"I wanted to serve my country in a very active way." --WASP Dawn Seymour

by Martha Magruder

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="196.0"] WASP Dawn Seymour (Photo: ezramagazine.cornell.edu) [/caption]

By the time she was 26 years old, Dawn Rochow Balden Seymour had logged 700 hours in the Boeing B -17 "Flying Fortress" and was training young gunners in preparation for D-Day and war in the Pacific.  Just a few years earlier, the ambitious 22-year old native of Rochester, NY, who had never stepped foot on a plane, graduated from Cornell University’s College of Home Economics and was hired as an instructor at the school. While volunteering in a research study, she was approached by Dr. Richard Parmenter, a veteran WWI pilot who saw her potential and asked if she was interested in Cornell's new Civilian Pilot Training program (CPT) and not long after, he took her for her first plane ride. She recalled, “So he took me up in a yellow [Piper] Cub on an October day when, of course, the leaves have turned, and suddenly the world is completely different. There's a sense of freedom. I was hooked with this love of flying.”

Seymour became the first woman pilot accepted into the CPT, “one out of every ten—nine men, one woman—was acceptable,” and in 1940, she earned her private pilot’s license. December 1941 brought about America’s involvement in World War II and Seymour found herself working for the New York State War Council on the same committee as Eleanor Roosevelt. Seymour, however, wanted to do more for the war effort: "I wanted to serve my country in a very active way.” In March 1943, she applied and was accepted to Jackie Cochran’s WASP program. “I was on the sidewalk and I flipped a nickel. Heads, I go that month, or, tails, I stay home [and get more flying time]. And it was heads. So I quit my job...And I joined the class of '43-5.”

Training took place at Avenger Field in Sweetwater, Texas. Seymour recalled a rigorous five months of “getting up and falling in line, going to breakfast, going to the flight line, going to ground school and to link training." Jackie Cochran presented Seymour with her wings on graduation day, September 11, 1943.  “The wings were cold, though it was a ninety degree day, and I said to myself, oh my goodness, I did it! It was a wonderful feeling of accomplishment.”

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600.0"] Dawn Seymour in the B-17. (Photo: CBS News) [/caption]

Though the WASP remained on home soil, they were by no means out of harm’s way. Seymour remembered, “Ten days before I graduated, my best friend, my buddy, Peggy Seip, was killed with her instructor and a fellow WASP pilot, and no reason was given for the accident. There was no ceremony held, they just disappeared. And it was a heart wrenching event….And Peggy had left a garden, the only garden any WASP had ever grown in Sweetwater, Texas, and it bloomed on our graduation day.”

Upon graduation, Seymour was sent to the Second Ferrying Command in Wilmington, Delaware and after just two weeks there, she completed ground school and checked out in the PT-19. Soon after, she transferred to Lockbourne Army Air Base in Columbus, Ohio where, after more rigorous training, she became one of only thirteen WASP, known as the “Lucky Thirteen” chosen to pilot the B-17. Seymour subsequently relocated to Buckingham Army Air Field at Fort Myers, Florida where she flew gunnery missions in the B-17 F/G and towed targets in the AT-23.  She trained gunners, mostly very young men no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, and who had never been in the air. During those training missions, Seymour piloted the plane towing the target or “sleeve,” for the trainees to shoot at with live ammunition. She recalled, “Sometimes I'd see tracers in the B-17 going toward the plane, the B-26, and you'd put on the mike and say, "The sleeve, guys! Aim at the sleeve!"”

In early 1944, Seymour transferred to Roswell, New Mexico, to fly more training missions. In December of that year she and her fellow WASP received the devastating letter from General Hap Arnold notifying them of the disbandment of the WASP program. “The message we received was, 'Girls, go home, we don't need you anymore.'"  The women immediately packed up their things and without ceremony or fanfare, departed the military lifestyle they’d grown accustomed to and returned to their former lives. It would take 33 years for the United States government to officially recognize them as military veterans.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="592.0"] Dawn Seymour on the flight deck of the 445th Airlift Wing C-5 Galaxy aircraft in 2009. (USAF photo/Senior Airman Mikhail Berlin, http://www.afrc.af.mil/News/Article-Display/Article/158024/wright-patt-reservists-wowed-by-conference/) [/caption]

In 1982, five years after the WASP received military veteran status, Dawn Seymour was elected President of the WASP organization. She made it her mission to share the WASP story with the world. To commemorate the lives of those lost, she authored a book titled, IN MEMORIAM: Thirty-eight WAFS/WASP who gave their lives during training and service.  Seymour campaigned for Jackie Cochran's induction into the National Women's Hall of Fame and for ten years she worked tirelessly for a U.S. postal stamp honoring Cochran, which finally made its debut in 1996.  In 2005, Seymour was awarded the Keeper of the Flame award by the National Women's Hall of Fame.

Dawn Seymour strove to inspire women to pursue their dreams and proved a gifted speaker and storyteller as she shared her memories of of the WASP and WWII with audiences around the country. She was extremely proud to have had the opportunity to fly and serve her country while doing it.  “We were volunteers going in, and we were volunteers going out, and our motto was, “We live in the wind and the sand, and our eyes are on the stars.””

On July 18, 2017, Dawn Seymour passed away at the age of 100. Tributes poured in and fueled the American public's growing interest in the WASP. Given her unwavering resolve during her lifetime to share the WASP stories and preserve their legacy, Seymour would no doubt have been proud that even in death she was able to carry out that mission. 

During a 1999 interview with Rebecca Wright for the Johnson Space Center Oral History Project, Seymour was asked how she'd sum up the contributions and sacrifices of the WASP:

"So I think my advice, as you asked me before, what difference -- what were the WASPs and what was their meaning in this particular time? And I think it is they listened to a voice inside that urges each one of us--we each had this--urges us to try. Find a way. You do the hard work. And I think that's my message." 

Dawn Seymour's service to her country and contribution to changing the course of history, especially for women, will forever inspire and influence generations to come.

Elizabeth Harmon Bane: A Strong, Determined Woman Who Approached Life with Zest and Enthusiasm

by Susan Bane Summers

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="423.0"] Elizabeth Harmon Bane, Class 43-W-4 (Photo courtesy of Susan Bane Summers) [/caption]

My grandmother Elizabeth "Liz" Harmon Bane earned her WASP wings on August 7, 1943 at Avenger Field in Sweetwater, Texas. She began flying while attending the University of Alabama and had well over the required flight hours before heading to Texas.

During her training she flew the PT-19, AT-6, AT-10, BT-13 and twin engine Beech UC-78. Her assignments included Love Field, Dallas, Texas; Gunter Army Air Field, Montgomery, Alabama; Randolph Army Air Base, Universal City, Texas; Eagle Pass Army Air Base, Eagle Pass, Texas.

During her service, Liz met my grandfather, Major Mark C. Bane, Jr. and they married at Gunter-Maxwell Field in Alabama.  Mark served until 1969 and the couple spent many years abroad including in Occupied Japan after the war. They raised four children; Liz, Laurie, Mark Jr. & Helen.

My grandmother was a strong, determined woman who approached everything she did in life with perfection, zest and enthusiasm. She was an amazing mother, gardener, talented chef, always stylishly color coordinated and loved taking me shopping for clothes when I visited. I'm the youngest girl of six so her distaste of me in my brothers' hand-me-downs worked out well for my dress wardrobe. She "spoiled me ripe", called me 'little fish' because I loved swimming and the water and let me climb up in her lap and fall asleep long after I had grown too big to do so.

We lost my grandmother to cancer my freshman year of college.  Her passion for life, learning and flight lived on and inspired her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren to this very day. In fact, one of her great granddaughters has completed over 1,000 hours of flight training at the age of 12. 

My grandparents had a set of portraits of them painted in Japan in 1949 and today they hang in my dining room. I think of them both every day. I can hear my grandmother complimenting my cooking, telling me to stand up straight and watching over my children she never got to meet.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500.0"] Elizabeth Harmon & Major Mark C. Bane when they first met. (Photo courtesy of Susan Bane Summers) [/caption]

Wall of Honor - The 38 Fallen WASP

We honor the fallen...

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="219.0"]                Hazel Ying Lee       Aug 24, 1912 - Nov 25, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="235.0"]          Mabel Virginia Rawlinson         Mar 19, 1917 - Aug 23, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="204.0"]      Virginia Caraline Moffatt      May 22, 1912 - Oct 5, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225.0"]         Marie Michell Robinson        May 23, 1924 - Oct 2, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225.0"]          Gertrude Tompkins Silver          Oct 16, 1912 - Oct 26, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225.0"]                 Mary P. Hartson          Jan 11, 1917 - Aug 14, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="175.0"]   Betty Louise Taylor Wood   Mar 13, 1921 - Sep 23, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225.0"]               Elizabeth Mae Scott             Jul 26, 1921 - Jul 8, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225.0"]               Dorothy F. Scott         Feb 16, 1920 - Dec 3, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="178.0"]          Lea Ola McDonald    Oct 12, 1921 - Jun 21, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225.0"]           Jane Delores Champlin         May 14, 1917 - Jun 7, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="192.0"]          Beverly Jean Moses     Dec 21, 1922 - Jul 18, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="219.0"]        Jeanne Lewellen Norbeck        Nov 14, 1912 - Oct 16, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="204.0"]         Susan Parker Clarke      Aug 5, 1918 - Jul 4, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="205.0"]      Bonnie Jean Alloway Welz      Jun 22, 1918 - Jun 29, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="215.0"]   Evelyn Genevieve Sharp (WAFS)         Oct 1, 1919 - Apr 3, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="175.0"]        Betty Pauline Stine   Sep 13, 1921 - Feb 25, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="215.0"]       Mary Ann "Marian" Toevs        May 13, 1917 - Feb 18, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="175.0"]     Marjorie Laverne Davis    Dec 20, 1922 - Oct 16,1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="215.0"]        Marie Ethel Cihler Sharon        Apr 21, 1917 - Apr 10, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="223.0"]      Helen Jo Anderson Severson        Nov 2, 1918 - Aug 30, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="235.0"]      Margaret June "Peggy" Seip       Jun 24, 1916 - Aug 30, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="158.0"]       Gleanna Roberts Jan 11, 1919 - Jun 20, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="235.0"]        Margaret Sanford Oldenburg           Jul 29, 1909- M ar 7, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="198.0"]    Dorothy Mae "Dottie" Nichols       Sep 26, 1916 - Jun 11, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="255.0"]               Mary Elizabeth Trebing             Dec 31, 1920 - Nov 7, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="200.0"]      Marjorie Doris Edwards     Sep 28, 1918-Jun 13, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="235.0"]              Peggy Wilson Martin            Feb 8, 1912 - Oct 3, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="235.0"]                  Alice E. Lovejoy           Aug 15, 1915 - Sep 13, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="171.0"]      Katherine Dussaq Mar 14, 1905 - Nov 26, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="175.0"] Elizabeth "Jayne" Erickson Apr 24, 1921 - Apr 16, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="235.0"]             Cornelia Fort (WAFS)         Feb 5, 1919 - Mar 21, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="215.0"]             Paula Ruth Loop       Aug 25, 1916 - Jul 7, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="175.0"]    Frances Fortune Grimes   Oct 7, 1914-Mar 27, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="215.0"]          Mary Holmes Howson       F eb 10, 1919-Apr 16, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="235.0"]         Edith "Edy" Clayton Keene          Dec 19, 1920-Apr 25, 1944 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="215.0"]   Kathryn Barbara "Kay" Lawrence         Dec 3, 1920-Aug 4, 1943 [/caption]




[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="195.0"]        Mary Louise Webster     Jun 30, 1919-Dec 9, 1944 [/caption]

WASP Ruth Adams: Flying Gave Her Courage

by Logan Walker with special thanks to Dylan Almendral and the American Legacy Museum

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="641.0"] Ruth Adams with her chute posing in front of a C-47 before ferrying it to another base. Courtesy of the American Legacy Museum [/caption]

“I’m a fairly cautious person. I remember the first time it crossed my mind that anyone would be interested in flying besides those men out there. A couple of girls that I knew…said, ‘We want to be flyers when we grow up.’ And my response was, I was fourteen, fifteen, I wasn’t—I thought, what a dumb idea. It’s dangerous.”

That was Ruth Adams’ earliest recollection about flying, and few impressions could prove more comically inverse. For Ruth, who would one day find herself piloting a “dangerous” vessel thousands of feet above the ground, the journey from a safe college life to the cockpit of a plane was one that wound through a maze of personal difficulties, preconceptions and fears. It was also one that would leave her with the courage and skill set to pursue her most daunting ambitions and start over again and again with startling success.

Born in Ohio in 1917 to George Dana and Pearl Adams, Ruth’s childhood in the Cleveland area was beset by obstacles. Although her family lived in an upper class neighborhood, the family was relatively poor and Ruth and her sister were just two of just a few neighborhood children who did not attend a private school. A tomboy who rarely mixed with her community peers socially, Ruth suffered from a form of dyslexia that prevented her from reading until she was in the third grade; “…I was convinced I was stupid. I read a lot because I was rather isolated. The boys wouldn’t let me play with them because I grew up in an upper class neighborhood.”

Things began to change for Ruth in her late teens, as she began to feel more assertive and comfortable with her unique skills. Having played baseball as a hobby for many years, Ruth found an opportunity to prove herself and shatter expectations when she and a friend happened upon a boys' baseball game during summer camp. As she watched the boys show off their prowess on the field, she felt a resentment build within her. She knew she could play just as good as them. Boldly, she decided to make her move. She recalled, “I said timidly, pretending to be a timid girl, ‘Can I play? Will you let me try it?’ And they said ‘Alright, let her try it.’” She asked the boys to “throw her an easy one” and proceeded to hit the ball out of the field, never to be found again. “They had no business showing off like that and expect[ing] me just to stand there wide-eyed and admiring. And I thought, the hell with that, you know. Why can’t girls do anything?”

Ruth’s streak of courage faltered at times in the face of air travel. Although her attitude had softened somewhat toward flying as she grew older, an incident during the Chicago World’s Fair in 1933 gave her a serious scare. Her family had flown to Chicago for the Fair and were enjoying sightseeing around the city just a day later when they learned that the plane they had traveled on had crashed in a bout of harsh wind over Lake Michigan. Once again in Ruth’s mind, flying was crossed with an unmistakable aura of danger.

After graduation from high school Ruth moved on to study at Wellesley College, earning her undergraduate degree in Art History in 1939. In Boston she found work as a research assistant at the city’s Museum of Fine Arts and was confronted by another chance encounter with planes. On the way back from visiting a friend out of town, a roadside school caught her attention with its advertisement for five dollar and under flying lessons:  “But I thought, oh, that dumb stuff, and went by.  I was saying disparaging things to myself. Five miles beyond that I decided, ‘are you afraid to go up?’ And I said, ‘Well, I will just see if I was afraid.’ And I turned around.” Ruth signed up for lessons with the school, practicing in an open cockpit biplane, and found to her surprise that she wasn’t afraid of flying at all. As she recalled, “It was simply an interesting sensation, and also intellectually appealed to me. Things looked so different. So, I liked it so much that I would take myself—it was near Worcester and I would go all the way out there…Then I thought, well maybe this is something I could do, because I was very dissatisfied.”

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="843.0"] Ruth Adams dressed and ready for flight. Courtesy of the American Legacy Museum. [/caption]

With a growing ambition to be a professional pilot, Ruth investigated the possibility of enrolling in a flight school run by pilot and future WASP executive Nancy Love. With lessons at the school running up to $2000, she decided against enrolling; however, before long she heard about the new Civilian Pilot Training Program. As a college graduate, Adams only had to pay the registration fee at Northeastern University and after a string of free flying lessons she received her private pilot’s license. “Of course it was kind of fun and I enjoyed it and that’s where I discovered that I was a really good flyer,” she remembered many years later. As a licensed pilot, Ruth continued to take lessons, hoping to log the requisite 500 hours to join the Women’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron (WAFS). Her plans changed when she heard about the WASP program, which required applicants to log less hours. She applied quickly, and after a successful interview, she was accepted.

Landing in class 44-W-2, Ruth left for training in Sweetwater, Texas. Life as a trainee presented its own set of challenges but Ruth was determined to succeed, sometimes too her own detriment; her eagerness to follow an instructor’s comments about head movements to a literal degree resulted in the man failing her during a test ride. Fortunately, she persisted in retaking tests and absorbing in-flight lessons, eventually becoming glowingly proficient in basic flight as well as acrobatics and navigation.

Ruth’s dyslexia, which caused her to transpose numbers and letters and often painstakingly slowed her reading abilities, was another hurdle. While flying she learned that her condition, which had long been an embarrassment to her, could be navigated around with enough willpower and creativity. “I’ll tell you that flying gave me a lot of courage because I found that I could read all of the instruments on the dashboard,” She recounted. “Of course we learned where to focus, and to focus fast, but nevertheless by the time I was doing pursuit, or even at the AT-6, there were a fair number of instruments to take in at a glance. I thought if I could do that then I’m a pretty good flyer. I think that I could do anything if I really pay attention and try to learn it.”

After graduating from WASP training in March 1944, Ruth was assigned to Ferry Command at New Castle Army Base in Wilmington, Delaware, later moving to take up a place in pursuit school in Brownsville, Texas. “[In] Brownsville…I was always afraid I’d wash out. I’d do something dumb and wash out,” remembered Ruth, who added “I didn’t at Sweetwater, but when I got to Brownsville I was flying in the backseat of the AT-6…for the first two weeks, and then the next two weeks we just flew various pursuit planes. At first oh, P-39, and then the King Cobra, and then the P-40, and the P-47.” Ruth may have been nervous about passing her courses, but time would prove her fears unfounded, as she was the only woman in her bay to pass primary training.

On duty as a ferrying pilot, Ruth not only loved flying but found herself impassioned about her role in the war effort; “I hated Hitler and really wanted to see us win this war. I had political orientations from the time I was an analyst.” As many of her WASP peers also learned, flying was a dangerous and unpredictable job, even outside of combat. Ruth's experienced this first hand when a UC-78 plane she was flying began to emit copious smoke mid-flight, forcing Ruth and her co-pilot Esther Manning Shively to make an emergency landing in a farm field. A further investigation showed that defective wiring insulation had caused the landing gear to burn. Both women where cleared of any responsibility, but the incident recalled that upsetting moment Ruth experienced years ago at the World’s Fair. “I think I could have gotten killed easily,” she remarked. “I think I’m lucky I didn’t…I’m very lucky. [I was] relatively inexperienced. I did everything by the book pretty much. And I was careful. I had to be because I was afraid of things.”

By October of 1944 the WASP program was officially disbanded, but contrary to the abject disappointment experienced by many women in the organization, Ruth viewed the end of her WASP career with more relief than anger; “…when we were deactivated I wasn’t of two minds. The goddamn planes could kill me, or I could kill myself, you know, by doing something dumb. And so I think my main feeling, about sixty percent of me, was glad that I had made it and was still alive.”

Ruth may have had misgivings about flying, but she hoped to continue her career as a pilot even after she retired her WASP uniform. Despite her efforts to secure a job in the field, she was faced with the post-war reality of an America that was less than ready to see a woman at the helm of a plane, in a commercial sense at least. After a meeting with a business head about a potential job flying the company's planes, Ruth remembers the man “…looking me up and down like a piece of meat. You know, particularly my legs…He told me he didn’t think that the officers of the company would be comfortable flying with a woman. And that was the end of that.”

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="501.0"] Ruth Adams' assorted photos and WASP paraphernalia. Courtesy of the American Legacy Museum. [/caption]

While Ruth continued to pilot Cubs on occasion and even took helicopter lessons at one point, flying was no longer a viable career path for the former WASP. She took a several jobs in New York, first as a welder and later as an electrical technician, where her WASP credentials were a definite advantage; “They were very impressed. They really hired me because I was a WASP I think. An ex-WASP. That made me very attractive to them.”

When a psychiatrist she was seeing suggested that Ruth pursue a job in the medical field, the former pilot embarked on a career that would dominate the rest of her life. After gaining admission to NYU's prestigious medical program, she studied hard and rose to the top of her class. After finishing her studies in psychiatry, Ruth went on to practice at New York’s William Alanson White Psychiatric Institute as well as the Youth Authority of the City of New York, where she worked extensively with young patients. In the early 1970s she relocated to California to be near family and settled in Oakland where she served as a psychiatrist for the Alameda County emergency juvenile psychiatric facility.

On December 16, 2005, Ruth, who had retired nearly twenty years earlier and had devoted her later years to painting and sculpting, died suddenly after suffering a massive stroke. A self-proclaimed “independent” woman to the end, Ruth's inspiring career and service to her country and to the medical health profession are enduring reminders of the power of a woman determined to pursue her own goals as well as rise above adversity in any time period. For Ruth, whose courage was outstanding even in the face of perilous flying conditions, dramatic career changes, personal disadvantages, fear was never enough to keep her down.

"We all wanted to do something to help the war effort." --WASP Lucile Doll Wise

By Logan Walker

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="482.0"] Lucile Doll Wise. (Photo: Texas Woman's University) [/caption]

With the onset of U.S. involvement in WWII, much of the youth in America found themselves united in a common employment; aiding the country’s war effort. Such work was not just the purview of men, as evidenced by the scores of American women who functioned in military and paramilitary roles during the conflict. Kansas native Lucile Doll Wise was one of many such women who wished to help in service to her country, but the job she had her heart set on was one that had been unprecedented for women in the nation’s military history.

“We all wanted to do something to help the war effort. All my women friends were joining the military,” Wise remembers, reflecting on her decision to join the WASP so many years ago. “I did it for a lark, to add a little excitement to my life.”

For Wise, who took her first flying lesson on December 6, 1941, just a day before the infamous attacks on Pearl Harbor, her attachment to the job went beyond a mere bit of fun; “I loved flying, it’s such a wonderful feeling, you know, to be up in the air. It’s exhilarating, everything looks so beautiful. And then you’ve got the challenge of making the plane do what you want it to do.”

Fifty hours of logged flight time later, Wise was ready to add her talents to the war effort. In May 1943 her application to join the WASP was approved at nearly the same time that her brother, fresh out of high school, enlisted to join the Navy. While he would go on to return “…safely, but perhaps a bit damaged emotionally,” Wise’s own experience would be unforgettably exciting and empowering.

On her arrival at the WASP Sweetwater, Texas training camp, Wise soon realized that the flying preparation regimes for the female pilot hopefuls would be no different from that of the men; “We lived in barracks, we slept on metal cots, and we learned to march, and we were under military discipline, under demerits- we had to make our beds a certain way, and we had inspections. It was very stressful because we had to meet the requirements.”

Wise and her fellow trainees spent long hours in the air, at times seven days a week. Even more time was spent worrying about meeting graduation standards and even more pressingly, avoiding the hazardous and all-too-easy piloting mistakes that could have fatal consequences. As she noted, “…those of us that were left were really proud of those wings, because they worked hard for them.”

In November 1943, Wise was one of the successful WASP graduates to earn her wings and embark on a future flying military aircraft. Her first assignment was to the Asheville Weather Wing of the Army Airways Communication Systems in North Carolina, but soon after she was reassigned to the Army Air Forces Weather Service Region in Kansas City, Missouri.

Like many WASP, Wise's duties included ferrying military aircraft between bases, but most often she was assigned to fly weather officers to meetings and inspection trips at air force bases in the region.   During those trips, she flew quite a bit and covered a seven-state regional territory. While her passengers were always men, they seemed very comfortable with her piloting skills. That’s not to say that Wise had no issues with her position as a WASP;  “We had a handsome uniform and officer privileges, but I really wanted to be militarized and get a commission. We were working hard and did not realize that we were making history as the first U.S. women to fly military aircraft.” It was an issue that she would add her own weight to in years to come.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600.0"] Lucile Wise poses with her basic trainer. (Photo: Denver Post) [/caption]

Constant contact with a variety of military planes was one of the perks of the job. Wise says, “When I started, we had a twin-engine Cessna. It was about a five passenger Cessna, it was kind of slow, but it was a nice, safe plane. And we had short hops between these air bases, so it was okay. But then we got a C-45, the Beechcraft C-45, which carried about ten passengers, and that was much more fun to fly.” Her favorite plane to fly was the AT-6 Texan, an apparent favorite among the girls. During her tenure as a WASP, Wise would fly a range of planes, including the Cessna UC-78, AT-11, C-60, B-25, and C-45.

“When traveling, I usually stayed on base in the nurse’s quarters, although sometimes we stayed in hotels,” Wise explained, adding that “one base in Nebraska had no women on base, and the small town had no hotels, so I was given a room in the hospital.” Wise’s trips were usually for periods of four to five days, with a day spent at one airbase at a time within her assigned seven-state region. Recalling this period in her life, she muses that “I loved every minute of it, but it was not easy. It was hard work, and I came back from trips pretty tired.”

When the news that Congress planned to disband the WASP, Wise joined many like her in feeling lost and disappointed in the wake of the sudden decision. “It was pretty much a shock,” she recalls. “We just didn’t know what to do with ourselves. We had been doing something that was just wonderful, and it was very hard to get our lives started again.“ After 19 months and 700 hours flying planes in service of the war effort, Lucile took off her wings and headed on to a more grounded life. After all that time, she noted with equal parts playfulness and pride, “[I] never scratched a plate.”

Adjusting to her new status wasn’t easy; “I missed it dreadfully for a while, but it was expensive, and going back to the small planes wasn’t nearly as much fun,” stated Wise. “We were spoiled. And then I married, and raised a family, so, I got involved in other things. I missed it very much. But I finally got over it. I still love to be around airplanes.”

Wise and her husband settled with their two children in Washington, DC, where she would be conveniently placed when the subject of the WASP re-emerged once again in her life many years later. In the late seventies, the issue of bestowing veteran status on the WASP was a much-contended topic in the government with groups like the Veterans Administration and the American Legion among other powerful organizations opposed granting the WASP this level of recognition. “Those groups had so much power, and they feared this would open the floodgates,” Wise asserted, presumably referring to other non-military groups who might hope for similar privileges.

Wise’s geographical location made her a perfect ally to her fellow WASP in their quest for recognition.  She happily added her support and lobbying efforts to the cause; “It was a thrill to attend the hearing and have contacts with Congressmen. It was a great help for a few of us who were without health insurance or in financial trouble to be eligible to be treated at military hospitals.”

The result of the hard work, by Wise and her fellow WASP was the 1977 legislation signed by President Carter recognizing the WASP and bestowing upon them military veteran status.

In recent years, Wise, who resides in Arvada, Colorado, has remained close to her WASP roots, meeting old colleagues and even flying occasionally. Through WASP reunions and meetings, she has made kept in touch with many fellow WASP. “I made some great friends in the WASP program,” she stated, adding “We all looked alike in our ‘zoot suits’…I am grateful for my opportunity to serve and I believe we all feel the same way. The WASPs went through a unique experience and I believe we all have a close bond.”

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600.0"] Lucile Wise, 92, awaits pilot Chad Graves as the two prepare to fly in a 1942 Boeing-Stearman biplane at Centennial Airport. (Photo: Denver Post) [/caption]

In 2012, at the age of 92, Wise took a very decidedly hands-on trip down memory lane when she took over the controls of a 1942 Boeing-Stearman biplane, one she may have remembered as a military training aircraft used during WWll. Stylishly outfitted in goggles, a headset, and a leather bomber jacket, she started the plane with the same giddy smile she might have worn almost seventy years ago.

“I’m so impressed by what women pilots are doing today, especially flying into combat,” the aging aviatrix said, reflecting on the modern state of women and flight. “They are doing some great flying and proving once again that women can fly military aircraft as well as men.”

To Wise, one of the courageous women who once flew planeloads of military officials state-to-state and fought victoriously to change government legislature, the vast extent of women’s competency is, without a doubt, very old news.

Iris Critchell: At 96, time has done little to slow her down

by Logan Walker

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="559.0"] Iris Critchell in front of a P-38 Lighting, 1944. (Photo: Museum of Flying, http://www.museumofflying.org/exhibits/cahof/iris-cummings-critchell) [/caption]

Years before she set foot in an airplane, Iris Critchell knew she wanted a different life than the kind most of her female classmates were being groomed for. Athletic and tomboyish, her sights were set early on the world of sports, competition, and adventure, areas largely outside the domain of 1920s schoolgirls; however, as her future career would bear out, Critchell rarely failed to achieve what she set her mind to.

Born in December 1920 in Los Angeles, Iris Critchell nèe Cummings was the daughter of a doctor and his Greek/Latin teacher wife. With her fondness for trousers and playing organized sports, she became known as something of a "kook” by other students, but her unusual reputation failed to dampen her passion for athletics. More daunting was the limited opportunities for girls to join a team.

Fortunately, Critchell found a unique ally in her father, who specialized in an area known today as sports medicine. A sports enthusiast and frequent participant in sporting events, her father supported her ambitions and encouraged her to excel. Critchell soon decided on swimming, a sport that women could compete in and her location near beaches and sports clubs could easily facilitate.

By 1933, Critchell had begun entering swimming competitions, her specialty being the 200-meter breaststroke, and by 1934 her training had paid off in several local victories. In no time she was participating in events such as the Far Western Championships Swim Meet along with the likes of future film star Esther Williams. Several competitive wins later she was on her way to the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin as a member of the U.S. swimming team. Critchell's ascent to the dizzy heights of Olympic sportswoman was heady, but the reality of her situation meant that she still had to strive to reach German soil; Olympic team funding was lacking, as the country was in the midst of the Depression, and Critchell was forced to raise money herself. These efforts, and the ten days she spent traveling to Europe by boat, meant she lost precious practice hours and finished her race in fourth place. Although she was disqualified from competing in the finals, Critchell was left with ample time to take in the rest of the historic events.

During her time in Berlin that summer, Critchell was afforded a front row seat to the rising tide of Nazism that had swept the nation, and the very men she would be helping to defeat in her later role in the war effort. She later recalled, “We saw Hitler, he was right there, and (Josef) Goebbels and (Hermann) Goering. We were so interested because my mother had helped me to understand a little bit more of what was going on… Everywhere you went there were the goose-step police and guards, but they were ordered to be friendly and so they were a little bit less intimidating.”

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500.0"] American Olympic Women's Swimming Team (Photo: A Vibrant View: The Official Blog of Phi Mu Fraternity. Iris Critchell is on the bottom row, right) [/caption]

It was also in Berlin that Critchell began to get more involved in an area that she had long been interested in -- flying. “When I heard that the Germans would be holding a major air show during the Games, I was able to make arrangements to attend," the future WASP noted, adding that "Since Germany had been restricted by treaty after World War I as to how many engine-powered airplanes it could build, this show consisted mainly of gliders. The point is: The Nazis had found a way to train hundreds of young pilots without breaking any laws.” It would be two years before flying took center stage in her life, but the impression of this event would stay with Critchell long after she departed the ominous arena.

After her return to America, Critchell continued as a competitive swimmer for several years, graduating from Redondo Union High School in 1937 and moving on to college studies at the University of Southern California. By 1939 she officially retired from swimming; the shadow of imminent war had begun to fall over the nation, and it was increasingly apparent that larger political events would derail any plans for a 1940 Summer Olympics. Instead, Critchell had turned her full attention to flying, beginning her first lessons at the Los Angeles International Airport in 1939. For 30 minutes at four dollars a session, she scaled the heights above a sun-drenched field in a 40-horsepower Piper Cub plane. A year later she had earned a pilot’s license at just 18 years old, the earliest age that one could be legally held. She enrolled in the first year of the Civilian Pilot Training Program (CPTP) offered at USC, and typical to her iconoclastic track record, became the only woman in a class of 50.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600.0"] Iris Critchell climbing into a plane. (Photo: SCPR courtesy of CJ Productions, "Off-Ramp Recommends: Celebrating Women's History Month with a 96yo WWII Test Pilot") [/caption]

"Flying, along with getting a college education, was something I had to do," remembered Critchell, who became one of only several women at the time to complete a second, third, and fourth year of pilot training. “By the time I was a senior, I had earned a private pilot's license and a ground- instructor's rating. I had also taken a CPTP [Civilian Pilot Training Program] course in aerobatics at USC that involved 65 hours of open cockpit flying in a variety of biplanes." Following her graduation she began working as a flight instructor, until dramatic events on the world stage intervened. As she explained, “I was busy on my first job doing that when Pearl Harbor occurred. And then our lives were forever changed.”

In the wake of that disaster, Critchell was relocated but continued flight training for a year until she learned that the government was recruiting civilian pilots to join the newly formed WASP program. Eager to sign up, she became one of second class of women to join the organization, graduating from training in May of 1943 as a member of WASP Class 43-2. Soon after gaining her wings she was sent to a ferry unit in Long Beach, California where she flew a total of 18 different aircraft including the P-38, P-51, A-20, C-47, B-25, and the P-61 Black Widow fighter. Reflecting on this time, Critchell calls her days as a WASP a “fabulous experience,” noting, “We were pilots and civilians, but those of us who had enough experience and background were transitioned rapidly into fighter aircraft. I flew all four of the single-engine fighters and all twin-engine bombers in the ferrying division."

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500.0"] Iris standing next to a display of her old uniform at the P-38 Museum in Riverside. (Photo: The Press-Enterprise) [/caption]

The disbandment of the WASP brought Critchell’s days as an Army pilot to an end, but her flying career was far from over. She went on to marry Howard Critchell, an Army Air Corps pilot she had met during the war. The two moved to Palos Verdes Estates, and Critchell went to work at her USC College of Aeronautics, where she helped to develop and teach a pilot training curriculum. Among the courses she was responsible for was the school’s instrument pilot training, a class she explains was notable because “…there were experienced instructors up there from that military school, but they were not experienced in instrument flying. I happened to learn to do instrument flying as part of my experience with WASP. Well, I enjoyed doing that but it was very intense. Again, it was like the wartime experience in which we had no time off- we were going all the time.”

Having experienced both scenarios herself, the program she worked on aimed to help transition war veterans into civilian aviation. For much of the 1950s the former WASP focused largely on raising her two children at home, although she made sure to take the occasional recreational flight. During this time she was also active in 14 of the 30 Women’s Transcontinental Air Races, (also known as Powder Puff Derbies), finishing second twice before winning the race in 1957 (and finishing in the top 10 a total of 5 times). Starting in the early 1950’s she was also a member and supporter of the Ninety-Nines, an organization based around promoting women in aviation.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400.0"] Iris after her induction into the Women Pioneer Hall of Fame at the International Women in Aviation Conference, 2007. (Photo: Airport Journals) [/caption]

In 1962, Critchell re-entered the professional world to found the Bates Aeronautics Program at Claremont’s Harvey Mudd College with her husband. The program instructed students in aeronautics and physical sciences combined with practical piloting lessons. Iris ran the program, jointly and later alone, until it was eventually eliminated by the college in 1990. By that time she had helped guide over 700 students to their piloting licenses.

Even in retirement, Critchell continued to teach a small number of aspiring flyers, maintaining partial ownership of a 1970 four passenger Cessna 172 for her personal use. Her impressive contributions to aviation have earned her a place in the halls of fame of the Women of Aviation, California Aviation, and National Association of Flight Instructors. She has also been the recipient of a number of awards, including the FAA Wright Brothers “Master Pilot” Award.

Today, 96-year-old Iris Critchell lives in Claremont, California. The survivor of an extraordinary life, time has done little to slow her down. She still devotes time to working with Harvey Mudd students and curating the schools Aeronautical Library Special Collection. A tireless advocate of piloting in general and females in flight in particular, her efforts in promoting aviation in her community and beyond continue to this day, and will surely resonate for generations to come.