Henderson Field attacked by Japanese bombers, Guadalcanal, 1942.
I've seen this picture before. The oral surgeon who relieved me of my impacted wisdom teeth, Capt. Lew Slagle USN, had it and a bunch of other Wildcat/Hellcat photos on his office wall. In his younger days he was a fighter pilot in VF-10 (Grim Reapers) and was sent on detachment to Henderson Field in its early days, where one day he tried to take off in front of a gaggle of strafing Zeros. He got off in his "swiss cheese" F4F and was cranking the gear up when a bullet hit something in the gear mechanism and jerked the crank out of his hand, which flailed around as the gear flopped back down, smashing his forearm, leaving the bones sticking out and bleeding profusely. So here's a one armed pilot stuck at low altitude in a rapidly disintegrating Wildcat, gear and takeoff flaps down, engine at full throttle, and a bunch of Zeros shooting at him. About a mile beyond the runway was a river with trees arched over it so he dropped through a gap in the foliage and flew up the river under the canopy. As he went upstream, the river got narrower, so when he came to another gap he pulled up for a look-see and the Zeros pounced again, so he did a wingover and headed back downstream in his "tunnel". This time one of the Zeros tried to make a firing pass shooting through the foliage, caught a wingtip in the trees (Lew thinks) and crashed. The others went off in search of easier targets, and Lew brought his battered bird home barely conscious from loss of blood.
Thirty-one years later he still had massive vivid scars on his forearm, and after two consecutive careers in the Navy, more "fruit salad" on his uniform shirt than most admirals. Not all that often you see a dentist wearing a DFC and wings. He could teach instrument and multi-engine at the flying club, run a mean intercept from the back seat of an F-4, show the "young guns" (lieutenant commanders and commanders) a thing or two when he went for his monthly "flight skins" in the TA-4, and show up incognito in civvies at the EM Club to have a few brews with the enlisted guys, most of whom thought he was "some old-timer retiree". Senior pilots in VF-101 (Grim Reapers again) would vie for the opportunity to give Lew his monthly rides for flight pay. Even though no longer an active pilot, he was allowed to remain flightcrew qualified under some "aeromedical observer" clause, and those Top Gun trained instructors let him fly the TA-4 from the front seat where he could dogfight with the best of them. Not bad for an old geezer, huh? They even painted his name under the cockpit of whichever plane was this month's hangar queen. (No active pilot or RIO wanted his name there!) Lew had held every rank from Seaman Recruit to Captain, had refused Admiral twice ("Who wants to be stuck in Bethesda for the rest of their career? It's too close to DC!"), had entered the Navy as a 17 year old dropout, and acquired a PHD, a Doctor of Dental Surgery, and an ATP along the way. At his age and time in service he needed and got annual Congressional authorisation to remain on active duty, and the taxpayers got their money's worth in (unofficial) counseling and retention (do you know how much it costs to replace a Naval Aviator who decides to quit and go fly airliners?). In his quiet way, he was a powerful influence on why the Navy was a good choice for a young aviator to stay and make a career. Not your average joe, but that's what he thought of himself as. After he returned your salute, he wanted you to address him by his first name. A true national treasure!
Cheers,
Wes