Newspapers / The Alleghany News and … / Feb. 8, 1945, edition 1 / Page 7
Part of The Alleghany News and Star-Times (Sparta, N.C.) / About this page
This page has errors
The date, title, or page description is wrong
This page has harmful content
This page contains sensitive or offensive material
LOVE CHAPTER XI The instructors for this Lapu tan business were taken from the enlisted personnel—fine, kind hearted men for the most part. Among them, however, were scattered a few asps. The title of instructor raised ' the sailor to temporary authority over the ca dets who as commissioned offi cers would soon crack the whip themselves. The opportunity was too good to be missed. I won’t say that Machinist’s Mate Briggs, to whom I was assigned, abused the privilege. Rather he lived on it. His welcoming blast was, “In peacetime you couldn’t get into the Navy.” I muttered something about go ing fishing in peacetime and per suaded him to explain the instru ments to me. Briggs knew the trainer inside out. He carefully went over everything, occasion ally dropping a remark that clari fied his position in regard to ca dets. “I know you ain’t listening,” he said in a sarcastic voice. “It’s too much to expect.” ‘Tm listening,” I said. “Don’t look like you’re listenin’ to me,” he said sullenly. “I am.” “You’re all alike. You don’t want to learn. I stand here and talk my bloody heart out, and I never found a cadet yet who lis tened. Jeez, when I think how the calyouber of officers has drop ped lately, I wonder if we’ll pull through. Well, it ain’t for me to question. I’m just a sailor takin’ orders, doin’ my job. I’ll go on talkin’, knowing damn well you ain’t payin’ the slightest atten tion.” It took some time to get through the lecture. Before we finished, Briggs arrived at the conclusion that I was “just like the rest of ’em. Got nothing but Sammy Kaye on your mind.” “I’m not very mechanical,” I said. “Brother, you better get me chanical,” he snorted, preparing to start me on the familiarization hop. x ^ I climbed uncertainly into the trainer, put the earphones on, and pulled the hood down. It was hot inside. One dim light illuminated the instrument panel. Briggs called over the radio, “Are you calm?” He insisted that his pupils keep calm. “I’m calnl,” I said, fighting down the hysterical feeling that seizes me when pillows are clamped playfully over my head. “You don’t sound calm,” said Briggs, and before I was quite ready he turned on the electri city. “Hey!” I shouted. “Keep calm in there,” called Briggs. “Remember the standard climb is five hundred feet a min ute. Watch your instruments.” I looked at the instruments. They seemed to be watching me. “C’mon, take off,” called Briggs impatiently. I heaved back on the stick and jammed the trottle all the way forward. At this the instruments, which had been twitching in ex citement, went hog wild. The whole panel went into a sort of Disney dance. The altimeter spun around dizzily. The rate of climb spared. “You’re climbing straight up all over the place,” called Briggs in alarm. When nothing else worked I beat both fists on the panel, re membering the classic cure for faulty radios. It seemed to prick the instruments on to even mad oowr LET POOR. BUSinESS \ GET YOU DOWN V tsks. "itjr WONDERFUL der revels. “Straighten out!” bawled Briggs, who had never seen any thing like this before. It was out of my hands. I sat helpless, fascinated by the flit ting, spinning mechanical ballet. All this time the air speed was being governed according to cer tain inexorable laws. It fell back and back until the trainer lost flying speed, and the entire cast plunged violently into a theoreti cal spin. Now all the instruments frantically reversed themselves. The artificial horizon momentari ly came out of hiding, zipped across the glass, and went out of sight below. The altimeter drunkenly peeled off feet by the thousands while the rate of climb dropped as if it had been shot. The compasses reeled ecstatically, gay to the very end, and the air speed so recently shrunk to forty m. p. h. was now fat at two hun dred and fifty. “You better recover,” called Briggs weakly. “According to the altimeter you are now eight hun dred feet below the earth’s sur face.” Coincident with that crushing announcement the light on the instrument panel went out, leav ing me in complete darkness. For a minute I hung peacefully sus pended and undisturbed between two worlds. Then for no reason an image of the hellfire-and brim stone sign that stood for years on a familiar road at home issued up where the instrument panel had been. I opened and closed my eyes. It was pitch-black, but the image of that sign stayed and grew brighter • and larger until the red painted message filled the entire cockpit; THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END. ARE YOU READY? The letters flowed filmily over me. I felt a giddy detachment. It didn’t matter any more. The flight that was not a flight didn’t matter, and the crash that was not a crash didn’t matter. Ac cording to science I was whirling eight hundred feet underground, but what the hell! If you don’t understand your environment, go beyond it. I picked up the micro phone and called to Briggs in a low, pulsing voice: “The world is coming to an end. Are you ready?” “I’ll be damned!” said Briggs. “Tell Buck and Wilma,” I went on. [ Buck who? cued Briggs, coming face to face with his first albatross. “Buck Rogers in the twenty fifth century,” I blared. Briggs quickly snapped off the power and let me out. I started to apologize for my poor show ing, but then I thought better of it. I walked off without a word. Briggs just stood and stared. What he had witnessed would never be spoken of with Lindbergh’s crossing or Amelia’s feats, but he was well aware it had a signifi cance of its own. He never men tioned it again as long as I was there. When I got to the point where I could keep the instruments un der thumb, Briggs took a deep breath and proceeded to explain the basic principles of the radio range. He was ankle-deep in the subject when he stopped, pushed his sailor cap back on his head, and said belligerently, “Some how I get the impression you’re workin’ against me.” “That’s funny,” I said. I had not understood a word of what he was saying. “Teachin’ this stuff to you is like hollerin’ up a pipe,” he said. He wanted to get angry. “All the cadets is ox dumb, but I can beat that by just sayin’ the same thing sixty times over. They’re goin’ to be officers, y’know, so they get it by the sixtieth time, but with you it’s like blowin’ up a balloon with a hole in it. What’s wrong with you?” he asked in despair. “Come on, just once more,’’ I coaxed. Finally it came to me that a radio range may be considered as the compass field divided into four quadrants, two of which are A quadrants, and two of which WANTED Chestnut Wood & Tan Bark Wilkes Extract Works NORTH W1LKESBORO, NORTH CAROLINA ire N. You have to believe this Decause you can’t see it. It is ill done by radio, and anything lone by radio you have to take >n blind faith The A quadrants lie designated by the Morse sign al dit dah, and the N quadrants by the signal dah dit. The vol ume of the signals increases as you fly toward the center of the range, so that you can tell in which quadrant you are. The center of the range is called the cone of silence. That is where everybody wants to be; at least that is where everybody on a radio range wants to be. You wouldn’t be seen dead there oth erwise. To prevent a disorderly stampede of aircraft to the cone of silence, from which point you let down to land, much compli cated procedure has been set up. I don’t like to think about it. It reminds me of the time our cook married a Mormon. Besides this while you are lo cating yourself on the range, you’re in communication with the radio tower. This conversation is carried on along highly con ventional lines. “F’rinstance,” said Briggs, “af ter you’ve received my message, you acknowledge it by saying, ‘Wilco.’ That finishes every thing.” “I say ‘Wilco’?” I asked in credulously. “Yeah. Used to have to say ‘Roger,’ but they changed it.” “What was the matter with "Roger’?” I asked, failing to see quite what motivated the revolu tion. “I don’t know. Just one of them things,” said Briggs, accustomed to impermanence. “There was a big shake-up last winter.” I was never taken behind the scene, but I imagine that when Roger went, he dragged a lot of big names down with him. The day I had my radio check I was particularly alert. Even the most complex features of the range stood out clearly in my mind. It was the insight that comes in a lifetime. Briggs gave me an easy problem, and I sailed through the first part. “Corpus Christi radio from Na vy one-twenty. I have orientated myself in the southern N quad rant and am proceeding to inter sect your western beam with an inbound heading of two hundred forty-eight degrees. I request the use of that beam. Go ahead.” “Navy from Corpus Christi ra dio. Permission granted. Go ahead.” “Wilco.” “Atta boy,” called Briggs, who was pretty anxious to get me off his hands. “Keep it up. The graph looks great.” On his table was a recorder which traced the problem on pa per. The paper was then hand ed in and marked. I was doing beautifully when a sudden jar threw the trainer completely off its course. The stick whipped over to one side. I jerked, but it was frozen. With a howl I tore open the lid and looked angrily for the oppressive influence. Resting against the wing, quiet ly admiring the room, was a dark and handsome South Amercian officer, mustache and all. He had apparently just arrived and was completely engrossed by the in genuity of the Northern Hemis phere. Many South Americans went through the station as part of the Good-Will Program. I never knew what his government told him, but I had my orders. “Amigo!” I cried warmly, hold ing out both arms. Before he could reply, I slammed down the hood and called to Briggs on the radio. “Corpus Christi radio from Na vy one-twenty. Get that gaucho off my wing, Briggs, before the whole problem is wrecked!” “Navy from Corpus Christi ra dio. You know what Sumner Welles said,” moaned Briggs. “Wilco,” I bawled, jamming up {the hood again. This time the South American saw me burst through the hatch. “You moss coom to my coun try,” he said with a toothy grin. “We can supplement each oth er’s economy, amigo.” “No habla ingles,” said Manuel, grinning from ear to ear. “There must be Pan-American solidarity, amigo mio.” I jump ed from the trainer. “We have roobah,” said Man uel. “We have dinero.” “Amigo!” cried Manuel. “Amigo mio,” I said, going to Brigg’s desk. The problem was scratched and blotched. I could not possibly pass. “Sorry,” said Briggs sadly. “Forget it. We’re just inter national pawns.” Manuel grinned incomprehen sively. “Come along, Manuel,” I urg ed fraternally. Briggs, who was crumpling my paper, looked up at this and said in a way that was bound to en sure better inter-American rela tions, “Manuel is a pain in the “Wilco,” I said. “Amigo, you moos coom to my country,” the South American called over his shoulder, and we walked away together like Good Neighbors. (To Be Continued) Burning woodlands to drive away mad foxes is a poor policy because the animals are driven into the fields and yards in search of food destroyed by the woods fire. Deep Gap News Miss Hazel Maines spent tin week end with Misses Marie wad Virginia Brooks. Misses Betty Andrews and Reb* Rector spent Sunday night with Mrs. Jessie Brown. Mr. and Mrs. Cary Estep spent Monday with Mr. and Mrs. J. N. Brooks. ( Johnny Brooks has been ill at his home here. Reeves Brooks spent Saturday night with his aunt, Mrs. Etta Lou Edwards. Blood spots in eggs do not in dicate a diseased condition of the chicken laying the egg, says Prot Roy Dearstyne, head of the poul try department at State College. THE Alleghany News PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS SPARTA, N. CAROLINA LETTERHEADS ENVELOPES STATEMENTS RULE FORMS & BOOKLETS What’s 'the matter with •' Ith#* I > \ i'ii i \ A \Vi er Haystack? (SEATTLE are smart critters/ as any livestock man knows. They’ll even show you whether your land is properly fertilized! That cattle can give you the answer to this question has been proved by an experiment reported by Dr. Wm. A. Albrecht of the University of Missouri, which is il lustrated here. The cattle were turned loose in a field in which there were two stacks of hay. The grasses were the same species; the curing was the same; they looked find smelled the same. But the cattle ate one stack and never touched the other. The hay from the stacks was analyzed in a laboratory. Then it was discovered that the stack the cattle liked contained much more calcium and phosphorus—two minerals cattle must have for good health. The good hay came from soil that had been treated with lime and phospl late ... the poor hay from untreated land. Minerals essential to both human and animal health come from the soil, are absorbed into plants and so get into the bodies of grazing animals. Human beings, of course, get their supply of minerals from plant foods like fruits, vegetables and cereals, and from foods of animal origin like meats, fish and eggs. Better soil produces better food, better livestock and healthier people. SODA BILL SEZ: J That hens that cackle the loudest are often better at lying than laying. -j That he makes the livin’, but it’s his family that makes livin’ worth while. Thfi pig that pays ia the "extra” one that lives in an average littsr. Baby pig death losses of from 30 to 50 per cent are far too high. They can be greatly reduced. Cleanliness is the first rule of profitable hog raising. Dirt breeds disease and parasites, so it pays to move young pigs to clean pastures and to keep them away from old pens and yards. Old ary bedding has been known to start dust-pneumonia. Cholera and erysipelas can be prevented by early vaccination, and transfer of diseases from newly purchased hogs can be con trolled by a period of isolation. Observe common-sense rules and your pigs will live and grow. Feed them well and when your hogs are ready, you’ll get your "profit” from the extra ones raised in each litter. BUY WAR BONDS r 1 $5 FOR YOUR GOOD IDEAS! Ideas and special tools or gadgets which have helped you in your farm or ranch work can help others. We will pay you $5 for each one you send us which we publish on this page. Address Agricultural Good Idea Editor, Swift & Company, Chicago 9, Illinois. We can not return unused items—sorry. i i' ir w \\ Oliver Kinzie, Cushing, Oklahoma, 19-year-old Dissident of the Future Farmers of America with his friend and instructor, Dick Fisher (left). ^ o WHAT DO YOU KNOW 1. Com is grown in how many states in the United States? 36 12 48 29 2. Two of the thousands of do mestic animals originated in the Americas. Which two? Beef Cattle Turkeys Llamas Thoroughbred Horses ,3. What is the average distance meat must be transported to get it from producer to consumer? 530 3000 1050 250 miles r THE EDITOR'S COLUMN So many important things are happening in the livestock and meat business that it is difficult for an editor to decide which to write about and which to leave r Few people realize how much beef, pork, lamb and veal must be set aside by meat packers operating under federal inspection for the armed forces and Lend-Lease. As of January 7, 1945, 50% of all utility steers, heifers, and cows are set aside for the government canning program. The govern ment will continue to call for 60% of the choice, good, and commercial steer and heifer beef car casses, excepting extremely light weights; also 80% of the cutter and canner beef. Of the total pork meat produced, excluding lard, approxi mately 50% has to be set aside. Government pri orities on "Good” and "Choice” lambs have aver aged from 40 to 50% of the suitable lambs. Pri ority orders also apply to approximately 50% cf the "Choice,” "Good” and "Commercial” veal produced within specifications. Of course, such regulations are necessary in order to insure the proper conduct and winning of the war. Nevertheless, producers and consumers should, know of these regulations as a partial ex planation of why they are having dignity in get ting the supplies of beef, lamb, pora and veal which they want. son. Agricultural Research Department *Atub€H€t htoptuib tect/te fa* \jr\ GEORGE WASHINGTON CHERRY PIE <> Make pastry using Swift’s Bland Lard for shortening to insun flakineas. Roll out and line one-inch-deep pie pan. The filling is made as follows: 3 cups canned cherries; 1 cup sugar; 2 tbsp. flour or corn starch; 1 tbsp. butter. Combine cherries and dry ingredients and fill pib pan level. Cover with pastry—full crust or lattice of strips. Bake at 425°F. for 1C minutes, then at 350°F. for 3d minutes longer. "What Do You Know" onwuni 1) 48; 2) turkeys and llamas; 3) TO50 miles. Swift & Company [fir,; Motion picture* for farm meetings: ’'Livestock and Meat,” "A Nation’s Meat,” and "Cows & Chickens, U.S. A.” We’ll loan you these films if you’ll psy transportation one way. For 16-mm. sound projectors. Write to Swift & Com pany, Dept. 128, Chicago 9, 111., a mount in advance. ★ ★ NUTRITION IS OUR IUSINIIS - AND YOURS Jtighi Eating Adda Ufa to Tmmr IWn, mnd Toon to Your Lifm
The Alleghany News and Star-Times (Sparta, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Feb. 8, 1945, edition 1
7
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75