The Bandido
History and a troubled youth (continued)
The Bandido continues:
On the home front, Chico worked chores at local farms, picking vegetables and mowing lawns to help the family monetarily. With Willow Grove NAS located thirteen miles away, he’d watch fighters overhead, developing his love for flying while looking skyward. In his spare time, he carved wooden models and read what books he could about flight, including the Sunday comics and comic books: “Tail-Spin-Tommy,” “Smiling Jack,” “Terry and the Pirates,” including “Steve Canyon,” among his favorites.
Then, at age ten, another event impacted more of life’s perceptions. World War II was the first full-scale air campaign the world witnessed, proving the validity of an air force for future generations. The fighter pilot and the fighter had evolved further into performance machines, becoming works of art while also being deliverers of destruction. But with school and work being his drudgery, the desire to fly inflamed while the war raged. When the infrequent opportunity for movies allowed, he watched newsreels before the main feature, publicizing the Allies winning the cause. World War II was a fighter pilot’s war. The first true air-war. General Billy Mitchell, an advocate of military airpower, became one of Chico’s heroes. The newsreels, reading, and watching fighters overhead, were all part of the desire.
Unfortunately, poor planning, a lack of focus, and a penchant for trouble did not bode well in becoming a fighter pilot. Although, in time, he worked at the only service station in Newtown as a grease monkey. His role: lubing cars, and pumping gas, all while craving to sit in the greatest planes fighter pilots had at their disposal, believing flying was his ticket to freedom. So, while dreaming, school on the other hand, wasn’t his forte. Riding the bus meant being kicked off. He could not follow the rules. At home, Antonia told him: Find a way! Even if it meant running the six miles so he wasn’t late.
Add the dark-skinned family in a white community. Bigotry, racism, and prejudice meant daily fights. Being the oldest, he defended the family, sisters, and younger brothers. Friends were few, but those he did have were good. And the much-desired invitations to parties even fewer. In class one day, a birthday host stipulated: Everyone’s invited to my house for a party except you. Pointing at Chico, his intention was made clear. But Chico did not let things affect him. He knew what he wanted, and nothing was going to stop him, except that lack of planning.
He did well in athletics, earning letters in baseball and soccer. And while trouble was his trademark, adventures awaited. Chemistry and science being two of his favorite subjects. One day he was challenged, took a dare, and blew up the chemistry lab, temporarily ending his tenure as a student. Meanwhile, the principal pulled the family together about the pyromaniac. He believed a vocational school was the best avenue the miscreant could take.
Although, before the meeting concluded, those present allowed him back in school. He’d given his word he would not cause any more trouble. So, on the way home, Pedro grounded him to the farm, but Chico had one last request. There was an upcoming spring dance he wanted to attend. The two made a deal that if he brought home all A’s: When the dance rolled around, both father and son had their wish.
Without a plan, Chico wanted off the farm, away from chickens, and out of Pennsylvania. Stunningly, things eventually fell into place, not by mapping them out on his own, but through a plan by other hands, more divine. He was only along for the ride. If he didn’t screw up. Although, on occasion he’d try. His desire was to join the Marines, but at fifteen, he wasn’t old enough. So, at sixteen, he asked, but Pedro refused. He continued school, working at the service station, home, or wherever else he could.
Transportation was by bicycle. One evening Antonia stopped by the service station to offer a ride home. It was dark and the streetlights outside Newtown were non-existent. So, instead of putting the bike in the truck, he opted to pedal, the area being sparsely populated. Additionally, there were no lights on the bike to illuminate the dark roads. What could go wrong? Riding along, cresting a hill, a light ahead moved slowly from side to side. With the wind in his hair, he pedaled. Thinking he had an opportunity to scare someone walking down the middle of the road, he proceeded to pick up speed, heading toward his bogie. As he pedaled, he felt joy, knowing he was getting even with someone. With his impending target approaching, he pedaled, pushing himself. In an instant, the joy of pedaling turned into the sensation of flying. For a brief second, before his lights went out, Chico wondered if that’s how pilots felt. The bogie was not a person, but a slow-moving pickup.
Right then, a valuable lesson presented: Know your enemy before attacking. Without headlights, the driver was using a flashlight to navigate. With the noise created, the driver thought one of his fenders had fallen off, and kept going, stopping at the service station. Exiting the truck, he noticed the fender intact, only, damaged and covered in blood. Chico though, was knocked out, lying in the grass, wrapped up like a noodle in his ruined bike. When he woke, he wondered what the hell had happened. Ironically, the driver was his friend, Carl Eisele.
At the station, Carl found his friend had headed home. He then made his way to Chico’s house, only to find two worried parents. Preparing a search party, Carl’s father heard from a tenant farmer who worked land on their farm. On his way to town, he noticed something unusual lying in the grass on the side of the road. Stopping, he found the missing bike and rider. Chico was bleeding profusely from a cut on his head but otherwise in good shape. The incident, one of many Chico would have with an angel sitting on his shoulder, protecting him from himself. Life wasn’t all bad
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