
Nathaniel R. Helms |
Review of Robert F. Dorr, Air Combat: An Oral
History of Fighter Pilots. New York: Berkley, 2006. Pp.
viii, 343. ISBN 978-0-425-21741-2. |
You can almost hear Chuck
Yeager drawling through a piece of Beechnut gum in Air Combat: An
Oral History of Fighter Pilots: whether for a fighter ace's
favorite yarn, great photographs, or technical specifications on war
birds old and new, Robert F. Dorr's newest book is well worth
reading, a veritable Who's Who of American military aviators seen
through a respected aviation historian's eyes. Dorr, who describes
himself as a Korean War Air Force veteran and retired diplomat, has
written more than seventy books about air power and airplanes from
his home base in Virginia.
Dorr starts his latest offering
by exploding a few more myths over Pearl Harbor, where infamy and
technology met in the skies over the gray behemoths they would soon
replace as the gods of war. Historians have already thoroughly
analyzed America's pitiful unreadiness on 7 December 1941. Dorr
merely adds a few more details.
As expected, he introduces 2nd
Lts. George Welch and Kenneth Taylor, two fresh-faced kids who took
their Curtiss P-40 B Tomahawks into the air from an obscure airfield
to knock down four Nakajima B5N2 "Kate" dive bombers. They were the
first Japanese aircraft that America's fledgling Army Air Corps
birdmen had met in combat. Before the day was over, Welch would add
two more victories to his tally, including a famed Mitsubishi A6M2
"Zero" fighter, one of at least three supposedly invincible Zeroes
downed by American aerial defenders that day. Dorr notes that Welch
went on to become a sixteen-victory ace who lost his life in 1954
testing an F-100 Super Sabre, something rarely mentioned in the
post-war mythology that grew from his exploits at Pearl Harbor.
Dorr's narration of the Pearl
Harbor attack is replete with stories of the courage and
determination of many others who withstood the aerial assault,
including nurses, frustrated bomber pilots, and ten other Army
fighter pilots who fought with varying degrees of success. Among the
latter, 2d Lt. Phillip Rasmussen (still wearing pajamas) took off in
an antiquated, radial-engine Curtiss P-36 Mohawk fighter that was
slower than the enemy dive-bombers and torpedo planes he was
pursuing. He still managed to down an enemy aircraft and land in one
piece without a tail wheel after his fighter was turned into a
flying sieve. Dorr's fast-paced account of his combat over Pearl
Harbor sets the style and tone for the rest of the book.
Among Dorr's extensive
collection of pilots' recollections are the personal accounts of
airmen who flew the little known and usually maligned Bell P-39
Airacobra. Although under-armed, ineffective at high altitude, and
very quirky to fly, the P-39 was a front-line fighter in the opening
days of U.S. involvement in the Second World War. Air Corps
strategists sent almost half of the 9,589 P-39s produced to our
Russian allies, who made good use of them. Even so, the discussion
of the P-39, one of the Army's primary contributions to the Cactus
Air Force at Guadalcanal, is a welcome addition to the history of an
obscure and frequently slandered American aircraft.
Dorr does not simply recite
facts about the book's dozens of historical airplane pictures that
illustrate the remarkable stories of wartime pilots trying to
explain their place in history. He rapidly surveys the evolution in
the design of airplanes as witnessed by the pilots who flew them,
men who are the only constant in his examination of air combat. They
seem always to be the same understated, insanely brave aviators who
dared when others dared not. Double ace Maj. Gen. Frederick C.
"Boots" Blesse said it best: "No guts, no glory."
Anyone familiar with Dorr's
many previous books[1]
knows how relentless a researcher he is. In 332 pages, he creates a
fine synopsis of how much aerial combat has changed while remaining
ever the same. He tackles that complicated paradox with an expert's
finesse.
There are not enough pages in
this book to mention every notable aircraft and pilot that flew
between Pearl Harbor and the sorties by McDonnell Douglass (later
Boeing) F-15E "Strike Eagles" against Saddam Hussein's soldiers in
the Iraqi desert. Notably absent, for example, are the pilots who
flew the Chance-Vought F4U Corsair, the "bent-winged bird," that the
U.S. Marine Corps used with such deadly effect in both World War II
and Korea. Also missing are the magnificent pilots who flew the
Navy's stubby little Grumman F4 Wildcat in battles from Guadalcanal
to Midway in the Pacific and against French and Germans in North
Africa. But these are small missteps in an otherwise superlative
study.
Dorr even introduces a note of
social conscience into aerial combat. Without maudlin
sentimentality, he tells the story of one of America's first black
jet aviators, a true pioneer who volunteered to fight for his
country when it wasn't particularly interested in fighting for
him--Lt. Gen. Earl Brown, a remarkable aviator who overcame the
discriminatory social mores of his time to rise to the top of U.S.
Air Force command.
Brown had been one of the first
African-Americans to complete flight training after the Air Force
was integrated in 1948. After learning to fly in the T-6 Texan and
polishing his skills in the elegant North American P-51 Mustang, he
flew the beautiful North American F-86 Sabre jet fighter that
achieved a 10-1 kill ratio over Soviet-manned MIG-15 fighters in
Korea. In his illustrious career, Brown went on to fly McDonnell
Douglas F-4C Phantoms over North Vietnam, getting shot down, and
rising to three-star rank in the process. Today he volunteers his
services at the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum.
In Chapter 19, "Black Jets over
Baghdad," Dorr introduces the reader to the mysteries of the
super-secret Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk, the U.S. Air Force's first
"stealth" fighter. This bat-winged craft gave "shock and awe" a new
meaning in the skies of Iraq during the opening days of Operations
Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom. Dorr's treatment ensures that it
will always be the stuff of legends.
Dorr also tells the story of
Capt. Dale Zelko, who went "downtown" over Baghdad in a Black Jet in
the opening gambit of Desert Storm. Despite Zelko's self-assurance,
he followed the adage "dress for egress," a jocular reference to the
very real possibility of being shot down. Notwithstanding the
vaunted invisibility of the world's most technologically advanced
fighter aircraft, its pilots were not so sure. When the war over
Baghdad began on 21 January 1991, the ancient city was the most
heavily defended target American airmen had attacked since the dark
days over Hanoi during the Vietnam War. In Zelko's words to Dorr,
Their antiaircraft artillery was wicked. It was unbelievable. Most
people probably assume we were flying high above the antiaircraft
fire. That's not true at all. We flew most of our combat target runs
right smack in the heart of some of the worst triple-A, 23-mm and
37-mm mostly.... Gee whiz, what if I am on the ground, even for days,
and during those days, and during those cold desert nights,
exposure... (310, 304).
What panache! Gee whiz, some
things just never change. Like the man said, "there just ain't no
bucks without Buck Rogers." Still ain't. Dorr understands. When you
read this book, you will too.
St. Charles, MO
natshouse1@charter.net
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|