Guess the belt covered the left buckle...

My father learned to fly with the pre-war civilian college program here in the States.

When the war started he already had a medical discharge from the Navy in 1937 (something to do with his boozing antics and a fall from some tower). So, he enlisted with the RAF in Spokane, Washington. The RAF sent him to British Refresher School in Imperial, California for more flight training. Then he and his buddies took a train to Nova Scotia, shipped over to the UK via the Clyde. They were officially enlisted in the RAF as Flying Sgts then sent to the PRC Personnel Receiving Center at Bournemouth. ( he wrote home of watching some of the German bombing attacks on the city from the roof of their hotel rather than holing up in the shelter).

After Bournemouth, he was with 59 OTU Operational Training Unit as a pilot on various training and operational assignments. He flew a few Spits but mostly Hurricanes. He flew on the Dieppe Raid, of course most every one in the RAF did too.

When the U.S. finally got organized in England all the Americans in the RAF were transferred to the Army Air Corps as Second Lts. He was assigned to the 346th Fighter Squadron of the 350th Fighter Group. Their ground crews took P-39s out of crates bound for Russia, assembled the aircraft, then dad and his squadron flew them from England to North Africa. We were losing in the early days. Dad flew P-39s in North Africa attacking the Afrika Corps. He was shot down at Kassarine Pass and fortunately for me was able to land near the retreating First Armored who were nice enough to give him a lift out of harm's way.

Shortly after he contracted Malaria and encephilitis and was shipped home to train the guys who were fighter pilot instructors. So, after a year and a half of flying combat with the RAF and the Army Air Corps he spent the rest of the war as an instructor of instructors....made Captain by the time the war was over. Not bad for a Navy reject.

Ron