Betty hardly heard another word Mrs. Bowman said. It was as if the old woman had jolted her with an electric shock. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself? Flying and missionary work—it would be a dream come true! But was it possible? Did God really want her to do the thing she wanted to do most?
As Betty left Mrs. Bowman’s home, she prayed silently. “God, I’ve never heard of anyone who used flying to help spread the gospel message, but if You want me to fly for You, show me how to make it happen.”
As she walked home down the gravel road, Betty’s heart raced with excitement. God was in control of her future, and He would make things work out for good for her.
Within several weeks of her visit with Mrs. Bowman, Betty heard of a civilian pilot training course offered by the University of Washington. Although the United States was not officially at war, the country was gearing up for the possibility. As a result, many young pilots were being trained. There was, however, a lot of debate about the value of training women pilots. After all, a woman could never be expected to fly an airplane in combat!
Betty had expected it would be difficult convincing her parents to allow her to enroll in the course, but she was in for a surprise. Her parents told her that since she had tried her hardest to fit in as a nurse and it had not worked, they were willing to support her in whatever she decided to do. In 1941 Betty Greene was accepted into the pilot training course. She was one of three women in a class of forty.
The course was a dream come true. On Lake Washington, she spent hours practicing landing and taking off in a float plane, often flying right over the new house her parents had finally been able to build to replace the one that had burned down thirteen years before. Betty loved the smooth feel of the float plane beneath her. She loved to see the powerful jets of water spraying behind her as she pulled back on the joystick and the plane lifted off the surface of the lake.
Betty passed the course with honors, gaining her private pilot’s license with ratings to fly both regular and float planes. After the pilot training course ended, however, it didn’t seem to Betty that she was any closer to a new career. There were no openings for women in the military. Her parents urged her to finish college. Betty thought this was a good idea, only this time she chose classes she liked instead of nursing. This time around, school was a pleasure, especially the classes in which she learned about how people in other parts of the world thought and lived. In June 1942, Betty graduated with a bachelor of arts in sociology (her nursing courses applied toward her degree), with special studies in various world cultures.
Just before graduating, Betty had read a newspaper article about a group of women pilots that was being formed to serve in the military. The women would not go into combat themselves but would ferry planes back and forth and undertake other flying tasks to release male pilots to fly combat missions. Betty didn’t say anything to anyone about what she’d read. Instead she prayed that God would show her whether this was the right step for her to take.
A week later she got her answer. Her parents returned home suspiciously late after a day in Seattle. As her mother removed her hat and gloves and rearranged her hair, she smiled at Betty. “Your father and I have something to tell you,” she said, clearing her throat.
Betty looked at her father with a questioning glance. “What?” she asked.
“Today we went to see a Mrs. Ethel Sheehy.”
Betty gasped. She recognized the name immediately. Mrs. Sheehy was the woman mentioned in the article in the newspaper. “Why?” she finally responded, hoping she already knew the answer.
“Well, we read an article about the Women’s Flying Training Detachment, and we wanted to learn more about it.”
“And?” Betty prodded.
“It sounds like a fine idea,” grinned her father. “Mrs. Sheehy would like to meet you. Here’s the phone number of her hotel. She’s in room 357. You go and meet with her and hear for yourself what she has to say.”
Betty hugged her parents. “Thank you, thank you so much,” she said.
Later that week Betty met with Mrs. Sheehy and learned that her private pilot’s license was enough to qualify her for enrollment into the program. Only women between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-four were being considered, so at twenty-two, Betty would be one of the youngest applicants.
In February 1943, Betty received an official letter from Jacqueline Cochran, a whirlwind of a woman who had founded a successful cosmetics company before taking to the air and winning many flying races, including the Bendix Transcontinental Air Race. When America entered the war after the Pearl Harbor bombing on December 7, 1941, Jacqueline Cochran had put all of this aside to concentrate on ways in which women pilots could be used to ease the burden on male pilots. She enlisted the help of General “Hap” Arnold, and together they formed the Women’s Flying Training Detachment (WFTD). In her letter, Jacqueline Cochran advised Betty, “Upon clearance of your Civil Service appointment and approval of your medical examination, you will be officially notified when and where to report for duty.” She also asked Betty not to publicize the fact that she was going to be a pilot in the war effort. No one wanted to give the Japanese or the Germans the idea that America had become so desperate it had stooped to using women to fly airplanes!
If it was hard for Albert and Gertrude Greene in March 1943 to say farewell to their only daughter, they did not show it. Betty was the last of their children to leave home. Her oldest brother, Joe, was now a Baptist pastor, while Al and Thelma and their new son, Norman, were still in China. Because of the war, no one had heard from them in over a year. Meanwhile, Betty’s twin brother, Bill, was an up-and-coming lieutenant with the army in the Coast Artillery. After completing his officers’ training, he’d been too young to immediately be commissioned with the rest of his class. His fellow classmates had been dispatched to fight in the Philippines, where many of them had died defending the island fortress of Corregidor in Manila Bay or on the “Death March” the Japanese had forced their American captives to make along the Bataan Peninsula. Bill already knew more people who had been killed in the war than all the children he’d known at Hunts Point Elementary School growing up.
Three smaller groups of women pilots had been trained at a facility in Houston, Texas, but this time around, a larger group of women was to take over the men’s flight training facility at Avenger Field in Sweetwater, Texas. Betty was advised she would be part of this group, and she made her way to Sweetwater, about forty miles west of Abilene.
Betty arrived at Avenger Field on a cool March morning along with over one hundred other women pilots. Each woman was assigned to a sleeping area, or “bay,” as it was called. In each bay were set up six cots, along with desks, chairs, and lockers. Between every two bays was a single bathroom. Betty rolled her eyes when she saw the housing arrangements. Some of the women pilots she’d seen looked as though it took them half an hour just to get their hair right. This could make for some long lines waiting to use the bathroom.
After they had unpacked their bags into the pine-board lockers beside their cots, the women were told to change into uniform and report for duty. This was where the first problem arose. There were no women’s uniforms, only some oversized olive green coveralls left by the men who had been trained at the base before them. Since there was nothing else to change into, the “zoot suits,” as the coveralls came to be known, had to do.
At 1 P.M. Betty Greene found herself lined up with 130 other women from all forty-eight states. Being taller than most of the others meant she was placed near the back of the line. It also meant she was one of the few women whose zoot suit almost fit her—in length anyway. Lined up in front of her was a particularly short woman. The crotch of this woman’s coveralls, which were about two sizes larger than Betty’s, hung down past her knees, making it impossible for her to walk without looking like a penguin. The legs of her zoot suit had been rolled up so many times she had to walk with her legs wide apart to avoid tripping over the wad of fabric. Betty noticed many of the other women smirking as they watched this woman. Indeed, she had to admit it did look comical. Still, Betty felt sorry for the woman and decided she would swap coveralls with her. Betty’s coveralls would at least be a little smaller, making it easier for the woman to get around.
“Attention, class 43-W-5,” yelled a male officer with crewcut hair and large rubbery ears that stuck straight out from the side of his head. “In line. Hup to!”
The women looked at one another, and Betty wanted to laugh out loud. It was like being in a Laurel and Hardy movie, and she thought for sure the officer was trying to impress the women. When he turned, she saw the serious look on his face. It was a look that told them all they were now on an air base and they had better follow orders, or else.
The women were told to march into an empty hangar, where their commanding officer introduced himself. Then he barked, “Look to your right and your left.” Betty took that as an order and looked around. “Only one in three of you is going to graduate from this program,” he continued. “That is, two out of every three of you will be dropouts, failures. Be the one who makes it. Be diligent.” With that he turned and marched away.
Betty was left standing at attention in the hangar with the other women in their comically oversized coveralls, wondering what she had gotten herself into, and what would happen next.
Chapter 4
An Eager Learner
Betty need not have worried about the amount of time the women in her bay would spend in the single bathroom. They were all kept so busy that when they got back to their bay at ten in the evening, all they could do was collapse onto their cots exhausted. And they would groan as they rolled out of bed when reveille sounded at six o’clock the following morning. Before long, they all sported “PT (pilot training) suntans,” deep brown tans from spending hours on end in the sun, except for the raccoonlike pale rings around their eyes from the goggles they wore during training.
After breakfast, roll call, and barracks inspection, the remainder of the morning was spent in flying practice and instruction. During the afternoon and evening, they spent time marching on the drill field, competing on the obstacle course, and using the Link trainer, a simple flight simulator that allowed pilots to pitch and turn in response to the way they moved the control stick. On top of all these activities, the women spent five hours a day studying math, physics, meteorology, aerodynamics, electronics, navigation, military and civilian air regulations, and engine operation and maintenance. Each subject required a heavy workload, not to mention lots of tests. Along with the others in the Women’s Flying Training Detachment, Betty found herself studying during every spare moment she had.
Although the women were stationed on a military base and were treated as if they were in the army, technically they were not. They were all volunteers, and this led to some important distinctions between them and the men in the army. For one thing, they were not bonded to the military and could quit at any time. They were also required to pay for their own uniforms, and Betty, along with the others, handed over $100 for her cap, goggles, jacket, and parachute. And unlike the men, the women had to pay the army for their room and board, which cost $1.65 a day. This daily amount was deducted from the $150 they were paid each month.
Many of the women complained about the unfairness of the system, but Betty didn’t care. She had her sights set on something more important than what she was doing right then. She intended to learn as much as possible, get all the flying experience she could, and when the war was over somehow use it all to help with missionary work.
