From our control towers, yes plural, at Keesler AFB, Mississippi we enjoyed some great views. Why plural, you ask? Well, that's because Keesler AFB was the place where the Air Force trained its air traffic controllers, tower operators we were called. There were three towers on the Keesler flightline, plus one officially used by the airport. It was manned by trained and experienced tower operators, not merely students like us.

One of the things I remember seeing from those towers was a shiny, mint-condition B-17 bomber. That highly polished aircraft was the private vehicle for our general, the two-star commander of the Electronic Training Center. Oh boy, was that ever a beautiful bird.

Whenever the general traveled, on official business of course, he flew in that magnificent airplane. Unlike World War II's older workhorse versions, this was a much-pampered race horse. The waist gunner's stations had been removed and the open gun ports were enclosed with picture windows. There the general could sit, in his leather over-stuffed chair complete with footrest, to view the passing terrain or simply read the newspaper.

On several occasions we saw the general seated there comfortably, enjoying the view and prepared for another trip. That silvery craft taxied right past our towers, so we got a good look at the plane and its flag rank passenger. Ah yes, that's the way to travel we said so enviously. But one should remember that in those days not many planes were pressurized. That meant that they flew low, down in the clouds and weather, so the ride could be bumpy. Today's high-flying jets are really better.

Another thing we could see from our lofty perches was the Coca-Cola machine just inside the hangar door. Why was that worthy of note, you ask? Well, it relates to the many light signals we had to master. In the tower we had a portable spotlight, a powerful one with colored filters of red and green added to the plain white lens. We had to learn what light signals to give to pilots in the event that no radio contact existed.

We had to know what a flashing white, red or green signal denoted, or a steady red, green or white one meant. Signals could be used to tell a pilot it was okay to taxi, takeoff, land or do other things. So it was common for our instructors to have us both give and receive various light signals. When a flashing red light was shone toward a pilot taxiing out it meant "Get back here and pay for that gas before you leave," our instructors used to say.

"Quick, airman," our instructor would then bark. "What does a flashing green light from the hangar mean?"

"From the hangar, Sarge?" we'd respond incredulously.

"Boy, you guys have a lot to learn," he'd respond. "It means that the Coke machine is our of nickels, you dummies."

"Well we knew that a steady red light meant the machine was empty. Doesn't that count for anything?"

The old wooden control tower at McGregor Airfield just west of Waco, Texas didn't have any radios. But that didn't stop it from being used by tower operators. Some afternoons there was lots of traffic there, all of it controlled strictly by light gun signals. Half a dozen B-25's would be taking off, landing or in the traffic pattern. They were from nearby James Connally Air Force Base and used for practice by pilots supporting the navigator school. At McGregor they could do their takeoffs and landings without interfering with traffic at their home base. McGregor was an auxiliary field, a left-over from WWII days but still in use in the mid-50's.