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Jack Malone was of Irish descent. His grandparents sailed to Canada in the mid-1800's to escape the famines caused by continuous crop failures. They chose to settle just south of Georgian Bay near Stayner, Ontario, where pickets of Irish immigrants, survivors of previous such famines, had settled. Shortly after his grandparents began their life in Canada, Jack Malone's father, Edmund, was born. At the age of twenty, Edmund, then employed both as telegrapher and station-master for the Grand Trunk Railway in Inglewood, Ontario, married his childhood sweetheart. Their firstborn, a daughter, later became a prominent Sister in the Roman Catholic Church: next came John Joseph, always known as Jack, who was born on 21 December 1893. Following the birth of two more children, the rapidly expanding Malone family bought a farm near Streetsville, Ontario, in the rich farmland just west of Toronto.

Jack was 16 when his father, caught up in the western migration fever, took a trip out to Saskatchewan to check the prospects. On his return he enthusiastically informed his family that he had purchased a farm five miles north of Regina, where they moved the following year. In Saskatchewan Jack became totally fascinated with cars and, in fact, he earned money as an automobile demonstrator with one of the local franchises. His knowledge and persuasiveness helped the company's sales and in turn enabled Jack Malone, now the second eldest of eight children, to assist with the family's expenses and still have a little left to save.

While he was spinning around the capitol city of Saskatchewan, a fever was gripping the country. War was declared in Europe, and the spirit of patriotism was awash, especially among those with close blood-ties to Britain. Seven months after the first contingent of the Canadian Expeditionary Force arrived in England, the 28th Battalion, composed of the first enlistments from Regina left the port of Montreal. On board were several of Malone's closest chums. His brother Cyril, who was two years younger, was about to enlist, and another brother, Charlie, just 17 years of age, had been accepted as a gunner in the 38th Battery of the Canadian Field Artillery. Jack applied to the Curtiss Aviation School in Toronto and was informed that all vacancies had been filled for 1915. He was told that if he wished, he could re-apply for the following year. Jack's sole ambition in life was to fly. He had mastered the intricacies of automobiles and now he "just had to be an aviator." Hundreds of other young men in Canada shared the same dream and so there was an overwhelming number of hopeful volunteers, far more than the fledgling Curtiss Flying School could handle. Its popularity was due to the fact that it was the only flying school in Canada that had an arrangement with the British Admiralty whereby all pupils, if accepted for training, immediately received a commission in the Royal Naval Air Service. Some volunteers who were unable to enroll due to overcrowding, traveled to England at their own expense in order to join the RNAS more quickly. Jack did not take that option, instead he re-applied to the School on 4 November 1915. In his exuberance, he dramatically overstated his qualifications, and although the recruiting officers must have recognized this fact, they were nonetheless impressed enough with his eagerness to accept the application thus qualifying him to join the first class of 1916.

The winter of 1915/16 was one of great impatience for Malone. He sought alternate flight training in either or the United States in order to justify some of the unwarranted claims listed on his application. The private schools he checked on were all filled to capacity but, undaunted, he took the train to Toronto in the hope that something would turn up. He felt his prayers were answered when he learned of a flying school that was due to open in North Toronto in the spring. It was to be run by Ernest Lloyd "Tony" Janney from Galt, Ontario, who turned out to be a huckster! Janney bought a used Maurice-Farman biplane in New York, transported it back to Canada, repaired it, and found a suitable flying field on a plot of land in North Toronto. He was ready to operate a full two months before the Curtiss School and had leaflets printed announcing the opening of his one-aircraft, one-man aviation school in the hope of luring as many surplus candidates as possible from the Curtiss School. He did entice a few zealous pupils, the first of whom might well have been Jack Malone, for about this time Jack was photographed sitting proudly in the front nacelle of the French built Maurice-Farman, wearing full flying gear. He is the only known pupil to have had his photo taken in this aircraft. The Janney Aviation School operated after a fashion throughout the month of May. There is a strong belief among historians that none of Janney's pupils ever flew the aircraft. In early June 1916, Janney cracked up his only machine. At his point the school, which had never graduated a pilot, was disbanded. Jack, sensing that all was not as it should be, kept in close contact with the Curtiss establishment.

When the school opened on 10 May 1916, he was in the first class of 12 pupils. Four hundred minutes was set as the minimum time for taking the required tests. Malone's first instructor, Bill DaCosta, must have been amazed at his natural flying ability for in spite of his lack of experience, Malone handled the clumsy controls of the JN-3 with surprising facility. His first 14-minute circuit consisted of a rudimentary flight pattern: take off, one circuit of the field including a brief hands on experience, and landing. When he repeated the same pattern the following day, he did so with ease and confidence. The JN-3 was a stodgy and underpowered machine which would undoubtedly have been relegated to the ash heap provided the RNAS had the craftsmen to manufacture the rotary-engined Avro 504B in Canada.

The month of June 1916, was cold and wet and flying was washed out for 12 consecutive days. July began with more of the same, yet Jack continued to improve and to impress his instructors. Before the kid from Regina got his chance to pass the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale examination and thus to acquire his Royal Aero Club Certificate, his total time in the air stood at an even 385 minutes. This time included two solo flights. In the first of these, he flew a series of figures-of-eight around the two marker posts 500 meters apart ending in a dead-stick landing with his wheels coming to rest less than 50 meters from a chalk mark on the field. In the second, he had to climb to 100 meters, cut power, glide down, land, and stop his wheels from rolling at another predetermined marker. When informed by his instructor on 3 July 1916, that the next test would be a solo for his certificate, he sported a wide grin and without the slightest hesitation climbed into the back seat of the JN-3, adjusted his safety strap and goggles, slowly opened the throttle, and, bouncing over the slightly spongy ground, gathered speed and gently lifted off. Fifteen minutes later, in an errorless display, he passed his test and was the first pupil in the Curtiss School in 1916 to do so. The other 11 pupils still under instruction took an additional four days and 114 minutes of air time to finish their flight training. The day Jack passed his test, he was taken on strength by the RNAS and given the rank of Probationary Flying Sub-Lieutenant. He was also granted a two week graduation leave and was told to report for overseas transport no later than 4 August 1916.

He spent his leave in Regina with his friends and family after which he boarded the train for the three day ride back east. When he arrived, he found to his chagrin that he had missed his scheduled 4 August sailing from Montreal, so his passage had to be changed by the RNAS authorities who needless to say, did not take kindly to unpunctual behavior from a raw recruit. Sid Ellis, another Curtiss School graduate, experienced the same embarrassment. Both sailed on the Corinthian on 6 August 1916. They were the only RNAS personnel on board as the remainder of the passengers were mainly soldiers and nurses.

In England, Jack joined the large number of Canadian RNAS Probationary Flying Sub-Lieutenants who had been arriving throughout the winter and spring. He realized that with such stiff competition he would have to excel if he was going to become a member of the elite Senior Service and to achieve his greatest ambition "to become the best damned pilot in the RNAS".

As ordered, Jack Malone reported to HMS Crystal Palace on the morning of 27 August 1916, to begin what proved to be a three week course of lectures on Naval protocol, punctuated by a steady diet of daily physical workouts. Everyone was relieved when the course came to an end at which time half of the students, including Jack, were sent to Chingford to commence flight training, while the other half went to Eastchurch.

The first week at Chingford was reserved for lectures and as there had been no ground instruction of any kind in Canada, exposure to academic lessons on flight and other related subjects. In the evenings after the last machine had landed, Malone and the rest of the class were required to help stow the well worn Maurice-Farmans and Grahame-White Type XV dual-control box-kites. It was on the Grahame-White that Malone experienced his first flight in England on 5 October 1916. He had drawn straws with Ross Blythe to see who would go up first and had lost, so when Blythe climbed out of the dual nacelle after a 14-minute circuit of the aerodrome, Malone enthusiastically took his place. These training flights, like those in Canada, were of short duration thus allowing the maximum number of pupils to receive their daily quota of instruction. When he was safely aboard, his instructor, Warren Merriam, took off. He leveled out at 500 feet and, as was customary, allowed Malone to take control of the machine. When they landed ten minutes later Malone outwardly showed little emotion, but inwardly he was bursting with excitement. His second flight, a 25 minute affair, must have shown Merriam just how capable Malone was for when fully in control of the aircraft, he effortlessly executed every required maneuver and for good measure threw in a few extra moves. Following this impressive display of flying, Merriam after consulting with Ben Travers who was in charge of the Maurice-Longhorn flight, the next step on the agenda, decided to advance Malone directly into the tutelage of Flight Lieutenant C.H. Hayward, C.O. of the Avro flight.

Operating the reliable 80hp Gn?me 504B posed no problems and after his second landing, Malone was told "it's yours, go ahead, take 'er up alone and do a few circuits". Progress slowed somewhat later in October as inclement weather kept the machines on the ground most of the time. However when flying resumed Jack was moved forward to master the station's BE2c's, the latest and most advanced type of aircraft then on strength at Chingford. He continued to show the same degree of skill as on the other aircraft. Not even an untimely engine failure, which caused him to execute a forced landing, could dampen his spirits.

On 13 November 1916, while Ross Blythe and the rest of Malone's class at Chingford were still doing their straights and circuits in the ungainly Longhorns, J.J. Malone was posted on to Cranwell, which had just opened, to complete his flight training. At Cranwell an interlude of unusually fine late fall weather allowed him to establish a few extra insurance hours in the Avro. He also took a nostalgic flight in one of the station's American built Curtiss JN-3s, basically the same type of aircraft he had first flown at the Curtiss School six months before. After completing his time on the Avro, Malone was advanced to the BE2c, a real workhorse of an aircraft. Every day while aloft in this stable but boring machine, he enviously eyed the trim little Bristol Scouts sitting on the field. They were always lined up in a row looking like little butterflies. Upon dutiful completion of the cross-country exercise plus the compass and map reading courses, he was pronounced ready for another milestone, his first time at the controls of an 80hp Gn?me Bristol Scout, the machine he so much admired.

Flight Sub-Lieutenant Donald briefly explained the aircraft's idiosyncracies to Malone before his first flight. No sooner had he left the ground under the watchful eyes of a few instructors who were by now well acquainted with his remarkable progress, than he began to throw her around. The controls, as he had been told, were exceptionally light and their response immediate. At 10,000 feet he put her into a steep spirallying descent, spun down for 6,000 feet then upon pulling out completed a series of loops. Had the day not become heavily overcast and begun to rain, he would have stayed in the air until the tank ran dry, so much was he enthralled with this spritely little single-seater. A few days later, after completing his cecond flight in the same aircraft, he was informed that his flight training was finished. Now he had only to pass his final written exams at Cranwell before receiving his "wings". This he did, and after a short course at Freiston, the bombing and gunnery school annex of Cranwell, he was posted to No. 3 (Naval) Wing at Luxeuil in the south of France. No. 3 (Naval) Wing was both a training and operational unit and was considered to be England's first long-range strategic bombing force.