Devil at My Heels - Louis Zamperini [27]
The first weekend Captain Hancock flew his Lockheed Lodestar to our field. Hancock and I had become friends at USC because of my interest in his cello performances, and he was scheduled to play at the base. All military personnel were required to attend, but it was optional for the cadets. I was the only cadet who showed up, and that made us even closer friends.
Later Hancock said, “Louie, I’m flying to Long Beach. You can come and visit your parents in Torrance and I’ll have you back to school by Sunday.” I told him I appreciated the offer but I was confined. “The restriction board at the gate reads, THESE CADETS ARE NOT TO PASS THROUGH THIS GATE. And my name’s on it.”
“We’re not going to pass through the gate,” he said with a laugh. “We’re going to fly over it.” I spent my two restricted weekends at my parents’ house, and no one was the wiser.
I WASHED OUT of flying school, came home, and rented an apartment in Hollywood with two buddies who’d also been let go. We were officially still cadets, waiting for termination papers, but we had nothing to do except go to the beach, the movies, and athletic events. When the discharge orders arrived, I moved back to Torrance, a civilian again—but eligible for the draft.
My letter to report for a physical came while I was working as a movie extra. I made seven dollars a day, and any extra who stayed through the whole shoot got a twenty-five-dollar bonus. I didn’t want to avoid my duty to my country, but I wanted that additional money. I’d heard that during World War I, men who wanted to postpone or get out of their service would put a chunk of tobacco under their armpits to raise their temperature. Or they’d put a cigar up their anus. When they got to the front of the line, they’d be dizzy and sick. I didn’t want to go that far, so I ate lots of candy to induce a high sugar level. I wasn’t sure it would work, but when they tested my urine and told me I’d have to come back, I was happy. I finished the movie and got my bonus, then went back and took my physical again, and passed.
I joined the army on September 29, 1941, and went to Camp Roberts, near Paso Robles, California, for basic training. The army thought I had certain useful qualities, so they made me an acting corporal in charge of fitness. I also went to the NCO school on the base and came out with top grades.
I was at Camp Roberts—actually, out on a weekend pass—when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. A buddy and I were at a movie in town when they stopped the film and the theater manager made the announcement: “All military personnel are to report to their bases immediately. The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor.”
On my way out of the theater I ran into a friend from the local air base. I wasn’t in any hurry to get back to Camp Roberts, and he said, “We could use you at our base.” I had military rifle training, and they had a whole barracksful of guns that nobody knew how to use because their air corps guys never had rifle drills. My commander cleared it, and I spent the day there with the air corps pilots and mechanics and so on. I put them through drills and taught gun nomenclature and how to take a firearm apart and put it together again. When I got through they drove me to Camp Roberts.
I DID WELL in basic training, and the army selected me to go to Officers Candidate School at Fort Benning, Georgia. Then a second set of orders came, the result of my having unthinkingly signed a piece of paper after washing out of Hancock College. The orders directed me instead to bombardier school at Ellington Field in Houston. I met with the Camp Roberts CO, a general, and told him I wanted to stay in the infantry. He said he’d try to help, but there was nothing he could do.
At Ellington Field I found another guy who didn’t want to be there, either. We both put in for transfers. Meanwhile, I went about my studies and did some more publicity for the air corps: pictures in the