The summer of 1947, I was coming back on a Production flight mid-afternoon and was happy.  I had a good bird with only a few minor problems. When I called Tower for clearance into the pattern, the controller said I had a guest, south of Milford off Pond Point, waiting to meet me.

That was odd.  I’d never had that happen.  In less than five minutes, I was there and saw a P-39 Airacobra circling.  When I pulled up, the pilot waved and did a “want to race” maneuver of short ups and downs.

The Bell P-39 Airacobra was recognized by a carburetor intake faring behind the cockpit.  It saw combat mainly in Russia, the Mediterranean, and in the Pacific. It had beautiful lines with a long nose to accommodate a 37mm cannon.  It was powered by an Allison engine which gave it max speed of 380 mph, compared to a F4U-5 Corsair’s 462 mph.

We climbed to 10,000 and raced east toward the ocean.  I mimicked the Airacobra’s speed to stay abreast for three or four minutes.  Suddenly, I shot out in front and did a slow roll plus a loop, ending in the right wing position where I had been flying; I saluted and returned to base.  

As I was finishing my paperwork in our pilot’s control room, I received a phone call from The Shack (a small coffee house between Vought and civilians); the pilot of the Airacobra wanted to meet me.

I was sweaty and hadn’t changed out of my pilot’s suit, but went anyway.  Upon arriving, I looked around The Shack.  Everyone knew each other, but this time there was one exception and that was an attractive lady in the corner.  I started to turn and go back to Vought, realizing it was great flying weather, and I had an opportunity to get one or two ahead of our production quota for the month.  But, I took a second look.  Wow, she was a beautiful woman in her twenties, and I also saw a flight helmet on her table.

Everyone in The Shack began to laugh.  I went to her table.  She pushed out a chair with her foot, and said, “Sit down, cowboy.  I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

We became close, in fact, had several dates.  Her father was extremely successful in the book publishing business.  Her family lived in two places – a very large, palatial estate in Connecticut and an equally enormous 5th Avenue townhouse in New York City.  At one party there, I even met Sinclair Lewis.  Boy, was I impressed.

In January 1948, I told her that I was going back to Ft. Smith in June to marry.  She said that she would just have to get some of her group of pilots (in WWII the Air Force had a group of women pilots to ferry planes) to come to Ft. Smith and do a fly-over during our wedding ceremony.

But that didn’t happen… and my college buddies who were there for the wedding were super disappointed!  I, on the other hand, was rather relieved!

Later in my life, in other industries, I have found "an edge" exhilarating and important. If reading His Edge leads you to develop "an edge," you will have captured the esprit of the esprit de corps found in the successful people around you.
~Wayne Harding _______________________________________________________________