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lesofprimus
Brigadier General
Yes, DerAdler, I agree..... Post war is a differnt topic altogether....
The Greatest Fighter Pilot in WW II???
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wmaxt
Staff Sergeant
DerAdlerIstGelandet said:
The P-38 was at a minimum equal to the task. There are stories such as the Spitfire pilot in a Mk XIV that was going to mock fight a P-38 and explain how much better the Spit was. The P-38 got on it's tail and could not be shaken - even with a low angle split s from 1,000ft. The Spit pilot didn't bother to land. As to the German planes in Art Heidens words "There was nothing more beautiful than a P-38L following a German fighter down, No matter what he did a spin, snap-roll, dive, flop or flip the Doomed German just could not get away"
Well you picture there of Boyingtons Bastards brings up an interesting discussion, what do you all think of Boyington?
Stories of Pappy Boyington are legion, many founded in fact, including how he led the legendary Black Sheep squadron, and how he served in China as a member of the American Volunteer Group, the famed Flying Tigers. He spent a year and a half as a Japanese POW, was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, was recognized as the Marine Corps top ace (more on that below). Always hard-drinking and hard-living, Pappy's post-war life was as turbulent as his wartime experiences.
Born on Dec. 4, 1912, young Greg had a rough childhood - divorced parents, alcoholic step-father (who Greg believed to be his natural father until he entered the Marine Corps), and lots of moves. He grew up in St. Maries, Idaho, a small logging town. Greg got his first ride in an airplane when he was only six years old. The famous barnstormer, Clyde Pangborn, flew his Jenny into town, and Greg wangled a ride. What a thrill for a little kid!
Greg's family moved to Tacoma, Washington in 1926. In high school, he took up a sport that he would practice for many years - wrestling. Especially when he had had a few too many (which was often), adult Boyington would challenge others to impromptu wrestling bouts, frequently with injurious results. He enrolled at the University of Washington in 1930, where he continued wrestling and participated in ROTC. He met his first wife, Helene there; they were married not long after his graduation in 1934. His first son, Gregory Clark Boyington, was born 10 months later.
Marine Aviator
After a year with Boeing, Greg enlisted in the Marine Corps. On having to supply them with his birth certificate, he only learned of his natural father at that date. He began elimination training in June, 1935, where (in the small world of Marine aviation at that time) he met Richard Mangrum and Bob Galer, both future heroes at Guadalcanal. He passed, and received orders to begin flight training at Pensacola NAS in January, 1936 with class 88-C. Here he flew a floatplane version of the Consolidated NY-2. Like another great ace, Gabby Gabreski, Boyington had a tough time with flight training, and had to undergo a number of rechecks.
Until he arrived in Pensacola, Boyington, had never touched alcohol. But here, with hard-partying fliers, and aware of his wife's "fooling around," he soon discovered his affinity for liquor. Early on, Boyington established his Marine Corps reputation: hard-drinking, brawling, well-liked, and always ready to wrestle at the drop of a hat. But he kept flying, all through 1936, slowly progressing toward earning his wings, flying more powerful planes like the Vought O2U and SU-1 scouting biplanes. At Pensacola, he also met his future nemesis, Joe Smoak, memorialized in Baa Baa Black Sheep as "Colonel Lard." He finally won his coveted wings in March, 1937, becoming Naval Aviator #5160.
Before reporting for his assignment with VMF-1 at Quantico, Virginia, he took advantage of his 30-day to return home, and reconcile with his wife Helene, who became pregnant with their second child. In those days Marine aviators were required to be bachelors; Greg's family was a secret that he kept from the brass, but he brought them with him to Virginia, installing them quietly in nearby Fredericksburg. He flew F4B-4 biplanes during 1937, taking part in routine training, an air show dubbed the "All American Air Maneuvers," and a fleet exercise in Puerto Rico.
In March of 1938, VMF-1 aviators excited took possession of the latest, hottest Grumman fighters, the F3F-2s, the last biplane fighters used by US air forces. Powered by Wright-Cyclone engines of 950 horsepower, the fat-bellied aircraft were fast and rugged. In July, he moved to Philadelphia, to attend the Marine Corps' Basic School for ten months. Apparently not motivated by the "ground-pounder" curriculum, Boyington here evidenced the weaknesses that would haunt him: excessive drinking, borrowing money (and not repaying it), fighting, and poor official performance.
His irresponsibility, his debts, and his difficulties with the Corps continued to mount throughout 1939 and 1940, when he flew with VMF-2, stationed at San Diego. One memorable, drunken night, he tried to swim across San Diego Bay, and wound up naked and exhausted in the Navy's Shore Patrol office. Despite his problems on the ground, it was during these days of 1940, flying with VMF-2, that Boyington first began to be noticed as a top-notch pilot. Whatever his other issues, he could out-dogfight almost anyone. Back at Pensacola in January, 1941, his problems mounted - he decked a superior officer in a fight over a girl (not his wife), and his creditors sought official help from the Marine Corps. Greg's career was a hopeless mess by late 1941.
Flying Tiger
Rescue came from, of all places, China. Anxious to help the Chinese in their war against Japan, the U.S. government arranged to supply fighter planes and pilots to China, under the cover of the Central Aircraft Manufacturing Company (CAMCO). CAMCO recruiters visited US military aviation bases looking for volunteers. As Bruce Gamble described it in Black Sheep One:
The pilots were volunteers only in the sense that they willingly quit their peacetime job with the military; otherwise they were handsomely paid through CAMCO. Pilots earned $600 a month, flight leaders $675, plus a fat bonus for each Japanese plane destroyed. This was double or even triple the current military salary for pilots. ... In March, CAMCO representatives began recruiting military pilots for what would become the American Volunteer Group (AVG). ... One recruiter set up an interview room in San Diego's San Carlos Hotel, a popular watering hole for pilots. On the night of August 4, Greg Boyington found himself in the hotel bar simply "looking for an answer." Payday had been just a few days earlier, but already he was broke. His wife and children were gone, he was deeply in debt, and many of his superiors were breathing down his neck.
The money looked very good to Boyington. Assured that the program had government approval and that his spot in the Corps was safe, he signed on the spot, and promptly resigned from the Marine Corps. While the AVG deal for pilots normally did contemplate a return to active U.S. military service, in Greg's case, his superiors took a different view. They were happy to be rid of him, and noted in his file that he should not be reappointed.
He shipped out of San Francisco on September 24, 1941, in the Boschfontein, of the Dutch Java Line. After docking at Rangoon, the AVG fliers arrived at their base at Toungoo on November 13. He flew several missions during the defense of Burma. After Burma fell, he returned to Kunming, and flew from there until the Flying Tigers were incorporated into the USAAF. His autobiography includes many war stories from his experiences with the Flying Tigers, including:
Buy 'American Volunteer Group
Colours and Markings
(Osprey Aircraft . Aces)'
at Amazon.com
the voyage across the Pacific, the AVG fliers' cover story of ministers
the Sultan of Johore's palace and wives
arrival in Rangoon, Claire Chennault and Harvey Greenlaw
Kunming and the three AVG squadrons
first combat in February 1942, back in Burma
Jim Adams and Bill Tweedy, the two older colonials, living a life of ease, and entertaining the American pilots
a mechanic offering General Stilwell a can of tomatoes, "Hey bub, you want some of these?"
the Allied retreat from Rangoon in March 1942 and the Flying Tigers' return to Kunming
his botched escort of Chiang Kai Chek
He clashed with the leader of the Flying Tigers, the strong-willed Claire Chennault. He quit the AVG in April 1942; Chennault gave him a dishonorable discharge, and Greg went back to the U.S.
Boyington's Flying Tiger Record
Boyington claimed to have shot down six Japanese fighters, which would have made him one of the first American aces of the war. He maintained until his death in 1988 that he did, in fact, have six kills, and the Marine Corps officially credits him with those kills. From AVG records, which were loosely kept, he was credited (paid) for 2 aerial kills. Why the discrepancy between 2 and 6? I think Bruce Gamble, in Black Sheep One got it right. Gamble notes that in a raid on Chiang Mai, Boyington was one of four pilots who were credited with destroying 15 planes on the ground. As the AVG paid for destroyed Japanes planes, on the ground or in the air, Boyington lobbied for his share of the Chiang Mai planes - 3.75, to be precise. Later, while at Guadalcanal, he characterized his Flying Tiger record as including "six kills." For Greg Boyington, to add 3.75 ground claims to 2 aerial kills, round it off to six kills, and establish himself as one of the first American aces, was a "little white lie" indeed. But once his AVG number of six kills found its way into print, and his USMC victories started piling up, there was no going back. Dan Ford's Flying Tigers web site also has a detailed discussion of Pappy Boyington's claims with the AVG.
(As my site only includes the aces' service with United States' armed forces, Pappy's USMC total is shown as 22, whether he shot down 2, 6, or none while a Flying Tiger for the Chinese government. I have received numerous e-mails on this topic, and while I concur with Bruce Gamble's analysis, both Gamble and I consider Pappy Boyington to be a great American hero, albeit a flawed one, as Pappy himself was quick to admit. - SS)
While with the Flying Tigers, Greg also made the acquaintance of Olga Greenlaw, the XO's beautiful wife, who, in her own words "knew how to get along with a man if I like him." Apparently she and Boyington "got along." She wrote her own book, The Lady and the Tigers, in 1943.
He returned to the States in the spring of 1942, and took up with Lucy Malcolmson; his first marriage having fallen apart. With some finagling, undoubtedly helped by the wartime demand for experienced fighter pilots, he was reappointed to the Marines in November, with the rank of Major. In January, 1943, he embarked on the Lurline, bound for New Caledonia, where he would spend a few months on the staff of Marine Air Group (MAG)-11. Here, he got his first close look at a Corsair, flown by his friend Pat Weiland.
Boyington finally secured assignment to VMF-122 as Executive Officer for a combat tour; as usual, he clashed with his superior, this time Major Elmer Brackett. In the event, Brackett was shortly removed, and Boyington took over, but did not see much action. It was at this time, early 1943, when as the new CO of VMF-122, his claim of six kills with the AVG first made it into print.
Smoak relieved him of his command of VMF-122 in late May, followed by a broken leg and time in the hospital.
In the summer of 1943, as Boyington convalesced, the US naval air forces needed more Corsairs in the fight. Oddly, the key pieces - trained pilots and operational aircraft - were present in the South Pacific, but many of them were dispersed. Who got the idea remains unclear (characteristically Boyington claimed credit), but he was given the assignment to pull together an ad hoc squadron from available men and planes. Originally, they formed the rear echelon of VMF-124.
In August of 1943, these 26 pilots, who would become the famous "Black Sheep" included:
8 pilots had flown with Greg in VMF-122: Stan Bailey, Hank Bourgeois, Robert Ewing, Paul "Moon" Mullen, John Begert, Sandy Sims, Bill Case, and Virgil Ray. All but Lt. Ray had already downed at least one Japanese plane.
Allan McCartney - 4 kills with a couple Marine squadrons
Bob McClurg - originally with VMF-124
Chris Magee, Bill Heier, Don Moore - all had flown with the RCAF
John Bolt, Ed Olander, Rollie Rinabarger, George Ashmun - former 'plowback' instructors in the States
8 First Lieutenants with no Corsair experience - Bob Bragdon, Tom Emrich, Don Fisher, Denmark Groover, Walter "Red" Harris, Ed Harper, Jim Hill, and Burney Tucker
2nd Lt. Bruce Matheson
In a complex, and common, wartime shuffling of designations, Boyington's team was redesignated VMF-214, while the exhausted pilots of the original VMF-214 (nicknamed the Swashbucklers) were sent home. Again, Bruce Gamble, the authoritative historian of these events, provides detailed answers in his book The Black Sheep ... Marine Fighting Squadron 214 ..., which fully chronicles both squadrons that used the number 214.
Under Boyington as CO and Major Stan Bailey as Exec, they trained hard at Turtle Bay on Espritu Santo, especially the pilots who were new to the Corsair. Two other noted officers rounded out the squadron: Frank Walton, a former Los Angeles cop, became the Air Combat Intelligence Officer (ACIO), and Jim Reames the squadron doctor. (Walton would later author Once They Were Eagles ....) While leading this group of young pilots, most in their early 20's, Boyington - at the advanced age of 30! - picked up the nickname 'Gramps'. (The Black Sheep don't remember calling him 'Pappy'; that was a nickname that the press picked up after he was shot down.)
In early September, 1943, the new VMF-214 moved up to their new forward base in the Russells, staging through Guadalcanal's famed Henderson Field.
Black Sheep Aces Kills
Pappy Boyington 22.0*
Jack Bolt 6.0
Bill Case 8.0
Don Fisher 6.0
Chris Magee 9.0
Hank McCartney 5.0
Bob McClurg 7.0
Paul Mullen 6.5
Ed Olander 5.0
The "Black Sheep" fought their way to fame in just 84 days, piling up a record 197 planes destroyed or damaged, troop transports and supply ships sunk, and ground installations destroyed in addition to numerous other victories. They flew their first combat mission on September 14, 1943, escorting Dauntless dive bombers to Ballale, a small island west of Bougainville where the Japanese had a heavily fortified airstrip. They encountered heavy opposition from the enemy Zeros. Two days later, in a similar raid, 'Pappy' claimed five kills, his best single day total. In October VMF-214 moved up from their orginal base in the Russells to a more advanced location at Munda. From here they were closer to the next big objective -- the Jap bases on Bougainville. On one mission over Bougainville, according to Boyington's autobiography, the Japanese radioed him in English, asking him to report his position and so forth. Pappy played along, but stayed 5000 feet higher than he had told them, and when the Zeros came along, the Black Sheep blew twelve of them away. (The absolute veracity of Boyington's autobiography is not certain, but that's how he told the story.) One night with a quarter moon, he went up to try to deal with "Washing Machine Charlie," but without results.
During the period from September 1943 to early January 1944, Boyington destroyed 22 Japanese aircraft. By late December, it was clear that he was closing in on Eddie Rickenbacker's record of 26 victories (including his questionable 6 with the AVG), and the strain was starting to tell. On Jan. 3, 1944, Boyington was shot down in a large dogfight in which he claimed three enemy aircraft, and was captured.
The following is an excerpt from Boyington's Baa Baa Black Sheep describing his final combat mission.
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 after 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, 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 pilots in back of me: "Go down and get to work." 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 approximately 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 scissored in the conventional Thach 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 gain altitude. I was fully aware that if I tried to gain altitude for a bail-out I would be fried in a few more seconds.
Prisoner of War
He landed in the water, badly injured. After being strafed by the Jap fighters, he struggled onto his raft until captured by a Jap submarine several hours later. They took him first to Rabaul, where he was brutally interogated. Even the general commanding Japanese forces at Rabaul interviewed him. Pappy related in Baa Baa Black Sheep, that the general asked him who had started the war. After Pappy replied that of course the Japanese had started the war by attacking Pearl Harbor, the general then told him this short fable:
"Once upon there was a little of old lady and she traded with five merchants. She always paid her bills, and got along fine. Finally the five merchants got together, and they jacked up their prices so high the little old lady couldn't afford to live any longer. That's the end of the story." The general left the room, leaving Boyington to ponder that there had to be two sides to everything.
After about six weeks, the Japanese flew him to Truk. As he landed there, he experienced one of the early carrier strikes against Truk in February, 1944. Along with six other captured Americans, he was confined in a small, but sturdy wooden cell - which might have been designed for one inmate. The only opening was a six-inch hole in the floor, for relieving themselves. With six men in a tiny cell, this was unpleasant enough. But when the Japs actually overfed them with rice balls and pickles, diarrhea resulted, and then the situation became really messy.
He eventually moved to a prison camp at Ofuna, outside of Yokohama. His autobiography relates the frequent beatings, interrogations, and near starvation that he endured for the next 18 months. The guards, whose only qualification seemed to be passing "a minus-one-hundred I.Q. test," beat the prisoners severely, for any infraction, real or imagined.
He lost about 80 pounds, and described how he once entirely consumed a "soup bone the size of my fist" in just two days, a feat which previously he would not have believed a dog could achieve. During the middle period of his captivity, he had the good fortune to be assigned kitchen duty, Here, a Japanese grandmother who worked in the kitchen befriended him and helped him filch food. Before long, he returned to his pre-captivity weight. He even got drunk on New Year's Eve, begging a little sake from each of the officers. From Camp Ofuna, he witnessed the first B-29 raids, striking the nearby naval base at Yokohama.
When he was repatriated, he found he had been awarded the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross. He also added to his claims for aerial victories after his return. Several other pilots had seen him down one Zero, which raised his total to 20 with the Black Sheep, and 26 if his claims for 6 with the Flying Tigers were included. 26 was Eddie Rickenbacker's WWI record, and also the number shot down by Joe Foss, the top-scoring Marine pilot of all time. Back in the States, in September of 1945, he claimed to have shot down two more planes in that final battle. Frank Walton, the ACIO, prepared the combat report, and Boyington signed it. As Bruce Gamble put it in Black Sheep One, "With a stroke of his own pen, Boyington was credited with twenty-eight victories, making him the high scoring ace in the Marine Corps." At the time, Boyington was being feted in a national War Bond Tour, patriotic feelings were running high, and he was a national hero. No one challenged the two additional claims. In all, Gamble makes a convincing case that Boyington's claims should be 22: 20 with the USMC and 2 with the AVG.
Postwar Hero?
Pappy lived until 1988, but it was a hard life, marked by financial instability, divorces and marriages, and battles with alcoholism. (I must say that, whatever his problems, Pappy never seemed to lack for attractive female companionship.) Things started downhill on his War Bond tour, when he was frequently drunk, and on one infamous occasion embarrassed himself, the Corps, and the audience with a rambling drunken speech. After a brief attempt at collaboration, had a falling out with Frank Walton. His tangled affair with Lucy Malcolmson (still married to Stewart Malcolmson) broke up, quite publicly, when he took up with Frances Baker, who became his second wife. Now a PR liability, the Marine Corps placed Boyington on the retired list in 1947, allegedly for medical reasons.
He moved from job to job, never able to stay with any one thing. He frequently refereed at wrestling matches. After a continued decline into alcoholism, he went on the wagon in 1956, and even joined AA. Things picked up for him in 1958 with the success of his memoirs, Baa Baa Black Sheep. He met Dee Tatum the next year, soon divorced Frances, and married Dee (his third). The 1960's were a real low period for Pappy, including estrangement from his own children.
Of course, Pappy's greatest fame came in the mid Seventies, when the television show "Baa Baa Black Sheep" appeared. Based very loosely on Boyington's memoirs, the show had a three-year run, and achieved a consistent popularity in re-runs. Pappy was a consultant to the show, and got on well with its star, Robert Conrad. But the show's description of the Black Sheep pilots as a bunch of misfits and drunks, which Pappy happily went along with, destroyed Pappy's friendship with many of his squadron veterans, especially Frank Walton. The show made Pappy a real celebrity, and along with his fourth (!) wife Jo, he made a good career out of being an entertainer - appearing at air shows, on TV programs, etc.
After a long battle with cancer, Pappy died in 1988.
Stories of Pappy Boyington are legion, many founded in fact, including how he led the legendary Black Sheep squadron, and how he served in China as a member of the American Volunteer Group, the famed Flying Tigers. He spent a year and a half as a Japanese POW, was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, was recognized as the Marine Corps top ace (more on that below). Always hard-drinking and hard-living, Pappy's post-war life was as turbulent as his wartime experiences.
Born on Dec. 4, 1912, young Greg had a rough childhood - divorced parents, alcoholic step-father (who Greg believed to be his natural father until he entered the Marine Corps), and lots of moves. He grew up in St. Maries, Idaho, a small logging town. Greg got his first ride in an airplane when he was only six years old. The famous barnstormer, Clyde Pangborn, flew his Jenny into town, and Greg wangled a ride. What a thrill for a little kid!
Greg's family moved to Tacoma, Washington in 1926. In high school, he took up a sport that he would practice for many years - wrestling. Especially when he had had a few too many (which was often), adult Boyington would challenge others to impromptu wrestling bouts, frequently with injurious results. He enrolled at the University of Washington in 1930, where he continued wrestling and participated in ROTC. He met his first wife, Helene there; they were married not long after his graduation in 1934. His first son, Gregory Clark Boyington, was born 10 months later.
Marine Aviator
After a year with Boeing, Greg enlisted in the Marine Corps. On having to supply them with his birth certificate, he only learned of his natural father at that date. He began elimination training in June, 1935, where (in the small world of Marine aviation at that time) he met Richard Mangrum and Bob Galer, both future heroes at Guadalcanal. He passed, and received orders to begin flight training at Pensacola NAS in January, 1936 with class 88-C. Here he flew a floatplane version of the Consolidated NY-2. Like another great ace, Gabby Gabreski, Boyington had a tough time with flight training, and had to undergo a number of rechecks.
Until he arrived in Pensacola, Boyington, had never touched alcohol. But here, with hard-partying fliers, and aware of his wife's "fooling around," he soon discovered his affinity for liquor. Early on, Boyington established his Marine Corps reputation: hard-drinking, brawling, well-liked, and always ready to wrestle at the drop of a hat. But he kept flying, all through 1936, slowly progressing toward earning his wings, flying more powerful planes like the Vought O2U and SU-1 scouting biplanes. At Pensacola, he also met his future nemesis, Joe Smoak, memorialized in Baa Baa Black Sheep as "Colonel Lard." He finally won his coveted wings in March, 1937, becoming Naval Aviator #5160.
Before reporting for his assignment with VMF-1 at Quantico, Virginia, he took advantage of his 30-day to return home, and reconcile with his wife Helene, who became pregnant with their second child. In those days Marine aviators were required to be bachelors; Greg's family was a secret that he kept from the brass, but he brought them with him to Virginia, installing them quietly in nearby Fredericksburg. He flew F4B-4 biplanes during 1937, taking part in routine training, an air show dubbed the "All American Air Maneuvers," and a fleet exercise in Puerto Rico.
In March of 1938, VMF-1 aviators excited took possession of the latest, hottest Grumman fighters, the F3F-2s, the last biplane fighters used by US air forces. Powered by Wright-Cyclone engines of 950 horsepower, the fat-bellied aircraft were fast and rugged. In July, he moved to Philadelphia, to attend the Marine Corps' Basic School for ten months. Apparently not motivated by the "ground-pounder" curriculum, Boyington here evidenced the weaknesses that would haunt him: excessive drinking, borrowing money (and not repaying it), fighting, and poor official performance.
His irresponsibility, his debts, and his difficulties with the Corps continued to mount throughout 1939 and 1940, when he flew with VMF-2, stationed at San Diego. One memorable, drunken night, he tried to swim across San Diego Bay, and wound up naked and exhausted in the Navy's Shore Patrol office. Despite his problems on the ground, it was during these days of 1940, flying with VMF-2, that Boyington first began to be noticed as a top-notch pilot. Whatever his other issues, he could out-dogfight almost anyone. Back at Pensacola in January, 1941, his problems mounted - he decked a superior officer in a fight over a girl (not his wife), and his creditors sought official help from the Marine Corps. Greg's career was a hopeless mess by late 1941.
Flying Tiger
Rescue came from, of all places, China. Anxious to help the Chinese in their war against Japan, the U.S. government arranged to supply fighter planes and pilots to China, under the cover of the Central Aircraft Manufacturing Company (CAMCO). CAMCO recruiters visited US military aviation bases looking for volunteers. As Bruce Gamble described it in Black Sheep One:
The pilots were volunteers only in the sense that they willingly quit their peacetime job with the military; otherwise they were handsomely paid through CAMCO. Pilots earned $600 a month, flight leaders $675, plus a fat bonus for each Japanese plane destroyed. This was double or even triple the current military salary for pilots. ... In March, CAMCO representatives began recruiting military pilots for what would become the American Volunteer Group (AVG). ... One recruiter set up an interview room in San Diego's San Carlos Hotel, a popular watering hole for pilots. On the night of August 4, Greg Boyington found himself in the hotel bar simply "looking for an answer." Payday had been just a few days earlier, but already he was broke. His wife and children were gone, he was deeply in debt, and many of his superiors were breathing down his neck.
The money looked very good to Boyington. Assured that the program had government approval and that his spot in the Corps was safe, he signed on the spot, and promptly resigned from the Marine Corps. While the AVG deal for pilots normally did contemplate a return to active U.S. military service, in Greg's case, his superiors took a different view. They were happy to be rid of him, and noted in his file that he should not be reappointed.
He shipped out of San Francisco on September 24, 1941, in the Boschfontein, of the Dutch Java Line. After docking at Rangoon, the AVG fliers arrived at their base at Toungoo on November 13. He flew several missions during the defense of Burma. After Burma fell, he returned to Kunming, and flew from there until the Flying Tigers were incorporated into the USAAF. His autobiography includes many war stories from his experiences with the Flying Tigers, including:
Buy 'American Volunteer Group
Colours and Markings
(Osprey Aircraft . Aces)'
at Amazon.com
the voyage across the Pacific, the AVG fliers' cover story of ministers
the Sultan of Johore's palace and wives
arrival in Rangoon, Claire Chennault and Harvey Greenlaw
Kunming and the three AVG squadrons
first combat in February 1942, back in Burma
Jim Adams and Bill Tweedy, the two older colonials, living a life of ease, and entertaining the American pilots
a mechanic offering General Stilwell a can of tomatoes, "Hey bub, you want some of these?"
the Allied retreat from Rangoon in March 1942 and the Flying Tigers' return to Kunming
his botched escort of Chiang Kai Chek
He clashed with the leader of the Flying Tigers, the strong-willed Claire Chennault. He quit the AVG in April 1942; Chennault gave him a dishonorable discharge, and Greg went back to the U.S.
Boyington's Flying Tiger Record
Boyington claimed to have shot down six Japanese fighters, which would have made him one of the first American aces of the war. He maintained until his death in 1988 that he did, in fact, have six kills, and the Marine Corps officially credits him with those kills. From AVG records, which were loosely kept, he was credited (paid) for 2 aerial kills. Why the discrepancy between 2 and 6? I think Bruce Gamble, in Black Sheep One got it right. Gamble notes that in a raid on Chiang Mai, Boyington was one of four pilots who were credited with destroying 15 planes on the ground. As the AVG paid for destroyed Japanes planes, on the ground or in the air, Boyington lobbied for his share of the Chiang Mai planes - 3.75, to be precise. Later, while at Guadalcanal, he characterized his Flying Tiger record as including "six kills." For Greg Boyington, to add 3.75 ground claims to 2 aerial kills, round it off to six kills, and establish himself as one of the first American aces, was a "little white lie" indeed. But once his AVG number of six kills found its way into print, and his USMC victories started piling up, there was no going back. Dan Ford's Flying Tigers web site also has a detailed discussion of Pappy Boyington's claims with the AVG.
(As my site only includes the aces' service with United States' armed forces, Pappy's USMC total is shown as 22, whether he shot down 2, 6, or none while a Flying Tiger for the Chinese government. I have received numerous e-mails on this topic, and while I concur with Bruce Gamble's analysis, both Gamble and I consider Pappy Boyington to be a great American hero, albeit a flawed one, as Pappy himself was quick to admit. - SS)
While with the Flying Tigers, Greg also made the acquaintance of Olga Greenlaw, the XO's beautiful wife, who, in her own words "knew how to get along with a man if I like him." Apparently she and Boyington "got along." She wrote her own book, The Lady and the Tigers, in 1943.
He returned to the States in the spring of 1942, and took up with Lucy Malcolmson; his first marriage having fallen apart. With some finagling, undoubtedly helped by the wartime demand for experienced fighter pilots, he was reappointed to the Marines in November, with the rank of Major. In January, 1943, he embarked on the Lurline, bound for New Caledonia, where he would spend a few months on the staff of Marine Air Group (MAG)-11. Here, he got his first close look at a Corsair, flown by his friend Pat Weiland.
Boyington finally secured assignment to VMF-122 as Executive Officer for a combat tour; as usual, he clashed with his superior, this time Major Elmer Brackett. In the event, Brackett was shortly removed, and Boyington took over, but did not see much action. It was at this time, early 1943, when as the new CO of VMF-122, his claim of six kills with the AVG first made it into print.
Smoak relieved him of his command of VMF-122 in late May, followed by a broken leg and time in the hospital.
In the summer of 1943, as Boyington convalesced, the US naval air forces needed more Corsairs in the fight. Oddly, the key pieces - trained pilots and operational aircraft - were present in the South Pacific, but many of them were dispersed. Who got the idea remains unclear (characteristically Boyington claimed credit), but he was given the assignment to pull together an ad hoc squadron from available men and planes. Originally, they formed the rear echelon of VMF-124.
In August of 1943, these 26 pilots, who would become the famous "Black Sheep" included:
8 pilots had flown with Greg in VMF-122: Stan Bailey, Hank Bourgeois, Robert Ewing, Paul "Moon" Mullen, John Begert, Sandy Sims, Bill Case, and Virgil Ray. All but Lt. Ray had already downed at least one Japanese plane.
Allan McCartney - 4 kills with a couple Marine squadrons
Bob McClurg - originally with VMF-124
Chris Magee, Bill Heier, Don Moore - all had flown with the RCAF
John Bolt, Ed Olander, Rollie Rinabarger, George Ashmun - former 'plowback' instructors in the States
8 First Lieutenants with no Corsair experience - Bob Bragdon, Tom Emrich, Don Fisher, Denmark Groover, Walter "Red" Harris, Ed Harper, Jim Hill, and Burney Tucker
2nd Lt. Bruce Matheson
In a complex, and common, wartime shuffling of designations, Boyington's team was redesignated VMF-214, while the exhausted pilots of the original VMF-214 (nicknamed the Swashbucklers) were sent home. Again, Bruce Gamble, the authoritative historian of these events, provides detailed answers in his book The Black Sheep ... Marine Fighting Squadron 214 ..., which fully chronicles both squadrons that used the number 214.
Under Boyington as CO and Major Stan Bailey as Exec, they trained hard at Turtle Bay on Espritu Santo, especially the pilots who were new to the Corsair. Two other noted officers rounded out the squadron: Frank Walton, a former Los Angeles cop, became the Air Combat Intelligence Officer (ACIO), and Jim Reames the squadron doctor. (Walton would later author Once They Were Eagles ....) While leading this group of young pilots, most in their early 20's, Boyington - at the advanced age of 30! - picked up the nickname 'Gramps'. (The Black Sheep don't remember calling him 'Pappy'; that was a nickname that the press picked up after he was shot down.)
In early September, 1943, the new VMF-214 moved up to their new forward base in the Russells, staging through Guadalcanal's famed Henderson Field.
Black Sheep Aces Kills
Pappy Boyington 22.0*
Jack Bolt 6.0
Bill Case 8.0
Don Fisher 6.0
Chris Magee 9.0
Hank McCartney 5.0
Bob McClurg 7.0
Paul Mullen 6.5
Ed Olander 5.0
The "Black Sheep" fought their way to fame in just 84 days, piling up a record 197 planes destroyed or damaged, troop transports and supply ships sunk, and ground installations destroyed in addition to numerous other victories. They flew their first combat mission on September 14, 1943, escorting Dauntless dive bombers to Ballale, a small island west of Bougainville where the Japanese had a heavily fortified airstrip. They encountered heavy opposition from the enemy Zeros. Two days later, in a similar raid, 'Pappy' claimed five kills, his best single day total. In October VMF-214 moved up from their orginal base in the Russells to a more advanced location at Munda. From here they were closer to the next big objective -- the Jap bases on Bougainville. On one mission over Bougainville, according to Boyington's autobiography, the Japanese radioed him in English, asking him to report his position and so forth. Pappy played along, but stayed 5000 feet higher than he had told them, and when the Zeros came along, the Black Sheep blew twelve of them away. (The absolute veracity of Boyington's autobiography is not certain, but that's how he told the story.) One night with a quarter moon, he went up to try to deal with "Washing Machine Charlie," but without results.
During the period from September 1943 to early January 1944, Boyington destroyed 22 Japanese aircraft. By late December, it was clear that he was closing in on Eddie Rickenbacker's record of 26 victories (including his questionable 6 with the AVG), and the strain was starting to tell. On Jan. 3, 1944, Boyington was shot down in a large dogfight in which he claimed three enemy aircraft, and was captured.
The following is an excerpt from Boyington's Baa Baa Black Sheep describing his final combat mission.
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 after 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, 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 pilots in back of me: "Go down and get to work." 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 approximately 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 scissored in the conventional Thach 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 gain altitude. I was fully aware that if I tried to gain altitude for a bail-out I would be fried in a few more seconds.
Prisoner of War
He landed in the water, badly injured. After being strafed by the Jap fighters, he struggled onto his raft until captured by a Jap submarine several hours later. They took him first to Rabaul, where he was brutally interogated. Even the general commanding Japanese forces at Rabaul interviewed him. Pappy related in Baa Baa Black Sheep, that the general asked him who had started the war. After Pappy replied that of course the Japanese had started the war by attacking Pearl Harbor, the general then told him this short fable:
"Once upon there was a little of old lady and she traded with five merchants. She always paid her bills, and got along fine. Finally the five merchants got together, and they jacked up their prices so high the little old lady couldn't afford to live any longer. That's the end of the story." The general left the room, leaving Boyington to ponder that there had to be two sides to everything.
After about six weeks, the Japanese flew him to Truk. As he landed there, he experienced one of the early carrier strikes against Truk in February, 1944. Along with six other captured Americans, he was confined in a small, but sturdy wooden cell - which might have been designed for one inmate. The only opening was a six-inch hole in the floor, for relieving themselves. With six men in a tiny cell, this was unpleasant enough. But when the Japs actually overfed them with rice balls and pickles, diarrhea resulted, and then the situation became really messy.
He eventually moved to a prison camp at Ofuna, outside of Yokohama. His autobiography relates the frequent beatings, interrogations, and near starvation that he endured for the next 18 months. The guards, whose only qualification seemed to be passing "a minus-one-hundred I.Q. test," beat the prisoners severely, for any infraction, real or imagined.
He lost about 80 pounds, and described how he once entirely consumed a "soup bone the size of my fist" in just two days, a feat which previously he would not have believed a dog could achieve. During the middle period of his captivity, he had the good fortune to be assigned kitchen duty, Here, a Japanese grandmother who worked in the kitchen befriended him and helped him filch food. Before long, he returned to his pre-captivity weight. He even got drunk on New Year's Eve, begging a little sake from each of the officers. From Camp Ofuna, he witnessed the first B-29 raids, striking the nearby naval base at Yokohama.
When he was repatriated, he found he had been awarded the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross. He also added to his claims for aerial victories after his return. Several other pilots had seen him down one Zero, which raised his total to 20 with the Black Sheep, and 26 if his claims for 6 with the Flying Tigers were included. 26 was Eddie Rickenbacker's WWI record, and also the number shot down by Joe Foss, the top-scoring Marine pilot of all time. Back in the States, in September of 1945, he claimed to have shot down two more planes in that final battle. Frank Walton, the ACIO, prepared the combat report, and Boyington signed it. As Bruce Gamble put it in Black Sheep One, "With a stroke of his own pen, Boyington was credited with twenty-eight victories, making him the high scoring ace in the Marine Corps." At the time, Boyington was being feted in a national War Bond Tour, patriotic feelings were running high, and he was a national hero. No one challenged the two additional claims. In all, Gamble makes a convincing case that Boyington's claims should be 22: 20 with the USMC and 2 with the AVG.
Postwar Hero?
Pappy lived until 1988, but it was a hard life, marked by financial instability, divorces and marriages, and battles with alcoholism. (I must say that, whatever his problems, Pappy never seemed to lack for attractive female companionship.) Things started downhill on his War Bond tour, when he was frequently drunk, and on one infamous occasion embarrassed himself, the Corps, and the audience with a rambling drunken speech. After a brief attempt at collaboration, had a falling out with Frank Walton. His tangled affair with Lucy Malcolmson (still married to Stewart Malcolmson) broke up, quite publicly, when he took up with Frances Baker, who became his second wife. Now a PR liability, the Marine Corps placed Boyington on the retired list in 1947, allegedly for medical reasons.
He moved from job to job, never able to stay with any one thing. He frequently refereed at wrestling matches. After a continued decline into alcoholism, he went on the wagon in 1956, and even joined AA. Things picked up for him in 1958 with the success of his memoirs, Baa Baa Black Sheep. He met Dee Tatum the next year, soon divorced Frances, and married Dee (his third). The 1960's were a real low period for Pappy, including estrangement from his own children.
Of course, Pappy's greatest fame came in the mid Seventies, when the television show "Baa Baa Black Sheep" appeared. Based very loosely on Boyington's memoirs, the show had a three-year run, and achieved a consistent popularity in re-runs. Pappy was a consultant to the show, and got on well with its star, Robert Conrad. But the show's description of the Black Sheep pilots as a bunch of misfits and drunks, which Pappy happily went along with, destroyed Pappy's friendship with many of his squadron veterans, especially Frank Walton. The show made Pappy a real celebrity, and along with his fourth (!) wife Jo, he made a good career out of being an entertainer - appearing at air shows, on TV programs, etc.
After a long battle with cancer, Pappy died in 1988.
Attachments
I also agree there were many aircraft that were equal if not better than a Spit at dogfighting.
- Thread starter
- #645
lesofprimus
Brigadier General
HMMMmmmm.... Many u say???? If u take the Best dogfighting Mk of the Spit, ud find that # alot lower than many......
Some say the Mk IX was the better dogfighting Spitfire... Some say the Mk XIV was better..... Either way I think the Fw-190D-9 was better than both....
Would u care to mention which planes u feel make up the MANY that u feel were better???
wmaxt
Staff Sergeant
Another story I heard was once when he was basicly traped by 5 Zero's and a small cloud called for help with the following statement "Come on down and join me.. I got 5 Zero's cornered here".
I would say that the Fw-190D, Ta-152, P-51D, P-38L, Me-309 (if it had reached combat service) were atleast equal to the Spitfire. The later Mosquitos also handled really well and just maybe at low alltitudes could dogfight just as well as a Spit. Again I am not trying to dog the Spit, I am just saying that there were aircraft that were atleast equal or better.
- Thread starter
- #648
lesofprimus
Brigadier General
I dont think I would say the P-51D was BETTER than the Spitfire Mk IX... With a pilot that knew how to fly it, i would say it was a close equal....
I agree with u on the -190D, -152H, and possibly the -38L....
I agree with u on the -190D, -152H, and possibly the -38L....
The Spitfire was quite clearly better than the Mustang in a dogfight, and yes the P-51D. In a dogfight it would walk all over it. The only one that I see would match the Spitfire would be the 190D-9 and even then the Spit Mk. XIV had many advantages over it...still couldn't out roll the little bugger.
That is all I said that the P-51D was atleast an equal. Again I am not saying that the Spitfire was not a great dogfighter. I just think that there were aircraft that were just as good and in my personal opinion it was not the best. I like the Ta-152 and the P-51D for dogfighting.
- Thread starter
- #652
lesofprimus
Brigadier General
I think we all understand this now DerAdler hehe......
I certainly hope ur not saying the P-51D was a better dogfighter than the -190D9......
The P-51D is not my fav aircraft I am just saying that in my personal opinion I think it was an equal to the Spit.
No I think the 190D was a great dogfighter but I still stick to my guns about the Ta-152. She was a superb aircraft and I think would have put some brown stains in the underwear of the Spit flyers had it come out a bit earlier.
Okay you may win on the P-51D however like I said I am sticking to my guns on the 190D and the Ta-152.
- Thread starter
- #657
lesofprimus
Brigadier General
That Im not too sure about buddy... I think that if both pilots were experienced Aces, the combat would be closer than u are implying.... Probably pretty even win %.... The -51D was a hell of a plane planD..... So was the Mk XIV....
As you all say the Spit XIV may have been a better dogfighter than the P-51D but it was not a walk in the park to beat even for the Spit. I agree with you on that Les. I will concede defeat thought that the Spit was better than the P-51D in dogfighting but not the Fw-190D or Ta-152.
Any how I need to go to sleep I have a really long day tomorrow. If I dont get to come online tomorrow or the next day and I am sure you all wont since its Christmas, I would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas and enjoy the hollidays.
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