the message arrived. Bye, radio, sir, from Montana. Thank you, Jack. Well, well, that's what we've been waiting for, Jackson. All the old patient at Great Falls be transported mass via Travis to Long Beach, California. Respirator case, C-54. Not this time, Jackson. The old Mason to stand by. This time we're going by C-47, and the new lung is going with us. We'll know by tomorrow night, Jackson, whether we've got something here or just another idea that didn't work. You are listening to the proudly-we-hail production, Brath of Life. We'll return in just a moment for the second act. This is Mark Hamilton again, reminding you young men who are interested in your future that the future is unlimited in the United States Air Force. If you're between 19 and 26 and a half years old and can meet the high qualification standards, we have a job for you in Air Force Blue. Why not drop into your local United States Air Force recruiting station or contact your nearest United States Air Force Base and get them to give you the full story about your future unlimited as an aviation cadet. And then, of course, you become a flying officer in today's modern United States Air Force. You are listening to proudly-we-hail, and now we present the second act of Brath of Life. In the little C-47, its twin engines roaring sturdily beat its way westward along the military air transport route over the Rocky, over the Sierra, the Travis Air Force Base. There, refuel, check, and clear for Great Falls, Montana. Aboard, the doctor, Master Sergeant Mason, the air of medical technician, the flight nurse, and the 150-pound machine in which they all had so much faith and which so many hopes depended. The aircraft circled the landmark at Great Falls, the huge smoke speck of the Carthus Melbourne. It came to rest on the concrete of the Air Force Base runway, taxi to the apron in front of operations. The port opened. Out of the C-47 came the gleaming shell of the new respirator on its stretcher, the metal shining, face shining too. With hope and pride, the doctor and nurse technician followed the machine, not to a waiting truck, but to the Air Force ambulance waiting on the apron. Siren opened. The ambulance sped to the home of a non-commissioned officer whose daughter waited, stricken, whose wife waited, with a fear and tremulous hope of those whose loved ones had been stricken. Doctor, do you think she'll be safe? I know she'll be safe, mother, and the Long Beach Center will be the best place for her. The iron lung she's in now is so big and bulky and complicated. Is this little thing just as good? It's a sergeant. He built most of it with his own hands. Oh, I don't want to seem ungrateful, sergeant, but you understand. I know how you feel, ma'am. My boy had it. You want to be sure? Yes. Well, we're sure, ma'am. I've been in it myself. It works perfectly. Well, it just seems strange that something so simple-looking can do the same thing as the big machine in there. Well, it does, ma'am. See, size doesn't mean much when the work is done. When she first came down with polio, they tried something that just went around her chest. It didn't work at all, and it hurt her. I see a chest respirator. Yes. Well, those work in some cases, but ours is... Well, rest assured, it works the same as the big one, and it's even more comfortable, especially around the neck. I know you're right, doctor. It's just that... Well, I'm so worried, and I've said I... There was a nurse with you, wasn't there, and I didn't even speak to her. I believe she's gone into your daughter, ma'am. Which is where we should be, too, sergeant. I'm so sorry this way, doctor. And it's like so many things in this world here. It's new and it's better than the old. I... I suppose so, net. It's just... If I can't breathe... Oh, don't you worry about that. You'll breathe all right. Won't you, mason? She sure will, lieutenant. Your mother was just asking the same thing. Not a thing to worry about. If I could just see it work. I know it's all right, doctor, but I understand. I understand. Most patients feel this way, even where the big machine is concerned. Uh, mason? Suppose we demonstrate. Oh, yes, sir. Well, there it is, miss. Now, you just watched it. Now, I'll get into it. Like this. Like this. I just lie on the stretcher. All right, mason? Well, the shell comes over this way. Lieutenant Turner puts her head through the end. I snap the locks, set the neck piece to fit, flip the switch. But you didn't even plug it in? No, ma'am, it's on the batteries now. It'll keep working without using the hand pump right inside the ambulance until we get aboard the aircraft. We'll plug it into the outlets aboard when we get there. I knew about the hand pumping on the big one. I didn't see how it could work between here and there. It seems so wonderful. Where's the lieutenant out, sergeant? I think our patient here is ready now to try her new lock. They made it seem quite simple. Transferring the stricken girl to the new respirator. It wasn't simple. It never is. But they settled her as comfortably as possible. Her mother leaned over. Everything will work out, dear. And Dad and I will come down to see you as soon as his leave comes through. Carefully now, the sergeant and the ambulance driver lifted the respirator and its precious content into the ambulance. Doctor and flight nurse followed. Doors closed. The siren cleared air-based traffic before the ambulance. Out to the apron they rolled. Backed up to the open door of the waiting C-47. How are you doing, Della? Just fine. Will it work? On the battery? All the way to Long Beach? Well, not on the batteries, but you'll see. All right, Mason. Overboard the aircraft. Yes, sir. Give me a hand with the airman. The rolling stretcher with its arched metal top, its rack of batteries, its gears, eccentric bellows was moved slowly, carefully, out of the ambulance, lifted by the sergeant of the airman to the floor of the C-47 inside. Now, here we are, Della. That was easy, wasn't it? I'm still breathing, aren't you? Of course you are. Haven't missed a beat yet, have you? Suppose the batteries wear out? Oh, honey, they won't. In any case, you're going to be switched over to the aircraft's current as soon as the engine starts. All set and lashed down here, nurse? Already, doctor. Okay. Mason, plug in, will you? Yes, sir. The C-47's door closed. Doctor and nurse fasten their seat belts. Smiled at their young patient. Number two engine joined its partner's roaring. In the cockpit, clearance procedures and checklist. The C-47 began the taxi to the end of the runway. Inside. All right, Mason. Wish over to the aircraft current. Yes, sir. Notice that it changed? Nothing returned. You mean, the batteries are off now? Right. And you never missed a beat. And then they were off. South and west, the little C-47 winged its way. Inside, the steady pumping of the respirator. The breath of life holding, never skipping a beat for the girl on her way toward a chance at health and recovery. Inside, the doctor spoke quietly and cried for me to the master sergeant. Mason? Yes, sir. I asked the pilot to request airways communication to advise Sam that all is going according to plan. The message flashed around our Air Force base. Words spread quickly through the officers' classrooms, workshops at Sam. Respirators doing fine, fellas. Patients on the way to Long Beach. Looks like everything's under control. And from Randolph, another message reached the C-47 was delivered to the doctor aboard. We're in business, Mason. Are you satisfied with Sam, sir? So satisfied. We've been ordered from Long Beach to Merced, California for the same kind of mission. I'm glad, sir. Fellow? Yes. Did you hear that? Yes. I heard it. I'm as glad as anybody. If the next patient, it is scared like I was. Just tell her, I said, everything is fine. Everything is fine. Fine as it can be when your breath of life is given to you by a machine. But there was so much hope flying on the wings of the little C-47. So much hope for so many. Very soon now, hundreds more will be taken from distant places to the centers where they could be helped back to normalcy. Taken swiftly, comfortably, easily by air. Very soon now, as the manufacturer is a license, as the stockpile of new respirators increases in workrooms and storerooms at Sam, at Randolph Air Force Base, the cost of the respirators will drop. Their availability will widen. Very soon now, the huge, ugly, old type will give way in the hospitals in the home to the sleek, new, comfortable machines so easily handled by two people. Very soon now, the stricken will find easier, better care in their time of fear and struggle because the skill, the understanding, the know-how of men in Air Force Blue have given them an easier, a better chance at the breath of life. Now, here's an important message for all the registered nurses tuned in to proudly we hail. The Air Force Nurse Corps offers you opportunities that are mighty hard to beat. In addition to becoming a commissioned officer with full pay and allowances, you are also provided with travel, education, retirement benefits, and excellent chances for promotion. Now, those of you who are interested in air evacuation, and the treatment of wounded and sick aboard a plane may apply for special flight nurse training at the famous Gunter Branch of the Air Force School of Aviation Medicine. As an Air Force Nurse, you, of course, work with the finest equipment alongside the finest doctors. For further information on how you can become an Air Force Nurse, how you can wear the Air Force Blue, right or wire the Surgeon General, United States Air Force, Washington, 25 D.C. I'll give you that address once again for full information on how you registered nurses can become Air Force Nurses, right or wire the Surgeon General, United States Air Force, Washington, 25 D.C. Right or wire, right now. Your Air Force needs you. This has been another program on Proudly We Hail, presented transcribed in cooperation with this station. Proudly We Hail is produced by the Recruiting Publicity Center in New York for the United States Air Force Recruiting Service. This is Mark Hamilton speaking, inviting you to tune in this same station next week for another interesting story on Proudly We Hail.