(The author beside a Cessna T-37 during Primary Pilot Training on the left, and

in the cockpit of a Boeing 747 shortly before his airline retirement on the right.

On December the 7th, circa one nine five nine,

     There assembled a group of colleagues of mine;

A gaggle of ragtag ambitious young males,

     Their eyes on the Heavens, the wind in their sails.

They aspired to be pilots, or navs if they failed,

     But patriots all; their courage would prevail;

Two years of Hell stood between them and their
bars,

     Also pretty young maidens, and shiny hot cars. 

On a day that shall live in Air Infamy,

     We became air cadets, part of Air History;

Ten thousand before us had strode this tough path,

     But we all vowed we would not be the last.

We were four hundred forty, chosen most carefully,

     From aspiring aviators, some thirty thousand and three;

We learned to eat quickly, march in cadence and sing,

     We scorned with our voice the Academy Ring!

We came from the farm, the college, the city,

     Joined in desire to be airborne and free;

To join with our heroes, such as Hoover and Bong,

     To smite those who would do our U.S.A. wrong!

There are those who would claim we just flew and chased skirts,

     There is some truth in that; we were bashless young flirts;

But most of the time we were on Tour Ramp,

     Redeeming demerits, then studies by lamp.

We bonded so tightly, we are friends o'er
the nations;

     But would never forgive Honor Code
violations;

We could not lie, cheat, quibble nor steal:

     Would that our Law Schools would teach... (nevermind, let's get real!)

A few lucky souls received Silver Wings,

     Just a hunk of cheap silver, but to us many things;

Remembering those who paid the Last Price,

     Lovely young ladies so sweet and so nice.

But our dreams to be future yankers and
bankers,

     Vanished with assignments to bombers and tankers,

Too late we realized we had been SAC-umcised,

     Condemned to the roaring and boring night skies.

However, unbeknownst to us fledgling young
vets,

     The airlines were looking for heavy-time (jets);

St. Patrick was with us ever so true,

     So we joined the majors, and bid SAC fond adieu.

Now we are old, preparing now soon to fly,

     On our final mission, in a cerulean sky;

Aviation Cadets! Brave, proud, and loyal,

    Finally at rest on American soil.