by Lew Jennings
It was deactivated at the end of the war and later designated an Air Force Base in 1951, for training engineers.
The base reverted back to the Army in 1956 with the mission of training helicopter Pilots. It became a permanent military facility in 1963 and renamed Fort Wolters.
The school started with just 12 helicopters, one heliport (Main) and four outlying small airports called stage fields. The first class in 1957 graduated 35 students.
Now, in 1967, the school had more than 1,300 helicopters, three major heliports, twenty-five stage fields, and was graduating 600 students a month!
By the time Fort Wolters closed in 1973, the U.S. Army Primary Helicopter School had trained over 40,000 student Pilots.
All potential Army Helicopter Pilots received their primary training at Fort Wolters.
A 16-week Officer Rotary Wing Aviator Course (ORWAC) to train Commissioned Officers to be helicopter Pilots.
A 20-week Warrant Officer Candidate Rotary Wing Aviator Course (WORWAC) was offered to enlisted personnel aspiring to be helicopter Pilots. This course added an additional four weeks at the beginning of school for an intensive (read “brutal”) Warrant Officer Candidate (WOC) Indoctrination Training Course - commonly known as “Preflight”.
The first eight weeks, or Primary I, was dedicated to learning basic flight maneuvers; hovering, take offs, traffic patterns, landings, emergency landings (including autorotations), navigation and solo flights.
The flight training was conducted at the outlying stage fields, which were small airfields with multiple parallel runways, built to accommodate as many helicopters as safely possible.
The second eight weeks, or Primary II, taught students to apply those basic maneuvers while landing at small unimproved landing areas and introduced formation flying, air navigation and night flying.
The training here at Fort Wolters was intense and the attrition rate high. Some 25 percent or more wouldn’t graduate.
Warrant Officer Candidate Lew “Lower Than Whale Shit” Jennings, Gray Hats, Welcome to Flight School, Fort Wolters, Texas, 1967
CHAPTER FIVE
PREFLIGHT
“CANDIDATE!” screamed the TAC Officer. “Quit looking at the sky like you’ve never seen a helicopter before! If you want to fly one of those, you better get with the program! Come to attention and brace when you see an officer!” he continued yelling.
“You are a Warrant Officer Candidate. The lowest creature in the food chain. You are lower than whale shit! Do you understand Candidate?”
“Yes Sir,” I responded.
“NOT YES SIR!” he screamed, turning almost purple from rage. “The first words out of your mouth will be ‘Candidate Jennings, Sir!’ Do you understand Candidate Whale Shit?”
“CANDIDATE JENNINGS SIR! YES SIR!” I screamed in response.
The four weeks of indoctrination known as “Preflight” had begun. Geez. I thought boot camp was over. This was going to be worse. Much worse!
The purpose of Preflight as I came to understand it, was several-fold.
First, to weed out those who didn’t have the will, perseverance or strength to undergo the intense pressure of the program and future helicopter combat operations.
Second, to eliminate those who didn’t have the capacity to work with others as a team.
Third, to impart the sense of personal commitment to those who carry a rucksack and a rifle, to do all we could to support them, even under fire. The motto of the school was “Flying Above the Best”, to emphasize the focus on those fighting on the ground.
Fourth, to learn attention to detail to the extreme so as to predict, detect and eliminate failure.
Fifth, to learn and live by the Warrant Officer Creed. This Creed demands that, as a Warrant Officer, we:
Willingly render loyal services to superiors, subordinates and peers in every organization of which we are members.
Always set an example in conduct, appearance and performance that will make others proud to know and work with us.
Reliably discharge all duties with which we are confronted, whether such duties are expressed or implied.
Readily subordinate our personal interest and welfare to those of their organization and their subordinates.
Accept responsibility at every opportunity and acknowledge full accountability for our actions.
Never knowingly tolerate wrong-doing by ourselves or others, whether by commission or omission, design or neglect.
Teach other people in a way that effectively expands and perpetuates the scope of our technical competence.
Obtain breadth of perspective and depth of understanding beyond the limits of our specific responsibility.
Faithfull adhere to our oath of office in all respects, upholding and defending the nation’s constitution by both word and deed.
Forcefully take the initiative to stimulate constructive action in all areas requiring or inviting our attention.
Improve ourselves both physically and mentally, professionally and personally, to increase our own abilities and value of our services.
Contribute our past experiences, service and knowledge to a dedicated effort of a betterment of the future.
Earn an ironclad reputation for the absolute integrity of our word.
Reflect credit and inspire confidence in ourselves, the Warrant Officer Corps, the military service of our nation and the United States of America.
Many in and out of military service ask, ‘What is a Warrant Officer?’
Army Field Manual 22-100 puts this question in perspective with the following definition:
“Warrant officers are highly specialized, single-track specialty officers who receive their authority from the Secretary of the Army upon initial appointment. However, Title 10 U.S.C. authorizes the commissioning of Warrant Officers (WO1) upon promotion to Chief Warrant Officer (CW2). These commissioned Warrant Officers are direct representatives of the President of the United States. They derive their authority from the same source as commissioned officers but remain specialists, in contrast to commissioned officers, who are generalists. Warrant Officers can and do command detachments, units, activities, and vessels as well as lead, coach, train, and counsel subordinates. As leaders and technical experts, they provide valuable skills, guidance, and expertise to commanders and organizations in their particular field.”
The last sentence accurately describes the role of the Warrant Officer; a leader and technical expert that provides skills, guidance and expertise. Originally Warrant Officers couldn't be assigned to "Leadership" positions. That went out the window during Vietnam, but it didn't become official until years later, when Warrant Officers could be "Commissioned" and legally be in leadership positions, and even "Command" positions (usually reserved for W-5's).
“WHO JUST FARTED!” screamed the TAC Officer. He was a Chief Warrant Officer Helicopter Pilot recently returned from combat duty in Vietnam and had a passion for making sure only the best candidates survived “Preflight”.
We were standing in line to enter the mess hall for our first meal at Fort Wolters. Even though once seated we only had ten minutes to eat, there were so many of us that the line was moving at a snail’s pace.
Even standing in line had its own regimen. First, stand at “Parade Rest” with your feet shoulder width apart, stomach in, chest out, staring straight ahead, hands crossed behind your back, no talking. Then come to attention, take one step forward, then back to parade rest. That’s when someone passed the gas.
“I SAY AGAIN, WHO FARTED?” screamed the TAC Officer as he stomped back and forth eyeballing each one of us for a clue as to who the culprit was.
“Okay, no one is going to fess up? Then we’ll just have to have a funeral to bury that fart!” he hollered. We stifled any chuckles as we feared what was to come next.
“You, you, you and you!” he pointed at those at the head of the line “You will be grave diggers and dig the grave right over here,” as he directed them to a patch of grass by
the old World War II barracks.
“You, you, you and you will be the cannons! Kneel next to the grave!” as he directed the next four in line.
“You, you, you and you will be the cannon cockers! Stand at attention behind the cannons ready to fire on command!” he shouted.
“The rest of you will be mourners, so assume the dying cockroach position now and start moaning!” he commanded. (The “dying cockroach” position is on your back with your arms and legs waving in the air).
With that, the grave diggers started digging, the mourners started moaning, the cannon cockers cocked the cannons and the TAC Officer called the “Ready” and “Fire” commands until we were all hoarse from screaming BANG, BANG and moaning at the top of our lungs!
“Back in line!” he commanded and as quick as it had begun the ceremony was over. No one dared fart out loud again. We barely had enough time to get any food at all!
In the mess hall, each one of us grabbed a tray, received our portion of whatever was offered, marched to a table, set down our tray, napkin and utensils, and took a seat.
We were to eat a “square meal”, meaning that you sit upright, stiff back, pick up a portion with your fork, lift it directly vertically in military fashion to a point just opposite and below your nose, then open your mouth, put the food in, take the fork out to the position in front of you, then lower it again for the next bite.
I was concentrating on doing this absolutely correctly when the TAC Officer halted right next to me and looked at the position of my butter knife. He then leaned down into my right ear and screamed “CANDIDATE JENNINGS, ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?”
I nearly choked on my food as I screamed back in return “SIR, CANDIDATE JENNINGS NO SIR!”
“Then why is the blade of your knife pointed out at me rather than in towards your food?” he demanded.
“Sir, Candidate Jennings, I don’t know Sir!”
“You don’t know Candidate Jennings?” he roared. “On your feet!” he ordered.
I literally jumped to my feet, almost knocking over my chair. The whole mess hall went silent. Everyone had stopped eating and remained sitting at attention.
“Stand on top of your chair Candidate!” he shouted. I did so in an instant.
“Now, face your fellow candidates and repeat after me!” he directed.
“I Candidate Jennings do solemnly swear to uphold and maintain the integrity, dignity and manners of those of an officer and gentleman and never to allow my actions to cause distress, injury or death to those around me. I apologize for my reprehensible behavior at the mess today.”
I repeated this word for word and, at the end, he simply commanded “Candidates, Fall In!” Everyone evacuated the mess hall at a dead run and assembled in formation outside, hence “Fall In”, where we assembled four lines abreast, at attention, one arm length separation front and rear and to the side.
Geeezzz. I think I only got to eat two bites of food!
We marched off to the barracks for our room assignments, then to the Quartermaster for our gear; “Right Face! Forward March! Double Time March!” We started running. “You will run everywhere Candidates! The only time you will stop running is when you stop and come to attention to address an officer or senior candidate! Is that understood?” “Yes Sir!” we all replied in unison.
The next four weeks seemed like an eternity as we rose each morning before dawn, cleaned and polished our room and gear, made our beds so a quarter would bounce, sheets exactly twelve spring rows in under the mattress, shoes and boots exactly one inch apart, foot locker organized and gleaming like a museum piece, every hanger and uniform piece exactly equal distance and facing correctly in the locker, every button polished, every thread trimmed (no lanyards), everything exactly as directed only to be trashed sometime during the day, demerits assessed for not attaining standards and starting all over again.
We ran to breakfast, ran to lunch, ran to dinner, ran to classes, ran everywhere until we were near dropping and drenched in sweat. No rest. Constant harassment. Study until your brain fried. Clean until your arms fell off. Polish until your fingers were numb.
Four weeks later about 25 percent of the class had already dropped out or failed.
For the rest of us, it was time to learn to fly helicopters!
Hughes TH-55A Osage Training Helicopter
Hiller OH-23 Raven
CHAPTER SIX
PRIMARY FLIGHT TRAINING
“Helicopter Pilots Are Different” by Harry Reasoner
“The thing is, helicopters are different from planes.
An airplane by its nature wants to fly, and if not interfered with too strongly by unusual events or by a deliberately incompetent Pilot, it will fly.
A helicopter does not want to fly. It is maintained in the air by a variety of forces and controls working in opposition to each other, and if there is any disturbance in this delicate balance, the helicopter stops flying immediately and disastrously.
There is no such thing as a gliding helicopter.
This is why being a helicopter Pilot is so different from being an airplane Pilot and why, in general, airplane Pilots are open, clear eyed, buoyant extroverts, and helicopter Pilots are brooders, introspective anticipators of trouble.
They know that if something bad has not happened, it is about to.”
I would soon find out that those great words by the late CBS correspondent and news anchor Harry Reasoner pretty accurately describe helicopter Pilots as introspective anticipators of trouble.
Over time, my own definition of a helicopter would be: “a thousand moving parts that happen to be flying in formation, any one of which can kill you.”
The Warrant Officer Classes at flight school were numbered by the physical year you were to graduate, followed by an odd number. The Commissioned Officer Classes had the year, followed with an even number. My WOC class was number 68-19, Gray Hats.
The Commissioned Officers had already gone through their military training at West Point, College Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) or Officer Candidate School (OCS). They were now Commissioned Officers; Second or First Lieutenants and even Captains for some who had been in the Army for a while and now wanted to be aviators.
The officers lived in their own quarters on post or off-post in rented housing. They collected flight pay even as students and many drove Corvettes.
Members of the Warrant Officer Candidate classes on the other hand were still Candidates. Lower than Whale Shit. We would not officially receive appointment as Warrant Officers until we completed all of our flight training, nearly a year to go. Even then, as soldiers, we would receive our appointment to Warrant Officer first, followed by award of our wings at graduation.
For the Warrant Officer Candidates or WOCs as we were referred to, flight training started out like every other day, living in the barracks. Military education. Physical training. Cleaning the barracks until the floors glistened and the sinks sparkled. Arranging our gear to perfection. Being constantly harassed by everyone senior to us. Running here, there and everywhere until we were drenched in sweat. Only then would we be allowed to attend flight classes or actually fly a helicopter.
The daily routine was two hours of military readiness including inspections, physical training and breakfast, four hours of classroom instruction, lunch, four hours of flight instruction with two hours actually in the aircraft, then back to the barracks for more inspections, dinner, military training, preparation of your room and gear, study, and lights out at 2200 (10pm). This went on for 16 weeks.
The first eight weeks was introduction to basic helicopter flight.
In the classroom, we studied history of aviation, aerodynamics, weather, navigation, helicopter operations and maintenance, military and civilian aviation rules and regulations, safety and more.
We learned about precession, leading, lagging, translational lift, settling with power, retreating blade stall, ground resonance and a thousand other things peculiar to helicopter fligh
t.
At the stage-fields we would practice basic flight techniques. Hovering, straight and level flight, traffic patterns, normal and steep takeoffs and landings, running takeoffs and landings, autorotation to touchdown in case of engine failure, and cross-country navigation.
Autorotations, landing the helicopter without power, were especially thrilling. Autorotations were a maneuver you performed to survive an engine failure.
You simulated an engine failure by closing the throttle, immediately lowering the collective to take the pitch out of the blades to keep the rotor spinning, keeping your airspeed up as you plummeted towards the ground, pulling back on the cyclic and flare at about 50 feet to get a big rush of air through the rotor to keep it at max rpm, pulling up rapidly (pop) a bit on the collective just before you hit the ground to reduce or halt your forward motion, then pulling up the remaining collective to get the rotor blades to take a last bite of air while pushing forward on the cyclic to level the helicopter as you gently settled to the ground.
If you were off by a foot or a second, you could crash or cut the tail boom off. Piece of cake!
We would perform straight-in autorotations, autorotations with a 90 degree turn to the runway, autorotations at night, autorotations while hovering and even pop-up autorotations from low level flight, all the way to the ground.
While many an Army aviator saved the day by performing a successful autorotation in an emergency, the Army wrecked so many helicopters in training, that years later practicing autorotations to the ground would be prohibited and we would recover the maneuver by adding power as we started the flare and not touching down.
My Primary instructor was a Chief Warrant Officer recently returned from a combat tour in Vietnam. He was great and had me flying the TH-55 ‘Mattel Messerschmitt’ in no time at all.
I could tell he was proud of my accomplishments when, just after a few hours of flight instruction, he had me hover in front of the tower, then held his hands in the air to show the other instructors what his student could do.
