A story that could not be told before, the creation of the mightiest striking power in the world, the United States Army Air Forces. DuPont presents Pat O'Brien as Roy Johnson in 200,000 Flyers on the cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. But first, here is Gain Whitman. Now that Johnny is marching home again, there is a great bustle getting his room ready and making the home attractive for his homecoming. For this home decoration problem, DuPont suggests Speed Easy wall finish. Speed Easy is a resin emulsion paint that you thin with water. It's easy to apply to any interior wall surface with a large brush or roller. It covers dingy faded wallpaper too. Speed Easy dries in less than one hour to a beautiful lasting oil type finish. And it costs less than three dollars to redecorate the average room in one color. Use Speed Easy when you redecorate. It's speedy and it's easy. It's one of DuPont's better things for better living through chemistry. The DuPont Company presents 200,000 Flyers. Starring Pat O'Brien is Roy Johnson on the cavalcade of America. In 1939, with the aggressive nations heavily armed for war, this country was training only 550 flyers a year. And no provision had been made to increase this number. Only a small group of Americans foresaw our country's danger. A general, a few lower ranking army officers, and eight civilians. One of those eight civilians was a man named Roy Johnson. I'm Roy Johnson. Oh, the name wouldn't mean much to you. I'm just a guy from somewhere out in the Midwest. We had a parade in our town this morning. One of the local boys came back from the war and we paraded him down Main Street in the open car and people lined the streets and cheered. The high school band was there. It sort of reminded me of myself when I came back from the last war. But all I had was the knowledge of how to fly. That and a girl named Elizabeth. A wonderful girl. I call her Liz. Oh, it's a beautiful night, Roy. And so good to have you home again. Yeah. Gee, the moon looks so close you could do a snap roll over. Don't you ever think about anything but flying? Sure I do. I think about you and when we're going to be married. Well, if we're going to be married, you'll have to find a job, won't you? Yeah. I've been wanting to tell you. Some of the guys in my old outfit, we got an idea. We're going to pick up a few planes, the government's selling them cheap now. We're going out barnstorming. You, you mean you still want to fly? Of course. I'll fly till the day I die. Now look, the idea is this, Liz. We'll put on air shows at all the fairgrounds, do some stunning and then get ten bucks a ride from people who want to fly. Oh no, Roy. Oh Liz, it's a wonderful idea. Well, you can get your job back at Seanoor's garage. What? What kind of broken down flavors up to my ears in Greece? No more of that for me. I'm a flyer. I see. Liz, come here. What's the matter, honey? I don't know. I'm scared. I love you. Roy, please. Try to understand. You'll be going around the country, flying a patched up old plane. I've heard what you call them, death crates. I don't want to sit around always waiting for someone, never knowing whether he'll come home dead or alive. I want some kind of life I can be sure of. Maybe for you it's flying, not for me. Oh Liz, please. Flying is my life, my future. I just can't go back to that greasy old garage. Oh dear, if I could only get you to fly. When I fly, it'll be on wings I sprout myself. Just as safe as walking, Liz. Roy, I give you a choice. It's me or flying. Now which is it going to be? Here he comes for another passenger, folks. I'll give you a chance to see how far you can fly. It's a chance to fly. I'm not afraid of flying. I'm not afraid of flying. You're not afraid of flying. No, but I'm afraid of flying. So be it. What about you, lady? Well, I used to say I'd never fly until I sprouted wings of my own. That must have been before you married Roy Johnson. Yes, I've changed my mind. Flying is wonderful. You're not afraid to take a flight, are you? A big man like you? Of course I ain't. That'll be $10, please. $10? Would you take three? Another passenger with? Yes, but he only wants to pay $3. All aboard, mister. Hey, how much extra to do some fancy flying? Tony wants to pay three dollars. I'll aboard, mister. Hey, how much extra to do some fancy flying? Ten dollars, we'll give you the works. Okay, then, here I come. I want to give the folks something to talk about. All right, now, slap yourself in. Up we go! Hey, something's wrong. Look at the way them wheels are walking. How do you feel, Roy? Oh, I'm okay, Liz. No bones broken. Slight loss of faith, that's all. Ain't a lot of broken hopes that won't fill in the medical chart. How about my passenger? Oh, he'll be okay. Poor guy. Oh, I should have stayed in the grease back at Sena's garage. Well, the crack up wasn't your fault, Roy. That wheel came off. My fault, all right. So you win, Liz. I'm through with flying. Oh, no, Roy. Oh, I don't care about my own neck, but... I might have killed that passenger. Roy, listen to me. You can't quit flying. It's part of you, remember? It's your life. Are you telling me to go on flying? Well, I guess flying has gotten under my skin, too. But what does it get us? Barnstorming, living from hand to mouth, you want to go home, not this. Yes. Yes, I know. Roy, why don't we teach people to fly? Open a school. School? Not stunts, nothing fancy. Just teach people to fly safely. Hey, how about that? Oh, Roy, we could pick out a good town and become part of it. The Roy Johnson Flying Academy. Liz, that's wonderful. You know, I bet there's enough of that old crate left to piece together for a training plan. The Roy Johnson Flying Academy. Wasn't much to look at. I rented the corner of a hangar. That was our workshop, office, and school room. I got hold of a mechanic, all-around flying man named Marty Connors. Patched together our plane, we were all ready to go. We had everything. Yep, everything, but no business. So I made talks before high school assemblies at luncheon clubs, and Marty and I put on flying shows to stimulate interest. And so we got a few students, and they brought others. Young kids were the most eager to fly. Gee, mister, I've been making model planes, and I've read up on flying. Please let me fly. I can do it. Well, I don't know. You'd better stick with your model plane for a while longer, sonny. Oh, I can fly, and I've got the money, too. How about permission from your folks? Dad doesn't mind. What about your mother? Well, you know how mothers are. Son, I'm afraid you're a little young. Better come and see me in a couple years. Well, if you won't let me fly, would you let me hang around? Well, if you want to be a grease monkey, it's all right with me. Gee, thanks, mister. Yes, that's the way it was. The younger kids grew up to become flyers under our instruction. Good ones, too. Our flying school continued to grow, but it was a slow process. Liz and I were happy in our little home. We even found the time and the money in 1932 to go to the Cleveland Air races. There I ran into a German flyer against whom I'd fought in the last war. His name was Ernst Udepp. He seemed a bit bored. Oh, this show is all right, boy, but come to Germany. I'll show you something real. Well, I don't doubt you can, Ernst. Yeah, sure. No country can be so foolish as not to build its air power. Yeah, I'm all for it. Over here, all we do is put on a race now and then, spend a lot of time talking. Talk is fight, but Germany prepares for war. War? With whom? Oh, merely for defense, you understand. Because of Germany's unfortunate position, she might be attacked. Well, I doubt that. There's one thing I do know. We aren't going to fight with anybody. Oh, no, of course not. The United States, with your strength, who would think of fighting the United States? Sure. Who would think of fighting the United States, said the Nazis back in 1932. And so we shot the breeze with them, most of us secure in our dreams of defense power and our smug little feeling of isolation. We went on, eking out a living at the flying school, and with the Depression over, business took a sharp upturn. Young America was really air-minded. Last we trained in our first classes, we're now instructors. We had a good school with primary training, 12 weeks of advanced flying, a full course of ground school. And as we expanded, I saw storm clouds gathering every time I picked up a newspaper. What's the matter, Roy? Something wrong with the school? No. Oh, it's every time I read a newspaper. Business in Spain, Germans over there, trying out a lot of new model fighting planes, using the Spanish people for machine gun targets, bombing their cities. Oh, I don't know, maybe being through one war, I'm not extra sensitive to the sound of another. I think it's coming. Well, why would anybody want to declare war on us? We mind our own business. We haven't made any trouble. I don't know. I see these German fliers at the air races. They're different from other fliers. They're not flying for the fun of it. They fly for a reason. You get the feeling they're getting ready to fight. And then when they do, it's going to be in the air. You watch. And here we are. We don't have planes. We don't have pilots. Nothing. What can you do about it? We ought to be ready. We ought to have the men who know how to fight. We don't want a war. But if it does come, an awful big chunk of it's going to be in the air. And we ought to be ready. Well, there's really nothing we can do about it, Roy. I'm not so sure, Liz. I've got an idea. And I'm going down to Washington and see if I can't push it through. General Arnold, this is Mr. Roy Johnson. How do you do? Sit down, Mr. Johnson. Thank you, General. The lieutenant has told me about your civilian flying school. What's on your mind? Well, sir, I've listened to every speech you've made. I've read every word you've written, and it adds up to just one thing. We need an air force, and we need it now. You need pilots. You need a lot of pilots. You need them fast. Setting up an Army training system is going to take time. And, well, you haven't got time. Go ahead, Johnson. Look, sir, we've got the flying school set up in action, mine and others. While you're building an Army training system, you can use our school. You can start getting your pilots now. Johnson, I've been begging for the chance to use civilian flying schools, and everywhere I go the answer is always polite and always the same no. Oh. So that's the way it is, huh? I haven't given up. I've lost the first round, but we're going to stay in there punching until people understand two things. One, that we need an air force to protect our homes and our lives. Two, that we haven't got one. In 1938, we didn't have an air force. A couple of training planes, a few beat-up bombers, I was dilapidated. We had between 9,000 and 10,000 military aircraft and a reserve of 7,000 more. A new plane is coming off the line at the rate of 1,200 a month. The figures, the statistics, all down there nice and cold. But who was interested in statistics? Well, some men were. General Arnold, for one. In 1938, we have 1,600 planes and rank about seventh among the nations of the world in military aircraft. Then, on January 18, 1939, General Arnold testified before the House Military Affairs Committee. Gentlemen, we have exactly one training camp for military pilots. San Antonio, Texas, capacity 550 a year. That is not sufficient. The War Department asks authorization to use civilian school to build up a broad base of flying instruction extending from the Pacific to the Atlantic. Gentlemen, we need a fighting air force and we haven't got one. You know it and I know it. Yes, and Germany knows it. You are listening to Pat O'Brien as Roy Johnson in 200,000 Flyers on the cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Now we begin the second act of our story with Pat O'Brien as Roy Johnson, civilian air school proprietor. Hours, days, and weeks slipped by. Precious time lost. When I wasn't fit to live with it, I champed at the bit. I made several trips to Washington, ran up toll call after toll call talking with other air school proprietors. And then I received a wire to report to General Arnold in Washington. Come on Roy, I'll help you Pat. Oh, I ride to Washington and back like I was on a merry-go-round, only no brass rings. Oh, it all seems so hopeless, it's like beating your head against a stone wall. Yes, it's a stone wall all right, but not solid, Roy. There's a way to go through. There's someone who listens. There's General Arnold, maybe this time. Sometimes it's enough to break a guy's heart. It's not a question of hearts, Roy, and it's not a question of person's feelings. It's life and death for this country and you know it. You can't give up now. Oh, come on Roy, where is that man who sold me on flying? Okay Liz, come here honey. Give me a kiss for luck, will you? Oh, we're going to need luck Liz, all we can get. I was one of eight civilian flying school operators who met with General Arnold in his office at the old munitions building on that day in May 1939. Gentlemen, let's spare the fancy talk and get down to business. You have offered to train aviation cadets in primary flight. That's one third of their training. I accept that offer. You teach them to fly, the Army will provide basic and advanced instruction. Just a minute gentlemen, there's a joker in the deck. I haven't the funds as yet and the Army can't guarantee you payment of any kind for such training. Is the offer still good? General Arnold, I don't know about the rest of the boys, but I made an offer. Guarantee or no guarantee, the offer stands. That's fine. But I'm asking you to expand your present facilities and privately finance these expansions. What about that? The offer still stands sir. I mean it all the way. Thank you. Gentlemen, there remains only this to be said. We need your help, not I personally, but the country. I cannot sign a contract with you now, but I will when Congress appropriates the funds. In the meantime, your schools will receive your first classes on July 1st. I will not let you down and you must not let me down. If you do, I can only say, God help us all. On July 1st, 1939, I received my first class of 40 aviation cadets. Just about the time Germany marched into Czechoslovakia. Extra, extra, Hitler invades Poland. Extra, 1,000 Nazi planes bomb Warsaw. That was when Congress authorized the War Department to employ the help of civilian flying school. The bill passed by only two votes. But eight civilian flying school operators couldn't meet the emergency alone. The Army needed the help of more schools. Pilot training program grew. Then in 1940, General Arnold again summoned us to Washington. Gentlemen, I have called you all to Washington to emphasize the urgency of the situation. You men are doing a good job, but planes are coming off the assembly lines faster than pilots are being trained to fly them. Your schools must be prepared to train not 50 cadets to a class, but 300. That means more than simple expansion, General. That means more schools and a new school with hangars and runways can't be built for less than a couple of hundred thousand dollars. Well, we're going to dig up that kind of money. Sorry, gentlemen, I can only tell you today what must be done. 300 pilots to every class. Well, that's a mighty big order, but we'll do it somehow. On December 20th, 1940, we were called to right field at Dayton, Ohio to sign contracts. Colonel Jacob E. Smart, then a major, talked to us. Gentlemen, this is not a contract. It's a memo. It's going to require you to spend anywhere from 200,000 to 400,000 dollars, and all you're going to get is a four-month contract memo that can be canceled within 30 days. I want every one of you here to remember that I've told you this. Anybody backing up? All right. Be ready to take your first classes of 300 in three months. Mr. Johnson, on this kind of a contract, I, as a banker, couldn't let you have a nickel. It contains too many non-banking features. But, Mr. Hancy, I've given General Arnold my word that I'd bill that school. Then you'll have to raise the money some other way. No bank will lend it to you on that paper. My landing mat, such as you require, Mr. Johnson, can't be billed for less than 75,000 dollars. You're the third contractor who's told me that. But if I had the money, I'd give you the green light to go ahead. But I haven't got it. Bob, this is an emergency, John. I can't take it to less than 75,000. I wish I could help you, but I can't, and I'm sorry. Roy, you've given General Arnold your word, and he's given you his. And you're going to do it. If we have to pawn everything we own in the world. Oh, I've already borrowed to the limit on my insurance and the flying academy as mortgage right up to the hill. Well, I have my diamond ring and a little jewelry. They're worth something. No, thanks, honey. We need a lot of money, but pawning jewelry won't do it. Here we've worked in this town for years, and what have we got? We've got friends, Roy. People who trust you. Oh, I know. Okay, so the banks won't lend us the money. They'll go to our friends, ask them to let us have whatever they can, money or materials or just labor. We're not asking for favors, Roy. You're trying to help train an Air Force for the country, but it's their Air Force too, and it's their country. Gentlemen, I've told you the need for flyers. Now we need workers and equipment to level the runways, to build hangers and housing facilities. Hey, Mr. Johnson, I reckon this is going to take a little old-fashioned American law rolling. Now I'll bring in my tractor and my truck, and I'm sure my neighbors will do about the same thing. I'm just a working man, but I'll come down and give you a hand after hours, and I'm sure the rest of the boys in our class will do the same. Our school kids will help. The businessmen in this community are with you all the way. Thank you. I was sure you wouldn't let us down. All right, now let's roll up our sleeves and go to work. Hi, Roy. Hi, Jack. Nice going with that. Well, thank you. Thank you. You want to just move, Mr. Johnson? Oh, yes. Yeah, fine. And move those boards too. Yes, sir. We'll be ready to pour concrete here tomorrow, Roy. Fine, fine. Hey, Roy. Just a minute. I've got to run the office. Roy, I've got Marty Connors on the line. Thanks, Liz. Hello. Hello, Marty. Roy Johnson. We need you down here, Marty. We need you to help us train 300 flyers per class. Yeah, yeah, for Uncle Sam. The whole town has turned out, Marty. You have farmers leveling the fields, businessmen, working men, even the high school kids breaking their backs to get the school ready. You know, for the first big class. I don't know what it'll pay or how long it'll last. All I know is we've got to be ready by the 20th of March. Good, good. I'll be looking for you. In spite of every handicap, the Army's civilian flying schools, practically without exception, opened on time and graduated each class on schedule. And the skies from coast to coast echoed the roar of training planes, hundreds of them. Oh, look at them, Liz. Look. Squadrons of cadets flying formations. Just look at those kids. They look so clean up there against the sky. That's our answer to the master race. The aggressor nations with all their power and their lust for conquest will never stop those boys. Two hundred thousand fires trained to the sky for war and peace. Two hundred thousand American kids headed for New Horizons. And you helped train them, Roy. We helped train them, Liz. Proud? Proud. I'll say I'm proud. Proud of them and of our American people. And Liz, I'm awfully proud of you. Our star, Pat O'Brien, will return in just a moment with some exciting news. Now here is Gaine Whitman. It's only human to put things off until the last moment. Antifreeze, for instance. If you live in a part of the country where the temperature drops below freezing, you certainly know you're going to need antifreeze. But if you're like most people, you wait. And then one night it does freeze. And you hop into your car and make a beeline for the nearest place you can buy antifreeze. The trouble is that when you get there, you may find that a lot of other people have had exactly the same idea. There'll be a whole lot of cars outside the door and everybody will be saying, Jim, let me have some antifreeze. And say, Jim, I forgot whether I drained out last year's antifreeze or not. Test it, will you? Now, Jim is shorthanded, and antifreeze service includes more than simply pouring a gallon or two of antifreeze into your radiator. There are probably rust and scum in your cooling system, and maybe tiny holes through which antifreeze can gradually seep away. To do the job right, Jim should clean out the cooling system thoroughly, then seal it against leaks. Also check the hose and hose connections, and tighten the fan belt if necessary. But Jim won't have time to do all those things if you wait until the last minute. So he'll simply have to put in the antifreeze and let you take your chances. Let Jim get the cooling system ready now, when there's plenty of time. Tell him to use DuPont Cooling System Cleanser, which cleans out rust and scale thoroughly. Then put in DuPont Cooling System Sealer to make the cooling system leak-proof. You'll be all ready then for one of DuPont's antifreeze solutions, Xerox, War Emergency Xeron, or Five Star. Each of these good products will give you double protection, that is, against freezing and also against rust and corrosion. And Xerox antifreeze is non-evaporating. One shot lasts all winter. All of these products for car protection and better, safer driving are DuPont Better Things for Better Living through chemistry. And now here is the star of tonight's DuPont cavalcade, Pat O'Brien. It's a real pleasure, folks, to tell you that a Navy lieutenant recently returned to civilian life from his duties with the Pacific Fleet will make his first civilian appearance on the cavalcade of America next Monday night. He'll be starred in a wartime spy thriller that happened right here in America and can now be told. He's a very, very good friend of mine and a swell actor. So next week I'll join you in listening to the spy and the killer cycle, starring Henry Fonda. ["Dinnertime Cabalcade programs of particular interest to servicemen and women are broadcast overseas through the worldwide facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Service. Pat O'Brien can soon be seen in the Phil Ryan production, Perilous Holiday. The music for tonight's DuPont Cabalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Armbruster. Our Cabalcade play was written by Willard Weiner and was based on his book, 200,000 Flyers. This is Tom Collins inviting you to listen next week to Henry Fonda in The Spy on the Killer Cycle. On the Cabalcade of America, brought to you by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is the National Broadcasting Company.
