Once They Were Eagles by Frank Walton

Author:Frank Walton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780813144030
Publisher: The University Press of Kentucky

20 | Finale

On 2 January 1944 the weather was good. Boyington led 36 Marines and 20 Navy fighters to Rabaul. Only three of our Black Sheep accompanied him.

After they’d gone, Doc and I rubbed our hands. This, we thought, was the day when Pappy would break the record.

It was not the day.

When they got back, I found that the four Black Sheep had attacked 15 Zeros but shot down only one, and that score was made by Rope Trick Losch, bringing our squadron total to 88. Boyington never got a shot. His engine was throwing oil so badly that he was unable to see through his canopy.

Everything appeared to be stacking up against Pappy: the weather, the people, and for the first time in 100 combat hours, his engine. When Pappy came in at five o’clock, all conversation ceased.

“Had a little tough luck up there,” he said, quietly.

“There’s another big hop tomorrow, Greg,” I told him. “If you’re not too tired, you ought to go.”

“No, I’m O.K.”

“I’ve got some sandwiches on the way down. You’ll have to take off in 40 minutes to go back up tonight. The schedule calls for a 6:30 A.M. takeoff from Bougainville.”

“O.K.”

The last we saw of him, he was standing in the bed of the truck, munching a sandwich, as the truck pulled out to take him, Ashmun (who was to fly his wing the next day), Matheson, and Chatham down to their planes.

We expected the flight back to Vella before noon, and long before that the ready tent was full of people wanting to know if he’d broken the record.

At 7:00 A.M., Operations told me the flight got off on schedule, and that the weather was good.

At 10:00 the first planes were back at Bougainville.

At 11:30, Matheson landed and brought the first word. He’d seen Pappy and Ashmun attack 15 Zeros, and Pappy had shot one down!

We all talked excitedly—that one tied the record. Were there any more?

Matheson didn’t know. He and Chatham had had their hands full with another 15 Zeros; he’d shot one down, and then Chatham’s electrical system had gone bad, and Matheson had to return with him to Bougainville. Our squadron total was now 90.

As the time dragged by, other pilots came in. I talked to all of them. No, they hadn’t seen either Boyington or Ashmun. I asked Operations to check Munda, Ondonga, Treasury, to see if they’d landed. They had to be down somewhere; their gas would be gone by now.

And then, gradually, it began to dawn on us. Fred Hampson’s report described it:

The Skipper didn’t get back!

The news spread like a chill wind from revetment, to the ready room, to the tent camp on the hill. The war stood still for a hundred pilots and 500 ground crewmen.

It COULDN’T be true. The Japs didn’t have a man who could stay on the Skipper’s tail.

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