Larry Taylor's family had a long history of military service. His great-great-grandfather fought in the Civil War, his great-uncle fought in World War I, and his father and uncles served during World War II. When Larry attended the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, he joined the school's Reserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC) and carried on his family's longstanding military tradition.
When he began his studies in 1962, the United States had only a token involvement in the uncertain future of South Vietnam. By the time he graduated in 1966, the U.S. was fully committed, with more than 380,000 ground troops in the country. Initially, he was commissioned as an armor officer. Though he graduated from the Army's armor school, he knew he could do more flying helicopters.
Because of his critical moment of self-reflection, he would lead a daring rescue under heavy fire, saving the lives of his fellow soldiers and performing an extraction that had never before been attempted. For his courage and gallantry, he received the Silver Star, but after decades of encouragement from supporters, President Joe Biden upgraded that award to the Medal of Honor.
When Larry Taylor graduated from college, helicopters were still a relatively recent battlefield innovation. They had seen action in the Korean War, but their scope was limited to practical actions, like medical evacuations, troop transports, and logistics. In the Vietnam War, their role was much expanded.
The air mobility helicopters provided to the Army allowed units to provide their own tactical and logistical support as well as firepower, perfect for the jungles and guerrilla fighting in Vietnam. It can be said that the airmobile capabilities of the helicopter defined the Vietnam War, moving troops to quickly reinforce and resupply positions, providing close air support in combat, and saving some 390,000 lives that would have otherwise been battlefield casualties.
Larry Taylor already had a pilot's license before joining the Army, and with helicopters being so important in combat operations, it's easy to see why the Army would send a newly-minted armor officer to pilot training. By June 1967, he was an Army aviator, and two months later, he was in Bien Hoa Air Base, part of the 1st Squadron, 4th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division.
His career in Vietnam over the next few months reflects the intensity of the war up until that point. The Viet Cong and North Vietnamese had the initiative and began adapting their tactics to counter the superior firepower of the American forces. The increased attacks from communist guerrillas came to a head in January 1968 when North Vietnam launched the Tet Offensive, a massive, coordinated series of attacks that struck American bases and South Vietnamese cities and towns all over the country.
Throughout his time in the war, Larry Taylor engaged the enemy 340 times in more than 2,000 combat missions, was forced down five times, and received an astonishing 61 combat decorations, including 44 Air Medals, the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry, two Bronze Stars and four Distinguished Flying Crosses. His biggest day came on June 18, 1968, when a four-man long-range reconnaissance patrol (LRRP) team called him for help.
Then-1st Lt. Taylor commanded a team of two Cobra gunships when the LRRP began calling. When the Cobras arrived, the ground forces were outnumbered by a numerically superior Viet Cong force, so Taylor and the helicopters went to work. They fired illumination rounds into the enemy force and began calling in artillery support. Then, in the middle of intense enemy fire, the gunships made dangerously close passes of machine guns and rocket attacks for more than 45 minutes.
With their ammunition nearly exhausted and the enemy forces still coming on strong, Taylor flew the LRRP team's evacuation route and found it was crawling with Viet Cong. The soldiers on the ground would not be able to extract according to plan. The helicopters, realizing the situation was now dire, began making fake gun runs using their searchlights in order to give the Americans some breathing room.
They then used the last of their machine gun ammunition to clear a path: Larry Taylor was going to extract the team with his gunship, even though there was no room in the actual helicopter. The soldiers climbed aboard his gun pods and skids, a rescue attempt that had never even been tried before – but it worked. He carried them to the safety of a nearby water treatment plant, where other Americans were waiting for them.
After landing, the men climbed off, ran in front of Taylor's Cobra, lined up, and saluted before running off into the night. Taylor was awarded a Silver Star for his courage and quick thinking. Some 55 years later, President Joe Biden upgraded that award to the Medal of Honor, presenting it to Larry Taylor on Sept. 5, 2023, in a White House ceremony. It was just in time: Larry Taylor died of cancer at his home in Tennessee in January 2024.
The early days of the Civil War were some of the darkest for the Union. The Confederate Army won many of those early pivotal battles, and where the Union did see success, it often failed to follow up on them. What so many Americans in the North believed would be a short war, a spanking for the unruly South, was turning into a long, drawn-out bloodbath – and things would get much worse before they got better.
The Confederates needed a hard-fought, decisive victory over the Union if they were going to get recognition from European powers. Meanwhile, the Union needed to prove to Europe that the Confederate States had little to no chance of success and weren't worth intervention. The South had one of the most capable commanders of the day in Gen. Robert E. Lee and his Army of Northern Virginia. In contrast, the Union had Gen. George B. McClellan, who was capable but feckless.
On Sept. 3, 1862, Lee's Army invaded Maryland at the head of some 55,000 men with the goal of taking the war to the enemy, capturing vital food stores, and proving to the world that the Confederacy could win. McClellan moved to meet him with the 87,000-strong Army of the Potomac. He even had Lee's entire plan of attack discovered by Union soldiers and sent to their general. But the overly cautious McClellan dawdled, nearly negating the intelligence advantage. The two met at Antietam Creek in Maryland, resulting in the deadliest one-day battle in American military history.
The rebel army boasted a veritable "who's who" of military leadership. Under Lee, Maj. Gen. James Longstreet and Maj. Gen. Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson commanded wings of infantry. Brig. Gen. John G. Walker and John Bell Hood commanded two of his five infantry divisions and a cavalry division under Maj. Gen. J. E. B. Stuart. But where the southerners had leaders, the northern forces had something far more important: men, supplies, and weapons, all critical in the battle that was to come.
It was McClellan who evened the playing field for Lee, who only fielded an estimated 30,000-45,000 troops at Antietam. Though arriving at the battle with more than 53,000 troops, the Union's commander set up his headquarters so far from the fighting that he could not control the individual corps, and he failed to give every commander the overall plan of attack. So when the Union troops made their move, they essentially attacked the rebel positions piecemeal, allowing Lee to move his forces to help repel each assault.
At 5:30 in the morning, Maj. Gen. Joseph Hooker began the attack on Lee's left flank with the Union I Corps, outnumbering Stonewall Jackson's rebel batteries. As they emerged from the woods, they entered Miller's Cornfield, and a massive artillery duel began as the rebels launched a head-on counterattack. After two hours of fighting, the Confederates fought the Union to a bloody stalemate, taking massive losses in the effort.
In the afternoon, the Union began to assault the Confederate center, where a sunken road dominated the enemy's defensive posture. The Confederates used makeshift earthworks to try and repel the attackers, who had to fight their way up the road. Lee was forced to use his reserves to bolster the center, but Union troops eventually fought their way into an enfilade position, pouring fire on the rebel defenders. They fell back, but the Union again failed to press the advantage. The volume of casualties taken on the sunken road earned it the nickname "Bloody Lane," leaving 5,600 men dead and wounded, two to three bodies deep.
The afternoon saw a new assault from Burnside, as Union troops attempted to capture a stone bridge at the southernmost crossing of the creek. The approaches to the bridge were in open country while its defenders enjoyed the cover of nearby trees. It took three assaults on the bridge as well as a Union move to cross the creek two miles downstream to dislodge the rebels, but the Confederates only withdrew because they were low on ammunition.
The bottleneck created by the bridge allowed Lee to once again move troops from other areas of the battlefield to bolster its defenses. When Confederate Gen. A.P. Hill arrived to the fighting with thousands of reinforcements, Burnside was forced to fall back and defend the bridge, again unable to press his gains.
The Battle of Antietam had no significant gain for either side, but Lee's Army of Northern Virginia lost 25% of its strength. The losses forced him to retreat back to Virginia and abandon his invasion of the North, along with any hope of European intervention. The number of men at Antietam is estimated to be as high as 132,000 total, with 22,717 men killed, wounded, or missing.
TogetherWeServed.com helped me put down on paper things that represent only five percent of my life as a young man and have stuck with me to my 80th year. What makes me tick is now available to anyone who may be interested enough to look. Thank you for the opportunity to record my thoughts.
ET2 David Binder US Navy Veteran
Served 1963-1967
We all know the Marine Corps celebrates its birthday in a big way, but that doesn't mean the other branches aren't worth celebrating. The United States Air Force was created after President Harry S. Truman signed the National Security Act of 1947. On September 18, 1947, W. Stuart Symington became Secretary of the Air Force, making September 18 the service's official birthday. In honor of its 77th birthday, let's take a look at some of the airmen who shaped the history and development of the world's premiere aerospace force.
1. Billy Mitchell
It's hard to imagine a time when the world's top military thinkers just didn't believe that airplanes would make any sort of difference on a battlefield. Also known as the "Father of the Air Force," Gen. William "Billy" Mitchell had the foresight to know exactly what air power could bring. Mitchell even set out to prove it by sinking battleships.
His advocacy for a separate Air Force landed him a court martial in 1925 after accusing the U.S. military of "almost treasonable administration of the national defense" when they invested in battleships instead. He resigned from the Army Air Service after the trial, but history proved him right in World War II, even though Mitchell didn't live to be vindicated.
2. Eddie Rickenbacker
Eddie Rickenbacker led the life so many young men always dream about. He was an award-winning race car driver, married to a famous singer, who taught himself to become a pilot. When the United States entered World War I, he joined the Air Service as soon as he could. Initially enlisting as a driver, he fought to become a combat pilot.
Within a year, Rickenbacker not only shot down five enemy fighters and earned the title of Ace, he was in command of an entire squadron. By the time World War I ended in November 1918, he had 26 aerial victories, the Distinguished Service Cross with six oak leaf clusters, the Croix de Guerre with two palms, the French Legion d'Honneur and, later, a Medal of Honor.
3. Curtis LeMay
Gen. Curtis LeMay might be most (in)famous for his determination to "bomb the Soviet Union back into the Stone Age," but upon closer inspection, the bombastic but often misunderstood leader is the embodiment of the Air Force warrior ethos. It was LeMay's leadership that saw the legendary 8th Air Force's dominance over Nazi Germany, where he led from the lead plane. The strategic bombing that crippled Japan was the work of LeMay and his staff.
History is not often kind to Curtis LeMay, depicting him as a cold, bloodthirsty warmonger, but that image of him only stems from his willingness to do whatever it took to secure the U.S. and its forces. For the record, when the Soviets tried to cut Berlin off from the Free World, LeMay responded with the Berlin Airlift, not a nuclear strike.
4. Robin Olds
It's not very often that heroes transcend eras, but when they do, the effect they have is felt for generations afterward. Robin Olds is one of those legendary heroes. He played football for West Point, but became a fighter pilot over World War II Europe, becoming a triple ace with 16 aerial victories. It's also fun to point out that his football performance, air combat record, and even marrying a famous movie actress are all overshadowed by the most magnificent mustache to ever touch the wild blue yonder.
After World War II, Olds continued his service by commanding a tactical fighter squadron in the Vietnam War. There, despite his frustrations with American leadership and media, he still innovated ways to win, culminating in Operation Bolo, a near-perfect victory that wrecked much of the North Vietnamese Air Force. Today's airmen remember him every year with "Mustache March, "hoping to emulate the distinctive whiskers that boosted the morale of his men.
5. William H. Pitsenbarger
Readers might notice a lot of the Air Force's heroes are officers and pilots, and the reason for that is many of the airmen sent into combat against the enemy are officers and pilots. But the Air Force enlisted corps is just as brave and heroic when the opportunity arises, and no one in USAF history embodies the warrior spirit like that of Pararescue Jumper William H. Pitsenbarger.
"Pits" entered the Air Force after high school and was sent to Vietnam as soon as he left pararescue training. In less than a year, he found himself rescuing Army casualties pinned down around South Vietnam's Cam My. He jumped below the canopy and sent some wounded back up to the helicopter, but he stayed with the wounded who couldn't be evacuated. For an hour and a half, he helped the Infantrymen fight the enemy while tending to the wounded. He even fought alongside them. Sadly, he was killed by a Viet Cong sniper. In 2000, he received a posthumous Medal of Honor for his gallantry in the face of the enemy.
"There was only one man on the ground that day that would have turned down a ride out of that hellhole - and that man was Pitsenbarger."
- F. David Peters, C Co, 2nd Btn, 16th Inf, 1st ID
The Air Rescue Service (later the Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Service) first used Kaman HH-43 Huskie helicopters, unofficially known as "Pedro" from their radio call sign. They later added larger Sikorsky H-3 helicopters, nicknamed "Jolly Green Giants," with greater range. The 37th ARRS was activated initially during the Korean War when helicopters were first used for medical evacuation. The Jolly Green most notably served during the Vietnam War, during which, in addition to their helicopters, they also flew the Grumman HU-16 Albatross amphibious flying boat and the HC-130 specialized variant of the Hercules transport. They carried out numerous search and rescue operations in combat areas. They participated in the evacuations of Phnom Penh and Saigon and provided service during the assault on Koh Tang Island during the Mayaguez incident. Air Force TWS currently lists 131 members who served with this unit.
On October 17, 1952, B Flight of the 3rd Air Rescue Group was constituted as the 37th Air Rescue Squadron, absorbing all the aircraft and personnel from A Flight. The Squadron was officially activated and assigned to the 3rd Air Rescue Group on November 14, 1952, stationed at Komaki AB, Japan. It initially utilized SB-29 and SC-47 aircraft, part of the former A Flight. The Squadron subsequently relocated to Yokota AB, Japan, on July 2323, 1954, but ceased using the SC-47 when it was retired from service. The SB-29 continued in service until the original Squadron's deactivation on May 8 8, 1955. The Squadron operated a variety of aircraft in Southeast Asia because air rescue was seriously needed & new airframes to perform these duties were coming online. On March 30, 1966, two HC-130s were delivered to Detachment 1 at Udorn RTAFB. A further 3 HC-130s were delivered to Udorn in June 1966. On January 16, 1967, the Squadron's HC-130s at Udorn RTAFB were transferred to the newly formed 39th ARRS. Also on January 16th, Detachment 2, 37th ARRS was re-designated from Det. 5, 38th ARRS at Udorn RTAFB operating HH-3s
February 2, 1967, all 5 HU-16s assigned to the 37th ARRS were transferred to the 33rd ARRS at Naha, Okinawa.
In September 1967, Detachment 2 at Udorn RTAFB received its first 2 HH-53Bs.
In May 1967, Detachment 1 38th ARRS operating HH-3s at Danang Air Base was reassigned to the 37th ARRS.
March 1968, Detachment 2 at Udorn RTAFB was transferred to the 40th ARRS.
On January 8, 1966, the 37th ARRS was activated at Da Nang Air Base, operating 5 HU-16s on loan from the 31st ARRS and the 33rd ARRS and with a detachment at Udorn Royal Thai Air Force Base. The Squadron was responsible for aircrew recovery over North Vietnam, Laos, and the Gulf of Tonkin.
On March 30ch, 1966, 2 HC-130s were delivered to Detachment 1 at Udorn RTAFB. A further 3 HC-130s were delivered to Udorn in June 1966.
On January 16, 1967, the Squadron's HC-130s at Udorn RTAFB were transferred to the newly formed 39th ARRS. Also, on January 16, Detachment 2, 37th ARRS was redesignated from Det. 5, 38th ARRS at Udorn RTAFB operating HH-3s.
On February 2, 1967, all 5 HU-16s assigned to the 37th ARRS were transferred to the 33rd ARRS at Naha, Okinawa.
In September 1967, Detachment 2 at Udorn RTAFB received its first 2 HH-53Bs.
In May 1967, Detachment 1 38th ARRS operating HH-3s at Danang Air Base was reassigned to the 37th ARRS.
March 1968, Detachment 2 at Udorn RTAFB was transferred to the 40th ARRS.
The 37th ARRS remained at Danang until it was inactivated on November 30, 1972. Five of its HH-53s were transferred to the 40th ARRS at Nakhon Phanom Royal Thai Air Force Base. At the same time, its two HH-43s remained at Danang as Detachment 7 of the 40th ARRS to provide base rescue during Operation Linebacker II.
Chronological Summary of Lineage
Constituted as the 37th Air Rescue Squadron on 17 October 1952 Activated on 14 November 1952, Inactivated on 8 May 1955
Redesignated 37th Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Squadron and activated on 14 December 1965 (not organized. Organized on 8 January 1966), Inactivated on 29 December 1972, Activated on 1 October 1973
Redesignated 37th Air Rescue Squadron on 1 June 1989
Redesignated 37th Rescue Squadron on 1 February 1993
Redesignated 37th Rescue Flight on 1 May 1993
Redesignated 37th Helicopter Flight on 1 May 1998
Redesignated 37th Helicopter Squadron on 21 October 2005
Assignments
3d Air Rescue Group: 14 November 1952 – 8 May 1955
Military Air Transport Service: 14 December 1965 (not organized)
Military Airlift Command: 1 January 1966 (not organized)
3d Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Group: 8 January 1966
41st Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Wing: 20 August 1972 – 29 December 1972 (remained under operational control of 3rd Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Group)
Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Service: 1 October 1973
39th Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Wing: 1 July 1978
41st Rescue and Weather Reconnaissance Wing: 1 February 1987
Air Rescue Service: 1 August 1989
90th Operations Group: 1 February 1993 (attached to 20th AF Helicopter Operations Group (Provisional) after 1 August 2014)
582d Helicopter Group, 15 January 2015 – present
Detachments
Det.1 had HH-1H at Davis-Monthan AFB for missile site support during the mid-70s until closing in late 1985
Det.2 had UH-1F at Ellsworth AFB
Det.3 had UH-1F and HH-1H at Grand Forks AFB, later 79 RQF (Rescue Flight)
Det.4 at Little Rock AFB
Det.5 at Malmstrom AFB from 1964 until redesignated 40th Helicopter Flight in 1998
Det.6 at McConnell AFB
Det.7 at Minot AFB, later 54 HF
Det.8 at Vandenberg AFB later 76 HF
Det.9 at Whiteman AFB
Det.10 at F. E. Warren AFB later 37 HS
Decorations
Presidential Unit Citation
Air Force Outstanding Unit Award
Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citation
The Republic of Vietnam Gallantry Cross with Palm
"Air operations over dangerous enemy territory forced Search and Rescue (SAR) to evolve into Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) teams. While the helicopters made a rescue, US fighters protected them from North Vietnamese MiGs. Also, Douglas A-1 Skyraiders, known by their call sign Sandy, joined the rescue efforts. The A-1's long loiter time helped in locating downed aircrew, and its heavy armament suppressed enemy ground fire during the rescue attempt.
A major improvement came in November 1965, when the Sikorsky HH-53E "Super Jolly Green Giants" arrived. Capable of being refueled in flight by Lockheed HC-130 King Birds, the HH-53E helicopters could reach any point in the Southeast Asia theater.
During the Southeast Asia War, CSAR personnel significantly impacted and lived up to their motto: That Others May Live. They saved a total of 4,120 people, including 2,780 in combat situations. Their individual achievements earned them two Medals of Honor, 38 Air Force Crosses, and numerous other awards. However, the cost was high, as 71 US rescue personnel were killed, and 45 aircraft were destroyed during the war.
The blood-red beret, symbolizing sacrifice, has been the pararescueman or "PJ" (for para jumper) mark of distinction since early 1966. The PJ's unique mission in the Southeast Asia War was to ride into a combat zone aboard a rescue helicopter and descend into jungles, swamps, mountains, and forests on a cable and winch. On the ground, they stabilized and helped hoist the injured to safety, often under fire. All volunteers, the PJs earned more decorations per man than any other USAF group in the SEA War."
Arriving in Vietnam in August 1965, A1C Pitsenbarger (37th ARRS designated to 38th ARRS) completed more than 250 missions, including one in which he hung from an HH-43's cable to rescue a wounded South Vietnamese soldier from a burning minefield. This action earned him the Airman's Medal and the Republic of Vietnam's Medal of Military Merit and Gallantry Cross with Bronze Palm. For coordinating successful rescues, caring for the wounded, and sacrificing his life while aggressively defending his comrades on April 11th, 1966, William H. Pitsenbarger received the Air Force Cross on June 3030, 1966. After review, the original award was upgraded, and on December 8, 2000, the Medal of Honor was presented to his family in a ceremony at the US Air Force Museum. Airman Pitsenbarger is the 59th Medal of Honor recipient and the sixth enlisted recipient from the Air Force and its predecessor organizations.
Though numerous books and films have been produced involving the 37th and other USAAF/AF rescue units, perhaps this example by Wayne Mutza from Schiffer Publishing would be a place to begin: "This definitive work on air rescue operations of the US Army Air Force and US Air Force takes the reader from the birth of the service during World War II, through the Korean and Vietnam Wars, to present-day operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Detailed text, accompanied by numerous photos-including many never before published-presents all aspects of air rescue operations, from the service's founding, specialized training and equipment, and discussions of such varied aircraft types as the Stinson L-5, Douglas SC-47, Douglas HC/SC-54D "Rescuemaster," Fairchild SC-82A "Packet," Boeing HC-97G "Strato-Rescuer," Bell H-1 "Huey," Sikorsky H-3 "Jolly Green Giant," and many more. During the Cold War, this air arm expanded greatly and added the new mission of astronaut recovery through the early years of the US space program, as well as providing humanitarian aid during natural disasters worldwide. Air rescue came into its own during the war in Vietnam, when it became a highly skilled and effective force, rescuing thousands of fliers downed in combat, along with beleaguered ground troops. The present USAF air rescue service continues to live up to its motto, 'That Others May Live.'" And, for them all, many give deeply felt thanks to this day.
I have been a member of TWS for many years already and am a life member, and I certainly look forward to each edition. What a joy it is to look for old friends and read exciting and enjoyable stories and create a life story for my children and grandchildren; actually, they are the ones who encouraged me to write my story. I really want to thank the creators of TWS, especially the editors and staff, who do a tremendous job with each edition I open. Thank You guys.
Franz Stigler, like many pilots in the German Luftwaffe who lived long enough, racked up an impressive number of air-to-air kills during World War II. But unlike most German fighter pilots, Stigler is most famous for the kill he didn't make. Although an incredible act of bravery, the cold winter day in 1943, when he decided not to shoot down an Allied bomber, put his life in danger – but it would later earn him a lifelong friend.
U.S. Army Air Force Lt. Charlie Brown was 21 years old when boarded the B-17 Flying Fortress Bomber "Ye Olde Pub" on Dec. 20, 1943. It was his first combat mission ever, and the United States was making daring daytime raids over Nazi Germany. It served to give Germany a round-the-clock pummeling (as British bombers conducted night raids) but also meant an incredibly high casualty count for bomber crews.
If that wasn't enough, "Ye Olde Pub" was moved to the front of the formation (a position called "Purple Heart Corner") after other planes dropped out with mechanical issues, making it a prime target for the inevitable flak and enemy fighters it was certain to meet. Bomber crews were expected to fly 25 missions before being rotated out, but only 25% of them ever made it to 25 missions. The rest were killed, wounded, or missing in action.
That day's target was a munitions factory in Bremen, an industrial city well-defended and deep inside Nazi Germany. Defending the industrial zone were an estimated 250 flak guns and potentially hundreds of enemy fighters from airfields in the area. At the time, fighter escorts were a new concept, so the bombers didn't enjoy that protection – they were on their own.
As the formation began to make its bombing run over the factory, an accurate flak round shot through the glass of Ye Olde Pub's nose cone, taking out one engine and damaging another. The B-17 had to drop out of formation and fall back before it could drop its payload. It was now even more of a target than before.
The enemy fighters came suddenly, pounding the American bomber for more than ten minutes, taking down another engine, damaging its internal oxygen, hydraulic and electrical systems, shooting away half of its rudder and port elevator, wounding most of the ten-man crew, decapitating the tail gunner and worst of all, exposing the plane, its weapons, and men to the freezing air, which was −76° Fahrenheit. Onboard systems, guns, and first aid gear froze.
Brown, still at the controls, had passed out from oxygen deprivation, waking up just in time to save his crippled airplane from a death spiral. It appeared to the German fighters that it was just another aerial victory, and they moved on. Ye Olde Pub managed to escape the area, but it was 300 miles from the safety of the British Isles, and they were barely faster than their stalling speed.
German aircraft spotters called in Brown's plane. Back at a nearby airfield, Franz Stigler was refueling and rearming, getting ready to fly back into the fight. He took off to intercept the B-17, and by the time Charlie Brown noticed Stigler in his Messerschmitt Bf 109, the German was just three feet away from his wingtip. The German pilot was just one aerial kill away from being awarded the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross, the highest award a German military member could receive.
But Stigler didn't see his Iron Cross. He saw the headless, frozen corpse of the tail gunner, clinging to a plane riddled with holes large and small, limping along in a desperate attempt to get back home. It was the most damaged aircraft he'd ever seen still flying. He recalled an officer telling him about that honor is everything in the air, and the phrase he never forgot:
"If I ever see or hear of you shooting at a man in a parachute. I will shoot you down myself. You follow the rules of war for you – not for your enemy. You fight by rules to keep your humanity."
In that moment, Stigler saw a man in a parachute. He tried to get them to land at a German airfield. He then tried to get them to land in neutral Sweden. The Americans, their radio shot out, didn't respond to any of it. Instead, he flew into an escort formation and flew them back to the English Channel, preventing German anti-aircraft guns from targeting the plane. It was not without risk; if a ground spotter saw his tail number helping an Allied aircraft, he could be executed as a traitor. He saluted the Americans as he broke away and headed home.
Brown successfully landed the aircraft in England but never told anyone except his commanding officer about the incident. Stigler, of course, told no one either. He completed his service, flying some 500 combat missions, but was never again interested in his Iron Cross. He emigrated to Canada after the war.
Brown didn't tell the story until 1986 when he spoke at an Air Force event and was asked about his memorable missions. Then a retired Lt. Col, he decided to look for the mysterious German. He wrote letters to publications and perused West German archives until one day in 1990, Stigler finally called him and said, "I was the one." The two became close friends until they both died within a few months of each other in 2008.
I returned from the "Big Disagreement" and had been warned about all of the foolishness and self-righteousness of the under-40 crowd, but I still was bewildered by what I encountered when I came 'home.'
One of my most head-shaking memories upon my return was of being told that I was a baby-killing murderer by an about 22 year-old, 5 foot 3 white hippie chick dressed in a one-piece granny dress. She had long, straight black hair, John Lennon glasses, and a mouth that wouldn't quit spouting leftist trash. I just shook my head and kept moving.
Fast-forward about a dozen years, and I, a newly-minted Second Lieutenant, was going through the Atlanta airport in my dress greens, and there before me was an about 22 year-old, 5 foot 3 white ultra-conservative chick dressed in a very fashionable, one-piece granny dress! She had long, straight black hair, stylish John Lennon glasses, and a mouth that told me I was a communist and lover of leftist Democrats because I wouldn't give her a donation to a neo-con group! I stopped and looked in a window (a mirror) to make sure I was dressed in my Class A's and told her I was a soldier in the U.S. Army and not a commie!
That's when she told me that I was a Tip O'Neal lover (and would probably go to Hell).
I swear to you that they could have been the same girl, but obviously, they couldn't have been after all those years.
I guess there's just a whole class of 5 foot 3 hippie-looking white chicks that are just passionately and very vocally angry at the world...
Since joining "Together, We Served," I have had a great time reminiscing about my career in the Marine Corps, and I am looking forward to hearing from fellow Marines with whom I previously served.
CWO4 Benjamin Lovato, Jr., US Marine Corps (Ret)
Served 1967-1989
Enlisted people definitely have their favorite officers, and usually, the most popular officers are the "Mustangs," which is military slang for those who began their military careers as enlisted. It's not just that they're older and wiser, as most make the jump from a non-commissioned officer rank – it's just that they still feel like one of us.
That's the kind of officer U.S. Navy CDR. Lee M. Foley was. His memoir, "Mustang: From Mess Decks to Wardroom," documents his 32 years of naval service. Born in landlocked Arkansas, he somehow grew up loving the Navy and enlisted in 1961 as a signalman. Over the next three decades, he would rise in rank to Master Chief Petty Officer, then jump to Warrant Officer. After making Chief Warrant Officer 4, he earned a commission, rising to the rank of Commander and Captain of his own ship, the Agile-class minesweeper USS Excel, and finally, his last posting as Executive Officer aboard the USS Kansas City, a replacement oiler.
As one might imagine, there are many sea stories that come with such a career, and some of them, both aboard ships and on shore leave, are included in Foley's book. But also included are the life lessons that helped him throughout such a long, illustrious career. The author served through some really interesting times in the history of the United States and its Navy, stowing his sea bag and heading out to hot spots like the Caribbean, Cuba, and Vietnam during the 1960s and to the Middle East in the 1980s.
More than that, Foley offers an insiders look at what the title promises, both the Mess Decks and Wardrooms of many Navy ships, as he served aboard ten of them, including amphibious ships, service force, salvage ships, an aircraft carrier, and a destroyer. It's an engrossing, easy read that will be especially interesting to anyone interested in Navy life or joining the Navy. Most importantly, Foley acknowledges the contributions of his fellow sailors to his life and success, showing us what it truly means to be a Mustang Officer.
"Mustang: From Mess Decks to Wardrooms" by CDR Lee M. Foley is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble in paperback, starting at $33.00.
When he began his studies in 1962, the United States had only a token involvement in the uncertain future of South Vietnam. By the time he graduated in 1966, the U.S. was fully committed, with more than 380,000 ground troops in the country. Initially, he was commissioned as an armor officer. Though he graduated from the Army's armor school, he knew he could do more flying helicopters.
Larry Taylor already had a pilot's license before joining the Army, and with helicopters being so important in combat operations, it's easy to see why the Army would send a newly-minted armor officer to pilot training. By June 1967, he was an Army aviator, and two months later, he was in Bien Hoa Air Base, part of the 1st Squadron, 4th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division. 
With their ammunition nearly exhausted and the enemy forces still coming on strong, Taylor flew the LRRP team's evacuation route and found it was crawling with Viet Cong. The soldiers on the ground would not be able to extract according to plan. The helicopters, realizing the situation was now dire, began making fake gun runs using their searchlights in order to give the Americans some breathing room. 
The early days of the Civil War were some of the darkest for the Union. The Confederate Army won many of those early pivotal battles, and where the Union did see success, it often failed to follow up on them. What so many Americans in the North believed would be a short war, a spanking for the unruly South, was turning into a long, drawn-out bloodbath – and things would get much worse before they got better. 
The rebel army boasted a veritable "who's who" of military leadership. Under Lee, Maj. Gen. James Longstreet and Maj. Gen. Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson commanded wings of infantry. Brig. Gen. John G. Walker and John Bell Hood commanded two of his five infantry divisions and a cavalry division under Maj. Gen. J. E. B. Stuart. But where the southerners had leaders, the northern forces had something far more important: men, supplies, and weapons, all critical in the battle that was to come.
The afternoon saw a new assault from Burnside, as Union troops attempted to capture a stone bridge at the southernmost crossing of the creek. The approaches to the bridge were in open country while its defenders enjoyed the cover of nearby trees. It took three assaults on the bridge as well as a Union move to cross the creek two miles downstream to dislodge the rebels, but the Confederates only withdrew because they were low on ammunition. 
We all know the Marine Corps celebrates its birthday in a big way, but that doesn't mean the other branches aren't worth celebrating. The United States Air Force was created after President Harry S. Truman signed the National Security Act of 1947. On September 18, 1947, W. Stuart Symington became Secretary of the Air Force, making September 18 the service's official birthday. In honor of its 77th birthday, let's take a look at some of the airmen who shaped the history and development of the world's premiere aerospace force. 
2. Eddie Rickenbacker
3. Curtis LeMay
4. Robin Olds
5. William H. Pitsenbarger
The Air Rescue Service (later the Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Service) first used Kaman HH-43 Huskie helicopters, unofficially known as "Pedro" from their radio call sign. They later added larger Sikorsky H-3 helicopters, nicknamed "Jolly Green Giants," with greater range. The 37th ARRS was activated initially during the Korean War when helicopters were first used for medical evacuation. The Jolly Green most notably served during the Vietnam War, during which, in addition to their helicopters, they also flew the Grumman HU-16 Albatross amphibious flying boat and the HC-130 specialized variant of the Hercules transport. They carried out numerous search and rescue operations in combat areas. They participated in the evacuations of Phnom Penh and Saigon and provided service during the assault on Koh Tang Island during the Mayaguez incident. Air Force TWS currently lists 131 members who served with this unit.
"Air operations over dangerous enemy territory forced Search and Rescue (SAR) to evolve into Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) teams. While the helicopters made a rescue, US fighters protected them from North Vietnamese MiGs. Also, Douglas A-1 Skyraiders, known by their call sign Sandy, joined the rescue efforts. The A-1's long loiter time helped in locating downed aircrew, and its heavy armament suppressed enemy ground fire during the rescue attempt.
The blood-red beret, symbolizing sacrifice, has been the pararescueman or "PJ" (for para jumper) mark of distinction since early 1966. The PJ's unique mission in the Southeast Asia War was to ride into a combat zone aboard a rescue helicopter and descend into jungles, swamps, mountains, and forests on a cable and winch. On the ground, they stabilized and helped hoist the injured to safety, often under fire. All volunteers, the PJs earned more decorations per man than any other USAF group in the SEA War." 
U.S. Army Air Force Lt. Charlie Brown was 21 years old when boarded the B-17 Flying Fortress Bomber "Ye Olde Pub" on Dec. 20, 1943. It was his first combat mission ever, and the United States was making daring daytime raids over Nazi Germany. It served to give Germany a round-the-clock pummeling (as British bombers conducted night raids) but also meant an incredibly high casualty count for bomber crews. 
German aircraft spotters called in Brown's plane. Back at a nearby airfield, Franz Stigler was refueling and rearming, getting ready to fly back into the fight. He took off to intercept the B-17, and by the time Charlie Brown noticed Stigler in his Messerschmitt Bf 109, the German was just three feet away from his wingtip. The German pilot was just one aerial kill away from being awarded the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross, the highest award a German military member could receive. 
In that moment, Stigler saw a man in a parachute. He tried to get them to land at a German airfield. He then tried to get them to land in neutral Sweden. The Americans, their radio shot out, didn't respond to any of it. Instead, he flew into an escort formation and flew them back to the English Channel, preventing German anti-aircraft guns from targeting the plane. It was not without risk; if a ground spotter saw his tail number helping an Allied aircraft, he could be executed as a traitor. He saluted the Americans as he broke away and headed home.
One of my most head-shaking memories upon my return was of being told that I was a baby-killing murderer by an about 22 year-old, 5 foot 3 white hippie chick dressed in a one-piece granny dress. She had long, straight black hair, John Lennon glasses, and a mouth that wouldn't quit spouting leftist trash. I just shook my head and kept moving.
Enlisted people definitely have their favorite officers, and usually, the most popular officers are the "Mustangs," which is military slang for those who began their military careers as enlisted. It's not just that they're older and wiser, as most make the jump from a non-commissioned officer rank – it's just that they still feel like one of us.