The Wild Blue Yonder

These stories have been excerpted from the book, “The U.S. WAF Band Story.”

The young women who sought out the WAF Band experience had both a love of music and a thirst for adventure. The stories we have collected here of their experiences during the ten years of the WAF Band attest to that zest for life and spirit of adventure as we experienced the “Wild Blue Yonder.” These are firsthand accounts of experiences that have lingered in memory from a time in our lives which stands out in our hearts as though spotlighted. Some have been told and retold and some have been dredged up from memory during the past few years of the band’s reunion.

. We share them here for the joy of sharing them. And also to honor that spirit of adventure!

The Wild Blue Yonder

THE MAGIC IN A PROMISE

The first attempt to organize a dance band occurred in September of 1951. The original members were Edith Carson, Tenor Sax; Elaine Lilley, Alto Sax; Ann Marie Reznak, Trom-bone; Jean Ford, Drums; Betty Emerson, Trumpet; and Jean Billett, Piano and Director. We became the “Harmony Hoboes” and wore red plaid shirts, blue denim skirts and handkerchiefs around the neck. Our theme song was “Tenderly.” We played four songs to a set, which usually consisted of a song, a waltz, a polka and a mamba. It all came about because our Commanding Officer, Lt. Ada Fitzsimmons, needed some furniture that was available from the Air Police Squadron. They needed a dance band for their upcoming squadron party, so she promised them a dance band in exchange for the furniture. We had three weeks to put a combo together, to practice and to perform. It was a big success. From them on, we played at many squadron parties at Lackland Air Force Base and some at Kelly Air Force Base. One such party was in 1953 with Captain Eddie Rickenbacker in the audience. Through the years the personnel changed, as did our name. We became the “Wing Dings” and added a vocalist, which made our combo complete. When the entire band was in travel status, the dance band often performed. Some of those places were West Palm Beach, FL; Biggs AFB, TX; the Waldorf Astoria in New York and Fresno, CA. We had regular Saturday night gigs at the USO club in San Antonio between periods of travel. They paid us to play and we were so proud. I left the Air Force in January of 1955 and still play all those songs by memory. It was a fun thing and I thought we were pretty darn good!

Alma Billett Jentsch

FREE SIPS!!

Pip doesn’t remember this, but I do. In fact, Pip denies that she could or would ever be party to anything like I remember. This is what I remember: Across from the band barracks in San Antonio was a barracks with a soda machine out in front. One soda was the best Grape Soda I’d ever tasted, and it was only a nickel. You put your nickel in the slot, and the two bars holding the bottle opened just wide enough for you to retrieve your pur-chase. Well, we were really thirsty one night, went over, I think we put our nickels in, and nothing happened. We may even have inserted two more nickels, and again, nothing happened. Pip went back to her room, got a can opener, and two straws. We pried the lids off, stood over the machine and sipped the Grape Soda bottles dry. Pip’s comment: Are you sure we put our nickels in?

Toni Bray

Elaine Lilley, Ann Everitt, Elaine Baxter, Rosalyn Corbett, Mary Grunert, Jan Faunce, Jean Billett

The Wing Dings

First Sgt. Alma J. Billett gets us aboard the bus.She was just a little bit out of uniform!

We didn’t usually wear flowers on our fatiques!

BOSTON–AT THE FAIR

After our exhilarating Concert

My roommate Elizabeth Caddick and I were wandering among the throng of people when I spotted the strength testing concession, you know, the big hammer and a ball that shoots up a scale and rings a bell. Remembering how my brother Lloyd always made me lift weights and exercise with him so I’d be able to take care of myself in the future, I wanted to find out just how strong I got. I told Elizabeth “I’ve gotta try this.” She snickered as I paid the man my dime and handed her my purse. The sign read 3 tries for 1O¢. My first swing was pitiful. Swing #2 was a little better, but then I decided something was holding me back. “It’s this uniform. I need more swinging room.” I flung off my hat and coat and pitched them over her arm. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT.” She watched in horror. “WHAT IF CAPT. NISSLY WALKS BY AND SEES YOU?” So I say to Caddick, “I can’t swing with all that on. Besides, it’s only for a minute or so and my blouse is well ironed.” Having all that new freedom now made swing #3 nearly great. “YOU ALMOST RANG THE BELL!” She squealed in jubilation as I quickly looked up in time to see the ball hesitate near the top and plummet back down. She handed me a dime and I paid the man for 3 more tries. Then, warning her well out of my reach and mustering all the force my back, stomach and legs would hold, I took a mighty swing with a grip of steel and swung that hammer just like you would chop a log. BANG! BANG! BANG! That ball shot up to the top of that scale and hit that bell! ! ! “YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! ” She screamed with delight. “WHY ARE YOU SHAK-ING?” I staggered around for a bleary moment feeling sick, like maybe my liver got split, or worse. A crowd began gathering on the bleachers in front of me. I yelled out to them, “LETS HAVE A LITTLE CONTEST HERE!” No one came forward, so I got my hat and coat back on and we wandered on. Of course, all I really wanted to do was lay down and die or at least pass out for a while. We came upon a vendor selling prints and stopped to see if we liked any. In those days Caddick was really religious and had me looking for Jesus daily. “There, that’s the one I want.” I have that print to this day!

Twyla Castleberry Sullivan

Jan Wurst demonstrates the proper way to shine one’s “Little Abners”.

PARACHUTE JUMP

Due to the many hours spent in flying time to and from per-formance destinations, it was decided to have the whole band experi4nce the 40-foot parachute jump towner at Lackland. This practise training could be lifewaving in the event an emergency jump ever became necessary. Knowing the jump might be frightening for some members, the officers came up with this idea: the job-holding members: 1st Sgt., Barracks Sgt., etc. would secretly go to the tower and take the plunge. The theory was that when the whole band went to jump, the job holding members would appear unafraid, even ea-ger and brave, and would set an example for the others. The chosen few went to the townr. It was awesome!! Onlly 40 ft. up!! It seemed like 140 feet plus. After strapping on a harness to simulate a real parachute harness, we walked up the tower steps to the top where we were hooked on to the roller that took us to the ground in the distance. In order to ‘clear’ the tower, we had to walk out on a narrow 3 foot long board, which resembled the gangplan of old. At the end of the plank, you had to spring yourself off into nothing. It took me three times of bent knees, clenched fists, white knuckles and closed eyes before I pushed off into the air. We job holders did our ‘duty’ and got through the practise jump. The day came for the offical jump for the entire band. We were given our instructions, harnessed ourselves in, and went up the steps to the tower. All was going according to plan, the ‘eager and brave’ prepared to take the plunge. I jumped and sailed quickly down to the end, but there encountered an enexpected problem. Since I was a mere 100 pounds, and since we were jumping with a tailwind, I swung wildly past the stop bar, circled up into the air and then came straight down, hitting my head on the stop bar. The Base Commander, General John McCormick, rushed over to inquire if I was alright. I cringe with embarrassment at my reply, which was “I’m okay. I just banged my bean!” Betty R. DeVaughn

The Wild Blue Yonder

Typical travel in the early band years. We dressed in pilot flight suits; they were won-derful for carrying things that didn’t fit in suitcases. We also wore parachutes that we weren’t trained to use--we were only shown where the “rip cord” was. We flew on C-47s left over from WWII, with square metal or canvas seats, and it would take from early morning until evening to fly to Washington, DC.

A 27-day trip by bus through Texas in 1954 made us long for those bucket seats that at least got us where we needed to go. We sang all the camp songs we knew, the silly marching songs we learned in basic training, and even Bum’s high school cheer. Pictured in a pose none of us would want to attempt 50 years later: Patsy Wilmoth, Verna “Bum” Shook, Dorothy Bryan and Joann Dahl.

Up the staircase starting with Capt. Nissly, Jean Billett, Caroline Giles, Connie Davis, Jean Ford, Betty Emerson.If we look like we’ve been sleepinng in our clothes it’s because we have.

We probably got our first lesson in just how critical “location” is in all of life’s endeavors! At the base in Yuma, AZ we stayed in tents, froze at night and melted during the day. That probably added at least a paragraph or two to the Captain’s Staff Study. Someone (a northerner) caught a scorpion, ironed it, put it in an envelope, and sent it to her Mother. I’ll bet Mom was thrilled!

The Wild Blue Yonder

We didn’t get to wear these flight suits nearly long enough. Baggy, with a zillion pockets, we could stow everything that wouldn’t fit in our suitcases. Our clothing upgrade was fatigues which required washing, starching and ironing, as if we didn’t have enough to do!.

TEMPORARY DUTY

The mission of the WAF Band was recruiting, public relations and troop entertainment. The Band traveled a good percentage of the year, playing concerts and marching parades to fulfill this mission. When official notification of a TDY (temporary duty) trip was posted, certain actions had to be taken. An itinerary of what, where, when and for how long would be posted on the bulletin boards. We then could call or write family and friends to inform them we would be “out of pocket” during those days. Another list would inform us of what uniforms and shoes were to be taken. This set off a personal inspection of our uniforms. Did they need to be cleaned or pressed? Were there any rips or popped buttons to be sewn? Did the shoes need to be spit shined? After all the military clothing was taken care of, then the off-duty civilian clothes and personal items could be given some thought. Captain Nissly made her final decision concerning the music that was to be played or performed, and those pieces of music were pulled and put in a folder. The Band had a pouch of march-ing music that was also included, if needed. Each member was responsible for her music, music stand and any basic upkeep items, such as reeds, key and bore oil, lap “rags,” etc. On departure day, Air Force trucks would drive up to the sidewalks of the barracks. Sitting on the sidewalks were many suitcases, overnight bags and clothing bags. Some members would form a chain line while others got up on the truck. The baggage was passed from one person to another and put on the trucks. When loaded, the trucks would drive to the flight line. Band members would load on to the shuttle busses and be driven to the flight line. At the flight line, a chain line was once again formed that ran from the trucks, up the loading ramp and into the airplane. A large military cargo plane, or three small “gooney” birds, was needed to fly the fifty-piece band, along with their cargo, to their destina-tion. The planes were unpressurized and cold, as a rule, so wool flight suits were worn. Before takeoff, everyone would strap on a parachute. Usually backpack chutes were issued, but two other types could be issued: the seat pack or the infamous “Mae West” chest pack. We quite preferred the backpack. If the trip became lengthy, lunches or sometimes “C” rations were provided. Some were tasty, and others simply kept body and soul together. After landing, we unloaded the plane and were driven to our lodgings. Supply took charge of getting music stands, large instru-ments, etc. to the designated place. The TDY tour could now begin!

Mary Holloway Greetham

Returning from a TDY trip, band members collect their luggage.

Bergie feeds Bobbe Middleton some soup, no doubt practicing for the 5 children she would have after marrying that fellow she met at the skating rink.

Our 1st Sgt. Jean Billett gave her duck music lessons. “Poco” the duck was known to appear at WAF Band concerts in the Lackland area, and as she strolled across the area she frequently brought marching WAF troops to a halt.

One of our favorite people was Capt. Fernihough, Capt. Nissly’s Royal Air Force roommate. Pictured here with Ann Everitt and Carolyn Giles, she often traveled with us.

Here she is again with Jean and Phoebe.We, at least, didn’t have to wear neckties!

In order to keep ourselves just as cute as the Air Force wanted, it was necessary to keep our hair in curls as well as off the backs of our uniform collars. Bergie’s Beauty Shop made her a few extra bucks as she gave us “Toni perms,” the ultimate in home permanents in the 50s (remember “which twin has the Toni?”). Surely the daughters she later had were indebted to us for being her first guinea pigs. Jan Faunce was that day’s “piggy.”

It was one thing when in 1955 we were the first women to fly to the North Pole, and we were made “Princes of the Arctic Realm.” But two years later, in the Presidential Inaugural Pa-rade, we still couldn’t get recognized as women.And here we thought when we went into the service that women had proved their worth in World War II.

Our Commander carried her own luggage. How ‘bout that!

The Wild Blue Yonder

We attend Band School in DC. You’ll notice it took a while for us to get heels like our officers. By then we’d learned to love our “grandma” shoes.

BAND SCHOOL AT BOLLING AFB, WASHINGTON, DC

Six foot cubicles for two, without doorsLots of someones practicing their instruments in the bathroomLots of would-be artists with paint-by-numbers setsTerrific food in the chow hallVisits to the Smithsonian Institution The first taste of pizzaLots of fellas to date Concerts at the WatergatePlaying tourist whenever possibleRehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal,rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, and practice, practice, practice, practice, practice, practice, and music, music, music, music, music, music, music, music, music, music, and finally graduation.

We take leave from there. The Captain is home with her family in an hour. Four or five of us from Washington and Or-egon leave in Dorothy Bryan’s 1947 Plymouth, taking turns driv-ing night and day, dropping off Elaine Baxter in Montana, getting a good laugh in Butte watching a drunken parrot outsmart the cowboys in a restaurant/bar, in Spokane putting me on the bus to Pendleton,OR, while Bryan and Dahl head for Colville, WA. Meeting up about ten days later to head back to San Antonio.

I tried to learn from that trip. The next time we took leave from DC, I took a hop to TX. We were grounded in Montgomery, AL, so I took a greyhound bus to Kansas City, KS, stayed over-night in a hotel, then took a train to Hastings, NE. It took 3 days, but at least I had some time with my family who were visiting rela-tives in NE. I think John Candy and Steve Martin made a movie of that trip, Trains, Planes and Automobiles.

Dixie Johnson Roxane Spurber, the band’s longest serving vocalist, delighted thousands of service personnel singing Broadway show tunes.

DAY OF THE PLANE CRASH

One morning in early summer, we were loading two airplanes for a trip to Victoria, Texas, with one of the planes carrying most of the band members and the other with the rest of the members, all our instruments, luggage and music. Of course we were always strapped into parachutes before entering the airplanes. We were also given a briefing on emergency procedures should something happen to the plane enroute. We were half way to Victoria when something went wrong with one of the engines on the plane that held the instruments. We were all pretty frightened as we were told to hook up to the parachute safety rod, which ran through the center of the plane. We did as we were told and hooked up. Of course, everyone wanted to go down with the plane! The pilots agreed that we should return to Lackland Air Base as the engine could not be depended upon to get us to Victoria. Later as we limped through the line at the mess hall with bandages on our faces, arms, and legs, splints and slings on our arms, we had a lot of questions to answer. We told everyone that our plane had crashed, that no one got killed or seriously injured, but that we did have a lot of scrapes and bruises. Reality was we landed at Lackland and those of us on the plane decided to pull a little prank on the personnel on the base. So approximately 10 of us made ourselves look like we were really in a plane crash. We even tore some of our clothes. We really did look like we had been in a wreck. We don’t know whether they ever believed us but we never told them we landed instead of crashed. Needless to say, we were the talk of Lackland Air Base.

Nancy J. Billett

Nancy Billett, Corrine Bergman and Dixie Johnson lend a hand for Hawaiian recruiting

SWIMMING PARTY

On a hot, steamy evening in July of 1955 some band mem-bers planned a little unauthorized swimming party on a base in Minnesota. Our concert and parade tour had finally come to an end, and we were feeling quite relieved. But this was an oppres-sive evening, much too humid to go to bed, and time weighed as heavy as the steamy air on our last night in Minnesota. We thought a cool dip would be so refreshing and, as luck would have it, we knew of a nice pool close to our barracks. It seemed a shame not to avail ourselves of it. We gave very little thought to the little problem that not one of us had swimming regalia. Our main concerns were getting over the fence, dousing the light and keeping the noise level down to minimize the chance of detection, since we didn’t think the pool’s usual patrons would be pleased to see us....... We each stripped and left our pile of clothes where they could be easily retrieved. “Pip” DeVaughn took one look at our feeble effort of dousing the light and quickly volunteered to be the ‘look out.’ A low whistle from her would signal trouble of one sort or another, and we were to cling to the sides of the pool and keep our heads down. We were not ‘caught,’ despite a fully lit building and notice-able activity within. However, we had not counted on either the number or the size of Minnesota mosquitoes, and we were sure that all the mosquitoes in Minnesota were beckoned to our swim-ming party. Nobody talked about it, nobody counted or pointed out the location of the bites, but it became quite obvious on that long trip back to Texas who had invaded the Officer’s Club pool that last night in Minnesota.

Olive J. Bray

The Wild Blue Yonder

MY ENGAGEMENT TOOK THE BAND FOR A RIDE

On July 4, 1955, the WAF Band was scheduled to attend the Powder Puff Derby in San Diego, California. While we were touring the Convair plant in San Diego, an order came through for the Band to be on television in Riverside, California. The rest of the story took a while to unfold. It was the biggest kept secret the WAF Band ever had, and it certainly was a challenge to keep it from getting out amongst the 40-plus band members. Only a few people knew what was going to take place. The mother of Duke Paulick, my boyfriend who had been in Japan for two years, thought it would be a nice surprise to have me meet him on television when he was to return to the United States. She wrote the “Truth or Consequences” program and gave them her idea. They approached the proper people in Washington, DC, who got in touch with Duke’s superiors in the Pacific Air Force. They decided that Duke could return to the states and surprise me with his early return. Earlier that year for Valentine’s Day, Duke wanted to send me a diamond ring. I said I did not want it until he could put it on my finger. Duke was a bit upset to be disrupted so suddenly. He had made plans to climb Mt. Fuji over the Fourth of July, but suddenly he was instructed to pack up and be prepared to fly to the states. He had to sell most of his belongings and get on his way. It took four trips in and out of several Air Force bases to get an airplane that could get him back to California in time for the July 8, 1958 show. It was to be the last show of “Truth or Consequences” before their summer hiatus, so Duke had to be there, whatever it took. They took off and had engine trouble several times, and some important people had to be bumped to make room for Duke so he could make it back. One Colonel told Duke he would give him his seat if Duke would call the Colonel’s wife and let her know he would be late arriving in LA. Strange as it was, the Colonel still made it back before Duke got there. The Band was taken to Riverside to march in a parade. We didn’t know just what was going on but still followed the usual instructions. I was taken aside by Marjorie Sanders at a corner drugstore where we were getting an ice cream float. Marjorie said they were going to interview several of the band members, and if I happened to be picked, I should have something good to say. Well, I was going to be discharged within two months, so I went along with the plans. Lo and behold, I was picked to be interviewed. I was asked the usual stupid question, “What do you get when you mix a kangaroo and a cow?” Of course, I couldn’t answer the question, so I had to pay the consequence, which was to describe the area around the pool. I started at one end, and

as I came around to the right, I saw something like a bus stop booth and I could see some khaki pants and shiny military shoes. I thought, “They aren’t going to make me kiss a fool, are they?” Much to my surprise, the shoes belonged to Duke, who was holding the hand of Ruta Lee, one of the stars of the movie “Mar-jorie Morningstar.” When he emerged from the bus stop booth and I saw who it was, I cried “What are you doing here?” I learned later the Captain had told the band waiting in the street that Duke was here to get engaged to me. That is exactly what happened. Duke put the ring on my finger just as I had wanted. I cherish the memory of how we became engaged and have never regretted my decision, though we had not spent much time together before he shipped out. I guess great things are worth waiting for. That weekend, Phoebe Smithback loaned Duke her car, and he was able to stay at a hotel and visit me at the base. We can never thank her enough for playing an important part in the start of our wonderful life together. Barbara Cole Paulick

A COLD WIND

We were on one of our SAC tours at Mountain Home Air Force Base in Boise, Idaho. It was November and the Idaho weather was very cold. We were scheduled to march in a Base Parade, and we were practicing on the flight line. Boy, was it cold! We dressed in anything that would keep us warm, then put our great overcoat on the outside. After all, we had to look like we were in uniform. The winds would whip up and blow our music out of our folders and, of course, make the temperature feel even colder. Whenever we happened to march by a jet that was warming up, I believe we slowed our marching so as to absorb the heat from the afterburners. We hoped and prayed that the parade would be canceled. It was just too cold. Our prayers were answered when to our great surprise, someone happened to notice that it had begun to snow. Hot diggity dog! We may not have to march after all. Sure enough, when we awoke in the morning, there was a nice blanket of snow. A California girl, I had never had a chance to play in snow, and I was very excited about going out with the other girls to build a snowman. One thing’s for sure: We certainly were not worried about being cold out there. For example, I had on a pair of jeans, sweat shirt and shower thongs. I definitely was not cold. I was too busy working on that snowman. By the way, the parade was canceled, to our great relief.

Jude Garcia

Mary Ann Schmitt and Peggy Witulski were well prepared for that trip.

FLYING BOXCAR

To set the scene —The WAF Band is in Puerto Rico—some-where around January 9th or 10th,1957. We marched in parades down the narrow streets of San Juan (elbow to elbow), played concerts in the town square, roamed the sunny beaches to check out all the hunks—and then were finally dinner guests of the Hilton Hotel.

What a spread!! We were seated at long tables, which made it very convenient to share different things from our meals. We started out with coconut cocktails. They made a hole in the top, drained out the milk—then filled them with rum. I tasted it—aaagh-hhh! I told Betty Emerson she could have the rum, but I wanted the coconut “meat.” She agreed, so the waiter came with his little mallet, gave it a whack and broke it in half. I nibbled on it during the evening—and began to feel “urpy.”

By the time the evening was over, my head was spinning and I thought I was dying! When I went to bed, everything started spinning around. Some gals suggested that I lie on my stomach and put one hand on the floor so I would stop spinning. It worked —how did they know that?

The next morning, I felt terrible! They informed me that I had a hangover. Impossible—I didn’t drink anything. Well dumb me —the coconut had soaked up the rum!!! I then was convinced that I never never wanted to see another coconut as long as I lived!!

OK, it’s time to leave Puerto Rico and head for Washington, DC, for Eisenhower’s Inaugural Parade. It was a beautiful day for a flight over the ocean—but that soon changed. We heard an engine sputtering, so we pressed our faces against the windows in time to see a puff of smoke and the propeller go dead in the wind. This can’t be happening to us—not now. The pilot came on the speaker system and told us to get prepared to ditch, if necessary. The plane lost altitude and soon we could see the sharks looking up at us—smiling! It was not our idea of “dining out.” It seemed like hours, then the pilot said “We have permission to land in the Bahamas (Jamaica, I think), so brace yourselves when you hear the bell.” Be assured, we didn’t hesitate.

The landing was smooth as silk, and a big cheer went up for the pilot and crew. We kissed the ground, looked at our “Flying Boxcar” and were thankful that it was not necessary to rename it “The Flying Coffin.” (What a thought!)

Being hungry with no money was the first concern—but a couple (or maybe three) came forward with what they had—and the problem was solved.

It was a long wait for the “Smiling Survivors,” but it gave them time to reflect on their good fortune and unforgettable memories.

Pat Lantz Newbold

The WAF Area

in 1951

The Wild Blue Yonder

THE SHORTS INCIDENT

This happened in June, 1956, after we marched a rodeo pa-rade in Yoakum, Texas in 103-degree heat. Captain Nissly, hoping to find a cooler uniform for us to wear for our concert rehearsals, asked us to come to a squadron meeting at 08l5 the morning after that June 7 march. She told us to come dressed in our govern-ment-issue fatigue shorts. Now, these shorts were the one very unattractive part of our Air Force uniform. They came to just about the knees; they were secured with a buttoned waistband; had large pleats on either side of the front center; and the bottom leg openings were very wide. How wide? The girls like myself who were long and very thin-legged could have put both legs into one opening. When we returned to our barracks after the Yoakum parade, we began a spontaneous fashion show, featuring those shorts. A few of the models were still wearing their self-seamed hose beneath their shorts. Others attached their citation cord, which was worn on the outside of our left shoulder for concert or parade performances, to their fatigue blouses. Still others put them on over their pajamas. We had a hilarious time. The next morning, duly dressed in fatigue short uniform, we gathered in the dayroom of our living barracks for the squadron meeting. It was protocol for our group to be called to ‘Attention’ when the Captain entered the room; she would then give the “At Ease” command so we could sit down. This day we all stood smartly to quiet “Attention” as the Captain entered the room. I can only imagine the sight her eyes beheld as she stepped into the room and scanned the Band group. Her reaction told the story. She began laughing immediately -- laughing so hard she could not give us ‘At Ease’ and laughing so hard tears began rolling down her face. It is virtually impossible to remain at straight-faced at-tention when your Commanding Officer is unable to contain her laughter. I believe she waved us to ‘At Ease’ that morning. It was decided we would not be required to wear the fatigue shorts for concert rehearsals. We would continue wearing the standard fatigue uniform consisting of an eight-gored flared, but-ton-up-the-front skirt with a smooth cotton short-sleeved blouse, which did require collar brass. Both were a light blue color, and were starched and ironed precisely. We were taught to carefully straighten our skirts, pulling slightly from each side, as we sat down so there would be few, if any, wrinkles in the backs of our skirts. Many times we would sit through a bus ride, a concert rehearsal and another bus ride and have no wrinkles on the backs of our skirts. Even our fatigue uniforms were pressed after each day’s work was finished so they were neat for the next day’s work.

Grace L. Clements

Ed. note: Prior to our Air Force years we were a generation of women who wore “short shorts”! The old adage “what goes around, comes around” is proven here for in 2004 these shorts are closer to the prevailing fashion.Note Grace’s hat. We washed and heavily starched them and shaped them by letting them dry stretched over coffee cans.

Grace Clements models the fashionable WAF shorts.

NEVER MISSED A BEAT

Odessa, Texas. At that time it was a very rich and small city. The people who were appointed to take care of concerts had erected a make-shift bandstand outdoors for us to rehearse. It looked pretty flimsy, but the Captain, being the Captain, had us all climb aboard. The percussion section was stretched out along the back of the bandstand. Percussion members play different percussion equipment, requiring them to move around a lot.

Our platform was very narrow and full of knotholes and splin-ters. I was moving from one instrument to another. Suddenly a big hole opened up under my left leg and down I went. Quite a crowd had gathered for our rehearsal. I am proud to say the percussion section never missed a beat! I had a scratched and bruised leg, but being a WAF Band member, I was at the concert that night!

Corinne S. SmithNo fans, no air conditioning, just Texas summer heat and ironing that had to be done.

AMERICAN LEGION PARADE

I’ll never forget that parade. It was August of 1953, hotter than Hades. One of those great trips during which, on the bus ride from the base into town, we wore one summer uniform skirt and hung another up, as best we could in an Air Force bus, to change into just before we left the bus. Our stiffly starched skirts didn’t give us a bit of leeway when it came to wrinkles. And of course we always had the challenge of how to change skirts inside a bus, and not provide an unintended show for the fellas lining up on both sides of the bus in preparation for their part in the parade. That parade was the first time my Grandma shoes failed me. I had had a whole year in the band by then and those shoes had gotten soft and comfortable, even glove-like. But we were march-ing on cobblestone and brick and it was one of those long, long, hot, hot marches. I’m remembering something like 12 miles that felt like 1,200 to one of my poor feet. I just crumbled into the bus at the end of the parade, took off that shoe and practically cried with relief. That night, as I prepared to polish those shoes for the next day’s events, I reached into the ‘bad’ shoe. Something inside felt really strange. I reached a little deeper and lo and behold, I pulled out the foot of a nylon stocking. Then I flashed back in memory to the night before....... We’d given a concert at Ft. Sam in San Antonio. On the way back to Lackland on the bus, I discovered a run in my nylon. Red-blooded all-American Gurl that I was, I simply pushed my thumb into the run so that I could enlarge it and then I just ripped that sucka off my leg without taking off my shoe. It wasn’t easy. Nylon is very resistant to being shredded. But when you are a Red-Blooded All-American Gurl, you can do amazing things. Including marching umpteen miles with a nylon ‘footie’ taking up the toe of your Grandma shoes.

Dixie L. Johnson

I could have used a crutch about here........

Risers could be very dangerous to anyone in the back row. The percussion section often walking from one instrument to another truly had hazardous duty.

The Wild Blue YonderSMILING SURVIVORS

The WAF Band was en route from Puerto Rico to Washington, DC, on a C-119 when we had engine trouble. I was one of 23 Band members on the plane. Before we ever took off, the crew chief had said he felt we should not do so, but we did and every-thing was fine for a while. Everyone settled down after we were airborne, took off their parachutes and tried to get some sleep. I was never one to sleep much, so I went up to the flight deck for coffee. I even listened in on the headphones while the pilot and ground crew talked. When I went back to my seat, the crew chief said we had a bad oil leak in our right engine, which he showed me. The engine was covered with oil, along with some of the windows. The crew chief ran to the flight deck, and in no time the engine was feathered. All we had under us was the Atlantic Ocean. The crew chief got everyone up and into Mae West life jackets and parachutes. He explained to us that, if we had to jump, they would open the back doors. A long constant bell would sound, which meant for us to go out the door and he would be there to assist us. We were told to jump release our parachutes just before hit-ting the water. When we hit the water, we were to pull the cords to inflate our Mae West lifejackets and they would drop the rubber life rafts to us. What a sick feeling! Some people were crying and some were just looking at each other with a slight smile. One girl took the film out of her camera and put it in her pocket, as she didn’t want it to get wet. This was the first of many reactions and dumb thoughts some of us had. The pilots decided that, if we could stay airborne for a short time, we would be able to land in Nassau. We landed at a com-mercial field, lost our brakes, overshot the runway and came to a stop in a field at the end of the runway. You never saw people exit a plane so fast. Some kissed the ground, some prayed and some just sat and cried. They took us into the main terminal after we got our belongings from the plane. Some young men from Nassau, playing Calypso music, entertained us. One airman, who had some money with her, loaned money to the others. We ate at a restaurant and then went back to the terminal. Another C-119 with a new crew came to take us to Florida to meet up with the rest of the Band mem-bers. Our pilots had contacted Captain Nissly’s plane when we were in the middle of our plane trouble. When they told her we were going down, meaning in the ocean, she thought they meant landing some place, so she went back to sleep. You can imagine the surprise and shock when everyone heard the real story. We became known as “The Smiling Survivors.”

Martha J. Awkerman

WAF BAND REFLECTIONS

It just so happened that the band was on tour when I completed basic. I was excited when the band returned to home base and I got to meet the captain and all the band members and work into the routine of private practice, sectionals, and rehearsals. During my three years with the band, I was a typist for Lieutenant Thomas and worked in supply for Sergeant Barnett.

Just a few reflections:The band trips were highlights - places like the Seattle Sea Fair, Portland Rose Festival, and Cheyenne Frontier Days are still fond memories. The flight lunches were great for the first few trips - then they began tasting like the inside of our plane.Flying in a cargo plane was an unforgettable experience - the smell, the noise, the bucket seats.The parachute jump experience was heart stopping, like falling off a very, very high diving board.The move to Norton Air Force Base in California was a good one. Our living quarters were so much better, as was the California weather.Starching and ironing became our second vocations.“Buzz” those lips was a familiar reminder from my section leader, Sgt. Everett. My hard-earned pay bought a Renault, which I parked outside the barracks. More often that not it would end up on a sidewalk or some other unlikely place.

The camaraderie that we experienced as members of the U.S. WAF Band was so much in evidence as we gathered for our first reunion in San Antonio in 1997. It was as though the intervening years had been erased. Long Live the Memories!

Joanne Worthington Eckroth

Survival often re-quires adaptation, like functioning as main-tenance personnel as well as musicians. We could have hired out as decorators by the time we finished our enlistments.

It was a good thing some of us had to wear uniforms!

DUBIOUS DIGIT DISTINCTION

As the WAF Band’s third trombonist in 1960-61, I contributed as a player but probably only stood out one time, the result of playing toss and catch football with solo trombone and super athlete Annie Everitt. I loved the challenge of trying to keep up with her. Whatever I could do she could do much better, and she especially proved it in that one day’s football throwing. Her last throw was so hard and fast that I caught it very wrong—on the end of my right hand’s “dubious digit,” or “bird” finger. I ended up needing a brace on that finger until one joint healed. Playing anything other than the trombone, I would have been sidelined for a few weeks, but I was lucky. I could still play, albeit awkwardly. I was afraid of banging the hurt finger on the trombone bell as I zipped the slide by it, back and forth, often quite rapidly. I was not alone in realizing the challenge of it. The one time I discovered I stood out as a player was after an evening performance in Orange County, California. A gentle-man came over to us and said he had been so fascinated at our afternoon performance when my braced finger kept missing the bell that he came back that evening to see if that continued. No, I have never held it against Annie that the pinkie got hurt. I have simply admired her for doing what half the quarterbacks in the NFL couldn’t have done. From that, I received a few moments of glory from at least one member of one audience—a unique way to achieve distinction.

Linda Stearns Fisher

THE KENNEDY INAUGURAL PARADE

It was January of 1961 and the country had been awaiting this grand parade and ceremony for several months. We were to swear in the next President of the United States and move on with the country’s business. The band had been practicing their marching relentlessly in California in preparation for this big day. We were working not so much for the polished look, since we already possessed that, but to ready ourselves physically for the long march and cold weather we would be facing. After packing just the right necessities, we boarded the aircraft on January 16, 1961 and took off for Andrews Air Force Base, MD, where we would spend the next four days. Excitement was high as we rumbled through the air towards Andrews with the usual “full load” of stuff packed in each bass horn case, the numerous ironing boards and garment bags, along with a lot of heavy winter clothing. One of the worst snowstorms in modern memory occurred the night before John F. Kennedy took the presidential oath that year, dumping eight inches of snow on Washington, DC. Army troops shoveled Pennsylvania Avenue clear of snowdrifts, the sun came out and the show went on, but not before I had a little adventure of my own on this historic day. I woke up, showered and prepared myself as usual for the day’s events, only with a slight departure in the dress blue uniform. Oh, it looked the same on the outside of the big, heavy overcoat, but what a change underneath. I wore flannel pajamas (legs rolled to the knees), a sweatshirt and anything else that would fit under that overcoat. I’m not even sure that I wore the dress blue jacket, but I certainly was not “proper” as I prepared for the march. Soon we boarded the two buses that would take us to the parade route. Because I had had oral surgery recently, I was playing the bell lyre, or Glockenspiel, as it was called. This instrument had four, long vertical bars, attached with screws to the lyre-shaped frame of the Glockenspiel. To these two rows of bars are fastened all of the metal tone-bars, which are struck with mallets to produce the sounds. It looked like two sets of rails with railroad tracks. Now, this is a fine instrument when all of the pieces are there and in their correct place. But—trouble— today I was missing a screw! I had cleaned and polished every inch of it, and had packed it so carefully for the trip. How could a screw be missing? And not just any screw, either, but the one that held the whole row of tone-bars on the frame. Soon, everyone on the bus was at work searching for a screw that would fit. We were removing screws from the old bus around the windows, ceiling panels, floor trim and the seats, all to no avail. It seemed that the German Glockenspiel screws and the American bus screws did not have enough in common to fit. Then along came the ingenious Captain Thomas to save the day. She took off her dog-tag chain and wrapped it tightly around the rails to secure the tone-bars so I could play. After waiting around for a long time, we finally formed and began to march. It was already growing dusk and the temperature was dropping further. Marching helped, as it got the blood flowing and hearts pumping faster. Soon Drum Major Marge Sanders gave the signal to start playing a march. I was ready, with my trusty, “fixed,” dog-tagged Glockenspiel. Downbeat—play—SOUND—ugh! The extreme cold had affected all of the wind instruments, changing them to one-half pitch difference. My trusty Glockenspiel, however, did not change with the weather. I was now playing in a “different” key from everyone else. It sounded terrible! I decided not to play. I would just “pretend” I was playing. Have you any idea how boring that was, and a long parade at that! My mind began to wander as I felt colder. Then inspiration

hit: I’ll transpose my music to their “new” key. This project kept my mind happily occupied and I no longer felt so cold. By the end of the parade I had successfully transposed and played by ear all of the five memorized marches we used that day. All of my problems for that day had been overcome with a little help from my friends. I could not end this story without telling you that I experienced the taste of coffee for the first time that day. I never liked the smell of coffee, let alone drinking it. However, at the end of the parade that day when I felt so cold, I was handed a hot cup, which I put both hands around, put to my lips and drank it all down. It was COFFEE! It was the best thing I had ever had. I never drank it again, but it sure hit the spot then.

Bonnie Ray Barclay

BIRDS FLY THIS HIGH

After marching in the long, bitterly cold inaugural parade of John F. Kennedy, the Band members were quite ready to return to their less glamorous, less exciting but comfortably warm home base in San Bernardino, California. Shortly after takeoff from Andrews Air Force Base in our C-124, I looked out a window and observed that we had leveled off far below cruising altitude—most birds can fly higher than this! Then I saw the reason we were not ascending: one of the plane’s four propellers was motionless! At first I was afraid, and then remembered hearing that we only needed two engines to remain airborne. I relaxed and began whimsically contemplating the joys of flying from the East Coast to San Bernardino at that altitude—what a view! But would we clear the San Bernardino Mountains to get into Norton Air Force Base? No way! We were barely high enough to get over a good-sized radio tower. Then I felt the plane turning and descending for land-ing so our wounded engine could be repaired. Darn—the idea of flying to California at below 1,000 feet had begun to intrigue me!

Linda Stearns Fisher

The Wild Blue Yonder

ANOTHER OF THOSE INAPPROPRIATE MOMENTS

Nothing like ad libbing sometimes when you shouldn’t, but it seemed like the thing to do at the time. Capt. Nissly said to put the “William Tell Overture” on our stands. Well, opportu-nity knocks once more. When we got to the theme song of “The Lone Ranger”–I fired off a cap gun and yelled “Hi Ho Silver Awayaaaaaaaaaaa”! I don’t need to tell you the look on Capt. Nissly’s face, I’m sure. Cut another notch in my boo boo’s belt.

Pat Lantz Newbold

Owned by several band members, this Model T had a long and respect-able tour of duty in the WAF Band.

The Captain had her chance to get even with some of those practical jokes of Phyllis “Pat” Lantz before admin-istering her re-enlistment oath.

THE SOUSAPHONE CAPER

One day during a rehearsal, I thought about how I could “spice” up my four-note solo in one of the numbers we were to play in our concert that evening. After practice, I rummaged through junk I had brought on the trip and found a hot water bottle (for emergencies), an old “driving hat,” a pair of sneakers (for comfort) and a couple of other things. I thought, “Wouldn’t it be fun to stuff them down the bell of my horn, pretend I couldn’t get any sound out of it, take my horn off my shoulder, look into the bell and start pulling out all this stuff.” So that’s what I did, all while the rest of the Band was hold-ing a note waiting for me to get in position for my solo. After I had removed everything, I pretended there was still more “down there,” so I put my horn on the floor, threw up my hands in disgust and walked off stage behind the curtains. I turned around to see a puzzled look on Captain Nissly’s face (but she kept holding the note).

Then I came out with a toy Emmenee Sousaphone around my neck, looking very pleased with myself, gave the crowd a big Lantz smile and nodded my head at the Captain to tell her I was ready now. I played my four-note solo and got a standing ovation from the audience. I had checked out the pitch previously, and found it to be in the same key, so everything worked out super. I meant this to be a one-time joke, but when Captain Nissly realized it was a hit, she made me bring it on every trip where that number was on our schedule. Arrggh—that meant I had to carry all that extra stuff every time! It had backfired on me, but it was fun to see the expressions on everybody’s faces. Well, that’s the kind of thing that could happen when you “tested” the Captain and her terrific sense of humor! Do you real-ize THAT was the first time she didn’t use her famous comment of “that was funny, but we won’t do that again, will we?” I can’t begin to tell you how many times I heard that from her! My Mother always said that I go where angels feared to tread. Now what did she mean by that?

Pat Lantz Newbold

Even though she’s famous now, Pat allows the bus driver to give her a hand in loading that little instrument she plays.