 Army Air Force graduation exercises at Tyndall Field, Florida. From the start, France and 30 other allied nations sent many of their airmen to the United States to learn how to fly, to fire a gun, or check an engine. In fact, the Air Training Command used about one-third of its facilities for this program to help build the United Nations Air Team. As one product of the AAF educational effort which developed into the greatest training program in all history, French cadet Orly Chavagne was awarded Gunner's Wings. Pilot Wings went to another cadet whose entire class was destined to join the Chinese American Composite Wing of the 14th Air Force under the command of General Claire Chanel. And so the young men from Great Britain, Netherlands, East Indies, Central and South America, by graduating in the United States and by fighting in Europe and Asia, demonstrated the Army Air Force's unique contribution to the total war effort of the United Nations. Of the 475 training command bases we had, the officer candidate school of the AAF at Miami Beach, Florida was devoted to turning out administrative officers. We wanted men from every walk of life who could handle responsibilities. By the end of 1943, we knew the AAF was going to have more than 158,000 planes and more than 2 million specialists around the world. Only 23 out of every 1,000 applicants were finally chosen as candidates. Meet the cream of the crop. The man on the left was the national intercollegiate high jump champ. The one on the right served under Chanel in China with the American Volunteer Group. Elmer E. Meadows was once the world's champion pole voter. He won the 1936 Olympic title in Berlin. The fellow on the left was rescued off Corregidor. The other a symphony conductor. D.R. Delano, fifth cousin to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. A trapeze artist with Ringling Brothers Circus. On the right, the mayor of Glen Cove Long Island. This former Austrian attorney spent quite a while in a Nazi concentration camp. A gunner with the RAF and a Broadway playwright. Gilbert Rowland of Hollywood. They used to have a moustache, remember? These men wore the order of the Purple Heart. One got his at Pearl Harbor, the other in the Battle of Verdun. Robert Masservi, you knew him as Robert Preston. Two Tigers. One from Burma, a member of the Flying Tigers. On the right, catcher for the Detroit Tigers. This man was cited for bravery at Pearl Harbor. First Bombardier to touch Midway, Wake and Guam. Right, the AAU light heavyweight champion. William H. Jordan, Bombardier in the Battle of Midway. Those medals are for sharpshooting. The fellow with glasses was an ecologist. He worked for the United States Department of Agriculture. For 14 years he had done research with a sugar beet leaf hopper. In fact, he knew more about the sugar beet leaf hopper than anyone else in the world. The other fellow was a champion high jumper. Because Hap Arnold knew that Hitler wouldn't wait for us to build a ground officer's school, he had General Weaver, at least 300 Miami Beach hotels, and we were in business almost at once. In hotels like the Governor, we housed our students. Better than a tent, but no vacation. We gave each prospective officer a reliable chambermaid, himself. No wrinkles in those beds, blankets tight enough to bounce a coin. Shoes shined and lined up. Dresser drawers staggered and opened. Socks rolled. Personal articles arranged according to student order. Student orders. The Bible. No dust in this room. Bed made like the book says. We allowed them seven hours sleep. They were lucky if they managed five. They studied instead. Each man's clothes were hung in the same order. All buttons were buttoned. Each and every button. No drop of water in sink or tub. All bright work polished. Highly polished. So were the men. All spit and polish, and their spirit was high. During the 12 weeks, they crammed in enough schoolwork to equal a year at college. In concentrated education, they studied chemical warfare, air and naval intelligence, administration, aircraft identification, mess management, supply, military law, and 27 more subjects. At West Point, many of these courses took a year of study, but America was at war. After improving their minds, we improved their bodies. It's all part of the Air Force X-ray machine that revealed washouts, as well as leaders. Congratulations. Everyone came out for the show. The guest speaker was the old man himself, General Hap Arnold. He flew down from Washington just to address the class. That was quite an honor. Today, the cream of the crop had a right to be proud. This cross-section of America had been through something, and they had made the grade. After three grueling months, they earned that commission in the Army of the United States. For a few of the men, there were special honors. A sense of achievement. Some won awards for sports, but every graduate now had poise and confidence. OCS turned out leaders of men who could share the nation's responsibilities. For many, the oath marked the start of a new career in the service of the nation. But in spite of the joy of the graduation moment, the Air Force would have been nothing without the devotion, anger and bitter pride of the great American people engaged in a war for freedom. Love and pride were as much a part of the Air Force as money and planes. Now, after a desperate year and a half of war, the AAF was about to fulfill an historic and decisive mission. In another part of the world, on the Mediterranean, plans for Operation Corkscrew moved ahead as the British First Division convoys prepared to embark from ports in Africa for Pantelleria. The island, with underground hangers and natural defenses, was regarded by Mussolini as the Italian Gibraltar. General Jimmy Doolittle warned his men that conquest of the volcanic rock might prove expensive. The enemy had 900 planes within range and 80 major gun emplacements on the island. Briefings for ninth Air Force fighter pilots now attached to the Northwest African tactical force were carefully guided by General Lewis Brereton. The all-out air attack on the island had been recommended by his boss, General Carl Spots. While Operation Corkscrew, the brass gave us slightly more than a thousand fighting planes of every type. They felt our combined Air Forces had at last grown to a point where we could chance the first Allied attempt to conquer enemy territory, essentially by air action. According to plan for 18 continuous days during the first phase of the campaign, we had battered the fascist fortress with heavy raids. Photorecon reported that our work was effective. Mussolini's Gibraltar was now set up with a knockout punch. In a couple of weeks, our boys in the Northwest African Air Forces were changing the concepts of war. From African bases, where American air power had achieved co-equal status with land power, Phase II of Operation Corkscrew got underway on 6th June. As our heavies joined the show, the plan called for an around-the-clock assault to continue with growing intensity for five more days. The Allied command was about to unleash the full force of its air power. In all, 1,100 planes were participating in today's climactic assault. They were prepared to drop 1,571 tons of bombs. That meant better than 23 tons of destruction for acre. High on the target list were Pantelleria's shore batteries, a concentration on military objectives greater than any we had ever attempted. Twice the island was offered a chance to surrender. When Pantelleria showed no sign of quitting, B-17s were ordered to resume the bombing. It was then that our planes spotted a white flag flying from Semaphore Hill. Air forces had bombed the island into submission. Met practically no opposition. Regarding the operation, a British Joint Committee reported, in effect, active resistance on Pantelleria had ceased when our amphibious forces arrived. Not a tommy or a GI got his feet wet. From here on, it was a routine operation. Immediately, the Allies began to prepare the island for its part in the invasion of Sicily. For the second time, access might was reduced to rubble, and strutting supermen became beggars with surrender flags. Groups quickly poured ashore. They were amazed at the extent of the destruction. The remains of the enemy's air defense was strewn along the beaches, while the only landing casualty was a British infantryman who was net by a local jackass. By the time of the Sicilian campaign, Pantelleria had become a full-fledged Allied air base. The Allies could now place a strong defensive air arm over the Sicilian narrows. The sea route from Gibraltar to Alexandria could be kept open. Operation corkscrew not only paid dividends, but because it proved the power of air bombardment to force a defended area to capitulate, it was destined to become a military classic in the history of the United States Air Force.