DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'm gonna do it justice. Now, before there was a runway long enough to swallow a city block, before there were jets screaming over San Antonio at altitudes that would make your stomach drop — there was a patch of Texas dirt. And in November of 1916, a man named Major Benjamin Foulois, of the Aviation Section of the U.S.
Army's Signal Corps, looked out at a tract of land approximately three-fourths of a mile to the southeast and said: that's the one. That's where we build. And build they did.
By 1917, that site had a name — Camp Kelly, and later Kelly Field — given in honor of Lieutenant George E. M. Kelly.
Now there's a name worth saying slowly. Lieutenant Kelly, in 1911, had become the first American aviator to lose his life while piloting a military aircraft. The first.
A man who flew when flying itself was still more dream than science, and who paid the full price for it. The Army didn't forget him. So Kelly Field was born — a place for flight training and aircraft maintenance both.
But the Army, being the Army, kept growing. By September of 1917, the training activities had outgrown the original field and moved north. To this very area, in fact — right where you're standing or rolling past right now.
They called it Kelly No. 2, to distinguish it from where it all started. And what did Kelly No. 2 look like? Picture a flight line stretching 125 yards east and a full 2,400 yards west of this site.
Hangars, warehouses, barracks, repair shops, classrooms, maintenance buildings — the whole apparatus of turning young men into aviators. It was a small city built for one purpose: to teach people how to fly. From 1917 through 1942, Kelly No. 2 held onto that training mission.
Its Air Corps Advanced Flying School turned out pilots. But not just any pilots. We're talking about Charles Lindbergh.
We're talking about Claire Chennault. Names that echoed across oceans and across history, men who learned the sky right here in Bexar County, Texas. Now — every story about buildin' something up eventually gets around to tearing it down.
In 1955, new and larger aircraft arrived, and the existing runway needed to be extended to accommodate them. That extension required the demolition of the old Kelly No. 2 flight line. The hangars, the barracks, the classrooms — gone.
To make room for what flight had become, they had to clear away what flight had been. That's the thing about aviation. It never stops moving forward.
But the ground remembers where the giants learned to leave it.
What the marker says
In November 1916, Maj. Benjamin Foulois of the Aviation Section of the U.S. Army's Signal Corps chose a tract of land approximately three-fourths of a mile to the southeast of this spot to serve as a flying field for the Army Aviation Corps. In 1917, the site was named Camp Kelly and later Kelly Field in honor of Lt. George E.M. Kelly, who in 1911 had become the first American aviator to lose his life while piloting a military aircraft. Activities at the camp included both flight training and aircraft maintenance. In September 1917, Kelly Field's training activities moved north to this area, called "Kelly No. 2" to distinguish it from the original field. The new flight line, extending 125 yards east and 2400 yards west of this site, consisted of numerous hangars, warehouses, barracks, repair shops, classrooms, and maintenance buildings. "Kelly No. 2" retained its training function from 1917 through 1942. Its Air Corps Advanced Flying School produced many prominent American aviators, including Charles Lindbergh and Claire Chennault. In 1955, the advent of new and larger aircraft prompted the extension of the existing runway, this necessitating the demolition of the old "Kelly No. 2" flight line. (1986)