Civilian Pilots

Hardy as tumbleweed and persistent as the seven-year itch, U.S. civilian flyers argued for years their worth as a backlog of pilots for the military. Last week they got their first minuscule recognition--a commendatory Army news release. The praise came not from the High Command, but from an officer afield.

Major General Follett Bradley, of the Air Force, Eastern Defense Command, made the announcement. Flyers of the Civil Air Patrol, doggedly buzzing away over miles on miles of sea wastes, had contributed to the sinking of some Axis submarines by tipping off bombers to their whereabouts.

The Civil Air Patrol had notched up many another service: in the Great Lakes region they reported ice breakups; in Illinois they towed targets for Army gunners. In Georgia they droned on patrol over swamps, looking for enemy agent skulduggery. In Nevada, with few airports, they began ground units. In Pennsylvania they were air couriers, and even carried light freight on short hops.

In short, U.S. civilian flyers had become a valuable auxiliary to Army war time aviation.

Take-Off. The history of the Civilian Air Patrol was like that of Orphan Annie : indifference from well-fixed people ; danger from villains; and a steady series of hair breadth escapes from sudden death. CAP had been born out of wedlock: argument and tears had wangled it out of the Office of Civilian Defense with grudging Army consent. CAP was a hybrid : semimilitary, semi-civil.

Its pilots, who liked to fly, had not been encouraged. Civilian pilots for years had carried on in spite of mounting Government obstacles. Regulations grew mountainous, penalties for infractions stiff. Written examinations for prospective civilian pilots harped more on rules than on navigation and meteorology. Airline pilots grumbled over nests of mosquito-winged, privately owned planes at key airports. They were in the way.

Then Federal officials gradually began to see that private flyers might be a reservoir of future military pilot power. In December 1938, President Roosevelt approved a Federal program presented by the Civil Aeronautics Authority: at Government cost 300 college undergraduates would train in aviation fundamentals.

Flight. The experiment worked. The Civilian Pilot Training Program gradually became military in intent. Thousands were graduated into Army & Navy flying under the doubtful eyes of old-line flying officers. License holders jumped to 100,000. Almost as many more took elementary training.

Private-pilot leadership had long hounded Washington for real military recognition. As early as 1938 Milton Knight, young Libbey-Owens-Ford Glass Co. official, had pushed the organization of a Civilian Air Reserve, tacked to military aviation. In 20 States it took that name and others: Civilian Flying Corps, Civilian Air Corps, Air Guard.

Then last Dec. 1 a World War I flyer, Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, then OCD director, announced the birth of the Civil Air Patrol. The Army hailed CAP as an aid to national defense.

Begetters of CAP were Gill Robb Wilson, World War I flyer, poet, New Jersey State aviation director; Guy Gannett. Maine newspaper publisher; Thomas H. Beck, huge, booming-voiced president of Crowell-Collier Publishing Co. Chief executive is another hulk of a man, Earle Johnson of Ohio, 6 ft. 4 1/2 in., newly commissioned a captain in the Army Air Force.

CAP's membership is now 43,000. Thirty thousand are pilots. The rest are mechanics, radiomen, observers, ground crews. Johnson thinks half the nation's 25,000 private planes are flying for CAP, the remainder available for emergencies. CAP has nine regions (corresponding to Army corps areas), 48 wings, one for each State. Regional commanders in the role of roving inspectors are being commissioned in the Army. Wings are subdivided into groups and squadrons. Women are eligible (but few have applied).

CAP flying is no picnic. Members train hard. Of 230 curricular hours, 80 go into military discipline and drill, 150 into meteorology, navigation, crash procedure, flight missions. Men on active duty get only plane-operation expenses and sustenance, little or no compensation if they damage their ships. But they are stubborn; they want to fly and they do fly.

CAP has its troubles. CAA still harries it with regulations. But CAP is definitely an Army Auxiliary, the pilot reservoir its proponents always said it would be. Members become Air Corps instructors at Air Force schools, ferry military planes from factories to tactical and training bases.

"The heartaches, we think, are over," said Johnson last week. "The headaches, of course, will go on as usual."

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