Colonel Boyington led one of the most
succesful squadrons in all of World War II.
During his combat career with the Flying Tigers,
and the Black Sheep Squadron,
he succesfully shot down 28 Japenese aircraft.
The Black Sheep Squadron shot down 94 enemy fighters,
and had a total of 203 enemy aircraft either destroyed,
probably destroyed, or damaged in only 12 weeks of combat
"Pappy", as he was affectionatly known by his men,
was shot down on a mission in which he and his wingman
attacked a flight of 10 Japenese Zero's, and were
jumped by 20 more enemy fighters.
He was subsequently captured and spent the duration of
World War I I, over 20 months, as a prisoner of war in
Japenese prison camps
After Boyington's release, he was presented the
Congressional Medal of Honor by President Truman,
which had been awarded to him be President Roosevelt
while he was listed as MIA
An excerpt from the book,
"Baa Baa Black Sheep"
written by:
Colonel Gregory "Pappy" Boyington
Here, he describes an encounter in which he set a record
in bringing his total number of enemy fighters destroyed to 28
It was before dawn on January 3, 1944, on Bougainville.
I was having baked beans for breakfast at the edge of the
airstrip the Seabees had built, after the Marines had taken
a small chunk of land on the beach. As I ate the beans,
I glanced over at row a fter row of white crosses,
too far away and too dark to read the names.
But I didn't have to, I knew that each cross marked the
final resting place of some Marine who had gone as far
as he was able in this mortal world of ours
Before taking off everything seemed to be wrong that morning.
My plane wasn't ready and I had to switch to another.
At last minute the ground crew got my original plane in order
and I scampered back into that. I was to lead a fighter sweep
over Rabaul, meaning two hundred miles over enemy waters
and territory again
We coasted over at about twenty thousand feet to Rabaul.
A few hazy cloud banks were hanging around-not much
different from a lot of other days
The fellow flying my wing was Captain George Ashmun,
of New York City.
He had told me before the Mission:
"You go ahead and shoot all you want, Gramps,
all I'll do is keep them off your tail"
This boy was another who wanted me to beat
that record, and was offering to stick his neck way
out in the bargain
I spotted a few planes coming through the loosely
scattered clouds and signaled to the wingman
George and I dove first. I poured a long burst
into the first enemy plane that approached,
and a fraction of a second later saw the Nip pilot
catapult out and the plane itself break out into fire
George screamed out over the radio:
"Gramps, you got a flamer!"
Then he and I went down lower into the fight
after the rest of the enemy planes.
We figured that the whole pack of our planes
was going to follow us down, but the clouds
must have obscured their view. Anyway,
George and I were not paying too much attention,
just figuring that the rest of the boys would be with
us in a few seconds, as was usually the case
Finding approximatly ten enemy planes,
George and I commenced firing.
What we saw coming from above we thought
were our own planes-but they were not.
We were being jumped by about twenty planes
George and I sissored in the conventional thatch
weave way, protecting each others blank spots,
the rear ends of our fighters.
In doing this I saw George shoot a burst into a
plane and it turned away from us plunging downward,
all on fire.
A second later I did the same thing to another plane.
But it was then that I saw George's plane start to
throw smoke, and down he went in a half glide.
I sensed something was horribly wrong with him.
I screamed at him: "For God's sake, George, dive!"
Our planes could dive away from practically
anything the Nips had out there at the time,
except perhaps a Tony.
But apparently George had never heard me
or could do nothing about it if he had.
He just kept going down in a half glide
Time and time again I screamed at him:
"For God's sake, George, dive strait down!"
But he didn't even flutter an aileron in answer to me
I climbed in behind the Nip planes that were
plugging at him on the way down to the water.
There were so many of them I wasn't even bothering
to use my electric gun sight consciously, but
continued to seesaw back and forth on my
rudder pedals, trying to spray them all in general,
trying to get them off George to give him a chance
to bail out or dive, or do something at least
But the same thing that was happening to him was
now happening to me.
I could feel the impact of enemy fire against my
armor plate, behind my back, like hail on a tin roof.
I could see the enemy shots progressing along
my wing tips, making patterns
George's plane burst into flames and a moment
later crashed into the water.
At that point there was nothing left for me to do.
I had done everything I could.
I decided to get the hell away from the Nips.
I threw everything in the cockpit all the way forward,
this means full speed ahead, and nosed my plane
over to pick up extra speed until I was forced by
water to level off.
I had gone practically a half a mile at a speed of
about four hundred knots, when all of a sudden
my main gas tank went up in flames in front
of my very eyes.
The sensation was much the same as opening
the door of a furnace and sticking one's head
into the thing
Though I was about a hundred feet off the water,
I didn't have a chance of trying to gainaltitude.
I was fully aware that if I tried to gain altitude for
a bail-out I would be fried in a few more seconds
Sorry Gang
if you want the rest of the story
you'll have to read the book
by:
Colonel Gregory "Pappy" Boyington
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