 At 9 o'clock on Monday morning, December 8th, 1941, I, Lester Doud, was in the mood to take up the sword. So I went to see the Navy. Words at War, the series that brings you radio versions of the leading war books, presents today a sample of the lighter side of war literature. We offer Love at First Flight by Charles Spaulding and Otis Connick. It tells the story of Lester Doud at his pursuit of his wings. This series, Words at War, is presented by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with the Council on Books in Wartime. I, Lester Doud, in December 1941, went to see the Navy. According to directions, I went armed with a birth certificate, transcripts of my academic record, and three high-powered letters of reference. They would have sold slavery to the North. A leader, yet with all not overbearing. He is strong yet adaptable, light-hearted but not frivolous, steadfast in the line of duty, ever hewing to the distant truth. I unhesitatingly recommend this boy to the Navy and the service of our country. I have known his family for 22 years. Sincerely, Edgar R. Lumpkin. Thus wrote the vice president of bittersweet condiments. During the following months there was indecision. Doctors went over my body as if it was the Atlantic City boardwalk. People also examined my papers and sent me from one desk to another. I became the victim of an old gag. Now let's see, where did you go to college, Doud? Yale University. Yale University? Where's that? Huh? No haven, sir. Eh, go to that desk over there. High school, college? You went to college at... What is this place? Yale University. Huh? Yale University? Where's that? No haven, sir. Oh, go to desk number 24. Geometry, algebra, trigonometry, botany, vaccination, chicken pox, German measles. Now you went to college at... Yale University, sir. Yale University? Where's that? Brattleboro, Vermont. Oh, huh? They moved it stone by stone. Mr. Doud, you're in. Your unnaval air cadet will call you in about two months. Glad to have you aboard, Doud. Glad to be aboard, sir. Exactly mass demonstrations at the news that I'd heeded the call to arms, but there was a flow of presence, mostly first aid kits from folks who wanted to see me prepared for any abrasion. It's from Uncle George and me. We're so proud of you. Take it, dear. Johnson and Johnson. Oh, you shouldn't have, Aunt Alice. And the jumbo size, too, leather-bound. It has your initials on the band aid. Oh, this is touching, Aunt Alice. I know I should have jolly time with the iodine. And Aunt Flora, oh, you shouldn't have. Lester, I've always wanted you to have it. But the dress uniform in which Uncle Louis spent most of the Spanish-American war. For me. Take it, dear. And cherish it. You can have one of the Navy tailors. Take it in a little at the waist. And then there were the farewells. Some were in the mood of noble despair. Others were encouraging, conveying the thought that it was all going to do me a world of good. But the one I'd like to tell you about was Miss Winward, Ellen. At my farewell party along about midnight, I went searching for her since I felt that certain tender goodbyes were in order between us. Finally, I found her in the garden. Oh, oh, Lester, I didn't see you. Are you surprised, expecting someone else? Well, not exactly. I just... Oh, you're looking for Benton. Well, he did say something about... Well... Look, Ellen, I'm going away tomorrow and I wanted to say goodbye and... Oh, I feel awfully tearful about it, Lester. The pain will disappear around about Tuesday. I wanted to talk to you, too. After all, you'll be devoting your life to liberty. I don't want you to feel bound by anything we may have said in the moonlight. After all, an aviator should be free and independent. What is this? Will you be living from day to day? You'll want to enjoy the loose whiskey and the strong women. I mean, the strong women... But, gosh, Ellen... No, I mustn't be selfish about you, Lester. Well, here comes the beautiful Benton. Guess he's looking for you. Well, well, if it isn't the old air cadet himself. Lester, you know, this whole thing is going to do you a world of good. It'll be the greatest experience in his life. Sure, it'll make a new man of me. I'll be a different person. Absolutely. It'll throw my shoulders back and prove my posture. Definitely. Straighten out the kinks in my spine, tone up my muscles. Oh, it will. Stimulate the liver bile. Of course. Indeed. It'll do you a world of good. It'll straighten your spine and do you... Hold up your chin, that's discipline. It'll do you... Next day, I passed through the entrance gate of the Anacostia Naval Base and noted that it had the same cum hither appeal as the jaws of death. The guard did everything he could to relieve my apprehension. You'll be... Presently, a handful of fellow birdmen and myself piled into a station wagon and we were off. The atmosphere in the back seat had that strained intimacy of a crowded elevator. Finally, a burly boy broke the ice by grunting... I'm Joe Foster, VMI Halfback. Champions in 39. I'm Tim Carpenter, Virginia Wesleyan Guard, all state, last two years. Red Crest, University of Cincinnati, and... All conference in 41 with one East-West All-Star game, same year. Sure, yeah, yeah, well, have a great year. Lester Dowd, Mill Creek Hunt Club, assistant referee with one bad fall at Rolling Rock. Towels will be stored in locker. Wash cloth will be hung on gooseneck. These instructions were supposed to explain the arrangement of articles about the wash basin except I was stymied by the gooseneck. I didn't know where it was. I approached the officer of the deck on the subject. Pardon me, sir, but about the gooseneck and the instructions that were to hang our wash cloth on... Give me your hand, Junior. That's a boy. Now, see that? That is a wash basin. Yes, sir. This is the hot water. This is the hot water. This is the stopper. This is the stopper. And this iron intestine underneath the wash basin. That's the plankty by gooseneck! Then there was the matter of my shaving kit. Toilet article shall be stowed in top drawer. Bottom drawer shall be reserved for miscellaneous. My equipment was well housed in a shaving kit which I placed without much thought in the top drawer. During inspection, Ensign Fitch browsed around the bureau. Opening the top drawer, he came across the kit. Good heavens! What's this doing here? I have my shaving things in it, sir, and the rules... I don't care if you have a skull in it. All kits are regarded as miscellaneous in the Navy and so stored in the bottom drawer. This is a final warning. The next day, Lieutenant Sands of the United States Marine Corps had the inspection. Coming to my bottom drawer, he stepped away as if he had found evidence of a torso murder. Good heavens! What is this shaving kit doing in the bottom drawer? A kit is a kit, sir, and the rules... I don't care. It has shaving things in it and as such should be stowed in the top drawer. This is your final warning. A showdown came when the two men arrived together for Saturday's grand inspection. The kit was in the top drawer. The Navy was aghast. Good heavens! Again? The Marines replied... I told him to put it there. You did, Mr. Sands. After all, you're training. The Marines were not intimidated. A study of Rule 13 subheading two will disclose that shaving equipment properly goes in the first drawer. Oh, so it does, so it does. Apparently. However, a kit, old man, is a kit. If you put your hands in your shoes, that doesn't make them gloves, does it? Oh, no, the kit goes in the bottom drawer. However, if you fill a potato sack with apples, you still sell them over the apple counter. The kit goes in the top drawer. How do you think it goes in the first drawer? Uh, not so sure. It's the most ticklish issue I've had to face in the service. Uh, what do you think, Dowd? It seems to me, sir, that it is neither fish nor fowl and should be stowed in the middle drawer with the underwear. No compromising. Remember Munich. Then don't you think it ought to go to Washington? But that's it! The Bureau! The Bureau! The Bureau! Very good, Dowd. The case was referred to the Bureau. Meanwhile, I, Lester Dowd, solved the problem myself. I purchased a new electric razor that makes 2,500 contacts with a beard per second. I put it in the gear room with a vacuum cleaner. No questions were asked. This is to be an indoctrination flight, Dowd. I'll do all the flying. You watch and try to catch the feel of it. Yes, sir. I climbed into the back cockpit and fastened the safety belt. I was about to fly for the first time with my instructor, Mr. Glass, doing all the work, flying smoothly around the countryside. This was healthy. Here I was, waiting about in another dimension and enjoying the invigorating sun, feeling the wind whip my face, feeling sorry for the less fortunate people chained to stuffy offices. I shuddered to think how narrowly I escaped rotting in the industrial clutch. And evermore, quote the Birdman, a flyer's life for me. What? That was a snap roll to the right. I hung tightly to the side, suspecting that when there's a snap roll to the right, there too often is a snap roll to the left. And sure enough... Did you notice that you can do a snap roll to either side? I nodded in assertion. It was about as obscure as bear tracks in New Fall and snow. Long swells of swooning sensation rippled in my stomach. Something I had for breakfast, no doubt. I opened my collar button, ran my hand around my neck, and waited tensely for the bottom of the plane to fall out. For his next selection, Mr. Glossop pulled the throttle back, pulled the nose up higher and higher and higher until the plane stalled. Then we fell spinning toward the mother planet. It was like falling down an elevator shaft in the top. Ahead I saw a cow. The whole world revolved around the cow. The cow's world too. Everything was already sprung with a long tail swinging from it. There was nothing normal about it. Inside me there was much unsettled activity. I swallowed several times to restore order. Odd, I had never thought of getting a defense job in some vital industry. The work is steady, even if the air is bad. Fresh air isn't everything. Too much of it can be bad for you. For example, Mr. Glossop suddenly turned the plane over on his back. I hung suspended by my safety belt. My feet fell from the pedals and flopped aimlessly under the instrument panel. A week's accumulation of small pebbles and lesser filth drifted down my pants leg. This was the straw that broke the camel's equilibrium. Well, go ahead and kill me. I'm tired of living. I'm tired. I'm your ghostly pallor and the reflector. I judge that you're sick. May I? I summed down in a cockpit. As I sank rapidly into a coma, I heard a faint voice coming to me through the cosmos. Once each day the mail was parceled out in the bunk room. The divine plan provided, according to some, a particular girl for every mail. The post proved the scheme was making headway. Every man seemed equipped with a number one woman who wrote him at least every other day. He might hear occasionally from other satellites, but the main thing was the pink letters with messages like... Dear Bill, this morning before breakfast, I felt electric eucarns running through me. Dear Joe, the thunder that is my love for you peels within me. Dear Edward, this afternoon my thoughts turn to you in serene, April-like mood. My own mail was far below par. It consisted in the main of a weekly letter from mother or father with often some sage comments on the good neighbor policy or a good new book. I knew my fellow cadets were concerned about this. One day I heard... Some chick gave him the knife, so he joins up like it was the foreign legion. He ain't even got a pinup coil on his locket. Unless I quickly proved an interest in passion, I would be pigeonholed as the missing link. So I got an old copy of the National Geographic, which immortalized in technicolor a Tahitian beauty. It was a full-page portrait of a primitive loveliness with fine southern exposure. Soon she was plastered on my locker door. Sometime later, Bill Runne asked me to borrow some toilet articles. Hey! Who in Pete's name is that? Oh, that? That is the only woman I ever loved. Really loved, that is. Why doesn't she ever write you? She doesn't know a word of English. Our love didn't need a language. Beautiful. What's her name? Nuna. It means white egret. White egret? This picture shows her just before we attended a tribal dance. She's dressed formal. She's dressed... Huh? Someday when this is all over, I'm going back. I'll be back, Nuna. I'll be back. Bill patted my shoulder and left me alone with my white egret. After ten periods of instruction, a cadet is considered safe for his first solo. The great day arrived for me. Mr. Glasp had finished passing the hat and calling the florist, and he gave me my final instructions. Now you know what to do, or at least you think you do. Above all, don't get lost. Just remember that hide feel is between the Anacostia River and the Potomac. The nation's capital is twenty miles north of here. And you can't miss the Washington Monument. Anybody who gets lost with those boundaries ought to be walked around on a leash. But if you're ever in doubt, always turn true north. Yes, sir. Take it away then, and good luck. Thank you, sir. Same to you, sir. There was nothing to it. Takeoff very good. Climbing smoothly and steadily. Can't bring off like a veteran. Look at me, Mom. I'm flying practically no hands. My control over the plane was absolute. I was sure of myself. Afterwards, I'd have a chat with Glasp. Very nice upstairs today, Glasp. Very nice indeed. Smooth at 4,000. Average RPM, 1,700. Fuel pressure, 35. The left wing was a little heavy, but that doesn't bother us. Does it, Ace? Oh, this is easy. I'll try some tricks. Where's the Washington Monument? Above all, don't get lost. Hide feel is... I've been counting on the Washington Monument. And now it isn't there. Who took it? The gas was running low. My blood turned to baking powder at the thought of calling Mr. Glasp, a large, spacious field was directly below. It was a field peopled by cattle. And to get in comfortably, you had to come close to a freshly painted barn. That I did. I've already called for a doctor and a carpenter. Are you sure you're all right? Oh, yes, perfectly. Sorry to cause you such a disturbance. Don't be silly. I'm awfully glad you didn't hit the barn, though. My husband loves that barn. He'd shoot you if you damaged it. He would. You're one of the Navy boys at Anacostia, aren't you? Yes, I'm a cadet. I suppose I'd better get in touch with my instructor and tell him I'm lost. Well, you can phone from the house. Come right this way. I finally got Glasp on the phone. He screamed at me but said he'd come after me. Then the lady took me out on the terrace and a maid brought us milk and cookies. Pretty soon a yellow training plane appeared above and started down. Mr. Glasp headed in toward the lawn. I hope he doesn't hit the barn. I don't. Why, the admiral would shoot him. It would be a better world. Who did you say would shoot him? My husband, admiral Fletcher. Your husband is admiral Fletcher? Yes, and he loves his barn. Oh, look, your friend's going to hit it. Oh, we can't have everything. He's going to hit it. He missed. Right over the weather vane. But he's going to hit that cow. He was trying to get away from that cow. Poor old virus. You must be frightened to death. Are you all right? What a dreadful man. Quiet. That cow, he ruined my plane. Cow, you idiot. Trust you to get lost and land on a dairy that's lousy with cows. Sir, this is Mrs. I'll deal with the lady later. The cows won't give milk for a week. When they do, I hope it comes at lumps, lumps as big as my fist. Sir, may I introduce Mrs. As for you, I've had miserable fumbling students in my time, but of all the blasted pitiful idiots that I have. Sir, this is Mrs. Admiral Fletcher. Admiral Fletcher is her husband. Admiral Fletcher. Huh? He loves his cows. Oh. A cookie, Mr. Glossop? A sip of milk, maybe? A few months afterwards, I was somehow no longer regarded as a floating hazard. I passed my 24-hour check and was transferred to Corpus Christi for advanced training. There, there was a lot of talk about the unpredictable, a very lively topic. The unpredictable might be a cow on a runway or a snowstorm in June, but whatever form it took, the well-trained cadet wasn't supposed to turn a hair. He had to be always ready for the unpredictable. Well, one day I was practicing over an outlying field when the weather got dirty, so I came down. In another minute, the ceiling was zero. On a corner of the field was a telephone jack, so I headed for it. Oh. Hello? Is this how crash goes? No, it isn't. I want to get the chief of operations. That's out. Oh, that's too bad. Thank you. Sir, this is Aviation Cadet Dodd, class 10D, flying SNV number 131 from Squadron 12A. I was working on field 30 when the fog came in, and I thought it'd improve and to continue. Doctor. Thank you, sir. It was fun. With such training, I couldn't help myself, sir. Well, we give a response like this. It's very gratifying to us old-timers. Very gratifying. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. After a while, the fog cleared. I started a taxi to the other end of the field. The plane wouldn't budge. I knew what had happened. The brakes were locked. I knew they were locked because I'd locked them before I left the plane. Everybody does that, but I didn't know how to unlock them. The mechanic always did that on the line, and I never asked how. I shuddered. Here was the unpredictable, grabbing me by the throat. I pushed all the buttons on the dashboard. I beat on the floor. Nothing happened. After a while, I went back to the phone. No. Not at all. What? Well, then this is a pleasant surprise, isn't it? This is a different kind of call altogether. Are you sure this here isn't a crash call? I'm positive. Now listen to me. I'll call the chief operations. No, don't touch that buzzer. Why? Look, I'm going to confide in you. I've locked the brakes on my plane, and I don't know how to unlock them. Well, it's not so hysterical. If you'll connect me with the cadet barracks, I can talk to a friend of mine and straighten things out. Okay, at the chief operations. It wouldn't be the same. I want to get Mr. William Run in the cadet barracks. Hurry, please. All right. Well, here's your chance. Just grab the wire that says Building 137 and pull it. Willow Run. I want William Run. William Run in the barracks. Use your phone, Shaq. Then I got the bad news. A cadet flying by had seen my plane and had seen me heading for the phone and figured I was in trouble. So he had flown to the field and brought back the chief of operations. Now the lieutenant commander himself was standing by my plane. Kenwood, chief of operations. Anything wrong here? Well, no, sir. What's the trouble? The brakes. I don't know how to unlock them. You just tap the pedals. Oh. It's the darndest thing I ever heard. A man in basic doesn't know how to take the brakes off. Nobody ever showed me. Everybody knows how to take brakes off. What sort of thing? What would you do in the unpredictable? What's your name? Dowd, sir. Class 10-D. Dowd? You mean... Well, this is the darndest thing I ever heard. You're not even safe to solo. I'm going to ground you, Dowd. You'll have to go before the board. The next case is aviation cadet Lester Dowd. Class D-10. Gentlemen, this is the case of the cadet with the brakes. Oh, yes, sir. It's a puzzling case which perhaps can only be explained on mental growth. Dr. Higgs, when we have this boy in, perhaps you should question him and see what you think of this matter from the psychiatric point of view. Very well. Bring him in. Aviation cadet Lester Dowd, class 10-D. Sit down, Dowd. Yes, sir. Dowd, how do you explain this incident of the brakes? I didn't know how to take off the brakes. Hmm. Mm-hmm. What was on our mind, young man? On our mind? Mm-hmm. On my mind? Mm-hmm. Oh, nothing. Nothing, I guess. Hmm. Must be a moron. Mm-hmm. Well, I suppose I must have had something on my mind. Must have had something. Hmm. Hmm. What was on our mind? I don't know. Your mother? Or your cousin? No. Your father? No. You're sure it wasn't your father? I'm afraid this isn't getting us anywhere, Higgs. If a man can't think of his relatives and release the brakes at the same time, then the Navy's going to be in a fine fix. Aviation could add down. I'll be frank with you. It cost the Navy $27,000 to train you. To date, we have squandered approximately $14,000 to that purpose. So it looks as if we're in too deep to expel you. Therefore, in spite of the risk, we'll have to continue your flight training. Oh, thank you, sir. Contrary to popular belief, I graduated. The ceremony itself was a simple affair. Our admiral gave a short address finishing with... Officers! Dismissed! Going back to the room to pack, I found a letter waiting for me. I opened it and out fell a newspaper clipping. It was a vibrant account of the wedding of Miss Ellen Winward to Mr. Anthony Tuttle Benton. At the bottom was written... Happiest girl in the world. Love, Ellen. And below, the groom trumpeted in his light-hearted way. Sorry you couldn't be here, old man. Understand perfectly. This thing is bigger than we are, Anthony B. Then I read the letter. So funny. I'll imagine this, Ensign Run. One day, Anthony Tuttle Benton gets married, and the next day, the president sends him greetings. He's going to be a good dad. You know what, Ensign Run? What, Ensign Dodd? It will probably do him a world of good. Straighten your spine. You have heard the eighth program of Words at War, a series based on the leading books of this war. This evening, we presented Love at First Flight by Charles Spaulding and Otis Conny. The radio version was by... Next Saturday at this time, you'll hear... And on this coming Thursday evening, August 19th, at 11.30 p.m. Eastern wartime, we shall repeat the stirring dramatization of the last days of Savastopol, heard a few weeks ago on this series. That will be the start of a new Thursday evening series of Words at War, based on the leading war books. We'll see you next time. The part of Lester Dodd was played tonight by Lawson Zerbe. Other members of the cast were Evelyn Varden, Mitzi Gould, Walter Kinsella, Don McLaughlin, Stotscotsworth, John Griggs, Art Conny, Francis Carlin, Gerald Keane, and others. The original music was written and conducted by Frank Black. The production was under the direction of Joseph Locey. This program has been presented in cooperation with the Council on Books in Wartime, by the National Broadcasting Company and the independent radio stations associated with the NBC network.