Photo By Megan Just | Women's Air Force service pilot, Mrs. Margo deMoss (right) shows Capt. Jennifer...... read more read more
RIVERSIDE, Calif. - It's been 65 years since Margo deMoss received the heartbreaking news that she--along with over 1,000 other women's Air Force service pilots--were no longer needed. Not considered veterans, deMoss and the others were released the same day they received the news and without benefits or recognition, were left to find their own way home.
But you'd never catch the women complaining.
"It was an absolute privilege to fly," said deMoss, who lives with her husband, retired Navy Cmdr. Charles deMoss, in a military retirement community across the highway from March Air Reserve Base.
"What a wonderful group of gals," deMoss said of her fellow WASPs. "We were going to help win the war no matter what!"
On March 10, the WASPs will finally receive recognition for their trailblazing service to their country in a time of war. DeMoss and the approximately 300 remaining WASPs are en route to Washington, D.C., to accept the Congressional Gold Medals President Barack Obama signed into law July 2, 2009.
"It's going to be so much fun to meet our old buddies that we haven't seen in years and years," deMoss said.
DeMoss is honored to be receiving the same award as the likes of Rosa Parks and Neil Armstrong, but she is quick to point out that everyone made sacrifices during World War II.
"After Pearl Harbor, everybody who could move was volunteering," deMoss said. She recalls young boys scouring their neighborhood to make sure no lights were showing at night and elderly women knitting scarves and rolling bandages for the troops. Even her parents conserved gasoline by riding their bicycles instead of using the car. "Everybody was involved in that war," she said.
Yesterday, Capt. Mary Guest, Capt. Kim Link, and Capt. Jennifer Phillips, KC-135 pilots from the 336th Air Refueling Squadron at March Air Reserve Base, traveled to Washington, D.C., to serve as escorts for the two days of events, including the medal ceremony. Before she left, Phillips visited Margo deMoss to learn more about what it was like to be a WASP.
"You're doing what we all would have loved to have done," deMoss told Phillips when they met. "It was terrible when they told us we had to go."
As it turns out, the WASP who Phillips is assigned to escort happens to be one of deMoss's classmates. Phillips and deMoss will see one another at a special reunion for class 44-5 in Washington D.C., following the medal ceremony.
TRAINING
Margo (then Harvey) deMoss flew for the first time with the boyfriend of one of her girl friends who owned his own airplane.
"It was so wonderful. We flew under bridges and we flew over my family's house. We landed and I signed up right then to take flying lessons," deMoss said.
She learned about the WASP program from an article in the Boston Herald. With so many of the male pilots being killed in Europe and the Pacific, renowned pilot Jacqueline Cochran was desperately seeking women with private pilot's licenses to lend a hand stateside. Both deMoss and a friend jumped at the opportunity to help. They weren't the only ones. More than 25,000 women also applied. Just over 1,000 were accepted.
"We ran out and got more flying time in just in case there was a limit to how much flying time you had to have," DeMoss said.
DeMoss's mother was hesitant about the idea at first, but her father was able to change her mother's mind. "Women just weren't supposed to do those things, but the war made all the difference," deMoss explained.
DeMoss and her friend were both accepted into the program and embarked on a grueling train ride from Boston to Sweetwater, Texas, for the seven-month ground school and military pilot training. DeMoss was 22 years old at the time.
"Sweetwater was out in the boondocks. It was an isolated place. And it was the rattlesnake capital of the world," deMoss said.
DeMoss said the training was the most challenging part of being a WASP, specifically learning Morse code and systems nomenclature. The living conditions were challenging as well. The women were crammed 12 to a bathroom in barracks that were not air conditioned. Without uniforms, the women had to get by with "zoot suits": men's discarded flight suits the women belted and rolled in order to make them fit.
DUTY
After graduating with class 44-5, deMoss was stationed in Texarkana, where she was assigned to fly the AT-6, an advanced training, two-seat aircraft. Her main duty was to fly brand-new AT-6s from the factories to whichever bases most needed them. The problem was never getting there; it was getting back, since transportation wasn't provided for the women pilots.
"You'd get home anyway you could," deMoss said. She would try to tag along with other pilots heading in her direction, but if there was nobody flying, she'd have to take trains and busses.
Another of deMoss's duties was tow targeting. She'd fly a target about 300 feet behind her AT-6 and fighter pilots would shoot at it with live ammunition.
"Each pilot's ammo was tipped with a different color paint. That way you knew who got what hits," said deMoss, who was a fighter pilot instructor during some of his years in the Navy.
"Did you have any close calls?" Phillips asked deMoss.
"Not that I know of!" deMoss laughed, but added, "You always found yourself going a little faster so they wouldn't hit you."
DeMoss had an actual close call when her engine caught fire during one of the missions where she was transporting a new AT-6 to a base in Texas. After attempting all the emergency procedures, she radioed to operations, who recommended she bail out.
Bailing out in an AT-6 would have involved untangling from the seatbelt, crawling out the window, and stepping out onto the wing. "Then, it's one-two-three jump," said deMoss.
Not wanting to ruin the beautiful new AT-6--or be stranded in the desolate rattlesnake country below--she decided to glide the plane in. Fortunately, deMoss was flying at a high altitude to say cool in under hot Texas sun, and was able to see the control tower far in the distance.
"I made it to the end of the runway. I mean just made it. The fire trucks all came out and sprayed everything, including me," she said. She told the operations commander, "It's a bit scorched, but it's okay."
Another time, deMoss was dispatched to fly a badly injured Airman to San Antonio. "They brought him out and he was all bandaged up and he looked just awful," she said. She recalls the patient passing out right after he learned that she--a woman--was going to be the pilot. "All the way there, I was looking at him in the rearview mirror and I was thinking, 'please don't let him die.'"
THE END
On December 20, 1944, the ladies learned their gigs as pilots were over.
"We were devastated. We just sat there and couldn't believe it," deMoss said.
Knowing there were stockpiles of planes that still needed to be delivered, deMoss and the other women offered to stay and fly for free, but they were told the men were coming home and women would no longer be needed.
"It was a 'pack your stuff and go' kind of a thing," deMoss added.
DeMoss recalls Hap Arnold's words to the women after it was all over: "It's been proven you ladies can fly with the men. Wing tip to wing tip, you exceeded all our expectations and then some."
A pilot from the base flew deMoss from Texarkana to Love Field. From there, she hitched a ride to with a Navy pilot. She found space on a shuttle aircraft from Florida to Washington, D.C., and took the train the rest of the way home to Boston.
"I was crying all the way there," deMoss said. "I was so sad."
Not long after, a Guadalcanal B-17 pilot deMoss had met in Texas while he was recovering from dengue fever and malaria, traveled to Boston to marry her.
Since her years as a WASP, deMoss has had occasional opportunities to fly. She accompanied her second husband and a pair of friends in a partial circumnavigation of South America. She's also had the opportunity to fly a glider and observe a refueling mission from the boom pod of a KC-135.
When the bill for the Congressional Gold Medals for the WASPs was first introduced, deMoss didn't think much about it because she thought it would never happen. But thanks to the backing of all 17 female senators, the bill moved quickly and now deMoss is two days from receiving her medal.
"It was so long ago," deMoss said of her service as a WASP. "So many people don't even know about the WASPs."
"Now they will," responded Phillips. "Thank you for paving the way for women. And for doing what you could for the war, too."
| Date Taken: | 03.08.2010 |
| Date Posted: | 03.08.2010 19:34 |
| Story ID: | 46346 |
| Location: | RIVERSIDE, CA, US |
| Web Views: | 453 |
| Downloads: | 364 |
This work, Southern California WASP reminiscess, prepares to receive Congressional Gold Medal, by Megan Just, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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