by Frank Walton
“I give Pappy credit for a lot of our difference. He was an aggressive person and a lot of that rubbed off. And we had the opportunity. I didn’t see any planes the first three-quarters of my South Pacific experience. After that I probably shot at 100 and if I’d been a good shot, could have had 20 or 30 birds, instead of eight. You have to have the talent for shooting, and the guts.
“I’d applied to go regular before I left the South Pacific. I liked the people I was with, liked the Marine Corps, and had some fine assignments. I was at headquarters; flew in Korea; had a great tour in Italy and another in Japan. Along the way, I earned a master’s degree in business, and retired in 1969 as a colonel.
Bill Case
Gregory Boyington
“I worked for two years as a business consultant; then as assistant to the president of Western Farmers, a multi-million dollar farmers’ cooperative. In 1972, I went to Alaska to become business manager of the Fairbanks School District System and later budget director for the University of Alaska Statewide System.
“After I had a heart attack, I moved to a job with less tension and stayed with it until I had open heart surgery. Then I retired and came here. Now, I swim to keep healthy. I’ve been both president and maintenance officer for the Water Corporation, of which our home is a part; and I’ve been commodore of our local yacht club. I’ve been racing competitively with a sailboat the past three years.”
He paused. “Remember the bullet that split my helmet and scratched the top of my scalp? The only time my seat was lower than usual—just two inches!—otherwise, I’d have been drilled right through the back of my skull. If it had missed me altogether, I’d probably have been dead, too, because the round hit the bulletproof windshield, ricocheted down my gunsight, and made powdered glass spatter across my forehead. There was enough of the 7.7 bullet going through my helmet to yank my head down; otherwise, I’d have had my eyeballs full of powdered glass, and we were 300 miles out. I’d never have made it back.
“I attribute my narrow escape to the fact that the Lord said Today is not your day to go.’ It gives me a higher sense of responsibility for making my life more useful. I’ve been given an extra run, and it’s colored every move along the way. I call it a religious experience, and it happened.”
Entertainer
Gregory Boyington
Gregory “Pappy” Boyington has traveled a rocky, roller-coaster road since those days when he made Marine Corps and aerial combat history with the Black Sheep in the South Pacific.
He’d been picked up by a Japanese submarine after he was shot down on 3 January 1944, and spent the remaining 20 months of the war in Japanese prison camps.
Released by U.S. forces, he was an international hero, acclaimed all over the world. He had an opportunity to grab life’s brass ring.
I recall sitting with him in the steam room of the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco during our fabulous party after his release.
“Greg,” I told him, “you can be or do anything you want. Your name is a household word. Your picture has been in every paper in the country. Your story has been told and retold. You can be a congressman; you can be governor of your home state; you have your choice of positions in a dozen corporations—everyone wants you. But you absolutely must control the booze. Liquor has been your major problem to date. If you don’t solve it, this will all turn to ashes.”
“I know it, Frank, you’re absolutely right. But I want you to know that I had a chance to do a lot of thinking while I was in that prison camp. I’m going to be able to handle the liquor. You don’t have to worry about me on that score.”
Later, when he was staying at our home, he told my wife, “You know, Carol, the happiest time of my life was when I was in that Japanese prison camp. I was told what to do. Everything was arranged. I had no decisions to make.”
Then again, during his media-hyped courtship with two women vying for his affections at the same time in a story reminiscent of today’s soap operas, he once told me, as we sat quietly at Marine Corps Camp Miramar: “You know, Frank, I don’t want to marry anybody.” “You certainly don’t have to, Greg. You’re not hooked till they say the words over you. If you don’t want to get married, then, for Christ’s sake, tell them both, ‘no’.”
But, while one, who was getting a divorce so she could marry him, waited vainly in Reno, he married the other one in Las Vegas.
Unfortunately, his resolve regarding the liquor didn’t last long, either. While another Marine Corps war ace and Medal of Honor winner, Joe Foss, became governor of his home state, Boyington went through a series of lurid, broken marriages and bounced from one job to another: beer salesman; stock salesman; jewelry salesman; wrestling referee. Liquor was always present.
More recently, Alcoholics Anonymous has given him a measure of help.
In 1958 he published Baa, Baa, Black Sheep, a best-selling book based on his wartime experiences. In 1976–77 he was listed as “technical adviser” for a television series of the same name. It was the usual Hollywood hokum, featuring drunken brawls and jiggly nurses, and depicting Black Sheep pilots as fugitives from courts-martial. When some of the Black Sheep protested Boyington’s connection with the show, he said, “I only did it for the money.”
In 1980, he stood before us at our Washington meeting, no longer the barrel-chested, swashbuckling terror of the skies. His deeply lined face showed every mile of the tortuous road he’d traveled over the years: “Enough booze to float a battleship” as he often said; the stress of combat flying; the ravages of 20 months of Japanese prison camps; the strains of multiple marriages and divorces; brushes with the law; bouncing from one job to another; medical problems, including the lung cancer operation; sessions with psychiatrists—a classic picture of a man driven toward self-destruction.
He looked around the auditorium: “Whaddya looking so funny for, lady? I’m Robert Conrad with wrinkles.”
The TV show had not been true to life, he said, because “no one ever wanted to make a movie about the Boy Scouts.” At the time the Black Sheep Squadron was formed, the members thought the idea of being different was great, he continued. “That’s why they picked the name and insignia. I explained in my book that they were not outcasts and misfits.”
He said that when he speaks in a town where members of his old squadron live, he tells the audience that these boys were “young, unmarried, red-blooded Americans” and that he never saw any of them swear, fight, drink, or chase women. “I did all these things. The only thing I ask is that when they come to my town, they lie about me, too.”
He admitted that the TV program was embellished, but no more than others: ‘I’ve been thrown into enough jails in this country and abroad to know that TV police shows, for example, are not more than 10 percent accurate.”
The TV show was successful, especially with kids, he claimed: “We got more mail than any series that’s been on the air. We weren’t cancelled for any lack of having a good show—there were too many letters from teenagers who said they were going to join one of the services when they finished school. The networks are very left-wing in policy, all three of them; they don’t like promoting recruiting for nothing.”
He went on, more seriously, “It takes more than one guy to make a squadron. It takes everybody.
“My job was like a coach. Most of our training was word of mouth. Sometimes on a rainy day when there was no flying, I’d tell them to try to think of all the possible problems or situations they might get into, and then think what they’d do. I was trying to get them to act by reflex. You don’t have time to think what to do; you have to act, sometimes in a split second. My purpose was to get rid of unnecessary fear.
“Actually, you’re safer in the air than you are on the freeway. The enemy can’t shoot at you beyond 1,000 yards, and he can only shoot straight ahead, so he usually has to be directly behind you.
“Another thing, you can’t afford the luxury of anger in the air; you have to think.”
He t
hen volunteered to answer questions, saying that he was an expert on many subjects besides the Corsair. For example:
“Medicine—I’ve had three major surgeries; four, if you count the one in Japan without anesthetic.
“Marriage—I’ve had several; I can tell you what not to do.”
He was asked about a Japanese pilot who claims to have shot him down and is now in the United States.
“I gave up on that character. I tried to help him, but I was already in POW camp the day he says he shot me down. He wrote a book titled, The Road To Conquest. He gives me half a page. He makes a living going around to air shows peddling his book.”
Boyington now lives in Fresno with his current wife. He is seen at various air shows and aviation conferences, peddling autographed copies of his own book.
“I’m an entertainer,” he said recently. “Say you’re at a convention of medical people. Hell, they don’t want to listen to some boob with a bunch of charts talking about upper sinus tubes. They want to be entertained.”
And that’s what this combat pilot who had been the scourge of the Japanese in the South Pacific has come to. Like a dancing bear, he’s an entertainer.
For Gregory “Pappy” Boyington, war hero, F. Scott Fitzgerald said it best: “Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy.”
Epilogue
These were the Black Sheep, a cross section of America. In response to our country’s call, the 51 young men came from 23 states across the nation, from Vermont to California, and from Washington to Florida. From a variety of backgrounds, they meshed into a smooth, deadly combat team that wrote a glorious page in Marine Corps and American history.
It was a time of high adventure. The Black Sheep had the support of the American people. No janefondas or ramseyclarks carped in the background or gnawed, ratlike, at that support.
The key word that keeps coming up in all our recollections about those days is “camaraderie”: loyalty and warm, friendly feeling among comrades. Founded on our unique beginning, forged in the crucible of battle, our loyalties were firm; our desire to achieve intense. Friendships formed during those 84 days of combat, when the Black Sheep spearheaded the drive that broke the back of Japanese aerial opposition in the Solomons, have remained steady for 40 years. Black Sheep memorabilia adorn the walls of most of our homes or offices.
Some of the Black Sheep gave their lives; others their blood.
All gave something of themselves.
The survivors became a part of the warp and woof of our country. They became doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief, airline pilot, printer, architect, banker, artist, professor.
Today, they have blended into the fabric of America.
But once they were eagles.
Appendixes
Appendix A
Roster, Boyington’s Black Sheep
Both Combat Tours
ASHMUN, George M.
Far Hills, N.J.
BOLT, John F.
Sanford, Fla.
BOYINGTON, Gregory
Okanogan, Wash.
BRAGDON, Robert M.
Pittsburg, Pa.
EMRICH, Warren T.
Wichita, Kan.
FISHER, Don H.
Miami, Fla.
GROOVER, Denmark, Jr.
Quitman, Ga.
HARPER, Edwin A.
Wallace, Idaho
HEIER, William D.
Kansas City, Mo.
HILL, James J.
Chicago, Ill.
MAGEE, Christopher L.
Chicago, Ill.
MATHESON, Bruce J.
Chicago, Ill.
MCCLURG, Robert W.
New Castle, Pa.
MOORE, Donald J.
Amarillo, Tex.
MULLEN, Paul A.
Pittsburg, Pa.
OLANDER, Edwin L.
Northampton, Mass.
REAMES, James M.
Hughes, Ark.
SIMS, Sanders S.
Philadelphia, Pa.
TUCKER, Burney L.
Murfreesboro, Tenn.
WALTON, Frank E.
Los Angeles, Calif.
First Combat Tour Only
ALEXANDER, Robert A.
Davenport, Iowa
BAILEY, Stanley R.
Thetford, Vt.
BEGERT, John F
Topeka, Kan.
BOURGEOIS, Henry M.
New Orleans, La.
CASE, William N.
Vancouver, Wash.
EWING, Robert T.
Lafayette, Ind.
HARRIS, Walter R.
Sterling, Neb.
McCARTNEY, Henry A.
Long Island, N.Y
RAY, Virgil G.
Hallsboro, N.C.
RINABARGER, Rolland N.
Medford, Ore.
Second Combat Tour Only
AVEY, Fred V.
Portland, Ore.
BARTL, Harry R.
Sacramento, Calif.
BOWERS, Glenn L.
York, Pa.
BROWN, John S.
Indianapolis, Ind.
BRUBAKER, James E.
Clearwater, Fla.
CARNAGEY, Pierre
Corpus Christi, Tex.
CHATHAM, Rufus M., Jr.
Beaumont, Tex.
CORMAN, J. Ned
Bellefonte, Pa.
CROCKER, William L.
Worchester, Mass.
DOSWELL, Gelon H.
New Orleans, La.
DUSTIN, J. Cameron
Bellevue, Neb.
FFOULKES, Bruce J.
San Mateo, Calif.
HOBBS, William A., Jr.
Webster Groves, Mo.
HOLDEN, Herbert, Jr.
Elizabeth, N.J.
JOHNSON, Alfred L.
Utica, N.Y.
JOHNSON, Harry C.
Birmingham, Ala.
LANE, Perry T.
Rutland, Vt.
LOSCH, Fred S.
Larryville, Pa.
MARCH, Marion J.
Seattle, Wash.
MARKER, Alan D.
Park Ridge, Ill.
MILLER, Henry S.
Jenkintown, Pa.
Boyington’s Black Sheep consisted of 49 pilots, one Flight Surgeon, one Intelligence Officer.
Four pilots lost during first combat tour:
Captain Robert T. Ewing
16 September 1943
Missing in action over Ballale, Solomon Islands
First Lieutenant Walter R. Harris
27 September 1943
Missing in action over the Shortlands, Solomon Islands
First Lieutenant Robert A. Alexander
30 September 1943
Killed in strafing run over Kolombangara, Solomon Islands
Second Lieutenant Virgil G. Ray
13 October 1943
Missing on flight from Russell Islands, Solomon Islands
Eight pilots lost on second combat tour:
Major Pierre Carnagey
23 December 1943
Missing in action over Rabaul, Bismarck Archipelago
First Lieutenant James E. Brubaker
23 December 1943
Missing in action over Rabaul
First Lieutenant Bruce Ffoulkes
23 December 1943
Missing in action over Rabaul
Captain J. Cameron Dustin
28 December 1943
Missing in action over Rabaul
Second Lieutenant Harry R. Bartl
28 December 1943
Missing in action over Rabaul
First Lieutenant Donald J. Moore
28 December 1943
Missing in action over Rabaul
Captain George M. Ashmun
3 January 1944
Missing in action over Rabaul
Major Gregory Boyington
3 January 1944
Imprisoned by the Japanese; released in 1945
Two Black Sheep lost on later missions wit
h other squadrons:
First Lieutenant William L. Crocker, Jr.
First Lieutenant William H. Hobbs, Jr.
Two Black Sheep lost in operational aircraft accidents after the war:
First Lieutenant Paul A. Mullen
Major Stanley R. Bailey
Two Black Sheep died of natural causes after the war:
First Lieutenant Robert M. Bragdon
First Lieutenant John S. Brown
As of May 1985, 34 of the original Black Sheep survived;
Burney Tucker died 10 June 1986.
Appendix B
Marine Fighting Squadron 214—Information for the Duty Officer
FIVE DIVISIONS ON DUTY PER DAY:
Since we are assigned 20 planes, 5 divisions will be sufficient to man all our planes at any particular time even in the unusual case where all are in commission at the same time. Some divisions may fly more than one flight a day but it is believed better to have pilots fly hard when they are on duty, and then have a day off, than to have those same pilots on duty for two light days successively with no days off.
ROTATION OF DIVISIONS:
The five divisions on duty will always be consecutively numbered divisions, and will fly in the order of their numbers. Thus, beginning at the top of the list, numbers 1 through 5 would be together and would fly in that order. On the next day, numbers 6 through 1 would be on duty. When more than one division is on the same flight, the senior division leader will lead the flight and take the lower call.
TIME FOR REPORTING:
(1) When no early takeoff is planned. Enough divisions will be called (awakened at 0430; breakfast at 0445; at the Ready Room at 0515) to man all the available planes at 0515. If an odd number of planes is available, Operations requires that another division be called. For example, if 13 planes are in, four divisions must be called.