I started my journey to becoming a pilot in February of 1939, long before I even knew there would be a war, much less a war so big and terrible that it involved almost all the world and would be fought in air, on land and sea. Roosevelt had been elected by a landslide (532 electoral votes out of 540) in ’36 and had a “New Deal” for putting America back to work. Thousands of people were working for the WPA (Work Projects Administration) programs and lucky to be making $60-75 a month.
At the end of the Nebraska growing season that year (’39), my dry farming partnership (during the big drought) with my younger brother had netted me slightly over $60 profit for the entire year and I owed about $500 on a pickup. My brother worked for McDonald’s Department Store, I did the farming. Like the old adage says: If your head hurts, quit banging it against the wall. We gave up farming and he sold off the machinery we had and used that money to pay off the pickup, then sold it. It was time to make a change.
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