I served just 36 days short of 5 years' time in the Army Air Force, before, during, and after World War II ("THE BIG WAR", as Archie calls it).

Yet I never went overseas, although I was put on overseas Orders three times.

The first time ocurred in the spring of 1941, when I had spent three months in training as a Weather Observer, in the Weather Station at Kelly Field, TX.

A request came for a volunteer to go to the Phillipines. When none of the better trained obsrvers volunteered, I submitted my name. I was accepted, and orders were cut, to depart in two months.

But a much better trained Observer came back from Furlough and insisted on replacing me. The orders were cancelled, and he went.

He was killed on Dec. 8, 1941, a day after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in Hawaai.

The Weather Station and Weather barracks at Hickam Field, Phillipines, were blow up by a bomb, and all the Weather personnel were killed.

That could have been ....

In the spring of 1943, I was Station Chief of the Weather Station at the Middle Training Flight Base, Garden City, KS (near the famous Dodge City). A week after I arrived there, from Forecasting School at Chanute Field, IL, the only officer was shipped out. I worked 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for 3 1/2 months, until more help came. I had to be athand to write a "clearance", along with weather information, for any pilot making an extended flight. I slept on a cot in he back room and ate coffee and sandwiches brought to me from the Mess Hall.

One month after this started, I received Overseas Orders. I showed them to the Field Commander. He said, "We'd have to close down the Field, if you left, Sgt. Hays". And he arranged a delay in fulfilling the orders.

By the time I got relief, the Cadre I was to go with had shipped out, and the Orders were cancelled. Some of those weather men never came back.

As noted in another file, my last working site was Muroc Flight Test Base in the Mohave Desert of California, which became Edward AAF Base, landing sight of NASA's shuttles.

There, in August, 1945, I again received Overseas Orders. But by the time I reported at the overseas base at Kearns, Utah, WWII was ordered, and my orders again were cancelled. In December I was mustered out of the Service.

I might have been sent on peacetime service in Europe. One might think that "safe". But I must tell you about the experience of my adopted brother, Bobby Hays.

In 1948, Bobby, at age 17, enlisted in the Army Air Force -- the Service of his big brother! -- and was sent to Germany to work in Field Lighting. I should hav picked up on this, and my failure has haunted me ever since.

In January, 1950, word came that Bobby had died, on duty, from carbon monoxide gas, leaking from the lighting motors. The moment I read this in a telegram, I remembered hearing that you NEVER WENT TO SLEEP BESIDE ONE OF THOSE MOTORS! But I'd forgotton about it, and didn't warn him.

And the damned AAF drove us crazy with the information! Mom got a telegram saying Bobby was dead. The next day, another telegram saying it was another person. The day after, a telegram saying it was Bobby. Still another telegram, saying it din't involve Bobby. A fifth and final telegram said Bobby was dead.

I was in the midst of Finals at Columbia. Having no proper advisor or on campus Dean, I could not get a delays in in Finals. I was so upset I failed two of six courses.

On the train going to his funeral, in Billings, MO, I met an AAF sergeant. He said he had "bad duty". He was Honor Guard for the coffin of a soldier who died in Germany. He said there was talk of criminal negligence, since his officer ordered Bobby to pull extra duty but said he could sleep on a cot beside the equipment! And he knew about the flub of 5 telegrams. He was particularly concerned because he knew that this boy had had a brother in the AAF.

Suddenly, he cried out, "Oh, God! You're brother. I'm so sorry, Man!" I assured him that I undesrstood his innocence in the matter.

Bobby was buried, flag on his coffin, with an honorary firing squad. When a baby and a child, often I care for him more than Mom. So he was like a son.

A fool can kill you in the Service, just as surely as a bomb or a bullet!

So I was a THREE-TIME "WAR SURVIVOR".

It should be noted that, starting in the summer of 1943, more weather officers were sent overseas than noncoms, because so many were being graduated from courses at various universities and colleges around the country. And in that same summer, I went into Flying Cadets, at the instigation of the woman who became my first wife. 7 months later, in january, 1944, I washed out after physical testing. (I couldn't even drive a car at the point, as I'd been talked into trying to fly a plane!) I got back into the Weather Service, and by the time noncoms were called upon, the War was over.

Maybe, somebody up there .... Maybe there was another job for me to do ....