This month
my British publisher, Osprey, releases my latest book, U.S. Marine Corps Fighter
Squadrons of World War II. Marine
Corps aviation has always been close to my heart. In writing about WW II aviation I was
fortunate to include many “flying leathernecks” among my friends and
acquaintances.
However,
the rate of attrition has accelerated to the point that I no longer know any
Marine combat aviators of WW II. In
fact, of 120 Marine Corps aces, only four remain.
Therefore,
Osprey’s upcoming book on USMC fighter squadrons in WW II is especially
timely. In some ways it’s a last-minute
grab at history, since the profiles of several notable devildog fighter pilots
are partly based on those I knew.
Contrary to
many people’s expectations, the Marine aces I knew seldom fit the
stereotype. Rather than loud,
extroverted chest thumpers of “The Great Santini” mold, most were pretty quiet,
self-composed men with little need to “prove” anything.
The two least
stereotypical were Guadalcanal veterans Marion Carl and Bob Galer. They were quiet almost to the point of
shyness, despite being double aces and then some, and generals as well. In the 25 years I knew Marion (including
co-writing his memoir) I never heard him refer to himself as “General Carl.” When he hung up the uniform, the stars came off
and stayed off. He was far more focused
on his aviation reputation, which remains stellar. If anyone was born with the flying gene, it
was Marion, who also was one of the most competent people I’ve ever known,
whether hunting, investing, or repairing the house.
Reportedly
mothers warn their daughters, “Watch out for the quiet ones.” That applied to Bob who, despite his Medal of
Honor, had a disarming smile and an ingratiating manner. Few would have suspected that he and some
junior officers stole the duty officer’s jeep at MCAS Kaneohoe before deploying
to Guadalcanal in order to appropriate some supplies.
Then there
was Joe.
Joe Foss
had more titles than anyone I ever knew: Marine Corps major, Air Force general,
South Dakota governor, and football commissioner. His interest in people was deep and
genuine—he treated everybody the same, from presidents up to janitors. He was also vocal in his opinions, and his
stepson said, “Never an unspoken thought.”
Joe and
Didi wanted me to marry their grand daughter, whom I dated occasionally when
she visited. Finally I said, “Joe, she
got engaged!” Joe hardly blinked. He said, “Well, you don’t want to give up too
soon.”
That was
Joe. He didn’t know how to give up.
However, as
much as he relished being a Marine fighter pilot, his corps has let him
down. USMC headquarters accepted Greg
Boyington’s spurious claims from the Flying Tigers at face value, and still
accord him 28 victories to Joe’s 26. The
difference is, of course, that all of Joe’s were in Marine service versus 22
officially credited to Boyington.
Ken Walsh
was another Medal of Honor ace, the first Corsair pilot to score five
victories. He was a close student of the
game, loved the F4U, and took more interest in history than most practitioners. He usually called me on my birthday, and
liked to tell mutual friends, “I raised Tillman from a pup.” I’ll never forget the first time I visited
him. I’d barely pulled into the driveway
when he came out of the garage wiping his hands on a shop rag: “Do you need a
tuneup?”
I shouldn’t
overlook Jim Swett. After his first
combat in April 1943 every aviation cadet wanted to “do a Jimmy Swett.” He downed seven Japanese dive bombers over
Guadalcanal and finished the war a triple ace.
But although he retired as a reserve colonel he retained a second
lieutenant’s puckish attitude. When I
first me him he drove a pickup camper with Medal of Honor license plates, an
NRA life member decal, and a bumper sticker proclaiming “I Support Tailhook.”
Finally, there
was Jeff DeBlanc. Hailing from
Louisiana, he said he joined the Marines “because I didn’t want to be in the
Yankee army.” He retained his bayou accent
the rest of his life but there was an active, inquiring mind behind the
swamp-water persona. Apart from the
Medal of Honor, he received a doctorate in education and was a gold medalist in
the senior olympics. Jeff wrote a family
history and a memoir, the latter describing his war from Guadalcanal to
Okinawa.
Whatever
the war or era, let us hope that more participants will record their
experiences for the benefit of historians yet unborn.
