*
Grandpappy Had a Good
Reason for Just Standing
Grandpappy Morgan, a hillbilly
of the Ozarks, had wandered off
into the woods and failed to return
for supper, so young Tolliver was
sent to look for him. After some
time, he found him standing in the
bushes, several miles from home.
“ Getting dark, Grandpappy,”
the young chap ventured.
“ Yep.”
“ Suppertime, Grandpap.”
“ Yep.”
"Ain't you hungry?”
“ Yep.”
“ Well, air ye cornin' home?”
"Nope.”
"Why ain't ye?”
"Standin' in a b a r tra p !”
CLASSIFIED
D E P A R T M E N T
HELP W ANTED
• Persons now e n f t e d in essen tiel
in du stry w ill not tp p lp w ith ou t sts te -
w e n t o l n e n iltb ilitp h om their locsl
U nited S ts te s Em ploym ent Service.
E S S E N T IA L W \ R W O R K 4 8 h r w e rk N o
e x p . n eeded
M A M
W O O D W O R K IN G
C O .. Î3 0 I N . C o lo m b i» B le d .. P o r tls n d . O re .
B U S IN E S S F O R S A L E
M E L V I N C A G L E Y B E L T S H O P . H o q u ia m .
W a s h ., lo r s a le . A n a c tiv e bu siness, a n d a
r e a l o p p o rtu n ity lo r a n e x p e rie n c e d b e lt
m a n . W r it e o r see M R S . M E L V I N C A G
L E Y . 6 1 i 3 rd S t., llo q u a im . W a - h in r lo n .
FARM S & RANCHES
G E T O l R N E W L IS T
(A^ D a i r y an d stock ra n c h e s .
i B ' S m a ll fa rm s an d a c re a g e .
S cenic f e r t ile P u g e t Sound c o u n try .
Don P e ter s Land Office
ls > * q « » h . W a s h .
■
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L a k e s id e SSS-J.
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102 a c r e ra n c h . 4 * l a m ile s south o f D a lla s .
E . A . S T O l ' F F E R . R t. t . D a lla s . O re g o n .
FO R SA LE
F O R S A L E — L ib e r t y store an d lu n c h room .
E q u ip p e d w it h a tr ip le p la te glass s elf-d e
fr o s tin g m e a t c o u n te r, s c a le . K e lv in a t o r
K o o le r, g las s cas e s , c o u n te r, m e a t s lic e r,
o th e rs . L u n c h room c o u n te rs , stools, e tc .
N e w e le c , g s p u m p a nd o il. I f d e s ire d also
40 a . m ix e d b e r r y f a r m : som e tim b e r .
P r ic e $6.000. S e llin g rea s o n ill h e a lth .
. L I B E R T Y S T O R E . R T . 3. B O X M S
S a le m . O re g o n .
•
E d P e te rs o n . O w n e r.
F o r S a le — W e ll e q u ip p e d & fu rn is h e d con
v a le s c e n t h o m e . E a s y to k e e p fille d . Good
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n u t tre e s
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G ro w th o f P ip e O rg a n
Few pipe organs have grown
like the one in the Cadet chapel
at West Point. When installed in
1911, it contained 2,418 pipes and
cost $12,000.
Today through m em orial contri
butions m ade in the name of
graduates, it contains 13,529 pipes,
is evaluated at $150,000 and is the
largest church organ in the West
ern Hemisphere.
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If you suffer from h o t flashes, feel
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Lydia E P ln k h am ’s V egetable Com
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T ak en regularly—P ln k h am ’s Com
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J.YD1A E. PIHKHAM’S compwrd J
WNU—13
36—44
That Nagging
Backache
M ay Warn o f D isordered
K id n ey A ctio n
I era life with its hu rry and worry,
lar habits, im proper eating and
ng— its risk of exposure and infec-
throws heavy strain on the work
kidneys. T h ey are ap t to becoms
axed and fail to filter excess acid
her im purities from the life-giving
i m ay suffer nagging backache.
?he, dixziness, getting up nights,
ains, swelling— feel constantly
nervous, all worn out. Other signs
ney or bladder disorder are some-
burning, scanty or too frequent
ion.
D oan’s F ills . Doan's help the
ltb to pass off harm ful excess body
, T h e y have bad more than half a
ry of public approval. Are recom-
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D oans P ills
GOD IS M Y
C
O
-PILO
T
C o l. R o b e r t L .S c o tt
W N U . RÊ.LEA&E.
The story thus lar: Y ount Robert Scott,
a hove tr e a t am bition Is to fly. m akes
bis own glldrr at M acon O »., pulls off
Irom a root, and crasb rs 67 l e t to the
ground. A Cherokee rose kuvb probably
saved his III». He now t o e s In lor build-
in , sc a le m odel planes and w ins a Hoy
Scout aviation m erit b a d te. Al an au c
tion sa le be buys bis flrst plane lor SIS.
He t o e s to F t. M cPherson and en lists In
the recu lar arm y as a p rivate. Winning
a West Point com p etitive exam he la
adm itted, and In the sum m er o l ISSt alter
h eln t graduated and com m ission ed as a
second llen irn an t ol Inlantry he to e s to
Europe, which he tours on a m otorrycle.
He Anally arrives a l Randolph Field.
T exas. This Is IL
CHAPTER ill
Though I had flown before in the
prehistoric crates of the past, this
fact had nothing to do with wheth
er or not I would get through the
course. On the side against me
was the fact that during my un
supervised flying 1 had doubtless de
veloped many faults that were not
for the Army pilot to be proud of.
In a case like mine, some pilots
think they know it all; therefore
there is nothing to learn. Others
make such an effort to please their
instructors that this very eagerness
works against them as their own
worst enemy—the result of tense
ness.
My case was more of this last
order. I knew I could fly the ship
but I tried to carry out my instruc
tor's orders even before he gave
them. I listened almost spellbound
through our oral communications
system in that primary trainer—that
speaking-tube which we called a
"gosport” and which at best was
hard to understand over the rattle
of that Wright Whirlwind engine.
I used to try to read his mind, exe
cute his every little whim. I even
tried to outguess Lieutenant Lan
don and have the stick and rudder
moving in the right direction be
fore he could get the orders out of
h;s mouth.
Now thereby hangs a tale. I was
not only trying to look in his rear
view m irror and actually read his
lips when I couldn’t hear through
the gosport, but was diligently look
ing about the sky for other hare
brained student pilots. He must have
realized my eagerness, for he gave
me every break—and for the many
boners I pulled I needed lots of
breaks.
One day, at a bare four-hundred
feet altitude, I thought I heard the
instructor say, “Okay, Scott, put it
in a dive.” I peered around first and
then at the nearby ground, for it
looked very low to be going into a
dive. Then like a flash I thought I
understood: Why, he’s trying to see
if I’m ground-shy—I'll show him I’m
not.
With my teeth clenched and prob
ably with my eyes closed, I pushed
that PT-3 into a vertical dive at
point-blank altitude. Just as the
cotton fields down below seemed
about to come right into my lap I
felt Ted Landon grab the controls
and saw him hastily point to his
head with the sign that he was “ tak
ing over.” We came out just over
the mesquite trees, and he roughly
slipped the ship into a bumpy land
ing in a cotton field. Then, while
I was trying to add things up and
realizing already that I had tied it
up again, I saw Ted very methodi
cally raise his goggles and with
great deliberation climb out of the
I front cockpit. He glared at me but
said sweetly enough:
“Scott, what in the g— d— hell
are you trying to do—what was that
maneuver? I said glide—G-L-I-D-E.
Don’t you at least know what a
normal glide is in all this time?
Weakly I said, “ Sir, I thought you
said a dive.” I could see Ted fight
for control; then he told me the
next time I had him at an altitude
, so low, not to attempt to think but
I just try to keep the ship straight
and level.
Lieutenant Landon got out of the
front seat, taking his parachute with
him, and I knew the moment of mo
ments had come. As he leaned over
my cockpit and reached inside the
ship for the Form One, the time-
book always carried in Army ships,
I saw only his hand and thought he
was offering to shake hands with
me. So I grabbed the hand and
shook it. He just grinned and
growled:
“ With landings like those I can
do you very little good, and I’ll be
damned if I’m going to let you kill
me. Do you think you can take this
thing around the field all by your
self and get it back down?”
“ Yes, Sir,” I yelled.
"Then take it around and make
a landing as close to me as you
can.”
1 had never felt so good. Taxying
out I could see the world only in a
rosy light. My head was really
whirling. Pointing the ship into the
wind, I over-controlled into a nor
mal student takeoff and was in
the air. Honestly, the living of this
life was wonderful—here I was an
actual Army Pilot with my own ship,
and up here free from the shackles
of the earth. I envied no one. Cir
cling in traffic I’d "get my head in
the clouds” and gain or lose altitude
but that didn’t m atter. I was solo
ing.
Then, at the fourth leg of my
traffic pattern, I began my glide in
towards Lieutenant Landon. By the
gods he had said, "Land as close
to me as you can,” and I was surely
going to make that ship stop right
by him—I wouldn't have my in
structor being ashamed of his stu
dent. Even before I got to the mo
ment to level off, I could see that I
would land right on top of him. But
the Lieutenant was running, throw
ing his parachute away just to get
clear of a student who had really
taken him literally.
Anyway, I missed him and
plunked the ship into the ground aft
er levelling off too high. Well, I
held it straight and there was no
ground - loop. As it stopped I
breathed again, and I could feel
the smile that cracked my face. A
pilot! I had landed the ship and
it was actually in one piece!
Looking back over my shoulder I
saw Lieutenant Landon. He was
just standing there about half a
mile away. Then I made another
mistake. He raised his hands and
I thought he waved me in—I didn’t
Gen. C. L. Chennault, who was
Colonel Scott's superior In Burma
and China.
know until the next day that he had
been shaking his fist at me for trying
to land right on him.
So I taxied in, never giving a
thought to how my instructor was
going to get in with his chute—you
see, Randolph is a big field and I
had left him more than a mile
from our hangar. I had parked the
plane and was in and beginning to
dress when I began to realize what
I had done. Looking out the win
dow I could see him trudging across
the hot soil of Texas, in the sun,
with ships landing all around him.
My Lord, I had tied it up again!
I tried to get my feet back into my
flying-suit, tripped and fell, got up
and ran out of the hangar door. I
guess I was going to take the ship
and taxy out and pick him up. But
I had lost again—the ship was being
taken from the line by the next stu
dent. I just stood there with sink
ing heart as he came up. But he
didn’t even look my way, except to
say, “It’s kinda hot out there.” Then
he just glared and threw his chute
in his locker.
Well, I nearly worried myself to
death that night. I knew he’d more
than likely tell me after the next
day’s ride that I was the damnedest
student he’d ever seen, and that I
didn’t have a prayer of making a
pilot. But next day he didn’t say
a word. All day I started to go
over and tell him how sorry I was,
but I guess I didn’t have the nerve.
During my flying training, I had
girl trouble, too. You would no
doubt call it “trouble,” but I knew it
was the real thing. I had a Chevro
let then, and every week-end I just
had to see my girl, even if she did
live over thirteen hundred miles
away in Georgia. To get to see her,
I would drive that thirteen-hundred-
odd miles to her college or her
home in Fort Valley, spend any
where from ten minutes to two hours
with her, then jump back in the
car and drive madly for Texas and
the Monday morning flying period.
I always had to delay my start
until after Saturday morning inspec
tion. That meant that I had to av
erage just about fifty-four miles an
hour, even counting the time I saw
the girl, In the forty-seven hour«
that I had from after inspection on
Saturday to flying time at eight
o'clock Monday mornings!
Week-end after week-end I drove
madly across the South from the
middle of Texas to the middle of
Georgia. On one of these cross-coun
try dashes, I weakened and was
fool enough to ask the Commandant
of Student Officers if 1 could go to
Atlanta. I cun still see und hear
Cupt. Aubrey Strickland saying. "At
lanta what?" And me meekly re
plying, "Atlanta, Georgia, Sir.” He
just said, "Hell, no,” and 1 turned
and walked from his office with the
good intention of obeying the order.
But within the hour I had weak
ened, I filled my rumble-seat tank,
w hich held fifty five gallons of fuel,
and was off to see her for the short
time available. (Yes. she was, and
still is some girl.) On the return i
trip I burned out two bearings near '
Patterson, Louisiana. Jim m y We- j
dell, one of the well-known speed
flyers, helped me to get it fixed after
I explained the predicament I was
in. But even with five of us work
ing on the number one and number
six bearings of the Chevy, I was
twelve hours Inte getting back to I
Randolph Field.
As I walked into the bachelor offi
cers' quarters that I shared with '
Bob Terrill, I expected any minute .
tn ln ir O m sail n ew s
But I w as
too afraid to ask for details, so I '
just waited for Bob to say, "You are
to report to the General tomorrow
for court m artial for A W.O L. in
violation of specific instructions.”
Finally he put down his letter writ
ing, looked at me almost in dis
gust, and broke out:
"Scott, you are the damned luck
iest man that ever livid! You didn't
get reported today. No! This is the
first time in the history of Randolph
Field that it's been too cold to fly.
And it wasn’t only too cold to fly.
it was too cold to have ground
school, because the heating system
had failed. We haven’t flown today,
we haven’t been to ground school.
So they don’t even know that you've
been over there to see that girl.”
In all of these trips to see my
girl over in Georgia. I drove 84.000
miles. I wore out two cars—and i
you’ll probably agree that her fa
ther had full right to say to her: !
"Why don’t you go on nnd m arry I
him? It’ll be far cheaper than his i
driving over here every week-end.” |
When I had finished Prim ary nnd
B asic tra in in g a t Randolph, I al
most let down my hair and wept,
though, on the day that Comman- ,
dant of Student Officers called over
and said that now I could have 1
permission to go to Georgia, to see '
my girl. I thanked him and went.
• • •
Well, when graduation came at
Kelly and I had those wings pinned
on my chest, I had the wonderful
feeling that I had gone a little way
towards the goal I wanted. I was i
at last an Army pilot. Never did ;
the world seem so good. And then i
out of a clear sky came orders for i
me to go to duty in Hawaii. That 1
was pretty bad because I wanted to
get married before I went out of the t
country, and as yet the girl hadn't
gotten her degree from college.
Probably if I had gone to Hawaii, j
I would have figured out some way :
to have flown a P-12 back over ev- '
ery week—but I didn’t have to do it
after all.
The Chief of the Air Corps came :
down a few days later and I waited ,
until he had had lunch in the Offl- I
cers’ Mess. Then I walked over ’
and said, "General, can I ask you i
a question?” “Sure, sit down,” he
said, and I told him the whole story
—and I made it like this: "General,
I know that I’m supposed to go
where I’m sent because I’m in the
Army, but I ’ve got a girl over in
Georgia, and I think I can do a
lot better job wherever you send me
if you can give me time to talk her
into marrying m e.” He didn't ap
pear to be very impressed at flrst.
but he took my name and serial
number, and two or three days lat
er, when he got back to Washington,
I was ordered to Mitchel Field, N. Y.
As I drove my car towards my
flrst tactical assignment I kept
reaching up to feel my silver wings
on my chest—I wanted to prove that
it wasn’t a dream . This was what
I had been working for since 1920.
Now I was actually riding towards
the glory of tactical Army aviation.
I recall that f had just about
completed the trip to Long Island,
when something happened that will
keep me remembering the fall of
1933.
Just before I reached the Holland
Tunnel, I was suddenly forced to the
curb by three cars all bristling with
sawed-off shotguns and Tommy-
guns. I jumped out pretty mad, but
saw that many guns were covering
me and that it was the police.
They looked at my papers, but said
anyone could have mimeographed
orders. They searched the car and
me, took down the Texas license
number, and even copied the engine
number All the time I tried to talk
with the flashlights in my eyes.
(TO B E C O NTINUED)
THE CHEERFUL CHERUD
Id like to b e a. jmolte-
jtt.ck ,
Awwy vp o f f
g ro u n d ,
A n d jtfc n d
th e
jtr x .i$ k t
jo
v n d c .r r e •
A nd w r v e
m y sm oke
W ound
»\TC»" n
WNU F ea tu re« .
l i m i t i n g , ‘ M i l k i n g ’ K u ttlc r e
Is G o o d B u s in e s s i n
T exas
Many people In Texas make a
good living by bunting rattle
snakes. The war is greutly ex
tending the m arket for ruttlexnake
venom.
When the " ra ttle rs ” nre caught
they are sent to medical labora
tories, where they ore "m ilked”
once a fortnight of a few drops of
their poison. Usually they die after
six weeks because their mouths
are easily damaged.
The venom is used for treating
various disorders, and excessive
bleeding, us well as being an anti
dote for snakebite.
One oil-field worker has caught
3,000 rattlesnakes in u season.
MEXSANA
SO O T H IN G M l DICATI D POW DI h
/% V o ic e o f
P rophecy
COAH
IV H T
TO C O A H
IV M O A *
__________ I
ir-,rtM ¿ » d kwäm
King'« Herald* Male Q u a rte t
_
m utuai
/
S eS ie S tbte Cereeepoodeeee t eerees
K A L E - KAS1--KOL
i r i o — « a i — «IT — KELA
KOBE — «nt — KWAL
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pO W °lH
DON’T GET W W with
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S
relief from temporary constipation
w ith ou t drastic drug«, try a cup of
X yr
thia fragrant, IQ-herh tea. a« directed Xy
on pacaage. Y o u ’ll / r r / better, look [ y f
bettei, u o th better! At all dreg and
h e a l t h fo o t ! i t o e e i ,
Sw
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Writ» tsr atn.rou. m m , It. n»u*h
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