[“YES, SIR!”]
Our jenny hit the ground wheels first and bounced dangerously. My instructor in the cockpit in front of me grabbed his controls, gave the ship a sharp burst of the gun, and set her down right. We were in a little practice field near Brooks Field in Texas.
My instructor turned around to me: “Damn it, Collins,” he said, “don’t run into the ground wheels first like that. Level off about six feet in the air and wait until the ship begins to settle. Then ease the stick back. When you feel the ship begin to fall out from under you, pull the stick all the way back into your guts and the ship will set itself down. Go around and try it again.”
“Yes, sir.”
I came in the next time, hit the ground wheels first, and bounced. My instructor righted the ship.
“No, Collins. No,” he fumed. “Six feet. Look, I’ll show you what six feet looks like.”
He took the ship off and flew over the open fields, then came around and landed.
“Now do you know what six feet looks like?” he shouted back to me.
“Yes, sir,” I lied. I was afraid to tell him that I could not see the ground right. He might send me to the hospital to have my eyes examined. They might find some slight defect in my eyes that they had overlooked in the original examination and wash me out of the school.