A DAY AT THE OFFICE

Major General David Grant, Surgeon General, U.S.A.A.F.
(Originally published in Courage, Honor, Victory

Maj. Gen. David Grant
Surgeon General
U.S.A.A.F

One look into the pilot's cabin of a B-17 will convince you that its flight is actually an engineering operation demanding manual and mental skills that put the driving of an automobile into the kiddy-car class. 

The compartment is lined-front, sides, ceiling, and part of the floor with controls, switches, levers, dials, and gauges. I once counted around one hundred thirty. The coordinated operations of all these gadgets would be difficult in the swivel-chair comfort of your office. But reduce your office to a five-foot cube size, engulf it in the constant roar of four 1,200-horsepower engines, and increase your height to around five miles. Then get into a flying suit, gloves, and flying boots-all heated by electricity-put on a helmet with earphones, cover your eyes with goggles and the rest of your face with an oxygen mask containing a microphone, strap on your parachute, and it might be as well to add on about sixteen pounds of body armor contained in your flak jacket.

That will give you an idea of the normal conditions under which these men worked out the higher mathematical relationships of engine revolutions, manifold and fuel pressures, aerodynamics, barometric pressure, altitude, wind drift, airspeed, ground speed, position, and direction. 

You may have to face an occasional pain from ears, bends or intestinal gas expansion, a touch of dizziness, numbness from cold, or the subtle comatosity of anoxia. There will be interruptions to man machine guns against enemy fighter attacks. Due allowance must also be made for a stream of machine-gun bullets and cannon shells, or the burst of flak and air-to-air rockets in your immediate vicinity. 

As a final touch to this bizarre picture of intense concentration, add the thoughts of death, bail-out, escape, or Stalag Luft.