48128451 time of the aces marine pilots in the solomons 1942 1944

T[ÌME OFTHE ACES:MARINE PILoTs IN THESOLOMONS, 1941-1944

MARINES INWORLD WAR IICOMMEMORATIVE SERIES

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Time of the Aces:Marine Pilots in the Solomonsby Commander Peter B. Mersky, U. S. Naval Reserve

he morale of the menof the ist Marine Divi-sion on Guadalcanalsoared dramatically inthe late afternoon of 20

August 1942. That was when 19Grumann F4F Wildcats of CaptainJohn L. Smith's Marine FighterSquadron (VMF) 223 and 12 Dou-glas Dauntless SBDs of MajorRichard C. Mangrum's MarineScout-Bomber Squadron (VMSB)232 landed on vet-uncompletedHenderson Field. Ever since the as-sault landing on Guadalcanal on 7August, and subject to unchal-lenged Japanese air raids from thattime, the ground troops wondered,"Where are our planes?" Like somany other soldiers in so manyother campaigns, they had littleknowledge of the progress of thewar elsewhere in the Pacific.

From the very beginning ofWorld War II, with the Japanese at-tack on Wake Island, Marine air-craft, pilots, and crews became im-mediately and personally involvedin the fighting. On Wake, MarineWildcat pilots of VMF-211 gave agood account of themselves, evenafter the number of the squadron'sflyable planes was reduced to four,and when those planes were dam-aged beyond repair, all aviationpersonnel became riflemen. And inthe Battle of Midway, Marine pilotsfor the first time at first hand appre-hended the nature of the war in the

On the cover: Using hit-and-run tactics,Capt Joe Foss flames a Japanese Zero overHenderson Field in October 1942. Paint-ing by Ted Wilbur, courtesy of the artist.At left:"Fogerty's Fate-22 Oct 1942." TSgtJohn Fogerty, an enlisted Marine pilot,was killed this date. Watercolor L'y Col Al-bert M. Leahy.. USMCR (Ret), in the Ma-rine Corps Art Collection.

air as they flew against combat-ex-perienced Japanese aircrews. But bythe time of the landings on Guadal-canal and when the war was nearlya year old, only a relatively smallnumber of Marine pilots had seencombat. A few had shot down sev-eral Japanese aircraft, althoughnone had scored a fifth kill whichwould entitle him to be designatedan ace. The leading Marine scorer atMidway was Captain Marion Carl,who had downed two MitsubishiType "O" Carrier Fighters. TheAmericans would later call them"Zeros" or "Zekes" and wouldshoot them down regularly despitethe early reputation they receivedfor being a highly maneuverableand deadly adversary in the air. Be-fore he left the Pacific, Captain Carlwould add considerably to hisscore, as would some of the otherfighter pilots who landed onGuadalcanal with him on the 20th.

Guadalcanal: The Beginn ingof the Long Road Back

Marine Aircraft Group (MAG)23, the initial air unit participating

The Douglas SB D Da i n tless divehomber fought in nearly every thea ter, fliing wit/i theU.S. Navij and Marine Corps, as well as the U.S. Army (as the A-24 Banshee). The SBDmade its reputation in the Pacific, especially at Midway and Guadalcanal.

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in the Guadalcanal operation, wasassigned the mission of supportingthe ground operations of the istMarine Division as well the air de-fense of the island once the landinghad been made. MAG-23 includedVMF-223 and -224, and VMSB-231and -232. The fighter squadronsflew the F4F-4, the Grumann Wild-cat with folding wings and sixwing-mounted .50-caliber machineguns. The two VMSBs flew theDouglas SBD-3 Dauntless dive-bomber. Another fighter squadron,VMF-212, under Major Harold W.Bauer, was on the island of Efate inthe New Hebrides, while MAG-23headquarters had yet to sail fromHawaii by the time Marines hit thebeaches on 7 August 1942. The firstcontingent of MAG-23VMF-223and VMSB-232left Hawaii onboard the escort carrier USS Long Is-land (CVE 1). On 20 August, 200miles from Guadalcanal, the twosquadrons launched toward theirnew home. VMF-224 (CaptainRobert E. Galer) and VMSB-231(Major Leo R. Smith) followed inthe aircraft transports USS Kitty

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 26044

Capt Henri T. Elrod, a Wildcat pilot withVMF-211, earned what is chronologicallythe first Marine Corpsbut not the firstactualli awardedMedal of Honor forWorld War II. His exploits during the de-fense of Wake Island were not known untilafter the war. After his squadron 's aircraftwere all destroyed, Capt Elrod fought onthe ground and was finatlij killed bij alapa nese rifleman.

Hawk (APV 1) and USS Ham monds-port (APV 2), and flew on to the is-land on 30 August. While en routetoward the launch point forGuadalcanal, Captain Smith wiselydecided to trade eight of his less ex-perienced junior pilots for eight pi-lots of VMF-212 who had moreflight time and training in the F4Fthan had Smith's fledglings.

The newly arrived squadronsbarely had time to get settled beforethey were in heavy action. Earls' onthe 21st, the Japanese sent a 900-manforce to attack Henderson Field,named after Major Lof ton R. Hen-derson, a dive-bomber pilot killed atMidway. Around mid-day, CaptainSmith was leading a four-plane pa-trol north of Sayo Island heading to-ward the Russell Islands with Sec-ond Lieutenants Noyes McLennanand Charles H. Kendrick, and Tech-nical Sergeant John Lnidley. The twolieutenants had 16 days of opera-tional flight training in F4Fs, andLindley had been through ACTG,

Members of VMF-224 pose by one of their fighters on Guadalcanal in mid-September1942. Rear row, left to right: 2dLt George L. Hollowell, SSgt Clifford D. Garrabrant,2dLt Robert A Jefferies, Je, 2dLt Allan M. Johnson, 2dLt Matthew H. Kennedy, 2dLtCharles H. Kunz, 2dLt Dean 5. Hartley, Jr., MG William R. Fuller. Front row: 2dLtRobert M. DA rey, Capt Stanley S. Nicolay, Maj John F Dobbin, Maj Robert E.Galer, Maj Kirk Armistead, Capt Dale D. irwin, 2dLt Howard L. Walter, 2dLt Gor-don E. Thompson. All in this picture are pilots except MG Fuller, who was theEngineering Officer. Lt Thompson was reported missing in action on 31 August 1942.

Photo courtesy of BGen Robert E. Galer

the Aircraft Carrier Training Group,which, as part of its training syl-labus, gave tyro pilots indoctrinationinto fighter tactics.

Beyond Sayo, six Zeros camestraight at them from the north, withan altitude advantage of 500 feet.Smith recognized the Zeros immedi-ately, although neither he nor any ofthe other three pilots had ever seenone before. He turned his flight to-ward them and the Zeros headed to-ward the F4Fs.

It was hard to say just what hap-pened next except that the ZeroSmith was shooting at pulled upand he shot fairly weil into the bellyof the enemy plane as it went by,only to find that now he had twoZeros on his tail. Captain Smithdove toward Henderson Field andthe Japs broke away.

Minutes later, the Zero CaptainSmith shot became VMF-223's firstkill when it crashed into the waterjust off Sayo Island. Smith's planehad some bullet holes but was flyingairight. Two F4Fs joined on him.They looked back and it appearedthat the Zeros were in a dogfightnear Sayo. The Marines thoughtthey were ganging up on SergeantLindley so they went back to helphim, but found that there was noF4F, just five Zeros acting like theywere fighting.

The three Marines then got intoanother dogfight and the Zeros shotthem up some more. Lindley andKendrick got back to Henderson andmade dead-stick landings. Lindleywas burned and blinded by hot oilwhen his oil tank was shattered andlanded wheels up. Kendrick's oilline was shot away and he crash-landed. His airplane never flewagain. It took eight days beforeSmith's plane was patched upenough to fly once again. Repairs onthe fourth plane required 10 days.Only 15 of the 19 F4Fs were flyableafter their first day of action fromHenderson Field.

'CUB One' at Guadalcanal

O8August 1942, U.S. Marines captured a nearly

completed enemy airstrip on Guadalcanal, whichwould prove critical to the success of the island cam-

paign. It was essential that the airstrip become operational asquickly as possible, not only to contest enemy aircraft in theskies over Guadalcanal, but also to ensure that badly neededsupplies could be flown in and wounded Marines flowr out.As it turned out, Henderson Field also proved to be a safehaven for Navy planes whose carriers had been sunk orbadly damaged.

A Marine fighter squadron (VMF-223) and a Marine divebomber squadron (VMSB-232) were expected to arrive onGuadalcanal around 16 August. Unfortunately, Marine avia-tion ground crews scheduled to accompany the twosquadrons to Guadalcanal were still in Hawaii, and wouldnot arrive on the island for nearly two weeks. Aircraftground crews were urgently needed to service the two Ma-rine squadrons upon their arrival.

The nearest aircraft ground crews to Guadalcanal werenot Marines, but 450 Navy personnel of a unit known as CUBOne, an advanced base unit consisting of the personnel andmaterial necessary for the establishment of a medium-sizedadvanced fuel and supply base. CUB One had only recentlyarrived at Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides.

On 13 August, Admiral John S. McCain ordered MarineMajor Charles H. "Fog" Hayes, executive officer of Marine Ob-servation Squadron 251, to proceed to Guadalcanal with 120men of CUB One to assist Marine engineers in completing theairfield (recently named Henderson Field in honor of a Marinepilot killed in the Battle of Midway), and to serve as gmundcrews for the Marine fighters and dive bombers scheduled toarrive within a few days. Navy Ensign George W. Polk was incommand of the 120-man unit, and was briefed by MajorHayes concerning the unit's critical mission. (After the war,Polk became a noted newsman for the Columbia BroadcastingSystem, and was murdered by terrorists during the GreekCivil War. A prestigious journalism award was established andnamed in his honor).

Utilizing four destroyer transports of World War I vintage,the 120-man contingent from CUB One departed EspirituSanto on the evening of 13 August. The total supply carriednorthward by the four transports included 400 drums of avi-ation gasoline, 32 drums of lubricant, 282 bombs (100 to 500pounders), belted ammunition, a variety of tools, and criti-cally needed spare parts.

The echelon arrived at Guadalcanal on the evening of 15August, unloaded its passengers and supplies, and began as-sisting Marine engineers the following morning on increas-ing the length of Henderson Field. In spite of daily raids byJapanese aircraft, the arduous work continued, and on 19 Au-gust, the airstrip was completed. CUB One personnel also in-stalled and manned an air-raid warning system in the fa-mous "Pagoda," the Japanese-built control tower.

On 20 August, 19 planes of VMF-223 and 12 dive bombersof VMSB-232 were launched from the escort carrier Long Is-land and arrived safely at Henderson Field. The Marine pilots

were quickly put into action over the skies of Guadalcanalin combat operations against enemy aircraft.

The men of CUB One performed heroics in servicing thenewly arrived Marine fighters and bombers. Few tools ex-isted or had yet arrived to perform many of the aircraft ser-'icing jobs to which CUB One was assigned. It was necessaryto fuel the Manne aircraft from 55-gallon drums of gasoline.As there were no fuel pumps on the island, the drums had tobe man-handled and tipped into the wing tanks of the SBDsand the fuselage tanks of the F4F fighters. To do this, CUllOne personnel stood precariously on the slippery wings ofthe aircraft and sloshed the gasoline from the heavy drumsinto the aircraft's gas tanks. The men used a make-shift fun-nel made from palm-log lumber.

Bomb carts or hoists were also at a premium during theearly days of the Guadalcanal campaign, so aircraft bombshad to be raised by hand to the SBD drop brackets, as the ex-hausted, straining men wallowed in the mud beneath theairplanes.

No automatic belting machines were available at this timeas well, so that the .50-caliber ammunition for the four gunson each fighter had to be hand-belted one round at a time bythe men of CUB One. The gunners on the dive bombersloaded their ammunition by the same laborious method.

The dedicated personnel of CUB One performed thesefeats for 12 days before Marine squadron ground crews ar-rived with the proper equipment to service the aircraft. Thecrucial support provided by CUB One was instrumental tothe success of the "Cactus Air Force" on Guadalcanal.

Like their Marine counterparts, the personnel of CUB Onesuffered from malaria, dengue fever, sleepless nights, and theever-present shortage of food, clothing, and supplies. Theywould remain on Guadalcanal, performing their duties in anexemplary manner, until relieved on 5 February 1943. CUBOne richly earned the Presidential Unit Citation awarded to theunit for its gallant participation in the Guadalcanal campaign.

Arvil L. Jones with Robert V. Aquilina

Allied air operations in the Solomons were controlled from the"Pagoda," built bi/ the Japanese and rehabilitated by the men ofCUB One.


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Photo Courtn.v w Capt Stanley S. Nicolav

Three personalities of the cactus Air Forcepose nfter receiving the Wavy Cross fromAdm Nimitz on 30 September 1942. Fromleft: Maj John L. Smith, Maj Robert E.Geler, and Capt Marion E. Carl.

Marion Carl, now assigned toVMF-223, shot down three Japaneseaircraft on 24 August to become theMarine Corps' first ace. Carl addedtwo more kills on the 26th. Theyoung fighter pilot found himself incompetition with his squadron com-mander, as John Smith also beganaccumulating kills with regularity.

The 30th was a busy day for theMarine fighters on Guadalcanal.The previous day's action saw eight

A profile of Bell P-39 Airacobra bt,' Larry Lapadura. "Short Stroke"operated from Henderson Field on Guadalcanal from late 1942 toearly 1943. The aircraft's deceptively streamlined shape belied a

Japanese aircraft shot down. How-ever, by now, six of VMF-223's orig-inal complement of 19 Wildcats hadalso been destroyed or put out ofaction. The combat had been fastand furious since Smith and hissquadron had arrived only ninedays before. His young pilots werelearning, but at a price.

One of the squadrons that sharedHenderson Field with the Marineswas the 67th Fighter Squadron, asomewhat orphaned group ofArmy Air Corps pilots, who had ar-rived on 22 August, led by CaptainDale Brannon, and their P-400 Aira-cobras, an export version of the BellP-39. Despite its racy looks, theAiracobra found it difficult to getabove 15,000 feet, where much ofthe aerial combat was taking place

The 67th had had a miserabletime of it so far because of theirplane's poor performance, andmorale was low. The pilots were be-ginning to question their value tothe overall effort, and their com-mander, desperate for any measureof success to share with his men,asked Captain Smith if he and hissquadron could accompany theMarines on their next scramble.

Smith agreed and on 30 August, theMarine and Army fighterseightF4Fs and seven P-400s--la unchedfor a lengthy combat air patrol.

The fighters rendezvoused northof Henderson, maintaining 15,000feet because of the P-400s' lack ofoxygen. Coastwatchers had identi-fied a large formation of Japanesebombers heading toward Hender-son but had lost sight of theirquarry in the rapidly building wallof thunderclouds approaching theisland. The defenders orbited for 40minutes, watching for the enemybombers and their escorts.

Suddenly, Captain Smith saw theseven Army fighters dive toward thewater, in hot pursuit of Zeros thathad emerged from the clouds. Thehighly maneuverable Zeros quicklyturned the tables on the P-400s,however. As the Japanese fightersconcentrated on the hapless Bells,the Marine Wildcats lined up behindthe Zeros and quickly shot downfour of the dark green Mitsubishis.The effect of the F4Fs' heavy ma-chine guns was devastating.

Making a second run, CaptainSmith found himself going head-to-head with a Zero, its pilot just as de-

mediocre performance, especially above 15,000 feet. However, theaircraft was ive!! armed and used wit/i success as a ground strafer.

Authors Collection

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Mnj John L. Smith poses in a Wildcat afterreturning to the States. A tough, capablecombat lender, Smith received tite Medal ofHonor for his service at Guadalcanal.

termined as his Marine opponent.Smith's guns finally blew the Zeroup just before a collision or beforeone of the two fighter pilots wouldhave had to turn away. By the endof the engagement, John Smith hadshot down two more Zeros for atotal of four kills. With nine kills,Smith was the leading MarineCorps ace at the time. FourteenJapanese fightersthe bombersthey were escorting had turnedbackhad been shot down by theMarine and Army pilots, althoughfour of the P-400s were also de-stroyed. Two of the pilots returnedto Guadalcanal; two did not.

The Marine fighter contingent atGuadalcanal was now down to fiveoperational aircraft; it needed rein-forcement immediately. Help wason the way, however, for VMF-224arrived ir the afternoon of the 30th,after John Smith and his tired, butelated squadron returned from theirfrantic encounter with the Japanesefighter force. For their first few mis-sions, VMF-224's pilots accompa-nied the now-veteran RainbowSquadron pilots of VMF223.*

When it was first established on I May1942, VMF-223 was called the "Rainbow"Squadron. In May 1943, it changed its nick-name to the more Marine-like "Bulldogs."

Photo courtesy of Capt Stanley S. Nicolay

lstLt Stanley S. Wicolny beside n Wildcat, probably just before deploying to the Pacific in1942. He eventually shot down three Betty bombers at Guadalcanal. Note the narrow trackof the Wildcat's main landing gear.

Captain Galer's VMF-224 had notime to acclimate to its new base.(The day after its arrival, it was inaction.) The squadron landed on the30th in the midst of an alert, andwas quickly directed to its parkingareas on the field.

The next two weeks saw severalof the Marine aviators bail out oftheir Wildcats after tangling withthe enemy Zeros. On 31 August,First Lieutenant Stanley S. Nicolayof VMF-224 was on a flight withSecond Lieutenant Richard R.Amerine, Second LieutenantCharles E. Bryans, and CaptainJohn E Dobbin, the squadron execu-tive officer. It was VMF-224's firstcombat mission since its arrival theday before. As the Marines strug-gled past 18,000 feet on their wayup to 20,000, Lieutenant Nicolaynoticed two of the wingmen lag-ging farther and farther back.

He called Amerine and Bryansbut got no response. He then calledDobbin and said he wanted to dropback to check on the waywardWildcats. "It's too late to break up

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the formation," Dobbin wisely said."There's nothing we can do." Nico-lay closed up on Dobbin and theycontinued on.

The two young aviators hadproblems with their primitive oxy-gen systems and lacking sufficientoxygen, they possibly had evenpassed out in the thin air. Nicolayrecalled,

We never saw Bryans again.lt was so senseless. I remem-ber thinking that after all theirtraining and effort, neither oneof them ever fired a shot inanger. They had no chance.The oxygen system was just atiny, white triangular maskthat fitted over the nose andmouth. You turned on the bot-tle, and that was it. No pres-sure system, nothing.Apparently, the two Marine pi-

lots had been jumped by rovingZeros. Bryans was thought to bekilled almost immediately, whileAmerine was able to bail out. Heparachuted to the relative safety ofthe jungle, and as he attempted to

return to Henderson Field, he en-countered several Japanese patrolson the way back, killing four enemysoldiers before returning to the Ma-rine lines.

Marion Carl, who had 11 kills,had his own escape-and-evasion ex-perience after he and his wingman,Lieutenant Clayton M. Canfield,were shot down on 9 September.Carl bailed out of his burning Wild-cat and landed in the water where afriendly native scooped him up andhid him from the roving Japanesepatrols. (Canfield had been quicklyrescued by an American destroyer.)

The native took the ace to a na-tive doctor who spoke English. Thedoctor gave Carl a small boat withan old motor which needed somework before it functioned properly.With the Japanese army all around,it was important that the Americanpilot get out as soon as he could.

Finally, he and the doctor arrivedoffshore of Marine positions onGuadalcanal. Dennis Byrd recalledCarl's return on the afternoon of 14September:

A small motor launch oper-ated by a very black nativewith a huge head of frizzledhair pulled up to the Navyjetty at Kukum. The tall whiteman tending the boat's wheez-ing engine was VMF-223'sCaptain Marion Carl. He hadbeen listed as missing in actionsince September 9th and waspresumed dead... .Carl re-ported that on the day he dis-appeared, he'd shot down twomore Jap bombers. CaptainCarl's score was now 12 andMajor Smith's, 14.Now-Major Caler scored his

squadron's first kills when he shotdown two Zeros during a noontimeraid of 26 bombers and eight Zeroescorts over Henderson on 5 Sep-tember. VMF-224 went up to inter-cept them, and the squadron com-mander knocked down a bomber

National Archives photo 208-PU-14X-1 PNT

A rare photo of an exuberant LtCol Bauer as lie demonstrates his technique to two groundcrewmen. Intensely competitive, and known as "the Coach," Bauer was one of several Ma-rifle Corps aviators who received the Medal of Honor, albeit posthumously, at Guadalcanal.

and a fighter, after which he wasshot down by a Zero that tackedonto him from behind and riddledhis Wildcat. Recalling the action ina wartime press release, Caler said:

I knew I'd be forced to land,but that Zero getting me deadto rights made me sore. Iheaded into a cloud, and in-stead of coming out below itas he expected, I came out ontop and let him have it....

Then we both fell, but hewas in flames and done for I

made a forced landing in afield, and before my wheelscould stop rolling, MajorRivers J. Morrell and Lieu-tenant Pond of VMF-223, bothforced their ships on the samedeckall within three minutesof each other!

Two days after his forced land-ing, Major Caler had to ditch hisaircraft once more after anotherround with the Japanese. His flightwas returning from a mission whenit ran into a group of enemy

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bombers. He related that:One of them fell to my guns,

and pulling out of the dive, Itook after a Zero. But I didn'tpull around fast enough, and hisguns knocked out my engine,setting it on fire. We were atabout 5,000 feet, but I feared theswirling mass of Japs more thanthe fire . . . so I laid over on myback and dove headlong forsome clouds below me. Comingthrough the clouds, I didn't seeany more Japs, and leveled offat 2,000 feet. I changed my an-gle of flight and grade of descentso I'd land as near as possible toshore. I set down in the drinksome 200 or 300 yards fromshore and swam in, unhurt.*

'Th was not the first time Caler had a wa-tery end to a flight. As a first lieutenant withVMF-2 in 1940, he had to ride his GrummanF3F biplane fighter in while approaching thecarrier Saratoga (CV3). The Grumman sankand stayed on the bottom off San Diego for 40years. It was discovered by a Navy explo-ration team and raised, somewhat the worsefor wear. Retired Brigadier General RobertGaler was at the dock when his old mountfound dry land once more.

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The Aircraft in the Conflict

TheU.S. Navy and Marine Corps were defi-

nitely at a disadvantage when America en-tered World War Il in December 1941. Besides

other areas, their frontline aircraft were well behindworld standards.

The Japanese did not suffer similarly, however, forthey were busy building up their arsenal as theysought sources of raw materials they needed and wereprepared to go to war to acquire. Besides possess-ing what was the finest aerial torpedo in the world-the Long Lancethey had the aircraft to deliver it. Andthey had fighters to protect the bombers. Although theworld initially refused to believe how good Japaneseaircraft and their pilots were, it wasn't long after the at-tack on Pearl Harbor that reality seeped in.

In many respects, the U.S. Army Air Forceit hadbeen the U.S. Army Air Corps until 20 June 1941andthe Navy and Marine Corps had the same problems inthe first two years of the war. The Army's top fighterswere the Bell P-39 Airacobra and the Curtiss P-40B/ETomahawk/Kittyhawk. The Navy and Marine Corps'two frontline fighters were the Brewster F2A-3 Buffaloand the Grumman F4F-3/4 Wildcat during 1942.

Of these single-seaters, only the Army's P-40 and theNavy's F4F achieved any measure of success againstthe Japanese in 1942. The P-40's main attributes wereits diving speed, which let it disengage from a fight,and its ability to absorb punishment and still fl\ç a con-

The first production model of Grumman's stubby, little Wildcatwas the F4F-3, which carried four .50-caliber machine guns in thewings. Its wings did not fold, unlike the -4 which added two moremachine guns and folding wings. These F4F-3s of VMF-121 carrt/prewar exercise markings.

Authors Collection

fidence builder for its hard-pressed pilots. The Wildcatwas also a tough little fighter ("built like Grummaniron" was a popular catch-phrase of the period), andhad a devastating battery of four (for the F4F-3) or six.50-caliber machine guns (for the F4F-4) and a fair de-gree of maneuverability.

Both the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy also hadoutstanding aircraft. The Army's primary fighter of theearly war was the Nakajima K.43 Hayahusa (PeregrineFalcon), a light, little aircraft, with a slim, tapered fuse-lage and a bubble canopy

The Navy's fighter came to symbolize the Japaneseair effort, even for the Japanese, themselves. The Mit-subishi Type "O" Carrier Fighter (its official designa-tion) was as much a trend-setting design as wasBritain's Spitfire or the American Corsair.

However, as author Norman Franks wrote, the Al-lied crews found that "the Japanese airmen were.. .farsuperior to the crude stereotypes so disparaged by thepopular press and cartoonists. And in a Zero they werehighly dangerous."

The hallmark of Japanese fighters had always beensuperb maneuverability. Early biplaneswhich hadbeen developed from British and French designssetthe pace. By the mid-1930s, the Army and Navy hadtwo world-class fighters, the Nakajima Ki.27 and theMitsubishi A5M series, respectively, both low-wing,fixed-gear aircraft. The Ki.27 did have a modern en-closed cockpit, while the A5M's cockpit was open (ex-cept for one variant that experimented with a canopy

Tue Wildcat was a rein tiveh small aircraft, as were most of the pre-war fighters throughout the world. The aircraft's narrow gear trackis shown to advantage in this ground view of n VMF-121 F4F-3.

A u LI u i (:Ik' un

Titis A6M3 is taking off freni Rabaul in 1943.

which was soon discarded in service.) A major andfatal disadvantage of most Japanese fighters wastheir light armamentusually a pair of .30-calibermachine gunsand lack of armor, as well as theirgreat flammability.

When the Type "0" first flew in 1939, most Japanesepilots were enthusiastic about the new fighter. It wasfast, had retractable landing gear and an enclosed cock-pit, and carried two 20mm cannon besides the two ma-chine guns. Initial operational evaluation in China in1940 confirmed the aircraft's potential.

By the time of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor,the A6M2 was the Imperial Navy's standard carrierfighter, and rapidly replaced the older A5Ms still inservice. As the A6M2 proved successful in combat, itacquired its wartime nickname, "Zero," although theJapanese rarely referred to it as such. The evocativename came from the custom of designating aircraft in

The Zero's incredible maneuverability came at some expense fromits top speed. In an effort to increase the speed, the designersclipped the folding wingtips from the carrier-based A6M2 andevolved the land-based A6M3, Model 32. The pilots were notimpressed with the speed increase and the production run -wasshort, the AÓM3 reverting back to its span as the Model 22. Thetype was originally called "Hap," after Gen Henry "Hap' Arnold,Chief of the Army Air Force. Arnold was so angry at the dubi-ous honor that the name was quickly changed to Hatnp. ThisHamp is shown in the Solomons during the Guadalcanalcampaign. Author's Collection

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Author's Colìectiøn

Brewster's fat little F2A Buffalo is credited with a dismal perfor-mace in American and British service, although the Finns rackedup a fine score against the Russians. This view of a MarineBrewster shows the aptness of its popular name, which actuallycame from the British. Its characteristic greenhouse canopy andmain wheels tucked snugly into its belly are also well shown.

reference to the Japanese calendar. Thus, since 1940 cor-responded to the year 2600 in Japan, the fighter was theType "00" fighter, which was shortened to "0." Thewestern press picked up the designation and the name"Zero" was born.

The fighter received another name in 1943 whichwas almost as popular, especially among the Ameri-can flight crews. A system of first names referred tovarious enemy aircraft, in much the same way that thepostwar NATO system referred to Soviet and Chineseaircraft. The Zero was tagged "Zeke," and the nameswere used interchangeably by everyone, from flightcrews to intelligence officers. (Other examples of thesystem included "Claude" [A5MJ, "Betty" [MitsubishiG4M bomber], and "Oscar" [Ki.43].)

As discussed in the main text, the Navy and MarineCorps Wildcats were sometimes initially hard-pressed todefend their ships and fields against the large forces ofBetty bombers and their Zero escorts, which had rangesof 800 miles or more through the use of drop tanks.

The Brewster Buffalo had little to show for its fewencounters with the Japanese, which is difficult to un-derstand given the type's early success during theRusso-Finnish War. The F2A-1, a lighter, earlier modelof the -3 which served with the Marines, was the stan-dard Finnish fighter plane. In its short combat career inAmerican service, the Brewster failed miserably

Thus, the only fighter capable of meeting the Japan-ese on anything approaching equal terms was the F4F,which was fortunate because the Wildcat was really allthat was available in those dark days following PearlHarbor. Retired Brigadier General Robert E. Galer de-scribed the Wildcat as "very rugged and very mis-treated (at Guadalcanal)." He added:

Photo courtesy of Robert Mikesh

The A6M2-N float plane version of the Zero did fairly well, suffer-ing only a small loss in its legendary maneuverability. Top speedwas somewhat affected, however, and the aircraft's relatively lightarmament was a detritnen t.

Full throttle, very few replacement parts,muddy landing strips, battle damage, roughly re-paired. We loved them. We did not worry aboutflight characteristics except when senior officerswanted to make them bombers as well as fighters.The Japanese also operated a unique form of

fighter. Other combatants had tried to make seaplanesof existing designs. The U.S. Navy had even hungfloats on the Wildcat, which quickly became the"Wildcatfish." The British had done it with the Spit-fire. But the resulting combination left much to be de-sired and sapped the original design of much of itsspeed and maneuverability.

The Japanese, however, seeing the need for awater-based fighter in the expanses of the Pacific,modified the A6M2 Zero, and came up with whatwas arguably the most successful water-based fighter

A good view of an early F4U-1 under construction in 1942. Themassive amount of wiring and piping for the aircraft's huge Pratt& Whitney engine shows up here, as do the Corsair's gull wings.

Author's Collection

9

of the war, the A6M2-N, which was allocated the Al-lied codename "Rufe."

Manufactured by Mitsubishi's competitor, Nakajima,float-Zeros served in such disparate climates as theAleutians and the Solomons. Although the floats bledoff at least 40 mph from the land-based version's topspeed, they seemed to have had only a minor effect onits original maneuverability; the Rufe aquired the samerespect as its sire.

While the F4F and P-40 (along with the luckless P-39) held the line in the Pacific, other, newer designswere leaving production lines, and none too soon. Thetwo best newcomers were the Army's Lockheed P-38Lightning and the Navy's Vought F4U Corsair. The P-38 quickly captured the headlines and public interestwith its unique twin-boomed, twin-engine layout. Itsoon developed into a long-range escort, and served inthe Pacific as well as Europe.

The Corsair was originally intended to fly from air-craft carriers, but its high landing speed, long nose thatobliterated the pilot's view forward during the landingapproach, and its tendency to bounce, banished the bigfighter from American flight decks for a while. TheBritish, however, modified the aircraft, mainly by clip-ping its wings, and flew it from their small decks.

Deprived of its new carrier fighterhaving settledon the new Grumman F6F Hellcat as its main carrierfighterthe Navy offered the F4U to the Marines. Theytook the first squadrons to the Solomons, and after afew disappointing first missions, they made the gull-winged fighter their own, eventually even flying itfrom the small decks of Navy escort carriers in the laterstages of the war.

The Marine pilot of this F4 LI-1, Lt Donald Balch, contemplates hisgood fortune bi1' the damaged tail of his fightei The Corsair was arelatively tough aircraft, hut like ante plane, damage to vital por-tions of its controls or powerplant could prove fatal.

Authors Col1ectin

National Archives 80G-54284

This "bird-cage" Corsair is landing at Espiritu Santo in September1943. The aircraft's paint is well-weathered and its main gear tiresare "dusty" from tite coral runwai/s of the area.

Besides the two main fighters, the Army's Oscarand the Navy's Zeke and its floatplane derivative, theRufe, the Japanese flew a wide assortment of aircraft,including land-based bombers, such as the MitsubishiG4M (codenamed Betty) and Ki.21 (Sally). Carrier-based bombers included the Aichi D3A divebomber(the Val) which saw considerable service during thefirst three years of the war, and its stablernate, thetorpedo bomber from Nakajima, the B5N (Kate), oneof the most capable torpedo-carriers of the first halfof the war. The Marine Corps squadrons in theSolomons regularly encountered these aircraft. FirstLieutenant James Swett's two engagements on 7 April1943 netted the young Wildcat pilot seven Vals, andthe Medal of Honor.

Although early wartime propaganda ridiculedJapanese aircraft and their pilots, returning Alliedaviators told different stories, although the details oftheir experiences were kept classified. Each side'sculture provided the basis for their aircraft designMitsubishi G4M Betty bombers, perhaps during the Solomonscampaign. Probably the best Japanese laud-based bomber inthe war's first two years, the G4M series enjoyed a long range.

National Archives 8OG-4279

istLt Rolland N. Rinabarger of VMF-214 in his early F4 U-1 Cor-sair at Epiritu Santo in September 1943. Badly shot up by Zerosduring an early mission to Kahili only two weeks after this photowas taken, Lt Rinubarger returned to the States for lengthy treat-ment. He was still in California when the war ended. The na-tional insignia on his Corsair is outlined in red, a short-livedattempt to regain that color from the prewar marking after thered circle was deleted following Pearl Harbor to avoid con fu-sion with the Japanese meatball. Even this small amount ofred was deceptive, however, and by mid-1944, it was gone fromthe insignia again. Note the large mud spray on the aft underfuselage.

philosophies. Eventually, the Japanese were over-whelmed by American technology and numerical su-periority. However, for the important first 18 monthsof the Pacific war, they had the best. But, as was alsothe case in the European theaters, a series of misfor-tunes, coincidences, a lack of understanding by lead-ers, as well as the drain of prolonged combat, finallyallowed the Americans and their Allies to overcomethe enemy's initial edge.

but could burst into flames under attack, much to the chagrin ofits crews. The type flew as a suicide aircraft, and finally, paintedwhite with green crosses, carried surrender teams to various sites.

Photo courtesy Robert Mikesh

10

Galer would also be shot downthree more times during his flyingcareertwice more during WorldWar II and once during a tour inKorea.

The last half of September 1942was a time of extreme trial for theCactus Air Force (Cactus was thecodename for Guadalcanal). Somerelief for the Marine squadronscame in the form of bad weatherand the arrival of disjointed contin-gents of Navy aircraft and crewswho were displaced from carrierswhich were either sunk, or dam-aged. Saratoga (CV3) and Enterprise(CV6) had been torpedoed orbombed and sent back to rear arearepair stations. The remaining carri-ers, Hornet (CV8) and Wasp (CV7),patrolled off Guadalcanal, their cap-tains and admirals decidedly un-easy about exposing the last Ameri-can flattops in the Pacific as meatytargets to the numerically superiorJapanese ships and aircraft.

Wasp took a lurking Japanesesubmarine's torpedoes on 15 Sep-tember while covering a convoy.Now only Hornet remained. Navyplanes and crews from Enterprise,Saratoga, and now Wasp flew intoHenderson Field to supplement thehard-pressed Marine fighter andbomber squadrons there. lt was stilla meager force of 63 barely opera-tional aircraft, a collection of Navyand Marine F4Fs and SBDs, NavyGrumann TBF Avenger torpedobombers, and a few forlorn ArmyP-400s. A few new Marine pilotsfrom VMF-121 filtered in on 25 Sep-tember. However, two days later,the crews from Enterprise's contin-gent took their planes out to meettheir carrier steaming in to arriveon station off Guadalcanal. As theweather broke on the 27th, the En-terprise crews took their leave ofGuadalcanal.

The next day, the Japanesemounted their first raid in nearlytwo weeks. Warned by the coast-

watchers, Navy and Marine fightersrose to intercept the 70-plane force.Now a lieutenant colonel, Harold"Indian Joe" Bauer was making oneof his periodic visits from Efate, andscored a kill, a Zero, before landing.

A native of North Platte, Ne-braska, Bauer was part-Indian (aswas Major Gregory "Pappy" Boy-ington). A veteran of 10 years as aMarine aviator, he watched theprogress of the campaign atGuadalcanal from his rear-area baseon Efate. He would come north,using as an excuse the need tocheck on those members of hissquadron who had been sent toHenderson and would occasionallyfly with the Cactus fighters.

His victory on the 28th was hisfirst, and soon, Bauer was a familiarface to the Henderson crews. Bauerwas visiting VMF-224 on 3 Octoberwhen a coastwatcher reported alarge group of Japanese bombers in-bound for Henderson. VMF-223and -224 took off to intercept theraiders. The Marine Wildcats ac-counted for 11 enemy aircraft; Lieu-tenant Colonel Bauer claimed four,making him an ace.

On 30 September, AdmiralChester Nimitz, Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, braved a heavy rain-storm to fly in to Henderson for anawards ceremony. John Smith, Mar-ion Carl, and Bob Caler, as well assome ist Marine Division person-nel, received the Navy Cross. Othermembers of the Cactus Air Force,Navy and Marine, were decoratedwith Distinguished Flying Crosses.Nimitz departed in a blinding rainafter presenting a total of 27 medalsto the men of the Cactus Air Force.

Combat in October

October was a pivotal month forthe air campaign on Guadalcanal. Itwas a time when the men who hadarrived in August were clearly atthe end of their endurance, for sick-

ii

ness and fatigue hit them after theyhad survived Japanese bullets.However, new squadrons andcrews were arriving, among themVMF-121, led by Major Leonard K."Duke" Davis. His executive officer,Captain Joseph J. Foss, would soonmake a name for himself.

Foss came from Sioux Falls,South Dakota, and as a boy had de-veloped a shooting eye whichwould stand him in good steadover Guadalcanal. He enlisted inthe Marine Corps in February 1940and received his wings of gold 13months later. Originally consideredtoo old to fly fighters (he was 27),he was ordered to a photo recon-naissance squadron in San Diego.However, he kept submitting re-quests for transfer to fighters andwas finally sent to VMF-121.

A few days after arriving at Hen-derson, Foss scored his first victoryon 13 October. As an attacking Zerofired and missed, Foss fired hisguns sending the enemy fighterdown. Three more Zeros then at-tacked Foss, putting holes in hisWildcat's oil system. The newlyblooded pilot had to make a dead-stick landing back at Cactus Base.

Other veterans of the campaignhad not stayed idle. Major Smith ofVMF-223 had taken his squadronup on 2 October against a raid byJapanese bombers and fighters. TheZero escorts dove on the climbingNavy and Marine Wildcats, quicklyshooting down two fighters fromVMF-223. Smith exited a cloud toconfront three Zeros. He blasted afighter into a ball of flame. How-ever, the two remaining Zeros goton his tail and peppered the strug-gling little blue-gray F4F with can-non and machine gun fire. Listen-ing to a repaired radio from adamaged SBD back at Guadalcanal,the crews of Dennis Byrd's VMSB-232 heard Captain Carl call to hisskipper. "John, you've got a Zero onyour tail!" "1 knoç I know," Smith

replied, "shoot the SOB if you can!"Then all was silence.

Smith's aircraft was mortallywounded, and he tried to regain thefield. He finally had to make a dead-stick landing six miles from the stripand walk back, watching all thetime for roving Japanese patrols.

Second Lieutenant Charles H.Kendrick was not as fortunate ashis skipper. The Zeros had gottenhim on their first pass, and he triedto guide his stricken fighter to acrash landing. He apparentlylanded close to Henderson, but hisfighter flipped over on its back,killing the young pilot.

Major Smith led a party to thecrash site. They found Kendrick stillin his cockpit. They released andburied him beside his plane. StanNicolay recalled, "I don't knowhow many we lost that day We re-ally took a beating." Actually, sixWildcats had been shot down or re-turned with strike damage. Severalothers required major repair.

VMF-224's skipper was also shotdown. Bob Caler bailed out overthe waterhis third shootdown inless than three weeksand was res-cued. He had accounted for twoZeros, however. He recalled:

I was up with six fighters,cruising about at 20,000 or25,000 feet. Suddenl 18 Zeroscame at us out of the sun, andwe took 'em on. The day wascloudy and after a few min-utes, the only other Marine Icould find was Second Lieu-tenant Dean Hartley. In themelee of first contact, I heardseveral Jap bullets splatteragainstand throughmyship, but none stopped me. Atabout the same moment, Hart-ley and I started to climb intoa group of seven Zeros hover-ing above us. In about fourminutes, I shot down twoZeros and Hartley got a possi-ble. The other four were just

too many and we were bothshot down. Hartley got to afield, but I couldn't make it.The lap that got me really hadme boresighted. He raked myship from wingtip to wingtip.He blasted the rudder barright from under my foot. Mycockpit was so perforated it's amiracle that I escaped. Theblast drove the rivets from thepedal into my leg. I pancakedinto the water near Florida Is-land. lt took me an hour-and-a-hall to swim ashore....I wor-ried not only about the lapsbut about the tide turningagainst me, and sharks.Major Caler struggled ashore

where he encountered four menarmed with machetes and spears.Fortunately, the natives werefriendly and took the bedraggledpilot to their village. After enjoyingwhat hospitality his hosts could

offer, Major Caler rode in a nativecanoe to a Marine camp on a beachfive miles away. He made his wayback to Henderson from there.

Marine Aircraft Croup 23 and therest of its squadrons also left the fol-lowing day, having earned a restfrom the intense combat of the lasttwo-and-a-half months. Between 20August and 16 October, thesquadrons of MAC-23 and attachedArmy and Navy squadrons hadshot down 244 Japanese aircraft, in-cluding 111.5 by VMF-223 and 60.5by VMF-224. The score had notcorne free, though. Twenty-two pi-lots of the group, as well as 33 avia-tors from other Navy, Marine, andArmy squadrons assigned to theCactus Air Force, had been lost.

John Smith had seen his last en-gagement. He received the Medal ofHonor for his leadership during theGuadalcanal campaign and finishedthe war as the sixth highest on the

Maj John L. Smith, LtCol Richard C. Mangrurn, and Capt Marion E. Carl pose for photosafter returning to the States. LtCol Mangrum commanded an SBD squadron at the heightof the Cactus campaign and was universallij admired. He eventually attained the rank oflieutenant genera!, while Marion Carl retired as a major general after fighting in threewarsWorld War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.

Department of Defense photo (USMC) A707812

12

Painhng by William S. Phillips, courtesy of The Greenwich Workshop

Marion Carl, now a major and commanding his old squadron, VMF-223, made his 17thkill in December 1943, when he shot down a Japanese Tony over Rabaul. Carl was escort-ing Marine PBJ (B-25) bombers in his F4 U-1 Corsair when the enemy fighter jumped theraiders. The victory was Carl's next-to-last score.

list of Marine Corps aces, closelyfollowed by his friend and rival,Marion Carl. Much to his initialchagrin, Smith found himself on theWar Bond circuit, and then trainingnew pilots. It was not until twoyears later, in 1944, that LieutenantColonel Smith got a combat assign-ment again. As commanding officerof MAC-32 in Hawaii, he took thegroup to Bougainville and thePhilippines.

Marion Carl assumed commandof his old squadron, VMF-223, inthe United States in January 1943and took the newly renamed Bull-dogs to the South Pacific late in thefall. He gained two more killsaKi.61 Tony (a Japanese Armyfighter) and a Zero, on 23 Decem-ber and 27 December 1943, respec-tivelythis time in a Vought F4UCorsair. His final score at the endof the war was 18.5 Japanese air-craft destroyed.

The night of 13-14 October sawthe Japanese pound beleagueredHenderson Field with every gunthey could fire from their assem-bled flotilla offshore, as well as theentrenched artillery positions hid-den in the dense jungle surround-ing the field. The night-long bar-rage might very well have been theend for the Cactus Marines.

The new day revealed that of 39Dauntlesses, only seven could beconsidered operational, only a fewArmy fighters could stagger into theair, and all the TBF Avenger torpedobombers were destroyed or down.The only saving factor was that thefighter strip was relatively un-touched. By the afternoon, a fewWildcats were sent up to mount a pa-trol over Henderson while it pulleditself together. For the next few days,the Cactus Air ForceMarine, Navyand Armyflew as though its coilec-five life was on the line, which it was.

13

A New Crew at Cactus

Although VMF-223 had left,Guadalcanal still had several topscoring aces left, among them Cap-tain Joe Foss of VMF-121 and Lieu-tenant Colonel Harold Bauer ofVMF-212. Throughout October 1942,Foss and Bauer were kept busy byconstant Japanese raids, desperatelytrying to dislodge the determinedMarines from the island.

Lieutenant Colonel Bauer hadled his VMF-212 up from EspirituSanto on the afternoon of 16 Octo-ber, when he finally had his ownsquadron at Henderson. Withempty gas tanks, the 18 Wildcatswere running on fumes as they en-tered the landing pattern in time tosee a U.S. transport under attackfrom Japanese dive-bombers. With-out hesitating, Bauer broke from thepattern and charged into the Vals,shooting down four of them. It wasan incredible way to advertise thearrival of his squadron.

Joe Foss took off on the afternoonof 23 October to intercept an incom-ing force of Betty bombers, escortedby Zeros. Five of the escorting fight-ers dove toward Foss and his flight,followed by 20 more Zeros. Divingto gain speed, the VMF-121 execu-tive officer saw a Wildcat pursuedby a Zero. He fired at the Japanesefighter, shredding it with his six .50-caliber machine guns.

Without losing speed, Foss rackedhis aircraft into a loop behind an-other Zero. He destroyed this secondMitsubishi while both fighters hunginverted over Guadalcanal. As hecarne out of the loop, Foss hit a thirdZero. A fourth kill finished off ahighly productive mission.

On 25 October, Foss took offagain against a Japanese raid, andthis time, he shot down two enemyaircraft. Later the same day, Fossgunned down three more Zeros fora total of five in one day, and anoverall score of 16 kills.

f the 81 Medals of Honorawarded to Marines for ser-vice during World War II, li

Marine Corps aviators receivedAmerica's highest military award.Except for two posthumous awards,the medals all went to aces whoserved in the Solomons andBougainville campaigns. The Medalof Honor was awarded to CaptainHenry T. Elrod of VMF-211 and Cap-tain Richard E. Fleming of VMSB-241. Captain Elrod was killed onWake in December 1941. Althoughhis award is chronologically the firstMedal of Honor to be awarded to a

*Lieutenant Colonel Harold W. Bauer, VMF-212. Forservice from May to November 1942. Grumman F4F-4Wildcat.

Major Gregory Boyington, VMF-214. For service fromSeptember 1943 to January 1944 in the CentralSolomons. Vought F4U-1 /F4U-IA Corsair.

First Lieutenant Jefferson J. DeBlanc, VMF-112. For ac-tion on 31 January 1943. Grumman F4F-4 Wildcat.

*Captain Henry T. Elrod, VMF-211. For action on WakeIsland 8-23 December 1941. Grumman F4F-3 Wildcat.

*Captain Richard E. Fleming, VMSB-241. For action atthe Battle of Midway, 4-5 June 1942. Vought SB2U-3Vindicator.Captain Joseph J. Foss, VMF-121. For service in theGuadalcanal Campaign, October 1942-January 1943.Grumman F4F-4 Wildcat.

Marine Corps AviatorsWho Received

the Medal of Honorin World War II

Marine during the war, his perfor-mance did not become known untilsurvivors of Wake had been repatri-ated after the war.

Captain Fleming was a dive-bomber pilot at Midway in 1942.VMSB-241 flew both the obsoleteVought SB2U Vindicator and theSBD Dauntless during this pivotalbattle. On 5 June 1942, CaptainFleming was last seen diving on aJapanese ship amidst a wall of flak.HIs Vindicator struck the cruiser'saft turret.

Two of the remaining nineawards were for specific actions; the

The Pilots and Their Aircraft

14

other seven were for periods of con-tinued service or more than onemission. Seven of these awards werefor service in the Solomons-Guadal-canal Campaign. The awards forspecific actions went to First Lieu-tenant Jefferson DeBlanc (31 January1943) and First Lieutenant JamesE. Swett (7 April 1943).

Five of these awards were origi-nally posthumous. However, MajorGregory Boyington made a sur-prise return from captivity as aprisoner of war to receivehis award in person from PresidentHarry S. Truman.

Major Robert E. Galer, VMF-224. For service in theGuadalcanal Campaign, August-September 1942.Grumman F4F-4 Wildcat.

*First Lieutenant Robert M. Hanson, VMF-215. For ac-tion in the Central Solomons, November 1943 and Jan-uary 1944. Vought F4U-1 Corsair.

Major Robert L. Smith, VMF-223. For service in theGuadalcanal Campaign, August-September 1942.Grumman F4F-4 Wildcat.

First Lieutenant James E. Swett, VMF-221. For action on7 April 1943 over Guadalcanal. Grumman F4F-4Wildcat.

First Lieutenant Kenneth A. Walsh, VIvIF-124. For actionon 15 and 30 August 1943. Vought F4U-1 Corsair.

* indicates a posthumous award

Lieutenant Colonel Bauer wasadding to his score, too. A veteranaviator, Colonel Bauer was a re-spected flight leader. He frequentlygave pep talks to his younger pilots,earning the affectionate nicknameof "Coach." Bauer had taken overas commander of fighters onGuadalcanal on 23 October.

Before the big mission on 23 Oc-tober, the Coach had told his pilots,"When you see Zeros, dogfight'em!" His instructions went againstthe warnings that most of Americanfighter pilots had been given aboutthe lithe little Japanese fighter. JoeFoss' success on this day seemed tovindicate Bauer, however. TwentyZeros and two Bettys, including thefour Zeros claimed by Foss, wentdown in front of Marine Wildcats.

Up to this time the Zero was con-sidered the best fighter in the Pa-cific. This belief stemmed from thefact that the Zero had spectacularcharacteristics of performance inboth maneuverability, rate of climb,and radius of action, all first notedat the Battles of the Coral Sea andMidway. And it was because of itsperformances in these actions that itachieved the seeming invincibilitythat it did. At the same time, theZero was highly flammable becauseit lacked armor plate in any form inits design and also because it hadno self-sealing fuel tanks, such asexisted in U.S. aircraft. Initially inthe war, in the hands of a goodpilot, the Zero could usually takecare of itself against its heavier andtougher American opponents, butearly in the air battles over Guadal-canal, its days of supremacy be-came numbered. By the end of thewar in the Pacific, the kill ratio ofU.S. planes over Japanese aircraftwent from approximately 2.5:1 tobetter than 10:1.

What made the difference as faras Lieutenant Colonel Bauer wasconcerned was his feeling that, inthe 10 months of intense combat

after Pearl Harbor, including theirdisastrous and failed adventure atMidway, the Japanese had lostmany of their most experienced pi-lots, and their replacements wereneither so good nor experienced.Many of the major aces of the Zerosquadronsthe ones who had accu-mulated many combat hours overChinahad, indeed, been lost orbeen rotated out of the combat zone.Whatever the situation, most of theMarine pilots in this early part ofthe war in the South Pacific wouldstill admit that the Japanese re-mained a force to he reckoned with.

The Japanese endeavored to re-assert their dominance on 25 Octo-ber. In a last-ditch effort to removeAmerican carriers from the SouthPacific, a fleet including three air-craft carriers sortied to find theU.S. carriers Enterprise and Hornet,all that remained at the moment ofthe meager U.S. carrier strength inthe Pacific.

The Japanese fleet was discov-ered during an intensive search byPBY flying boats, and the battle wasjoined early in the morning of 26

October. What became known asthe Battle of Santa Cruz occurredsome 300 miles southeast ofGuadalcanal. Indeed, most of theMarine and Navy flight crews at-tempting to blunt remaining enemyair raids still plaguing the positionsof the embattled ground forces onGuadalcanal had no idea that an-other desperate fight was beingwaged that would have a distinctimpact on their situation back atHenderson.

Many American Navy flightcrews received their baptism of fireduring Santa Cruz. Hornet was hitby Japanese dive-bombers andeventually abandonedone of thefew times that a still-floating Ameri-can ship had been left to the enemy,even though she was burning fromstem to stern. (The carrier was onlya year old.) Enterprise was hit by \Taldive-bombers, and the aircraft ofher Air Group 10 were ultimatelyforced to land on Guadalcanal. Thedisplaced Navy crews remained atHenderson until 10 November,while their ship underwent repairsat Noumea, New Caledonia.

While the Marines on Guadalcanal fought for their lives, their Navy compatriots far offshorealso challenged the Japanese. At the Battle of Santa Cruz, October1942, Japanese bombershit the American ships, damaging the vital camer Enterprise as well as attacking squadronsof inexperienced Navy aircrews. This A6M2 Model 21 Zero launches from the carrierSholalu during Santa Cruz while deck crewmen cheer on the pilot, Lt Hideki Shingo.

Author's Collection

15

While blame and recriminationswent the rounds of the Navy's Pa-cific commandsfor it seemed thatSanta Cruz was a debacle, a strate-gic and tactical defeat for the hard-pressed carrier forcethe effects ofthe battle would become clear soon.

Sixty-nine Japanese aircraft hadbeen shot down by Navy F4Fs andantiaircraft fire. An additional 23were forced to ditch because ofcrippling battle damage.

Like Midway, Santa Cruz de-prived the Japanese of many of

16

their vital aircraft and their experi-enced flight crews and flight com-manders. Thus, as the frantic monthof October gave way to November,and although they did not know itat the time, the Cactus Air Forcecrews had been given a respite, and

Brigaierene1 Roy Gr,iiSMC

GeneraiGeiger, commander of the ist Marine

Aircraft Wing, arrived on Guadalcanal on 3September 1942 to assume command of air

operations emanating from Henderson Field. He was57 years old, and he had been a Marine for 35 ofthose years, commanded a squadron in France inWorld War I, served a number of tours fighting thebandits in Central America, and had served in thePhilippines and China. He was designated a navalaviator in June 1917, thus becoming the fifth flyer inthe Marine Corps and the 49th in the naval service. Inthe course of his career, he had a number of assign-ments to staff and command billets as well as tours atsenior military courses such as the ones at the ArmyCommand and Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, theArmy War College at Carlisle, and the Navy War Col-lege at Newport. He also was both a student and in-structor at various times at the Marine Corps Schools,Quantico, Virginia. Among other reasons, it was be-cause of his sound training in strategy and tactics atthese schools and his long experience as a Marinethat he was so weil equipped to assume command ofI Marine Amphibious Corps (later III Amphibious

Corps) for the Bougainville, Guam, Peleliu, and Old-nawa operations.

When Lieutenant General Simon Bolivar Buckner,Jr., USA, commander of the Tenth Army on Okinawawas killed, and based on General Buckner's stateddecision before the operation, General Geiger tookover command and became the first Marine ever toaccede to command of as large a unit as an army. Hewas then 60, an age when many men in civilian lifelooked forward to retirement.

But it was at Guadalcanal, where his knowledge ofMarine planes and pilots was so important in defeat-ing the myth of Japanese invincibility in the air, thathe first made his mark in the Pacific War. A short,husky, tanned, and white-haired Marine, whose deepblue eyes were piercing and whose reputation hadpreceded him, compelled instant attention, recogni-tion, and dedication on the part of his junior pilots,many of whom had but a few hours of experience inthe planes they were flying. As told in this pamphlet,out of meager beginnings grew the reputation andsuccess in combat of the aces in the Solomons,

Benis M. Frank

i

ultimately, the key to victory overthe island.

Meanwhile, under the commandof Admiral Isoroku Yamarnoto, theJapanese decided to make onemore try to land troops and mater-ial on Guadalcanal and to regainthe island and its airstrips. TheAmericans were also bringing newsquadrons and men in to fortifyCactus Base and Henderson Field.MAC-11 arrived on 1 November,bringing the SBDs of VMSB-132and the F4Fs of VMF-112. Newlypromoted Brigadier General LouisWoods arrived on 7 November torelieve Brigadier General Roy S.Geiger as commander of the CactusAir Force. Both men were pioneerMarine aviators, and Geiger hadled his squadrons through some ofthe most intense combat to be seenduring the war. But, almost in-evitably, the strain was beginningto show on the tough, 57-year-oldGeiger. He had once taken off in anSBD in full view of his troops anddropped a 1,000-pound bomb on aJapanese position, showing histroops that a former squadron com-mander in France in World War Icould still do it.

As new planes and crews ar-rived at Henderson and the frus-trated Japanese planned their finalattacks, the Cactus Marines foughton. On 7 November, a sighting of aforce of Japanese ships nearFlorida Island scrambled a strikegroup of SBDs and their F4F es-corts. Captain Joe Foss led eightVMF-121 Wildcats, each with 250-pound bombs beneath its wings.The VMSB-1 32 Dau n ti esses carried500-pounders in their centerline-mounted bomb racks.

The heavily laden aircraft tooksome 30 minutes to climb to 12,000feet as their crews searched for theenemy flotilla. As he looked aheadand below, Foss spotted six Japan-ese floatplane Zerosa modifica-tion of the A6M2 model of the land-

Painting by ièd Wilbur, courtesy of the artist

Using hit-and-run tactics, Capt Joe Foss plaines a Japanese Zero over Henderson Fieldin October 1942.

and carrier-based Zerocrossingfrom right to left, descending. Alert-ing his squadron mates, he droppedhis light bombs and headed towardthe unsuspecting enemy fighters.

In one slashing pass, Foss' Wild-cats shot down five of the six Zeros,Foss' target literally disintegratingunder the weight of his heavy ma-chine gun fire. One of the otherWildcats shot down the survivingZero. All six enemy pilots bailedout of their fighters and seemed tobe out of danger as they floated to-ward the water. As the incredulousMarine pilots watched, however,the six Japanese aviators unlatchedtheir parachute harnesses and fellto their deaths.

Foss called for his fighters toregroup in preparation for a straf-ing run on the enemy warshipsbelow. He spotted a slow float bi-planeprobably a Mitsubishitype used for reconnaissance-and lined up for what he thoughtwould be an easy kill. However,the two-seater was surprisinglymaneuverable, and its pilotchopped the throttle, letting hisrear gunner get a good shot at thesurprised American fighter.

17

The gunner's aim was good andFoss' Wildcat suffered heavy dam-age before he finally dispatched theaudacious little floatplane. Soon, theVMF-121 executive officer found athird victim, another floatplane, andshot it down. Regrouping with aportion of his group, he flew back toHenderson Field with another badlydamaged Wildcat. However, thetwo cripples were spotted en routeby enemy fighters. The two Ameri-can fighters tried to get to the pro-tection of clouds. Foss succeeded,but his wingman was apparentlyshot down by the enemy flight.

Foss was not out of danger, how-ever, as his engine finally quit, forc-ing him to glide toward the sea,3,500 feet below. He droppedthrough heavy rain, trying to gaugethe best way to put his aircraftdown in the water. He spotted asmall village on the coast of anearby island and wondered if thenatives would turn him over to theJapanese.

He hit the water with enoughforce to slam his canopy shut, mo-mentarily trapping him in the cock-pit as the Wildcat began to sink. In afew seconds which seemed like an


Two aces walk with another famous aviator.Charles Lindbergh, right, visited the Pacificcombat areas several times to help Armi,Navy, and Marine Corps squadrons get themost from the respective mounts. Here, thepioneer transatlantic flier visits with now-Maj Joe Foss, left, and now-Ma j MarionCarl, center, in May 1944.

eternity, he struggled to free himselffrom his seat and the straps of hisparachute, and force the canopyopen again. His aircraft was wellbelow the surface and only after anadrenalin-charged push, was he ableto ram the canopy back and shootfrom his plane. He remembered toinflate his Mae West life preserver,which helped him get to the surfacewhere he lay gasping for air.

After floating for a long time asdarkness fell, Foss was finally res-cued by natives and a missionarypriest from the village he had seenas he dropped toward the water.The rescue came none too soon assharks, which frequented the wa-ters near the island, had begun toappear around the Marine pilot.

A PBY flew up from Hendersonthe next day to collect him and hewas back in action the day after hereturned. On 12 November, hescored three kills, making him thetop American ace of the war, andthe first to reach 20 kills.

The Battle forGuadalcanal

On the night of 12-13 November,American and Japanese naval forcesfought a classic naval battle whichhas been called the First Battle ofGuadalcanal. It was a tactical defeatfor the Americans who lost two rearadmirals killed in action on thebridges of their respective flagships.

The next day, 14 November, theSecond Battle of Guadalcanal pittedaircraft froni the carrier Enterpriseand Henderson Field against a largeenemy force trying to run the Slot,the body of water running down theSolomons chain between Guadal-canal and New Georgia. By mid-night, another naval engagementwas underway. This battle turnedout differently for the Japanese, wholost several ships, including 10transports carrying more than 4,000troops and their equipment.

The Navy and Marines from En-ter prise and Henderson hammeredthe enemy ships, while the Ameri-cans on the island, in turn, were ha-rassed day and night by well-en-trenched enemy artillery positionsstill on Guadalcanal and the hugeguns of the Japanese battleshipsand cruisers offshore.

During these furious engage-ments, Lieutenant Colonel Bauerhad dutifully stayed on the ground,organizing Cactus air strikes andordering other people into the air.Finally, on the afternoon of 14 No-vember, Colonel Bauer scheduledhimself to lead seven F4Fs fromVMF-121 as escorts for a strike bySBDs and TBFs against the Japanesetransport ships.

Together with Captain Foss andSecond Lieutenant Thomas W."Coot" Furlow, Bauer strafed oneof the transports before turningback for Henderson. Two Zerossneaked up on the Marine fighters,hut Bauer turned to meet the

18

threat, shooting down one of theJapanese attackers. The secondZero dragged Foss and Furlowover a Japanese destroyer whichdid its best to take out the Wildcats.By the time they had shaken theZero and returned to the pointwhere they last saw the Coach,they found a large oil slick withColonel Bauer in the middle, wear-ing his yellow Mae West, wavingfuriously at his squadron mates.

Foss quickly flew back to Hen-derson and jumped into a Grurn-man Duck, a large amphibian usedas a hack transport and rescue vehi-cle. Precious time was lost as theDuck had to hold for a squadron ofArmy B-26 bombers landing after aflight from New Caledonia; theywere nearly out of gas. Finally, Fossand the Duck's pilot, LieutenantJoseph N. Renner, roared off in thelast light of the day. By the timethey arrived over Bauer's last posi-lion, it was dark and the Coach wasnowhere to be seen.

The next morning a desperatesearch found nothing of Lieu-tenant Colonel Bauer. He wasnever found and was presumed tohave drowned or have been at-tacked by the sharks which were aconstant threat to all aviatorsforced to parachute into the watersaround Guadalcanal during thecampaign.

Bauer's official score of 11 Japan-ese aircraft destroyed (revised listscredit him with 10) did not begin totell the impact the loss the toughveteran had on the young Marineand Navy crews at Henderson. Hewas decorated with a Medal ofHonor posthumously for his flighton 16 October, when he shot downfour Japanese Val dive-bombers,but the high award could also beconsidered as having been given inrecognition of his leadership of hisown squadron, VMF-212, and later,as the commander of the fighters ofthe Cactus Air Force.

Painting by William S. Phillips, courtesy of The Creeneich Workshop

Capt Foss saves a fellow pilot by shooting dowi an attacking Zero during an engagement on 23 October 1942.

The loss of the Coach was a hardblow. Another loss, albeit tempo-rary, was that of Joe Foss who be-came severely ill with malaria.(Many of the Cactus Air Force avia-tors, like the ground troops, battledone tropical malady or another dur-ing their combat tours.) Foss flewout to New Caledonia on 19 No-vember with a temperature of 104degrees. He spent the next monthon sick leave, also losing 37 pounds.While in Australia, he met some ofthe Australian pilots who hadflown against Nazi pilots in theDesert War in North Africa. In oneof his conversations with them, hetold the Aussies, "We have a sayingup at Guadalcanal, if you're aloneand you meet a Zero, run like hellbecause you're outnumbered." In

the coming months, they wouldfind out he knew was he was talk-ing about.

Foss returned to Guadalcanal on31 December 1942, and remainedon combat status until 17 February1943, when he was ordered back tothe U.S. By this time, besides endur-ing several return bouts withmalaria, he had shot down anothersix Japanese aircraft for a final totalof 26 aircraft and no balloons, thusbecoming the first American pilotto equal the score of Captain Ed-ward Rickenhacker, the top U.S. acein World War I. In that war, tetheredballoons shot down counted as air-craft splashed. Of the 26 planesRickenbacker was given credit for,four were balloons.

Joe Foss was one of the Cactus

19

Marines who was awarded theMedal of Honor for his cumulativework during their intense cam-paign. Summoned to the WhiteHouse on 18 May 1943, he was dec-orated by President Franklin D.Roosevelt. After his action-packedtour at Guadalcanal, Captain Fosswent on the requisite War Bondtour. Promoted to major, he tookcommand of a new fightersquadron, VMF-11 5, equipped withF4U-1 Corsairs.

Originally nicknamed "Joe's Jok-ers," in deference to their famousskipper, VMF-115 flew a short com-bat tour from Bougainville duringMay when there was little or noenemy air activity from and aboveRabaul. Major Foss did not add tohis score.

Cactus VictoryBy Christmas 1942, tile Japanese

position was clearly untenable.Their troops who remained onGuadalcanal were sick and short offood, medicine, and ammunition.There was still plenty of action onthe ground and in the air, but notlike the intense engagements of theprevious fall. On 31 January 1943,First Lieutenant Jefferson J. DeBlancof VMF-112 led six Wildcats as es-corts for a strike by Dauntlesses andAvengers. He encountered a strongforce of Zeros near KolombangaraIsland and took his fighters down tomeet tile threat before the Japanesecould reach the Marine bombers.

In a wild melee, DeBlanc, who al-ready had three Zeros to his credit,shot down three more before hear-ing a call for help from the bombersnow under attack by floatplaneZeros. DeBlanc and his flightclimbed back to the formation anddispersed the float Zeros.

Soon after tile SBDs and TBFsmade their attacks on Japaneseships, DeBlanc discovered two

A good closeup of a Wildcat's cockpit and the aircraft's captain on Guadalcanal. Al-though this F4F displaiis 19 Japanese flags, it is doubtful that it flew with these sincesuch a large scoreboard would have attracted unwanted attention from the Japanese.Note the reflector gunsight inside the windscreen.

National Archives Photo 80-G-37929

Author's Collection

This front view of an F4F-4 shows an unusual aspect of Grumman's tubbi little fighter.

more Zeros closing from behind. Heengaged and destroyed these twoattackers with his badly damagedWildcat. DeBlanc and a member ofhis flight, Staff Sergeant James A.

20

Feliton, had to abandon their F4Fsover Kolombangara. A coast-watcher cared for the two Marineaviators until a plane could comefrom Henderson to retrieve them.

On 31 January 1943, lstLt Jefferson De-Blanc of VMF-112 earned the Medal ofHonor while escorting Marine dive bombersand torpedo-bombers to Vella Gulf. His flightencountered a larger enemy force and duringthe melee, DeBlanc shot down three floatplanes and two Zeros before being forced toabandon his own plane at a very low altitudeover Japanese-held Kolornbangara.



lstLt laines E. Swett of VMF-221 was in aflight which rose from Guadalcanal to chal-lenge a large group of enemy planes bent ondestroying shipping off the island on 7 April1943. In a 15-minute period, Swett shotdown scven Japanese bombers, a performancewhich earned him the Medal of Honor.

DeBlanc received tile Medal ofHonor for his day's work.

The Japanese evacuated Guadal-canal on tile night of 7-8 February1943. The campaign had been costlyfor both sides, but in the longerterm, the Japanese were tile biglosers. Their myth of invincibility on

the ground in the jungle was shat-tered, as was the myth surroundingthe Zero and the pilots who flew it.The lack of reliable records by bothsides leaves historians with onlywide-ranging estimates of losses.Estimates placed 263 Japanese air-craft lost, while American losseswere put at 118. Ninety-four Ameri-can pilots were also killed in actionduring the campaign.

Post-GuadalcanalOperations,

February-December 1943Even though tile main body of

their troops had been evacuated,the Japanese continued to opposeAllied advances by attacking shipsand positions. The enemy mountedthese attacks through June 1943from their huge bases in southernBougainville and from Rabaul onNew Britain.

On 7 April 1943, tile enemy senta huge strike against Allied ship-ping around Guadalcanal. TheJapanese force consisted of morethan 100 Zero escorts and perhaps70 bombers, dive bombers, and tor-pedo bombers. It was an incrediblylarge raid, the likes of which had

A Marine Wildcat dogfights a Zero over Henderson as other F4Fs finish off anotherenemy fighter at low level.

Painting by Robert Taylor, courtesy of The Military Gallery

21

not been seen in the Solomons forseveral months. But it was also, atbest, a last desperate gamble by theJapanese in the area.

Henderson scrambled over 100fightersWildcats, Corsairs, P-38s,P-39s, and P-40s. Among this gag-gle were the F4Fs of VMF-221. FirstLieutenant James E. Swett, leadingone of the squadron's divisions,waded into a formation of Val divebombers. Swett had arrived onGuadalcanal in February and hadparticipated in a few patrols, buthad yet to fire his guns in combat.

As he led his four Wildcats to-ward the Japanese formation, Swettignored the flak from the Americanships below. He targeted two Valsand brought them down. He got athird dive-bomber as a flak shell puta hole in his Wildcat's port wing.

Disengaging, Swett tested hiswounded fighter, and satisfied thathe could still fly and fight with it,he reentered tile fight. Spotting fiveVals hightailing it home, he caughtup with the little formation and me-thodically disposed of four of thefixed-gear Vals. The gunner of thefifth bomber, however, hit Swett'sWildcat with a well-aimed burstfr0111 his light machine gun, putting.30-caliber ammunition into the Ma-rine fighter's engine and cockpitcanopy.

Wounded from the shatteringglass, and with his vision obscuredfrom spouting engine oil, Swettpumped more fire into the Vai,killing the gunner. The Japanese air-craft disappeared into a cloud, lea-ing a smoke trail behind. Americansoldiers later found the Val, with itsdead crew. The troops presentedSwett with the radio code from theVal's cockpit. However, the aircraftwas apparently never credited toSwett's account, leaving his officialtotal for the day at seven.

Swett struggled toward Hender-son but over Tulagi harbor, his air-craft's engine quit, leaving hirn to

ditch. The Wildcat hit hard, throw-ing its pilot against the prominentgunsight, stunning him and break-ing his nose. Like Joe Foss sixmonths before him, Swett was mo-mentarily trapped as his aircraftsunk, dragging him below the sur-face. He finally broke free andstruggled to the surface where hewas rescued by a small picket boatfrom Gavutu Island. Only one ofthe four fighters of Swett's divisionhad made it back to Henderson.After intelligence confirmed Swett'sincredible one-mission tally he be-came the sixth Marine Wildcat pilotto receive the Medal of Honor foraction over Guadalcanal.

Swett's engagement was part ofthe last great aerial battle in theSolomons. The Japanese wereforced to turn their attention else-where as the American strategy ofisland-hopping began to gather mo-mentum. All the Marine Corps

Wildcat squadrons at Hendersonsoon transitioned to the next gener-ation of Marine fighter aircraft, theworld-beating Vought F4U Corsairwhich would also provide its owngeneration of Leatherneck aces inthe coming months.

James Swett transitioned to theCorsair and served with VMF-221when the squadron embarked inthe aircraft carrier USS Bunker Hill(CVI7). By 11 May 1945, when heshot down his last victim, a Japan-ese kamikaze, he had a total of 15.5kills in Wildcats and Corsairs.

The Marine Corsair Aces ofBou gainville and the Central

Pacific, 1943-44

The campaign and victory onGuadalcanal signaled the contain-ment of the seemingly unstoppableJapanese, and the beginning of thelong, but ultimately successful, Al-

Marine mechanics service an early F4U Corsair, perhaps of VMF-124, on Guadalcanal inearhi 7943. "Bubbles" is already showing the effects of its harsh tropical environment aswell as the constant scuffing of its keepers' boots. Note the Corsair's large gull wings andlong nose, which prohibited a clear view forward, especially during taxi and landings.

National Archives 127-N-55431

22

lied drive through the Pacific toJapan. The first step of the longjourney began with the island withthe strange name.

Once secured, however, by 7 Feb-ruary 1943, Guadalcanal quickly be-came the major support base for theremainder of the Solomons cam-paign. While Marine ground forcesslugged their way up the Solomonschain in the middle of 1943, Alliedair power provided much-neededsupport, primarily from newly se-cured Guadalcanal. Marine andNavy squadrons were accompaniedby Army and New Zealandsquadrons as they made low-levelsweeps along the islands, or es-corted bombers against the harborand airfields around Rabaul. TheU.S. Army Air Force sent strikes byB-24 Liberators against Kahili, es-corted by Corsairs, P-38s, P-39s,and P-40s. For Marine aviators, itwas the time of the Corsair aces.

The First Corsair Ace

Because the Navy decided thatthe F6F Wildcat was a better carrierfighter than the F4U Vought Cor-sair, the Marines got a chance tofield the first operational squadronto fly the plane. Thus, MajorWilliam Gise led the 24 F4U-ls ofVMF-124 onto Henderson Field on12 February 1943.

As the Allied offensive across thePacific gathered momentum, thefighting above the Solomons andthe surrounding islands continuedas the Japanese constantly harassedthe advancing Allied troops. TheCorsair's first engagements weretentative. The pilots of the firstsquadron, VMF-124, had only anaverage of 25 hours each in theplane when they landed at Guadal-canal. The very next day, they wereoff to Bougainvile as escorts forArmy B-17s and Navy PB4Y Libera-tors. It was a lot to ask, but they didit, taking some losses of both


Enlisting in the Marine Corps in 1933,lsfLt Kenneth A. Walsh eventually wentthrough flight training as a private, gaininghis wings in 1937. By 1943, Walsh was inaerial combat over the Soloînons and be-came the first Corsair-mounted ace.

bombers and escorts. While it was arough start, the Marines soon set-tled down and began to exploit thegreat performance of this new ma-chine, soon to become known to theJapanese as "Whistling Death," andto the Corsair pilots as the "BentWing Widow Maker."

After the first few missions, thenew experience with the Corsair'scapabilities began to really takehold. First Lieutenant Kenneth A.Walsh, a former enlisted pilot (hereceived his wings of gold as a pri-vate), shot down three enemy air-craft on 1 April. Six weeks later,after several patrols, Walshdropped three more Zeros on 13May 1943, becoming the first Cor-sair ace. By 15 August, Walsh had10 victories to his credit.

On 30 August, he was scheduledto fly escort for Army B-24s on astrike against the Japanese airfieldat Kahili, Bougainville. Walsh'sfour-plane section launched beforenoontime to make the flight to aforward base on Banika in the Rus-sell Islands. After refueling and

N,,tional Archives photo 80-G-5429t

lstLt Ken Walsh of VMF-124 connects his radio lead to his flight helmet before a missionin 1943, He was the first F4U pilot to be decorated with the Medal of Honor, for n mis-sion on 30 August 1943, during which he shot down four Japanese Zeros before ditchinghis borrowed Corsair.

grabbing some lunch, the four Ma-rine pilots took off again to ren-dezvous with the bombers. As theescortsmore F4Us and Army P-38sjoined up with the bombers,Walsh's engine acted up, forcinghim to make an emergency landingat Munda.

A friend, Major James L. Neefus,was in charge of the Munda air-field, and he let Walsh choose an-other fighter from Corsairs thatwere parked on Munda's airstrip.Walsh took off in his borrowedfighter and headed toward Kahilito try to find and rejoin with his di-vision. As he finally approachedthe enemy base, he saw the B-24sin their bomb runs, beset byswarms of angry Zeros. Alone, atleast for the moment, \'Valsh piledinto the enemy interceptors whichhad already begun to work on theArmy bombers.

23

As Walsh fought off several at-tacks by some 50 Zeros, therebydisrupting to a degree their attackon the bombers, he wonderedwhere all the other Americanfighters might be. Finally, severalother Corsairs appeared to relievethe hard-pressed ace. As otheraircraft took the burden fromWalsh, he eased his damagedfighter east to take stock of his sit-uation. He was able to shootdown two Zeros, but the enemyinterceptors were nearly over-whelming. The B-24s were strug-gling to turn for home as moreZeros took off from Kahili.

Lieutenant Walsh managed todown two more Zeros before he hadto disengage his badly damagedCorsair. Pursued by the Japanese,who pumped cannon and machinegun fire into his plane, Walsh knewhe would not return this Corsair to

Profile by Larry Lapadura, courtesy of the artist

This VMF-124 F4U-1, No.13, was flown ln lstLt Ken Walsh during his first combat tourin which he became the first Corsair-mounted ace.

Major Neefus at Munda. SeveralCorsairs and a lone P-40 arrived toscatter the Zeros which were usingWalsh for target practice.

He ditched his battered fighteroff Vella Lavella and was picked up

by the Seabees who borrowed aboat after watching the MarineCorsair splash into the sea. For hisspirited single-handed defense ofthe B-24s over Bougainville, Lieu-tenant Walsh became the first Cor-

Maj Gregory "Pappy" Boyington became the best known Marine ace, A member of theFlying Tigers in China before World War II, he later commanded VMF-122 before takingover VMF-214. By early January 1944, he was the Corps' leading scorer. Here, the colorfulBoyington, center, relaxes with some of his pilots.

Authors Collection

24

sair pilot to receive the Medal ofHonor. The four Zeros he shotdown during this incredible mis-sion ran his score to 20.

Ken Walsh shot down one moreaircraft, another Zero, off Okinawaon 22 June 1945, the day the islandwas secured. At the time, Walshwas the operations officer for VMF-222, shorebased on the newly se-cured island.

A series of assaults during thespring and summer of 1943 nettedthe Allies several important islandsup the Solomons chain. An am-phibious assault of Bougainville atEmpress Augusta Bay on 1 Novem-ber 1943, caught the Japanese de-fenders off guard. In spite of Japan-ese reaction and reinforcement, asecure perimeter was quickly estab-lished, and within 40 days, the firstof three airfields was in operationwith two more to follow by thenew year. Aircraft from these stripsflew fighter sweeps first, later to befollowed by daily escorted SBDand TBF strikes. With the establish-ment of this air strength at Bougain-ville, the rest of the island was ef-fectively bypassed, and the fate ofRabaul sealed.

Marine aircraft began flyingfrom their base at Torokina Point atEmpress Augusta Bay, the site forthe initial landing on Bougain-yule's midwestern coast. NavySeabees then quickly hacked outtwo more airstrips from the jun-glePiva North and Piva South.Piva Village was a settlement onthe Piva River, east of the airfieldcomplex.

The official Marine Corps his-tory noted that "whenever therewas no combat air patrol over thebeachhead, the Japanese werequite apt to drop shells into the air-field area. The Seabees and Marineengineers moved to the end of thefield which was not being hit andcontinued to work."

Comparative Table for Main Types of Fighters

Aircraft

U.S. Navy

F4F-4Wildcat

4U-1Corsair

USAAF

P-400(P-39D)Airacobra

P-40EWarhawk

JapaneseNavy

A6M2Model 21Zero-senZeke)

A6M 2- N(Rute)

JapaneseArmy

Ki.43-1 aHayabusa(Oscar)

28'9"

33,4"

30 2

312

29 8"

331

F2811

Ki.61-la 288H ien(Tony)

38 0"

410

34 0

37 4

39 4

394"

Nakaj maSakai 12(925)

NakajimaSakai 12(925)jNakajimaHa-25(950)

KawasakiHa-40(1,175)

320/19.400

417/19.900

335/5,000

335/5,000

331 /15,000

270/16,400

308/13,100

368/16,000

910/1,250

1,01 5/1 562

600/1,100

650/850

r

.

4x (later 6).50-cal.machine guns

6x50-cal.machine guns

lx2Omm can.4x30-cal.2x.50-cal.machine guns

6x50-cal.machine guns

2x2Omm can.2x7 .7mmmachine guns

2x2Omm can.2x7.7mmmachine guns

o

1,168

9,4441

1792

2,320

1,100

327

716

1.380

Includes all variants of the F4U-1, i.e., the -1, -lA, -1G (armed with 4x2Omm cannon), and -1D, as well as those built byGoodyear as the FG-1A/D, and by Brewster as the F3A-1D.

2 The amount reclaimed by the USAAF from the original RAF order of 675. Approximately 100 P-400 and 90 P-39Ds servedwith the USAAF in the Pacific. Others served with the Soviet Air Force, and the USAAF in the Middle East and the Mediter-

ranean theater.

Production numbers for many Japanese aircraft are difficult to pin down. The best estimate places A6M2 production atover 1, 100.

Length Span Engine Max Speed Range Armament Number(hp) (mph)!

altitudenormal/max(miles)

Built

(feet)

376

39 4

Pratt &WhitneyR-1 830-86(1 200)

Pratt &WhitneyA-2800-8(2,000)

AllisonV-1710(1,150)

AllisonV-1 710(1 ,1 50)

1,160/1.930

714/1,107

745 max 2x7.7mm or12.7mmmachine guns

373/ 2x12 .7mm684 2x7.7mm

machine guns

Author's Cojiection

Major Gregory "Puppy" Boyington

The One and Only 'Pappij'Every one of the Corps' aces had

special qualities that set him apartfrom his squadron mates. Flyingand shooting skills, tenacity, ag-gressiveness, and a generous shareof luckthe aces had these inabundance. One man probably hadmore than his share of these quali-ties, and that was the legendary"Pappy" Boyington.

A native of Idaho, Gregory Boy-ington went through flight trainingas a Marine Aviation Cadet, earninga reputation for irreverence andhigh jinks that did not go downwell with his superiors. His thirstfor adventure, as well as his accu-mulated financial debts, led him toresign his commission as a firstlieutenant and join the AmericanVolunteer Group (AVG), betterknown as the Flying Tigers. Likeother service pilots who joined theAVG. he first resigned his commis-sion and this letter was then put ina safe to be redeemed and torn upwhen he rejoined the Marine Corps.

Boyington claimed to have shotdown six Japanese aircraft whilewith the Flying Tigers. However,AVG records were poorly kept, andwere lost in air raids. To compoundthe problem, the U.S. Air Force

does not officially recognize thekills made by the AVG. eventhough the Tigers were eventuallyabsorbed into the Fourteenth AirForce, led by Major General ClaireChennault. Thus, the best confir-mation that can be obtained onBoyington's record with the AVG isthat he scored 3.5 kills.

Whatever today's accounts show,Boyington returned to the U.S.claiming to be one of America's firstaces. He was perhaps the first Ma-rine aviator to have flown in com-bat against the Japanese, though,and he felt he would easily regainhis commission in the MarineCorps. To his frustration, no one inany service seemed to want him.His reputation was well known andthis made his reception not exactlyopen armed.

Boyington finally telegrammedhis qualifications to Secretary of theNavy Frank Knox, and as a result,found himself back in the MarineCorps on active duty as a Reservemajor. He deployed as executive of-ficer of VMF-122 from the WestCoast to the Solomons. He was

Black Sheep pilots scramble toward their F4 U-1 "birdcage" Corsairs. The early modelfighters had framed cockpit canopies. The next F4 U-lAs and subsequent models usedbubble canopies which enhanced the limited visibility from the fighter's cockpit.

Author's Collection

26

based at Espiritu Santo, initially fly-ing squadron training, non-combatmissions. He deployed for a shortbut inactive tour at Guadalcanal inMarch 1943, and after the squadronwas withdrawn, he relieved MajorElmer Brackett as commanding offi-cer in April 1943. His first commandtour was disappointing. He eventu-ally landed in VMF-112, which hecommanded for three weeks in therear area. Prior to forward deploy-ment, he broke his leg whilewrestling and was hospitalized.

Boyington got another chanceand took command of a reconsti-tuted VMF-214. The original unithad returned from a combat tour,during which it had lost its com-manding officer, Major WilliamPace. When the squadron returnedfrom a short rest and recreation tourin Australia, the decision was madeto reorganize the unit because thesquadron did not have a full corn-plement of combat-ready pilots.Thus, the squadron number went toa newly organized squadron underMajor Boyington. In his illuminat-ing wartime memoir, Once They

Were Eagles: The Men of the BlackSheep Squadron, the squadron intelli-gence officer, First Lieutenant FrankWalton, described how Boyingtongot the new squadron command:

Major Boyington was theright rank for a squadroncommander; he was an expe-rienced combat pilot; he wasavailable; and the need wasgreat. These assets overcamesuch reservations as the gen-eral [Major General Ralph J.Mitchell, Wing Commander ¡'of the ist Marine AircraftWing] may have had abouthis personal problems. Gen-eral [Mitchell] made the deci-sion. "We need an aggressivecombat leader. We'll go withBoyington." The squadronhad its commander.Much has been written about

Bovington and his squadron. At 31,

27

Authors Collection

Pappz briefs ¡ifs pilots before a mission froiii Es pirita Santo. Fron! row, from left: Boying-ton, holding paper, Stanley R. Bailey, Virgil G. Ray, Robert A. Alexander; standing, fron;left: William N. Case, Rol/ami N. Rinabarger, Don H. Fisher, Henry M. Bourgeois, John F.Begert, Robert T. Ewing, Denmark G roover, Jr., Barney L. Tucker.

Boyington was older than his 22- ber. On the 16th, the Black Sheep the loss of one -214 pilot, Captainyear-old lieutenants. His men flew their first mission, a bomber Robert T. Ewing.called him "Gramps" or "Pappy." escort to Ballale, a Japanese airfield The following weeks were filledIn prewar days, he was called on a small island about five miles with continuous action. Boyington"Rats," after the Russian-born southeast of Bougainville. The mis- and his squadron ranipaged throughactor, Gregory Ratoff. The sion turned into a free-for-all as the enemy formations, whether thesquadron wanted to call them- about 40 Zeros descended on the Marine Corsairs were escortingselves the alliterative "Boyington's bombers. Boyington downed a Zero bombers, or making pure fighterBastards," but 1940s sensitivities for his squadron's first kill. He sweeps. The frustrated Japanesewould not allow such language. quickly added four more. Six other tried to lure Pappy into severalThey decided on the more evoca- Black Sheep scored kills. It was an traps, but the pugnacious acetive "Black Sheep." auspicious debut, marred only by taunted them over the radio, chal-

The popular image of VMF-214as a collection of malcontents and Maintenance crews service this P4 U-1 at a Pacific base. The Corsair's size is show;; to ad van-ne' er-do-wells is not a t all accu - tage in this view, as is the bubble canopy of the late-production -Is and subsequent models.

rate. The television program of thelate 1970s did nothing to dispelthis inaccurate impression. Intruth, Pappy's squadron was muchlike any other fighter squadron,with a cross-section of people ofvarying capabilities and experi-ence. The two things that weldedthe new squadron into such a fear-some fighting unit was its newmount, the F4U-1 Corsair, and itsindomitable leader.

Boyington took his squadron toMunda on New Georgia in Septem-

Author's Collection

lenging them to come and get him.By mid-December 1943, VMF-

214, along with the other Alliedfighter squadrons, began mountinglarge fighter sweeps staged throughthe new fighter strip at TorokinaPoint on Bougainville. Author Bar-rett Tiliman described the state ofaffairs in the area at the end of De-cember 1943:

.Boyington and other se-nior airmen saw the disadvan-tage of [thesel large fightersweeps. They intimidated theopposition into remaininggrounded, which was the op-posite reaction desired. A set ofguidelines was drawn up forfuture operations. lt specifiedthat the maximum number offighters should be limited to

no more than 48. As few air-craft types and squadronsshould be employed as possi-ble, for better coordination andmutual support.This strategy was fine, except

that Boyington was beginning tofeel the pressure that being a topace seemed to bring. People keptwondering when Pappy wouldachieve, then break, the magic num-ber of 26, Captain Eddie Ricken-backer's score in World War I. JoeFoss had already equalled the earlyace's total, but was now Out of ac-tion. Boyington scored four kills on23 December 1943, bringing histally to 24. Boyington was certainlyfeeling the pressure to break Rick-enbacker's 25-year-old record. Boy-ington' s intelligence officer, First

The fighter s trip at Torokina was hacked out of the Bou gainville an SBD, which is completing its landing rollout past a grading ma-jungle. This December 1943 view shows a lineup of Corsairs and chine still working to finish the new landing field.

Department of Defense Photo (IJSMC) 74672

28

Lieutenant Frank Walton, wrote ofhis tenseness and quick flareupswhen pressed about when and byhow much he would surpass themagic 26.

A few days before his final mis-sion, Boyington reacted to a persis-tent public affairs officer. "Sure, I'dlike to break the record," said Boy-ington. "VVho wouldn't? I'd like toget 40 if I could. The more we canshoot down here, the fewer there'llbe up the line to stop us."

Later that night, Bovington toldWalton, "Christ, I don't care if Ibreak the record or not, if they'djust leave me alone." Walton toldhis skipper the squadron was be-hind him and that he was probablyin the best position he'd ever be into break the record.

Department of Defense (USMC) 73114

I sILt Robert M. Hanson of VMF-215 en-joyed a brief career in which he shot down20 of his final total of 25 Japanese planes in13 days. He was shot dowiz during a straf-ing run on 3 February, 1944, a day beforehis 24th birthday.

"You'll never have anotherchance," Walton said. "It's now ornever."

"Yes," Boyington agreed, "Iguess you're right."

Like a melodrama, however,Boyington's life now seemed to re-volve around raising his score.Even those devoted members ofhis squadron could not help won-deringif only to cheer theirsquadron commander onwhenhe would do it.

Pappy's agony was about tocorne to a crashing halt. He got asingle kill on 27 December during ahuge fight against 60 Zeros. But,after taking off on a mission againstRabaul on 2 January 1944, at thehead of 56 Navy and Marine fight-ers, Boyington had problems withhis Corsair's engine. He returnedwithout adding to his score.

The following day, he launchedat the head of another sweep stag-ing through Bougainville. By latemorning, other VMF-214 pilots re-turned with the news that Boying-ton had, indeed, been in action.When they last saw him, Pappy had

already disposed of one Zero, andtogether with his wingman, Cap-tain George M. Ashmun, was hoton the tails of other victims.

The initial happy anticipationturned to apprehension as the daywore on and neither Pappy norAshmun returned. By the afternoon,without word from other hases, thesquadron had to face the unthink-able: Boyington was missing. TheBlack Sheep mounted patrols tolook for their leader, but within afew days, they had to admit thatPappy was not coming back.

In fact, Boyington and his wing-man had been shot down afterPappy had bagged three moreZeros, thus bringing his claimedtotal to 28, breaking the Ricken-hacker tally, and establishing Boy-ington as the top-scoring Marineace of the war, and, for that matter,of all time. However, these finalvictories were unknown until Boy-ington's return from a Japaneseprison camp in 1945. Boyington'slast two kills were thus uncon-firmed. The only one who could

One of Boyington's Black Sheep, lstLtJohn F. Bolt, already an ace, shot downhis sixth plane ooer Rabaul in earlt Janu-ary 1944. During the Korean war, whenhe was flying as an exchange pilot withthe Air Force, he shot down six North Ko-rean planes to become the Marine Corps'first jet ace.


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Capt Donald N. Aldrich was a 20-kill acewith VMF-215, and had learned to flywith the Royal Canadian Air Force beforethe U.S. entered tile war. Although he sur-vived the war, he was killed in a flyingmishap in 1947.

have seen Pappy's victories was hiswingman, Captain Ashmun, shotdown along with his skipper. Whilethere is no reason to doubt hisclaims, the strict rules of verifyingkills were apparently relaxed forthe returning hero when he was re-covered from a prisoner of warcamp after the war.

Pappy and his wingman hadbeen overwhelmed by a swarm ofZeros and had to bail out of theirfaltering Corsairs near Cape St.George on New Ireland. CaptainAshnmn was never recovered, butBoyington was retrieved by aJapanese submarine after beingstrafed by the vengeful Zeros thathad just shot him down. Boyingtonspent the next 20 months as a pris-oner of war, although no one in theU.S. knew it until after V-J Day.

He endured torture and beatingsduring interrogations, and was fi-nally rescued when someonepainted "Boyington Here!" on theroof of his prison barracks. Aircraftdropping supplies to the prisonersshortly after the ceasefire in August1945 spotted the message and soon

Department of Defense (USMC) 73119

Three of tite Corps' fop aces pose atTorokina in earli 1944. From left: lstLtRobert Hanson, Capt Donald N. Aldrich,and Capt Harold Spears were members ofVMF-215 during the busy period followingflic loss of Pappy Boyington. The three avi-at ors accounted for a combined total of 60Japanese aircraft.

everyone knew that Pappy wascoming back.

Although he had never receiveda single decoration while he was incombat, Boyington returned to theU.S. to find that he not only hadbeen awarded the Navy Cross, hutthe Medal of Honor as well, albeit"posthumously."

With Pappy Boyington gone,several other young Marine avia-tors began to make themselvesknown, The most productive, andunfortunately, the one with theshortest career, was First LieutenantRobert M. Hanson of VMF-215. Al-though born in India of missionaryparents, Hanson called Massachu-setts home. A husky, competitiveman, he quickly took to the life of aMarine combat aviator.

During his first and second tours,flying from Vella Lavella with othersquadrons, including Boyington'sBlack Sheep, Hanson shot downfive Japanese planes, although dur-ing one of these fights, he, himself,

Department of Defense Photo {(JSMC) 72424

Capt Harold L. Spears was Robert Hanson'sflight leader on the day Hanson was shotdown and killed after Spears gave Hansonpermission to make a strafing run against aJapanese position in December 1944.

was forced to ditch his Corsair inEmpress Augusta Bay

For his third tour, he joined VMF-215 at Torokina. By mid-January,Hanson had begun such a hot streakof kills, that the young pilot hadearned the name "Butcher Bob."Hanson shot Japanese planes downin bunches. On 18 January 1944, hedisposed of five enemy aircraft. On24 January, he added four moreZeros. Another four Japanese planeswent down before Hanson's Corsairon 30 January. His score now stoodat 25, 20 of which had been gainedin 13 days in only six missions. Han-son's successes were happening soquickly that he was relatively un-known outside his combat area.Very few combat correspondentsknew of his record until later.

Lieutenant Hanson took off for amission on 3 February 1944. Thenext day would be his 24th birth-day, and the squadron's third tourwould end in a few days. He wasgoing back home. He called his

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Department of Defense Photo (IJSMC) 58384

On 30 June 1943, lstLt Wilbur J. Thomasof VMF-213 shot down four enemy planeswhile providing air cover for American op-erations on New Georgia. Two weeks later,on 15 Julij, he shot down three more Japan-ese bombers. Before he left the Pacific, histotal of kills was 18 .

flight commander, Captain HaroldL. Spears, and asked if he couldstrafe Japanese antiaircraft artillerypositions at Cape St. George onNew Ireland, the same general areaover which Pappy Boyington hadbeen shot down a month before.

Hanson made his run, firing hisplane's six .50-caliber machineguns. The Japanese returned fire asthe big, blue-gray Marine fighterrocketed past, seemingly undercontrol. However, Hanson's planedove into the water from a low alti-tude, leaving oniy an oil slick.

Hanson's meteoric career sawhim become the highest-scoringMarine Corsair ace, and the secondMarine high-scorer, one behind JoeFoss. Lieutenant Hanson received aposthumous Medal of Honor for histhird tour of combat. As Barrett Till-man points out in his book on theF4U, Hanson "became the third andlast Corsair pilot to receive theMedal of Honor in World War TI.And the youngest."

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Japanese Pilots in the Solomons Air War

Thestereotypical picture of a small, emaciated

Japanese pilot, wearing glasses whose lenseswere the thickness of the bottoms of Coke bottles,

grasping the stick of his bamboo-and-rice-paper air-plane (the design was probably stolen from the U.S.,too) did not persist for long after the war began. Thefirst American aircrews to return from combat knew thatthey had faced some of the world's most experiencedcombat pilots equipped with some pretty impressive air-planes.

Author's collection

A rebuilt late-model Zero shows off the clean lines of the A6M se-ries, which changed little during the production run of more than10,000 fighters.

Certainly,

Japanese society was completely alien tomost Americans. Adherence to ancestral codes of honorand a national historyone of constant internal, local-ized strife where personal weakness was not tolerated,especially in the Samurai class of professional war-riorsdid not permit the individual Japanese soldier tosurrender even in the face of overwhelming odds.

This capability did not come by accident. Japanesetraining was tough. In some respects, it went far beyondthe legendary limits of even U.S. Marine Corps boottraining. However, as the war turned against them, theJapanese relaxed their stringent prewar requirementsand mass-produced pilots to replace the veterans whowere lost at Midway and in the Solomons. For instance,before the war, pilots learned navigation and how topack a parachute. After 1942, these subjects were elimi-nated from training to save time.

Young men who were accepted for flight trainingwere subjected to an excruciating preflight indoctrina-tion into military life. Their instructorsmostly en-listedwere literally their rulers, with nearly life-or-

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Authors colItionNewly commissioned Ens Jun ichi Sasai in Maie 1941.

death control of the recruits' existence. After survivingthe physical training, the recruits began flight trainingwhere the rigors of their preflight classes were main-tained. By the time Japanese troops evacuatedGuadalcanal in February 1943, however, their edgehad begun wearing thin as they had lost many of theirmost experienced pilots and flight commanders, alongwith their aircraft.

The failed Japanese adventure at Midway in June1942, as well as the heavy losses in the almost dailycombat over Guadalcanal and the Solomons deprivedthem of irreplaceable talent. Even the most experi-enced pilots eventually came up against a losing rollof the dice.

As noted in the main text, Japanese aces such asSakai, Sasai, and Ota were invalided out of combat, oreventually killed. Rotation of pilots out of the war zonewas a system employed neither by the Japanese nor theGermans, as a matter of fact. As several surviving Axisaces have noted in their memoirs, they flew until theycouldn't. Indeed many Japanese and German aces flew

until 1945if they were lucky enough to surviveac-cumulating incredible numbers of sorties and combathours, as well as high scores which doubled andtripled the final tallies of their American counterparts.

Unfortunately, Japanese records are not as completeas Allied histories, perhaps because of the tremendousdamage and confusion wrought by the U.S. strategicbombing during the last year of the war. Thus, cer-tainly Japanese scores are not as firm as they are for Al-lied aviators.

In the popularly accepted sense, the Japanese didnot have "aces." Those pilots who achieved high scoreswere referred to as Gekitsui-O (Shoot-Down Kings). Apilot's report of his successes was taken at face value,without a confirmation system such as required by theAllies. Without medals or formal recognition, it was be-lieved that there was little need for self-promotion.Fighters did not have gun cameras, either. Japanese airstrategy was to inflict as much damage as possiblewithout worrying about confirming a kill. (This out-wardly cavalier attitude about claiming victories issomewhat suspect since many Zeros carried large"scoreboards" on their tails and fuselages. These mark-ings might have been attributed to the aircraft ratherthan to a specific pilot.)

IAuthor's Collection

A lineup of A6M2 Zeros at Bum in 1943. By this time, the heavycombat over Guadalcanal had been replaced by engagements withMarine Corsa irs over the approaches to Bougainville. JapaneseNavy aircraft occasionally flew from land bases, as these Zeros, al-though they are actually assigned to the carrier Zuikaku.

The AcesAlthough the men in the Zeros were probably much

likeat least in temperamentMarine Wildcat andCorsair pilots they opposed, the Imperial JapaneseNavy pilots had an advantage: many of them had beenflying combat for perhaps a yearmaybe longerbe-fore meeting the untried American aviators overGuadalcanal in August 1942. Saburo Sakai was se-verely wounded during an engagement with U.S.Navy SBDs on the opening day of the invasion. He re-

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Author's Collection

Enlisted pilots of the Tainan Kokutni pose at Rabaul in 1942. Sev-eral of these aviators would be among the top Japanese aces, includ-ing Sahuro Sakai (middle row, second from left), and HiroyoshiNishizawa (standing, first on left).

turned to Japan with about 60 kills to his credit. Actu-ally, because he was so badly wounded early in theGuadalcanal fighting, Sakai never got a chance to en-gage Marine Corps pilots. They were still in transit tothe Solomons two weeks after Sakai had been in-valided home. (His commonly accepted final score of64 is only a best guess, even by his own logbook.)

After graduating from flight training, Sakai joined asquadron in China flying Mitsubishi Type 96 fighters,small, open-cockpit, fixed-landing-gear fighters. As athird-class petty officer, Sakai shot down a Russian-built SB-3 bomber in October 1939. He later joined theTainan Kokutai (Tainan air wing), which would be-come one of the Navy's premier fighter units, and par-ticipated in the Pacific war's opening actions in thePhilippines.

A colorful personality, Sakai was also a dedicatedflight leader. He never lost a wingman in combat, andalso tried to pass on his hard-won expertise to more ju-nior pilots. After a particularly unsuccessful mission inApril1942, where his flight failed to bring down a sin-gle American bomber from a flight of seven Martin B-26 Marauders, he sternly lectured his pilots aboutmaintaining flight discipline instead of hurling them-selves against their foes. His words had great effect-Sakai was respected by subordinates and superiorsalikeand his men SOOfl formed a well-working unit,responsible for many kills in the early months of thePacific war.

Typically, Junichi Sasai, a lieutenant, junior grade,and one of Sakai's young aces with 27 confirmed kills,was posthumously promoted two grades to lieutenantcommander. This practice was common for those

Japanese aviators with proven records, or high scores,who were killed during the war. Japan was uniqueamong all the combatants during the war in that it hadno regular or defined system of awards, except for oc-casional inclusion in war newswhat the British mightcall being "mentioned in dispatches."

This somewhat frustrating lack of recognition wasdescribed by Masatake Okumiya, a Navy fighter com-mander, in his classic book Zero! (with Jiro Horikoshi).Describing a meeting with senior officers, he askedthem, "Why in the name of heaven does Headquartersdelay so long in according our combat men the honorsthey deserve?.. Our Navy does absolutely nothing torecognize its heroes......

Authors Collection

Lt (jg.) Junichi Sudai of the Thinan Air Group. This 1942 photoshows the young combat leader, of such men as Sakai andNishizawa, shortly before his death over Guadalcanal.

Occasionally, senior officers would give gifts, such asceremonial swords, to those pilots who had performedgreat services. And sometimes, superiors would try tobuck the unbending system without much success.Saburo Sakai described one instance in June 1942 wherethe captain in charge of his wing summoned him andLieutenant Sasai to his quarters.

Dejectedly, the captain told his two pilots how he hadasked Tokyo to recognize them for their great accom-plishments. "...Tokyo is adamant about making anychanges at this time," he said. "They have refused even

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Author's Collection

LCdr Tadashi Na/ca/iwo, who led the Toman Air Group, was typi-cal of the more senior aviators. His responsibilities were largely ad-ministrative but lie tried to fly missions whenever his schedule per-mitted, usually wit/i unproductive results. He led several of thecurly missions over Guadalcanal and survived to lead a Shiden unitin 1944. It is doubtful that Nakajima scored more than 2 or 3 kills.

to award a medal or to promote in rank." The captain'sdeputy commander then said how the captain had askedthat Sasai be promoted to commanderan incrediblejump of three gradesauid that Sakai be commissionedas an ensign.

Perhaps one of the most enigmatic, yet enduring, per-sonalities of the Zero pilots was the man who is generallyacknowledged to be the top-scoring Japanese ace, Hi-royoshi Nishizawa. Saburo Sakai described him as "talland lanky for a Japanese, nearly five feet, eight inches inheight," and possessing "almost supernatural vision."

These A6M3s are from the Tainan Air Group, and several sourcesllave identified aircraft 106 as being flown by top ace Nishizawa.Typically, these fighters carry a single centerline fuel tank. TheZero's range was phenomenal, sometimes extending to nearly 1,600miles, making for a very long flight for its exhausted pilots.

Photo courtesy of Robert Mikesh

Authors Collection

Petty Officer Hiroyoshi Nish-izawa at Lee, New Guinea, in1942. Usually considered thetop Japanese ace, Navy orArmy. A definitive total willprobably never be determined.Nishizuwa died while flying asa passenger in a transport head-ed for the Philippines in Oc-tober 1944. The transport wascaught by American Navy Hell-cats, and Ltq.g.) Harold Newellshot it down.

Nishizawa kept himself usually aloof, enjoying a de-tached but respected status as he rolled up an impres-sive victory tally through the Solomons campaign. Hewas eventually promoted to warrant officer in Nòvem-ber 1943. Like a few other high-scoring aces, Nishizawamet death in an unexpected manner in the Philippines.He was shot down while riding as a passenger in abomber used to transport him to another base to ferry aZero in late October 1944. In keeping with the estab-lished tradition, Nishizawa was posthumously pro-moted two ranks to lieutenant junior grade. His scorehas been variously given as 102, 103, and as high as 150.However, the currently accepted total for him is 87.

Henry Sakaida, a well-known authority on Japanesepilots in World War II, wrote:

No Japanese pilot ever scored more than 100 vic-tories! In fact, Nishizawa entered combat in 1942and his period of active duty was around 18months. On the other hand, Lieutenant juniorgrade Tetsuo Iwamoto fought from 1938 until theend of the war. If there is a top Navy ace, it's him.

Iwamoto claimed 202 victories, many of whichwere against U.S. Marine Corps aircraft, including142 at Rabaul. I don't believe his claims are accu-rate, but I don't believe Nishizawa's total of 87,either. (I might believe 30.) Among Iwamoto'sclaims were 48 Corsairs and 48 SBDs! His actualscore might be around 80.Several of Sho-ichi Sugita's killswhich are infor-

mally reckoned to total 70were Marine aircraft. Hewas barely 19 when he first saw combat in the

Photo courtesy of Henry SakaidaPetty Officer Sadamu Komachiflew throughout the PacificWar, from Pearl Harbor to theSolomons, from Bou gainville tothe defense of the Home Is-lands. His final score was 18.

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Solomons. (He had flown at Midway but saw little ofthe fighting.) Flying from Bum on the southern tip ofBougainville, he first scored on I December 1942,against a USAAF B-17. Sugita was one of tite six Zeroescort pilots that watched as P-38s shot down AdmiralYamamoto's Betty on 18 ApriI 1943. There was littlethey could do to alert the bombers carrying the admiraland his staff since their Zeros' primitive radios hadbeen taken out to save weight.

The problem of keeping accurate records probablycarne from the directive issued in June 1943 by Tokyoforbidding the recording of individual records, thebetter to foster teamwork in the seemingly once-in-vincible Zero squadrons. Prior to the directive, Japan-ese Zero pilots were the epitome of the hunter-pilotspersonified by the World War I German ace, BaronManfred von Richthofen. The Japanese Navy pilotsroamed where they wished and attacked when theywanted, assured in the superiority of their fighters.

Occasionally, discipline would disappear as flightleaders dove into Allied bomber formations, theirwingmen hugging their tails as they attacked withtheir maneuverable Zeros, seemingly simulatingtheir Samurai role models whose expertise withswords is legendary.

Most of the Japanese aces, and most of the rank-and-file pilots, were enlisted petty officers. In fact, noother combatant nation had so many enlisted fighterpilots. The U.S. Navy and Marine Corps had a rela-tively few enlisted pilots who flew in combat in WorldWar Il and for a short time in Korea. Britain and Ger-many had a considerable number of enlisted aviatorswithout whose services they could not have main-tained the momentum of their respective campaigns.

However, the Japanese officer corps was relativelysmall, and the number of those commissioned pilotsserving as combat flight commanders was evensmaller. Thus, the main task of fighting the growingAllied air threat in the Pacific fell to dedicated en-listed pilots, many of them barely out of their teens.

During a recent interview, Sahuro Sakai shed lighton the role of Japanese officer-pilots. He said:

They did fight. but generally, they were notvery good because they were inexperienced. Inmy group, it would be the enlisted pilots thatwould first spot the enemy. The first one to see theenemy would lead and signal the others to follow.And the officer pilot would be back there, won-dering where everyone went! In this sense, it wasthe enlisted pilots who led, not the officers.

Maj Edward Overend, shown here in a Wildcat in San Diego in1945, flew with the Filling Tigers, shooting down five Japanese air-craft, thus becoming one of the first American aces of tue Pacific

Other Marine Aces

Although the colorful time of theSolomons Campaign, and theequally colorful men like Boyingtonand Hanson, were gone, otherLeatherneck aviators achieved size-able scores, and a measure of fame,if only within their operating areasand squadrons.

VMF-214's five-month tour ofcombat created eight aces, includingPappy Boyington. The Black Sheepaccounted for 97 Japanese aircraftdowned. VMF-215's tour lastedfour-and-a-half months, and BobHanson and his squadron ma tes-the squadron's roster included 10acesdestroyed 137 enemy aircraft,106 in the last six weeks.

Besides Boyington, the BlackSheep alumnus who had one of themost interesting careers was JohnBolt. Then-First Lieutenant Boltshot down six aircraft in the Pacific.Ten years later, now-Major Bolt flewF-86s as an exchange pilot with theU.S. Air Force in Korea. During athree-month period, May-July 1953,he shot down six Russian-builtMiG-15s, becoming the MarineCorps' first and only jet ace, andone of a very select number of pi-lots who became aces in two wars.

While Lieutenant Robert Hansonwas the star of VMF-215 for a fewshort weeks, there were two cap-tains who were just as busy. DonaldN. Aldrich eventually scored 20kills, while Harold L. Spears ac-

35


war, albeit under another country's colors. Maj Overend scored 3.5kills while leading VMF-321, for a combined total of 8.5 victoriesin P-4OBs and F4 U-lAs.

counted for 15 Japanese planes. Thetwo aces were among the seniorflight leaders of VMF-215.

Don Aldrich had been turneddown by recruiters before PearlHarbor because he was married.Like many other eager young menof his generation, he went across theCanadian border and enlisted in theRoyal Canadian Air Force in Febru-ary 1941. He got his wings that No-vember. But the RCAF put the newaviator to work as an instructor.When the U.S. entered the war,Aldrich had no trouble rejoining hiscountrymen, and eventually got hiswings of gold as a Marine aviator,following which, he headed for theSolomons. From August 1943 toFebruary 1944, in three combat

tours, Captain Aldrich gained animpressive number of kills, 20. Al-though he survived the war, he diedin an operational accident in 1947.

Harold Spears was commis-sioned a Marine second lieutenantand got his Marine commission andhis wings in August 1942. He joinedVMF-215 as the squadron wanderedaround the various forward basesnear Bougainville. Spears wanted tomake the service his career, andshortly after finishing his combat

Zero fighter-bombers prepare to launch for n raid from theirBougainville base in late 1943. Originallii an air superiority

tour, during which he shot down 15Japanese planes, he was assigned toEI Toro, and eventually to a newfighter squadron, VMF-462.

One of the most successful hutleast known Marine Corsair aceswas First Lieutenant Wilbur j.Thomas, whom Barrett Tiilmancalled "one of the deadliest fighterpilots the Corps ever produced."He scored 18.5 kills while flyingwith VMF-213. Thomas' combat ca-reer is remarkable because he

scored most of his kills in a one-month period during the hotly con-tested landings on Rendova andVangunu islands in mid-1944.

After staying in the rear area ofhe New Hebrides, Thomas was fi-nally transferred to the combatzone. He flew his first missions inJune and July 1943. His mission on30 June was a CAP mission overamphibious landings at WickhamAnchorage on the southern tip ofNew Georgia.

weapon, the Zero toted light bombs as required, and ended the waras one of the prima ri aircraft used by the Kamikaze suicide pilots.

Authors Co!Iection

36

Fifteen Zeros pounced Thomas'sfighters. After he had become sep-arated from his group, seven Zeroshad attacked the lone F4U, but, un-deterred by the odds, Thomasturned into the Japanese, eventu-ally shooting down four of them.He was awarded the DistinguishedFlying Cross for this mission.Three weeks later, on 17 July,Thomas and his wingman attackeda group of Japanese bombers andtheir Zero escort, and shot downone of the bombers.

Thomas was on the receiving endof enemy fire on 23 September.After shooting down three Zeros,and splitting a fourth with hiswingman, the young ace found hehad taken hits in the oil lines. Hisengine seized and he glided towardthe water, eventually bailing out at3,000 feet. He scrambled into hisrubber raft and waited for rescue.He paddled for five hours to keepfrom drifting to enemy positions.After 10 hours, a Consolidated

Maj Robert Galer with his ubiquitous baseball cap leans against hisWildcat. "Barbara Jane" was a high school sweetheart. (He didn't

Catalina flying boat (PBY) set downbeside him and brought him home.

By the time VMF-213 left for theStates in December, Wilbur Thomashad scored 16.5 kills in five dog-fights. He returned for another com-bat tour, this time on board the car-rier Essex (CV 9) headed for theSouth China Sea and Japanese basesin Southeast Asia. He added twomore kills to his previous score whenhe took out two Zeros near Tokyoduring Essex's first strike against theJapanese Home Islands on the after-noon of 16 February 1945.

Again, as did several of the youngaces who managed to survive thewar, now-Captain Thomas died in apostwar flying mishap in 1947.

By mid-1944, the war hadmoved on, past the Solomons andBougainville, closer to Japan andinto the final battles in the Philip-pines and on to Iwo Jima and Oki-nawa. There were still occasionalencounters in these now-rear areasuntil the end of the war, and other

37

Marine aviators became aces, butthe end of the Solomons Cam-paign also saw the end of the hey-day of the aces.

Fighter pilots and their missionssometimes fall into a nondescriptcategory. By themselves, they rarelydecide the outcome of major battlesor campaigns, although exceptionsmight well be Guadalcanal and theBattle of Britain.

The Cactus fighters defendedtheir base daily against enemyraids, and the Marine Corps aceswere colorful. They established atradition of dedication, courage,and skill for their successors in fu-ture generations of military avia-tors. It is 50 years since John Smith,Bob Galer, Marion Carl, Joe Foss,and Greg Boyington led theirsquadrons into the swirling dog-fights over the Solomons. But thelegacy these early Marine aces leftto their modern successors lives onin a new era of advanced weaponsand technology.

tnarri/ her.) The square panel directly beneath the aircraft's wingwas an observational windozt

Photo courtesy of BGen Robert Galer, USMC (Ret)

eticulous investigation by

I\/ Dr. Frank Olynyk has re-- fined and changed the es-

tablished list of aces. In most re-spects, he has reduced by one ortwo kills an individual's score, butin sorne instances, he has generatedenough doubt about the vital fifthkill that at least two aviators havelost their status as aces duringWorld War II. One man, TechnicalSergeant John W. Andre of night-fighter squadron VMF(N)-541, shotdown four Japanese planes in thePacific, and scored a fifth kill inKorea. Thus, he is a bonafide ace,but not solely by his service inWorld War II.

In an article published in theSummer 1981 issue of Fortitudine,the bulletin of the Marine CorpsHistory and Museums Division, Dr.

Olynyk discussed the problems as-sociated with compiling records ofaerial kills, especially for the MarineCorps. Whether an enemy aircraftwhich was last seen descending

'ith a trail of smoke should be con-sidered dèstroyed cannot always bedecided. Thus, several "smokers"were claimed as definite kills.

He also commented, "...most ofthe pilots whose scores are subjectto some uncertainty are all fromthe 1942-early 1943 period whenair combat was the heaviest. Wardiaries from this period are oftenincomplete, or even non-exis-tent..."

Retired Brigadier General RobertGaler put the question of aces andtheir kills in perspective. In a recentletter to the author he wrote,"Aces' scores are not an exact num-ber. There were too many people

38

Researching the Aces' Scoresk

shooting at the same targets. Theenemy might sustain some battledamage, such as n the engine, butthey could run:för another fiveminutes. It was tough to be accu-rate."

Then-Captain Stanley S. Nicolay,who shot down three Bettys duringhis tour with VMF-224, also com-mented on the problems of simpiyengaging the enemy.

"There were a lot of people outthere who didn't get any (kills), butthey worked their tails off. Shoot-ing down an airplane is 90 percentluck; you're lucky if you find one.Most of the time, you can't. Thatsky gets bigger and bigger thehigher you go.

"We had no radar. Even our ra-dios weren't very good. We de-pended on our sight. Look, look,look, with our heads on a swivel."

VMF-112:Lieutenant Colonel Paul J. Fontana. 5 victories. Retiredas a major general.Major Archie G. Donahue. 14 victories.Major Robert B. Fraser. 6 victories.Captain Jefferson J. DeBlanc*. 9 victories (1 in F4Us).Captain James G. Percy. 6 victories (1 in F4Us).First Lieutenant John B. Maas, Jr. 5.5 victories.

VMF-121:

USMC Aces During the Period August 1942-April 1944* Awarded the Medal of Honor.

Lieutenant Colonel Donald K. Yost. 8 victories(2 in F4Us).

Lieutenant Colonel Leonard K. Davis. 5 victories.Major Joseph H. Reinburg. 7 victories.Major Francis E. Pierce, Jr. 6 victories.Major Perry L. Shuman. 6 victories in F4Us.Captain Joseph J. Foss. 26 victories.

Retired asa brigadier general in Air National GuardCaptain Thomas H. Mann, Jr. 9 victories.

Also flew with VMF-224.Captain Ernest A. Powell. 5 victories.Captain Robert M. Baker. 5 victories.Captain Donald C. Owen. 5 victories.Captain Kenneth M. Ford, 5 victories in F4Us.First Lieutenant William P. Marontate. 13 victories.First Lieutenant William B. Freeman. 6 victories.First Lieutenant Roger A. Haberman. 6.5 victories.Captain Gregory K. Loesch. 8.5 victories,Second Lieutenant::CecilJ. Doyle. 5 viçtories.Second Lieutenant Joseph LNarr. 7 victories.

VMF-124:Captain Kenneth A. Walsh*. 21 victories in F4Us.

VMF-212:Lieutenant Colonel Harold W. Bauer*. 10 victoriesMajor Frank C. Drury. 6 victories (1 in F4Us).

Also flew with VMF-223.Major Robert F Stout b idon Flew with VMF-2Captain Jack E. Conger. 10 victorieCaptain Phillip C. DeLong. 11-1/6 victoriesin

World War II, two victories in Korea (all in F4Us)Major Hugh M. Elwood. 5.1 victories.

Retired as a lieutenant general.Captain Loren D. Everton. 10 victories.

Also flew with VMF-223.Warrant Officer Henry B. Hamilton. 7 victories.

Also flew with VMF-223.Major Frederick R. Payne, Jr. 5.5 victories.

Also flew with VMF-22.3.

VMF-213 (all kills in F4Us):Lieutenant Colonel Gregory J. Weissenberger.

.5 victories.Major James N. Cupp. 12 victoriesCaptain Sheldon O. Hall. 6 victories.Captain John L Morgan, Jr. 8.5 victories.Captain Edward O. Shaw. 14.5 victories.Captain Wilbur J. Thomas. 18.5 victories.

MF-223:Majçr John L. Smith*. 19 victories.Major Hyde Phillips. 5 victories.Captain Marión E. Carl. 18.5 victories (2 in F4Us).

Retired as a major general.Captain Kenneth D. Frazier. 13.5 victories (1 in F4Us).Captain Fred E. Gutt. 8 victories.Captain Orvin H. RamIo. 5 victories.First Lieutenant Charles Kendrick. 5 victories.

çsirst Lieutenant Eugene A. Trowbridge. 6 victories.econd Lieutenant Zenneth A. Pond. 6 victories.

24.

39

VMF-214 (all kills in F4Us):Major Gregory Boyington*. 28 official victories.Captain William N. Case. 8 victories.Captain Arthur R. Coriant. 6 victories.Captain Donald H. Fisher. 6 victories.Captain John F. Bolt, Jr. 6 victories in World War II,

six victories in Korea.Captain Christopher L. Magee. 9 victories.Captain Robert W. McClurg. 7 victories.Captain Paul A. Mullen. .5 victories.Captain Edwin L. Olander. 5 victories.First Lieutenant Alvin J. Jensen. 7 victories.

VMF-215 (all kills in F4Us):Captain Donald N. Aldrich. 20 victories.Captain HarOld L. Spears. 15 victories.First Lieutenant Robert M. Hanson*. 25 victories.

VMF-221:Lieutenant Colonel Nathan T. Post, Jr. 8 victories.Captai Harold E. Segal. 12 victories.Captai.n William N. Snider. 11.5 victories.Captain James E. Swett*. 15.5 victories (7 in F4Fs)Captain Albert E. Hacking., Jr. 5 victories (in F4Fs).

VMF-222 (all in F4Us):Major Donald H. Sapp (later changed to Stapp).

10 victories.

VM F-224Lieutenant Colonel John F DgJ,brn 75 .ictonesMajor Robert E. Galer*. 14 victories

Retired as a brigadier general.Major Charles M. Kunz. 8 victories.Captain George L. Hollowell. 8 victories.First Lieutenant Jack Piltman, Jr. 5 victories.

VMF-321 (all in F4Us):Major Edmund F. Overend. 8.5 victories, including

5 with the Flying Tigers (3.5 in F4Us).Captain Robert B. See. 5 victories.

w i L fi U 1&.

Watercolor bu Sgt Hugh Laid,nan ii tIteAl:

SourcesSources for this booklet fall into

two basic categories: general his-torical publications for the overallsituation in the Pacific, and refer-ences that describe specific sub-jects, such as aircraft, personalities,and campaigns. i found severalgeneral official and commercialpublications invaluable, includingLtCol Frank R. Hough, Maj Verle J.Ludwig, and Henry I. Shaw, Jr.,Pearl Harbor to Guadalcanal andHenry 1. Shaw, Jr. and Maj DouglasT. Kane, Reduction of Rabaul, vol-umes i and 2, History of U.S. Ma-rine Corps Operations in World WarII, (Washington: Historical Branch,G-3 Division, Headquarters,USMC, 1958 and 1963, respec-tively), and Robert Sherrod, Historyof Marine Corps Aviation in WorldWar II (Novato, California: PresidioPress, 1980). Other general histo-ries included, Peter B. Mersky, U.S.Marine Corps Aviation, 1912-Present(Baltimore: Nautical & AviationPublishing Company of America,1983, 1986), Masatake Okimuyaand Jiro Horikoshi, Zero! (NewYork: Ballantine Books, 1956), andJohn Lundstrom, The Firs f Team:Pacific Naval Air Combat from PearlHarbor to Midway (Annapolis: U.S.Naval Institute, 1984).

AcknowledgementsThe author would like to thank Maj-Gen John P. Condon, LISMC (Ret), afighter pilot and Cactus operations of-ficer in earli 1943, for reviewing themanuscript and making thoughtfuland valuable insights. Gratitude isalso extended to Dan Crazoford, BenisM. Frank, and Regina Strother of theMarine Corps Historical Center; DaleCon nelly and R ut lia Dicks of the Na-tional Archives Still Picture Branch;and Robert Mikesh, James Lansda!e,Henry Sakaida, James Fariner, andLinda Cuilen and Mary Beth Straightof the U.S. Naval Institute.

PeterB. Mersky is a graduate of the Rhode Is-

land School of Design with a baccalaureatedegree in illustration. He was commissionedthrough the Navy's Aviation Officer CandidateSchool in May 1968. Following active duty, heremained in the Naval Reserve and served twotours as an air intelligence officer with LightPhotographic Squadron 306, one of the Navy'slast F-8 Crusader squadrons.

He is the assistant editor of Approach, theNavy's aviation safety magazine, published by

Safety Center in Norfolk, Virginia. Commander Mersky has written orcoauthored several books on Navy and Marine Corps aviation, including TheNaval Air War in Vietnam (with Norman Polmar), U.S. Marine Corps Aviation,1912-Present, Vought F-8 Crusader, and A Histori,' of Marine Fighter Attack Squadron321. He has written many magazine articles for American and British publications,and he also writes a regular book review colunm for Naval Aviation News.

the Naval

About the Author

'E5th5N'KRSM{Y

OFWORLD WAR I

THIS PAMPHLET HISTORY, one in a series devoted to U.S. Marines in theWorld War II era, is published for the education and training of Marines bythe History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps,Washington, D.C., as a part of the U.S. Department of Defense observanceof the 50th anniversary of victory in that war.

Printing costs for this pamphlet have been defrayed in part by the DefenseDepartment World War II Commemoration Committee. Editorial costs ofpreparing this pamphlet have been defrayed in part by a bequest from theestate of Emilie H. Watts, in memory of her late husband, Thomas M. Watts,who served as a Marine and was the recipient of a Purple Heart.

WORLD WAR II COMMEMORATIVE SERIES

DIRECTOR OF MARINE CORPS HISTORY AND MUSEUMSBrigadier General Edwin H. Simmons, USMC (Ret)

GENERAL EDITOR,WORLD WAR II COMMEMORATIVE SERIES

Benis M. Frank

CARTOGRAPHIC CONSULTANTGeorge C. MacCillivray

EDITING AND DESIGN SECTiON. HISTORY AND MUSEUMS DIVISIONRobert E. Struder, Senior Editor; W. Stephen Hill, Visual Information

Specialist; Catherine A. Kerns, Composition Services Technician

Marine Corps Historical CenterBuilding 58, Washington Navy Yard

Washington, D.C. 20374-0580

1993PCN 190 003122 00

'9p;.. 4' REVIt

p945 %\

WORLD WAR II

48128451 time of the aces marine pilots in the solomons 1942 1944

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