Planes Dutch Flew
A nostalgic look back at the career of a friend and the extraordinary times, people, and machines intertwined in his life. IT WAS ONE of those beautiful spring days in San Antonio, with fluffy cumulocirrus clouds scattered like cotton balls in an intensely blue sky. Seen through the eyes of an 11-year-old, the sky and green lawn made a perfect setting for the colorful dresses and floppy hats of the mothers and girlfriends of the young pilots who had just graduated. As their guests made pleasant small talk and chatted with one another, the cadets disappeared beyond the somber hangars that shielded their aircraft from view. A young boy listened to the rumbling explosions of the aircraft engines as they came to life. In his imagination he could see them wheel and taxi down the apron to the runway that angled off toward Duncan Field, a couple of miles distant.
Smilin Jack
IT WAS a comfortable room. There was a fireplace, and a Majestic radio sat in one corner. I liked to come there to read the Sunday funnies. But even sprawled on the floor with the comics all around me, I could never feel all that relaxed. No matter where I went in the room, my grandfather's eyes followed, staring soberly down at me from a sepia-toned photograph over the mantel. Grandfather was a Methodist preacher, and he wore his clerical collar in the portrait. He was flanked on one side by a ceramic camel filled with Raleigh coupons, and on the other by a red-breasted robin perched on the edge of a small basket.
Smilin' Jack
Alfred Lehmberg, author of last month's "Smilin' Jack" article, sent us more "Smilin' Jack" strips than we had room for. We hope you'll enjoy these further examples of Jack's daring exploits in the sky.
