This writing project has been funded in part by a grant from the Fondren Endowed Fund of the National Trust for Historic Preservation.
Deanie Parrish,
Women Airforce Service Pilot
Sixty years later, those who fought during World War II are still hailed as the Greatest Generation, but among the millions of veterans is an elite group that remains relatively unknown. These are the WASP, or Women Airforce Service Pilots. With a shortage of pilots in the United States, the WASP was formed in 1943 to train women to fly military aircraft for the first time in history. One of the WASP, Deanie Parrish, of Waco, spoke with John Dryden about her experience during the War.
 
We arrived in Sweetwater, Texas, from all around the country. I came from Florida and did not know a soul there. We spent our first night in the Bluebonnet Hotel in Sweetwater, and the next morning, eager to impress, we all appeared in dresses, with our hats, heels, and gloves. Then, our transportation arrived. We looked out the window and saw old converted cattle trucks with wooden benches in the trailers for seats. The trucks drove us out to Avenger Field, where we were to spend the next seven months completing our primary, basic, and advanced phases of training.

One of the differences between the male and female pilots was that the women were all required to be licensed pilots before beginning our training. I was a teenager when I learned to fly. An aviation school for cadets had come to my hometown. Of course these were all young men, and I don’t think I’d even heard of any women who had flown at that time, other than maybe Amelia Earhart. I was working in a bank when these good-looking young male instructors would come in to cash their checks. I asked one of them why I, as a girl, couldn’t learn to fly, and he didn’t have an answer. It took all the money I made, but I found an instructor who had his own private Piper Cub and agreed to teach me. When the war came, and I became a WASP, it was not that I was doing anything more than anybody else. Flying was the thing that I could do best, and I felt it was my duty—it was everybody’s duty to serve.

Our class trained at Avenger Field from November 1, 1943, to May 28, 1944, which was about the mid-point of the WASP program. When we first arrived, we drove up to the gymnasium where we were met by Jacqueline Cochran, the famous female pilot who pushed for the formation of the WASP. I can still recall what she said to us that first day, “I always want you to remember that you are a lady. I want you to look and act like a lady.” We were then told to look to our left and right. “Two out of the three of you will wash out,” they said. It was hard to take, but true. I believe half my class failed to make it through the program. Next we took the oath of office, just like any other military officer does. Training was to last seven months, during which time we would go through 70 hours of primary, 70 hours of basic, and 70 hours of advanced cross country and night flying. At the end of each level, we had to pass check rides with Army officers, since we were under the jurisdiction of the Army Air Force.

We lived in Army barracks, six girls to a bay, with two bays sharing one bathroom. You can imagine 12 girls trying to share one restroom every morning. The most shocking thing was the lack of privacy. I had grown-up in a house with six kids, but that had not prepared me for constantly being around all those people. We were issued used men’s coveralls for training. I was given 44-longs, so I just had to roll and hike them up. To wash them, we would usually just soap them down while standing in the shower fully dressed.

Upon graduation, I was first assigned as an Engineering Test Pilot to Greenville Army Air Base in Mississippi, and in July I received orders that I was being sent to the gunnery school in Florida as an Air-to-Air Tow-Target Pilot. There we trained gunners for combat. We used the B-26 Martin Marauder, which was infamous for having the worst training record. The headlines would read, “One-a-day in Tampa Bay” referring to the pilot deaths on the B-26. Since many of the male pilots refused to fly the plane, they actually sent a group of the WASP to Dodge City to fly the B-26 and prove that it was not a dangerous aircraft. I was stationed in Florida until the WASP disbanded.

The disbandment of the WASP was a big shock. The Commanding General of the Army Air Forces, Hap Arnold, approached the U.S. Congress about militarizing the WASP, as had been promised, but the measure was narrowly defeated and we were disbanded, without honors or ceremonies. We simply hung up our parachutes and paid our own way home. Then they classified all of our records, which remained sealed for 33 years. When the histories of World War II were written, our stories were not available and, consequently, no one ever read about the WASP. In 1977, the Air Force Academy put out a news release that it was graduating the first women to fly military aircraft. This infuriated many of the WASP because our entire contribution to history had been erased. With the help of Senator Barry Goldwater, himself a former pilot, and General Hap Arnold’s son, the WASP were finally granted veteran status. It was not the signing, nor the medals that were significant. What I cared about was that it gave us the right to have an American flag on our coffins. I felt it was an honor and a privilege to do something to serve my country. I still think it is a privilege.
For the past decade, Deanie and her daughter Nancy have worked to spread the story of the WASP. The group’s website is www.wingsacrossamerica.org. The FLYGIRLS of WWII exhibit, which explains the story of the WASP and has been featured at Baylor University’s Mayborn Museum, will be available for viewing in Washington, D.C., at the Women in Military Service to America Memorial for one year, starting November 14, 2008.