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I used to pull rank and wait until the wind was blowing out.

I kicked off... and things went on from there... down and down.

I went into the Air Corps from 1943 through 1945.

I shot down some German planes and I got shot down myself, crashing in a burst of flames and crawling out, getting rescued by brave soldiers.

Then suddenly something just kicked me. I kind of woke up and realised that I was in a different atmosphere than you normally are. My immediate reaction was to back off, slow down.

I was kicked out of The Stars And Stripes twice, and finally got back in.

On completion of my military service, I went back to the factory and to the trade union.

I was a soldier in WWII. The last couple of months of the war I was actually in combat.

In the end, they pardoned me and packed me off to a home for the shell-shocked. Shortly before the end of the war, I was discharged a second time, once again with the observation that I was subject to recall at any time.

And then, when I left Princeton in the middle of my sophomore year, I went into the navy.