Sustineo Alas
I
sustain the wings
"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will
leave footprints in your heart." Eleanor Roosevelt
The history of the Kearns Air Base has been a mystical journey; for the past sixty years urban legend and
myths were formed to entertain us, as our small community developed. The legendary utopian seamed to romanticize the community
with idealism of what we thought living at Camp Kearns was like. Stories of those whom this small community called their hero’s
started to evolved about the men and women of Camp Kearns. It’s been almost sixty years since most of these people were
at Kearns; some have came back out inquisitively as to what ever happened to the old place. Astonished that now the base was
gone, they pasted through without ever knowing it until years later. Some were flabbergasted by the transformation from an
overseas replacement depot, to an intelligently planned civilization, a community now called Kearns. Amazed that such an ugly
place could have become a beautiful community.
On November 26, 1947 the last man left the base, the barracks and buildings had been removed daily for the past
six months, sold to the highest bidder. It had become a fenced in ghost town where the sagebrush once again danced freely
over the compound. The wind and time have been busy expunging any footprints of those young boys so long ago. A community
evolved from the remains of the base. The roads, power lines and water mains twenty-five warehouses, a theater, a gym, the
train station, all the fire hydrants, and a couple of churches were all that remained. In July of 1949 construction of the
small community began soon new citizens had moved in, who pledge never to forget the men and woman of Camp Kearns. They always
carried their unknown names and faces in their hearts, telling their small children what they remembered about a place once
called Camp Kearns.
Those children have not forgotten the soldiers of Kearns part of “Americans Greatest Generation” whom
without question fought in the most bitter and bloodies battles during W.W.II. Within the first few generations of youth growing
up in Kearns, they called the men, “Our Hero.” Our hero’s were not found on the big screen, in comic books
or bubble gum wrappers. Dreaming while combing the vacanted fields of the day we could meet them, shake their hands and tell
them- “Thank you for having the courage to do what had to be done. For fighting for our freedoms and for giving us a
reason to call them our hero’s” It is only today that we realize the price they paid, for when we read a history
book on WWII, or see a movie, we are watching, or reading about our hero’s their isn’t a story that has been told
that a Camp Kearns man was not involved in.
Kearns Utah has came a long way since the day it was commonly called - “Utah’s Soldier Factory”
being nothing more than a modern military plant it was turning out soldiers of which it was proud of. Within the military
ranks it was known as one of the only Army Air Bases that truly lacked a flying strip. It was once written “Coincidentally
enough, it has been since the life of Kearns that America as a nation has been on the offensive.” Yet, in March of 1943
over national airwaves it was announced, - Hitler may have his concentration camps, BUT- we have Camp Kearns. Yet it was again
written “ Kearns men who have been trained here are writing brilliant records on the battlefields of the world. Everywhere
they are taking the best the enemy can offer and the enemy is finding that his best cannot equal the hard fighting Kearns
men.” Indeed the Kearns Base wore many hats. Tragically enough the history of Kearns is now just being sought after
and researched after all these years. Ironically by those children who always called the men their heroes are doing it. It
is only one of a very few temporary bases who has a Historical Society named after them, currently the only historical society
that is solely supported out of the back pockets of the developers.
The history of a Kearns Base initiated when those famous words rocked this country, “December 7, 1941-
Will go down in history as the day of infamy.” Four months later a temporary base was well under construction and 3
months later, Kearns was officially dedicated. At the completion of the base it had the housing capacity of 250 officers and
7,000 enlisted men. Kearns employed more than 1,000 civilian worker’s mostly in the PX’s, truck drivers and clerical
workers. The upper brass lived off base, as well as the permanent men with wives and families. Preference for the site known
as Kearns was made after several other locations had been thoroughly studied. Geographically from a military viewpoint, it
was particularly well situated for its intended purpose of an overseas replacement depot. Also it was far enough inland that
another surprise attack on America and the men in training would be impossible for anyone to obtain.It was well hidden between
two mountain ranges that encompassed 5,540 acres of arid dry farming land where once farming equipment was heard and the crickets
sang all day. And now the sun tripped over the mountain tops to the sound of our National Anthem and by moon light the sounds
of the bugles playing “Taps” could be heard. At the main entrance of the base just outside the gate was a sign
that stood high reading - “Thru this gate pass the best damn soldiers in the world.” Today that same sign has
been dubbed “Politically incorrect” because of the word “damn”. It was taken down after the closing
of the base left rotting out in a field. As the soldiers left Kearns just outside the main gate read another sign, “There
goes the best damn soldier in the world.”
Today only
a handful of men can be located they are the one’s helping us develop our community history. The AAF TRAINING COMMAND
DISTINCTIVE EMBLEM, was given when a test was past in the given technical training school course. Because, Kearns, was no
different, as it was part of the Technical Training Command this pin was also earned while at Kearns. Two words- Sustineo
Alas embellished the lamp of knowledge, translated from Latin to English “We sustain the wings,” or “hold
your wings high”. The same motto could be found on flight suit patches. Within the compounds of the base this motto
was made into a sign- Sustineo Alas. Those of us who call Kearns home today has a replay- Les ergo Tempus sustineo alas- we
will always hold your wings high. They were truly the best soldiers in the world to the residents of Kearns Utah. We shall
always be grateful to them
SUSTINEO ALAS (I Sustain the Wings)
Author unknown
Those two Latin words beneath a golden urn in which reposes three plumes are
the literal motto of the Air Force Technical Training Command. Many an Air Force enlisted man cannot translate Latin, but
his heart translates the meaning:
"I sustain the wings."
I am the Air Corps technician who makes it possible for flyers to be heroes
and heroes to be flyers. I drill, and work, and fight. I work that others might fly and fight. I fight that I might work to
keep them flying. I am the mechanic, the machinist, the radio man, the armorer, the weather observer, the gunner, the instrument
man. I'm a technician, but I fight like a commando.
I am one of those three plumes signifying an unbeatable trio. The plane, the
air crew, the ground crew, each indispensable to the other two. Without me the plane would be a motionless machine, the pilot
a helpless gladiator.
When I trained, I chafed at the constant repetition, at routine, but now I
realize I was learning to act on instinct. O griped at scrubbing and shining and cleaning, but now I realize neatness means
a clean job of every task. An unbuttoned pocket seemed trivial, but now I know a forgotten button might be a forgotten cotter
key and that forgotten key might mean a plane destroyed and a crew killed. Because of strict training I am good, and I know
I'm good.
The folks at home may know how important I am, the public may never see my
name in print. I am the plodding lineman of modern football that makes long runs possible for All-Americans. I am the blocker
that never caries the ball.
But that pilot there knows me. He knows when he climbs aboard she is ready.
He knows those motors are perfect, the radio his ears, the instruments his eyes. And when they come back there is something
in their handshakes no newspaper could ever describe, no medal could equal. It is the grip of men whose lives depend on me.
"I sustain the wings"
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