I was stationed at Selfridge Field after I graduated from the Advanced
Flying School at Kelly. The Army Air Corps' First Pursuit Group was at
Selfridge. The officers used to gather every morning at eight-fifteen in
the post operator's office. We would be assigned to our various
functions in the formation. Then we would fly formation for an hour or
so, practicing different tactical maneuvers. After flying we would
gather at the operations office again for a general critique, which was
supposed to conclude the official day's flying. We would separate from
there and go about our various ground duties. I discovered I could
quickly finish my ground duties and have a lot of time left over for
extra flying. I used to bother the operations officer to death asking
him for ships. He usually gave me one, and I would go up alone and
practice all sorts of things just for fun. It was no part of my work. It
was pure exuberance.
One day I was flying around idly in a Hawk. I decided I would take the
Hawk as high as I could, just for the hell of it.
I opened the throttle and nosed up. I gained the first few thousand feet
rapidly. The higher I went the slower I climbed. At 20,000 feet climbing
was difficult. The air was much thinner. The power of my engine was
greatly diminished. I began to notice the effect of altitude. Breathing
was an effort. I didn't get enough air when I did breathe. I sighed
often. My heart beat faster. I wasn't sleepy. I was dopey. I was very
cold, although it was summer.
I looked up into the sky. It was intensely blue, deep blue; bluer than I
had ever seen a sky. I was above all haze. I looked down at the earth.
Selfridge Field was very small under me. The little town of Mount
Clemens seemed to be very close to the field. Lake St. Clair was just a
little pond. Detroit seemed to be almost under me, although I knew it
was about twenty miles from Selfridge Field. I could see a lot of little
Michigan towns clothing the earth to the north and northwest of
Selfridge. Everything beneath me seemed to have shoved together. The
earth seemed to be without movement. I felt suspended in enormous space.
I was 23,000 feet high by my altimeter.
I was dopey. My perception and reaction were ga-ga. I was cold, too. To
hell with it. It said 24,500 feet. I eased the throttle full and nosed
down.
I lost altitude very rapidly and with very little effort at first. After
that it got more and more normal. I didn't come down too fast. It was
too loud on my ears. I came down fairly slowly, so as to accommodate
myself to the change in air pressure as I descended.
It was warm and stuffy on the ground.