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 The National Guardsman, December 1958
There really ought to be some adjective-laden, adverb-heavy way of saluting a Golden anniversary. And since we're concerned with the Golden Anniversary of aviation in the National Guard, perhaps the people who were parties to its birth should be portrayed as super-size, jut-jawed, might-muscled, inspiration-fired supermen. Real live people aren't that way.
That's true of the very-much-alive handful of veterans of what - barring some unforeseen challenge - appears unquestionably to have been the first organized, Air unit in the Guard.
Some of them are still around, and very much so. If they weren't, it would be next to impossible to give any real warmth and meaning to a story about an important milestone in the progress of US military aviation. There are people like Norbert Carolin, whose invaluable store of knowledge of the New York National Guard's pioneer role in the then new realm of aeronautics has provided most of the material for this article. There are Col. William L. Hallahan, Signal Officer of the 27 Infantry Division in WW I, who, one gathers, served as "midwife" at the birth of National Guard aviation; and Beckwith Havens, professional stunt pilot and National Guard Private in the Early Bird days. They have helped with reminiscences, to flesh-out the skeleton of dates and names. It's quite a story, though those who were party to the adventure seem pretty matter of fact about it.
It started, officially, on 30 April 1908. And it followed the pattern of the US Air Force itself, in that its' father was the Signal Corps. The Guard's first air unit was spawned by the 1st Co. Signal Corps, NGNY, at its armory: Park Avenue and 34th Street, in the Big Town. The tinder was there for a spark to light: young men caught up in the fascination of flight. Just who struck that spark, is difficult to determine; some credit Col. Hallahan, who commanded the NGNY's Siganl Battalion at the time; Col. Hallahan, when pressed, will say only that 'the Stote of New York" took an interest in aviation. At any rate, 25 men of that 1st Company constituted what was known as an "Aeronautic Corps" within the unit. It got off to an auspicious start; instructors at it s first drill were two young Regular Army 1st Lts who names have gone down in history: Frank P. Lahm, the first Army "aeroplane" pilot, new a retired Brig. Gen. Living in Ohio, and Thomas E. Selfridge, its first fatal air crash victim.
 There was another touch of modernity in the use of a "training film": movies of the Farman "aeroplane." But balloons had proven themselves of greater military utility as of that time; moreover, many doubted that flying machines would come to any good end. So. Out onto the 71st Regiments great drill floor (the Signal companies own was much too small), marched the men to receive instruction in handling a 35,000-cubic foot balloon. It would be a while before there would be much soaring-off into the wild blue, however.
During the succeeding few years, the budding aeronauts received standard Signal Corps training in signaling (devices like wig-wag flags and heliographs got a lot of emphasis in those days), small arms practice, equitation, and field service. To those whose memory of pilots wearing boots and spurs is still vivid, it's no great strain to realize that horses were a prime means of locomotion for the Signal personnel. And a Maj. Carolin puts it: "Due to lack of funds, their only flying training was on (and off) four-legged equine "aircraft," and their landings were often poor, when they hit the tanbark and stuff." A. Leo Stevens, an exhibition balloonist, famed at the time as "the Boy Aeronaut," instructed the men in ballooning at the armory, and they helped him inflate his balloons for ascensions.
One member, Philip W. Wilcox, then Aeronautical Editor of "Country Life in America," built a Farman-type "aeroplane" which Maj. Carolin describes as having "resembled a large powered box-kite." The unit came through with $500 out of Company funds to pay for shipping it to Pine Camp (now Camp Drum) [ed: now Fort Drum], New York, for Army maneuvers in August 1910, but the do-it-yourself model didn't get into the air; Wilcox tried to fly it after returning from camp but it crashed at Garden City, NY.
Another member, Wilbur D. Andrews of the Queen Aeroplane Co., learned to fly in 1911, and received Federation Aeronautique Internationale Aviator's Certificate No. 124, from the Aero Club of America, but he didn't fly officially for the Guard. (The ability of any National Guard Company to ante-up $500 of itw own funds in those days - even now, for that matter - leads to some interesting conjecture about unit esprit and the type of individual who made-up Guard units in "the old days." Consider, for one thing, that drill pay was a most rare and unusual thing; these particular Guardsmen drew 50 cents per day "State pay" only when at field training. The veterans themselves have different impressions of what cross-section of people the little group represented: one recalls that they were "just average" young men; another considers them to have been somewhat above-average - "the were mostly college men, and well-to-do."
Then, in 1911, the Curtiss Airplane Company got together with the State Military authorities; Curtiss had a sizeable "stable of exhibition pilots and planes which barnstormed the Country; one of its professional pilots was young Beckwith Havens, now a New York businessman. Joining the Guard as a Private, Havens - hold of FAI Aviator's Certificate No. 127, and still possessor today of a valid pilot's license - was the first official Pilot in the National Guard. It was a happy "marriage for a few years, in Haven's recollection: the unit got an airplane and a pilot; the pilot, in return, not only enjoyed his touch of military training, but the opportunity to ride the company's horses in Central Park for his personal recreation and the equines' needed exercise.
Of greater military significance was a small detachment's somewhat precedent - and protocol - shattering participation in Regular Army - National Guard maneuvers at Stratford, Connecticut, the following year. The Regular Army (RA) then had only two airplanes, and the strength of the fledgling "Air Force" was multiplied by 50% when Private Havens and four other men, with the Curtiss flying machine, reported for duty. The other four rode up on horses, as any conventional Signal soldier was expected to do. Automobiles still were relatively uncommon, especially in Army circles, so Private Haven's arrival independently at the wheel of his own Packard caused a degree of amazement.
Moreover, his Commanding General had enough things on his mind. "We don't know what to do with aviators around here," he barked distractedly; "get on over where the Regulars are." The Regulars were friendly enough, but, in the tradition that was to stay with them to this day, a pilot had to be "an officer and a gentleman," and Pilot Havens' presence in a lowly Private's capacity injected a complication. A happy solution was found: don't wear a "blouse," which carried insignia; appear only in flannel uniform shirt. Havens, who later was to "go Navy" in two World Wars, recalls that, since Curtiss paid him to do aerial stunts, that was what he did several times during his maneuver "hitch," but "got called-down for it" by his RA superiors.
On 1 November 1915, the Aviation Detachment, 1st Battalion, Signal Corps, National Guard, New York was organized, later to be redesignated the 1st Aero Company. Commanding Officer (CO) was Capt. Raynal C. Bolling, whose name is perpetuated by the USAF's Bolling Field and who was to die fighting off captors in 1918; his officers were Lieutenants Carolin, James E. Miller (later killed), and A. B. Thaw ("he landed the first plane in central Park one morning and went home to breakfast," Havens recollects; "he had to land there").
One of the 40 enlisted men was Corporal Vincent J. "Peanuts" Meloy, who was to become a Brig. General and later an executive of United Aircraft Company. At last, the outfit hit it rich: the National Aeroplane Fund, sponsored by the Aero Club of America, equipped the unit with five airplanes, costing $29,500. Flight training took place at Mineola, New York, but the Armory still was "home base" for other instruction. The flying enthusiasts made the most of their very own aircraft.
Some, as Col. Hallahan relate, "would get to the Armory at 3 a.m., go to Mineola, do some flying, and be at their desks at 10 a.m.." In the Mexican Border mobilization, the 1st Aero Company, like most of the Guard, was called into the active military service of the US. At Mineola from 13 July to 2 November 1916, all four officers were on flying status under War Department orders, and 27 other members were recommended for such status; nine qualified as Reserve Military Aviators.
Meantime, the 2nd Aero company had been mustered into the National Guard at Buffalo on 30 June, under the command of Capt. John Satterfield. That unit was mustered-out on 18 September. Though not in Federal service, 15 of its members received flying training at Mineola, by that time identified as the Signal Corps Aviation Station, later divided into Hazelhurst and Roosevelt Fields. With a dozen Guard officers from other States, six Regulars, and a 25-man Army Detachment, the total complement of about 130 was under the command of Capt. Joseph E. Carberry, USA, later retired as a Colonel, and now living in California. Though Federal service ended for the 1st Aero company in November 1916, the smell of ultimate US participation in the Great War was in the air. The Company kept up flying training during the entire Winter, when, comments Maj. Carolin, "under those conditions, living in tents was intense living."
  The War Department decided there would be no National Guard air units in war service, and the 1st Aero Company was mustered-out of the Guard on 23 May 1917. But the seeds had been planted; nearly all of its members saw service in that war. And in the aftermath - the 1920-21 re-organization - flying units were incorporated solidly into the National Guard structure, to thrive and to grow into an Air National Guard which today flied Century Series aircraft and is eager to take on new responsibilities in the Missile Age.
Those men of '08, in their possibly amateurish way, shaped excellent dieds from which successors have case a marvelously effective product in '58.
Their sense of adventure, their untrammeled will to move ahead through unconventional methods that would have horrified the Regulations-bound traditionalist, enlarged upon and perpetuated a constructive mental attitude and a vigorous spirit imbuing the National Guard which the "outsider" rarely had understood, and rarely comprehends today.
[The photo layout accompanied the article in the New York Herald of 13 August 1912.] |
