"Go around and try it again," I shouted.
"Yes, sir," the cadet in the rear cockpit behind me shouted back.
I felt the throttle under my left hand go all the way forward with a
jerk. I pulled it back.
"Open that throttle slower and smoother," I shouted back. I didn't look
round. I just turned my head to the left and put my open right hand up
to the right side of my mouth. That threw my voice back.
"Yes, sir," came the cadet's voice from the rear cockpit.
I felt the throttle under my left hand move forward slowly, smoothly.
The engine noise rose louder. The ship rocked and bumped slowly forward
over the rough ground. The tail of the ship came up, and the nose went
down. The nose of the ship veered to the left. I wanted to kick right
rudder to bring the nose back. I just sat there. The nose swung back
straight and then veered badly to the right. I wanted to kick left
rudder and bring the nose back. I didn't move. The nose stopped veering.
We were going pretty fast. We bumped the ground once more and bounced
into the air. We stayed there. I took my nose between my left thumb and
forefinger and turned my head to the left so the cadet behind me could
see my profile.
The ship banked to the left. I felt a blast of air strong on the right
side of my face and felt myself being pushed to the right side of my
cockpit. We were skidding. I wanted to ease a little right rudder on and
stop the skid. Instead, I patted the right side of my face several times
with my right hand so the cadet could see it. I felt the rudder pedal
under my right foot jerk forward. We stopped skidding. The ship
straightened out of the bank and flew straight and level for a little
way. It made another left-hand bank, leveled out again, and flew
straight again for a little way. It did it again. I felt the throttle
under my left hand come all the way back. The engine noise quieted down,
and the engine exhaust popped a few times. The ship nosed down into a
glide. It made another left turn in the glide and then straightened out.
We were gliding toward the little field we had just taken off from. It
was a little field near Brooks that the Army Primary Flying School used
as a practice field.
"That was lousy," I shouted back. "You jerked your throttle open. You
veered across the field on your take-off like a drunken man. Are you too
weak to kick rudder? You skidded on your turns. You landed cross-wind.
Go around and try it again. See if you can do something right this
time." It was about the twentieth speech like that I had shouted back to
the cadet that morning.