In mid 1942 my father passed away, WW2 was going full steam, and I was working in a defense plant in Decatur, Illinois. My brother Jack had already gone to the army, so I decided that instead of waiting to be drafted, I would enlist in order to choose my branch of service, and my choice was the Air Corps.

Sometime in early October I quit my job, and drove to Detroit, Michigan to see Vinci, who at that time was dancing in the chorus line at the Club Royale. We had a nice visit, and when I left Detroit I stopped at St. Mary's college near Notre Dame, to say hello to a couple of girls who were students. Next stop was Chicago to spend the night, where during the night my car was broken into by breaking a door glass, and an overcoat was stolen. I should have known better than parking under a street light.

After making temporary repairs to the window, I drove the last leg of the trip to Des Moines and home, sweet home. It was great to be home, especially to see Mom and check on how she was doing now that Dad was no longer with us. But I had promised myself to enlist, so one of the first things I did was visit the recruiting office of the Air Corps, filled out all the papers, and was assigned an enlistment date of October 30th. I was to report to Camp Dodge (close to Des Moines) for the physical and induction.

This gave me about 2 weeks to take care of necessary details, required by this drastic lifestyle change. Included was the feeling on my part that I should visit all my friends and relatives, especially those that I hadn't seen in quite awhile. Besides doing this, I made it point to make all the dates possible with girls I regarded most highly.

October 30th came, and my family drove me to Camp Dodge, promising to take good care of my beloved 1939 Ford V8. The tearful goodbyes followed, and with butterflies in my stomach I walked in to become a member of the Army Air Corps.

Instructions were given for me to take off all my clothes, and line up with other recruits to take the physical examination. We were ushered -- dozens of us -- into a very large and very cold room, where we were poked and prodded in ways I couldn't believe. And then, while we were all standing there stark naked, a doctor asked me to follow with my eyes a pencil he moved back and forth, up and down. He called out the name of another doctor, who came over to witness this, followed by a 3rd and a 4th, and it became apparent they needed a consensus.

They conferred privately for a few minutes, and the first doctor returned to tell me to put my clothes on and go home as my nystagmus made me unacceptable to serve in the armed forces. For those not familiar with the term, nystagmus is the involuntary back and forth movement of the eyes. I realized that perfect vision is a prerequisite for any airman, especially in wartime, but my eyes had never been a problem. I didn't even wear glasses, and my vision tested 20/20, but THEY DIDN'T WANT ME!

I couldn't believe this, and refused to accept their ruling. Animated and still naked as a Jaybird, I told them I had resigned my job at the defense plant, said goodbye to family and friends, and taken all steps necessary to prepare myself for enlistment. Other officers were called, for all I know the base Commander included, and after a lengthy conference with me still standing there naked, they agreed to accept me on a "limited service" basis.

Following this they stamped everything but my underwear "limited service." In spite of this designation I went through B-17 school as though the Air Corps didn't know or care. I have written previously about the doctor zeroing in on nystagmus again at the point where further training required another physical.

My many stories have revealed how, in the long run, the stigma of "limited service" didn't affect my efforts to serve honorably in the service of my choice. I am grateful to have had the opportunity.

Copyright 2001 H. Thomas Flanagan