Jack Woodul grew up in dusty New Mexico, which may account for his love of bodies of water larger than stock tanks. His fascination with military aircraft started from being a child in the aviation target rich environment of Dallas-Fort Worth during World War Two. North American pumped out P-51’s in nearby Grand Prairie; NAS Grand Prairie’s Yellow Perils were separated from his back yard by a chain link fence; and the Big Bomber Plant in Fort Worth pumped out B-24’s. A booklet named “Wings of Gold” in the grade school library pointed the way to Navy Wings, and the movie “Task Force” locked the notion in concrete. His high school biology teacher had been a Navy fighter pilot in the War, and he taught the future Puresome to fly a Super Cub for bribes of the smelly black twisted truck tire cigars he always had in his mouth. Poverty stopped this program at some twenty-two hours, but the NROTC program at the University of New Mexico got him his private license and orders to Pensacola and flight school. This retired Attack and Fighter pilot will reluctantly admit he was also an Airline Puke for thirty years. He is now retired to a ranch in remote Northern New Mexico, where he is spiritual leader to a flock of goats. It suits him, but he would not have missed flying Belch Fire Go Fast Jets off flat top iron boats for anything.

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