Peter Leibert's Page

That is how it came about that on October 5, 1948 I was transfer to NATTC which was located near Memphis, Tennessee for further education. I was now an Airman Apprentice (AA) and ready to solve the Navy Air problems. On the twelfth of October, I had arrived at NATTC, but how I got there is a story worth telling.

The group of sailors going to Memphis was loaded aboard a bus one day shortly after I had returned from leave and we were again taken to the San Diego train station. As with all military travel it took us a while before the bus got moving, and even a longer time before the train got moving. As this train moved along it became clear that it was moving south - yes south - toward Mexico. In a short period of time the train stopped. By this time of my life, I had seen enough maps to recognized that we were very close to the Mexican border.

It took us a while but we were soon moving through a gated entry into Mexico via rail. My eye brows raise a bit as this was a train loaded full of United States sailors. I am absolutely sure! I had previously driven or ridden across the Mexican and United States border enough times to know a Mexican soldier standing there by the side of those tracks when I saw him.

This was an interesting train that we were on. First it was quite old, probably World War I vintage. The passenger cars had windows that open by raising it up. The bathrooms include a stool which clearly was totally open to the rails beneath us. Yes, it all went out onto the rails below. We had a dining car and it was surely WWI vintage, but the cooks had mastered a few meals to make life somewhat reasonable for this poor sailor boy.

I don’t remember how we slept; were they sleepers or did we sleep in the “chairs”. Whatever, it was a slow moving train and when the sun rose the next morning I figured that we were still in Mexico, and that turned out to be true. I am pretty sure that this train returned into United States territory about 10 am the next day. We came into the US slowly as we had departed and I think it was near the city of Mexicali.

Now back into the states, you would think that the trains speed would soon be picking up, but alas, it actually seem to slow down. Every time we came anywhere near a side track, our train would move off the main track and stop. An half hour later, some “milk train” would slowly come by and then we would return to the main line and move on to the next side track. I am absolutely not kidding When you think about how far it is between San Diego and Memphis, why else would it take us five and a half days to get there.

We traveled through El Centro, El Paso, Austin, Little Rock, and Memphis and we finally got there. Too hot, open the windows! Too cold, close the windows! Stinks in the compartment, open the windows! Where are we? Open the windows!

Now let us talk about NATTC. It was located in Millington, about 15 or so miles north of Memphis. This facility was developed beginning during late 1942 in order to provide trained people which could provide the capability to support the increasing numbers of aircraft which were being added to the “Naval Fleet”. By that time, it had been established that at least 20 technicians were going to be necessary in order to keep one naval airplane in the air. Here we were, arriving during 1948, only six years later.

When I first arrived I was assigned to what was called an Airman Class P school. It was known as the kindergarten of NATTC where everyone was sent to make sure they were suitable and actually capable of mastering the skills for the more technical skills. Before an airman steps into a Class A course they were exposed to many hours of mathematics, layout, physics, theory of flight, engines, aerology, gunnery, the dit-dit-dot of fundamental electronics, and a generous dose of hand tool utilization.

I actually did very well in Airman P school and ended ranked quite high among the students that were in my class - day and night shifts during that time. Math and physics served me well as I got 99 on most of those tests. Lower on the scale of my “success” was the hand tools part.

We had to manufacture two items using hand tools - a Zuese Key and a Stud Block. The Zuese Key (may be spelled wrong) was made from a flat piece of aluminum which was shaped to be able to open most of the door panels of a navy plane. This unit was to be of a specific shape and had tips which were to be 1/8 inch thinner than the base sheet metal - a sixteenth of an inch on each side. By the way, zuese keys are used to unlock zuese fasteners.

The stud block (diagramed at the left of this page) was the more difficult item to make. You started with a 1 1/4 x 1 1/4 x 1/2 inch block of aluminum. Drill the four holes 3/8 inch deep in the corners which are exactly 1/4 inch from the sides. Then thread each of the holes with a given tap. The studs are made from 1/4 inch aluminum dowel stock. Cut four dowels 1 1/8 inch long. Thread one end of each stud for 3/8 inch.

You were graded on the quality and accuracy of your work. The studs had to be at right angles to the block, they had to be the same length, etc. You had to do all this with very basic hand tools. A hack saw, a hand-powered drill, a number of types of hand-powered files, a manual tap and a manual threading tool.

I thought you may like to know that according to my navy service record, I ended up my Airman School Class P with a grade of 88.11 and ranked 10th of the 273 students in my class. My two poorest grades were for the Zuese Key (81) and the Stud Block (77). That must be why I remember them so well.

I threw my grade report into this narrative because I had learned that irregardless of what a person may have been told at the time he enlisted, the navy would actually be assigning you to a Class A school (trade school) based on a number of other conditions. First, they consider placements based on the final grade rankings of the Class P school. They then consider your school choice. If there were openings in that school, you likely would get your choice. If the openings were gone when they got to you, it would be your second choice, etc. Maybe!

Our class completed Class P school on February 18, 1949. The following Monday, the grades were posted. Also posted were some lists that requested certain students to report to some location or another at a scheduled time. My name was on such a list which included about 15 names of people and stated: “The following are candidates for Aviation Photography Class A school in Pensacola, Florida. You are to report to the NATTC Medical Center for a physical on Tuesday morning February 22, 1949 at 8:30 am.”

I had made it, right? Well, not yet. The next morning I reported to the Medical Center as directed and five minutes later I was heading back to my barracks. I had failed their color blindness test and so I would not be acceptable for Photography school.

So -- I got my second choice school, Aviation Electronics School, which was located right there in Millington. This certainly effected my future, especially my post-service career. I still take a lot of pictures, but I likely made a lot more money in my lifetime by moving into the electronics world.

I guess I have time for another story about where I received another major setback that also had a significant impact on my future. Then I will have to get to class at my new school.

This event all began about a month after I arrived at NATTC, but before we started our classes in Airman P school. During this time we were waiting to start formal classes, the navy kept all of us busy. We were given an expanded version of water survival in the local swimming pool. We also were shown a lot of navy aviation orientation movies, and did a number of things that I perceived to be just make work things.

Of course, like in boot camp, whenever you went anywhere on the base, barracks to classroom, classroom to the mess hall, or wherever, you would be organized into company sized groups and “march” together. And who better to lead such a group than the guys who had taken ROTC during high school. So, two of us ex-ROTC experts were put in charge of one these groups. Our duty was to march this specific company of Airman students from class to class or to wherever they were supposed to go.

It was fine, no problem, and usually everyone cooperated, but there was sometimes a few that lagged behind, or didn’t pay attention, and you would have to remind them to keep up. Well, one day we were marching along when I noticed a group of laggards and yelled out “Close it up!”, as every good ROTCer had been trained. About a full minute later, I suddenly found myself on the ground bleeding from the mouth. I did not see it coming at all.

I soon found myself in the base hospital where they eventually removed my three front teeth - actually two, as they were adjacent to the one already broken during some fisty cuffs of my boot camp days. So now and for the rest of my life, I will be wearing a partial bridge consisting of three teeth. Yes, that does effect your life.

When I returned from two weeks in the hospital, I learned that the culprit had been charged with hitting a superior and was to be court marshaled. The day before his trial, I received a visit in my barracks from four guys whom I did not know and was told by their leader that if I testified against their buddy I would be hearing from them.

The next morning I reported to the administration building as ordered and placed in a witness room. There were those four other guys - the ones who had threatened me the day before. I didn’t look at them and they did not look at me. I finally went in and testified - no problem. The culprit was eventually found guilty and received some kind of sentence.

I never heard from his advisors again. However, a month or so later, I heard that the culprit’s sentence had been modified. The prosecutors had not proven that I was his official superior.