The Hellcat Flyboys of World War II

Just look at them: The Hellcat Flyboys of the United States Navy who flew the Grumman F6F Hellcat from aircraft carriers. This fabulous photo from World War II wonderfully captures the energy and essence of all young fighter pilots.

What is that essence so convincingly captured in the faces of these Hellcat Flyboys? First and foremost, that special quality reflects confidence, joy, and comradeship – the knowledge that they are part of an elite group that has qualified to fly and fight for the United States Navy in undoubtedly the most challenging arena of wartime aviation – carrier duty. These young men, barely beyond boyhood in many cases, have earned the right to further prove themselves in the aviation challenges that lie ahead. It is the opportunity to further test themselves that accounts for the joy and anticipation in their faces. The Hellcat Flyboys came from all across the United States of America and from diverse backgrounds to fly for the Navy and to serve the country in a venture that offered excitement and experiences far beyond any they could possibly have known back home in Des Moines, Iowa, or Biloxi, Mississippi, or Bakersfield, California. That scenario remains as true today as it did back then. These young aviators already realize that they had to be good – damn good, in order to qualify for Navy wings, but now they crave to test their limits in the brutal arena of combat to determine just how good they really are. Undoubtedly, in the photo above, there are at least three or four who survived the war and actually shot down opposing Japanese pilots in the process. Equally probable is the likelihood that at least three or four of these young men went down in rough seas never to be seen again. Not infrequently, they perished right on the carrier deck in plain sight of their shipmates after returning from a mission in a Hellcat shot full of holes or draining its last pint of fuel on landing approach. Here is a Hellcat from the USS Enterprise which crash-landed on 10 Nov. 1943. The catapult officer is climbing up the burning aircraft to successfully rescue the pilot. Note the ruptured belly fuel tank.

One thing is certain: self-confidence is a prime requisite for any fighter pilot, and even “controlled cockiness” is an asset…to a point. That characteristic confidence is on display with most flyers whose exploits I have studied. For some, the attitude is very low-key – like Clarence “Bud” Anderson in the Army Air Force who piloted a P-51 Mustang over Germany while chalking up sixteen plus victories, or “kills.” Others, like Chuck Yeager, who was also a Mustang ace in the war (five or more confirmed victories), come across as a bit more “gregarious.”

I spent some time at the Naval Air Test Station in Patuxent River, Maryland, in the late nineteen sixties. I had the opportunity to talk with some older Naval Aviators at that time. I came away from the experience with a clear picture of the “fighter- jock” mentality, an image amply supported since by much research and a library of books on aviation.

Despite the confidence and ability required to win Navy wings in the early years of the war, survival required an even greater ability, and, last but not least, considerable luck, as well. Some barely made it through; many did not.

F6F Hellcats On-Deck: Up-Front and Ready for a Mission

One Naval Aviator’s Very Distinguished Career

Not long ago, I came across the picture of a Douglas A-4 Skyhawk, a Vietnam-era carrier-based fighter jet now displayed in an east-coast museum. I noticed the pilot’s name under the cockpit, LCDR LEW CHATHAM. Bells went off in my mind’s eye: I immediately recalled seeing Lew Chatham at nearby Moffett Field as one of the two “solo” pilots (#5) who flew with the 1963 edition of the Blue Angels. After that thrilling performance, I waited along the rope fence with many others to get the autographs of the entire team of six. Chatham signed as “Lt. Lew Chatham.” That small sheet of paper along with a team photo from the Navy and a picture of the group flying in formation was framed and hung in my room for several years until I finally gifted it to a young brother-in-law. This was the team picture:

Lt. Lew Chatham, 1963 Blue Angels Solo #5 (far right)

Curious after all those years, I visited the internet and discovered that Lt. Chatham retired as a Navy Admiral in 1987 after thirty-one years of service. As a Navy pilot of long standing he had 1,100 arrested carrier landings to his credit – 300 of them at night! My goodness, that record of survival reflects an incredible degree of “stick and rudder” skill, as they say.

Lew Chatham and the Navy Saga of John McCain

Furthermore, and very interesting: as strike-operations officer aboard the aircraft carrier USS Oriskany in 1967, Chatham was one of the last to speak with a young Navy flyer by the name of John McCain who was leaving the pilot ready room for a dangerous mission over Hanoi, Vietnam. Chatham’s last words to McCain were, “You’d better be careful. We’re probably going to lose someone on this one.” The cocky pilot called back, “You don’t have to worry about me, Lew.”

 History records that John McCain and his A-4 Skyhawk were shot out of the sky over Hanoi that very day by a missile. He was seriously hurt upon ejecting from the airplane, was captured by the North Vietnamese, and held captive in a grimy prison for several years. Enough said; the rest of the John McCain story is familiar to most everyone over the age of fifty.

From 1978 until 1980, Chatham commanded the nuclear-powered carrier, USS Kitty Hawk – his most challenging assignment. This was a guy who, like Chuck Yeager in the Air Force, had the “right stuff” – in spades, apparently. Remarkably, “it” seemed visible, even early-on.

I vividly recall the entire Blue Angels performance that day in 1963 at Moffett Field: the spectacle does tend to “stick” with one for a long time. As is always true of their performances, all team members of the Blue Angels radiate assurance and confidence as they walk through the formal preliminary of approaching the flight line and settling into the cockpits of their airplanes waiting in precise formation on the tarmac. I very distinctly recall seeing something special in the persona of Lt. Lew Chatham from San Antonio, Texas, that afternoon. Aside from the blond crew-cut, something else about his manner uniquely stood out, and that something else was what apparently carried him to the top echelons of the United States Navy. He, even more than the other five “Blues,” seemed to have arrived straight from central casting for the role of Navy Blue Angel.

My thanks and kudos to the Hellcat Flyboys and to Admiral Chatham for their Navy service: I only hope that, at the very least, most of those Hellcat Flyboys, like Admiral Chatham, survived their Navy experience and had a rewarding life after the War.

The Brothers Wright Had “The Right Stuff”

Their names are synonymous with the airplane and aviation, yet they are under-appreciated by today’s public. Wilbur and Orville were brothers from Dayton, Ohio, and they truly had “the right stuff.” Nobody knew their names in the beginning. This famous picture captures the moment that changed everything.


 Kitty Hawk – Dec. 17, 1903 – Orville Wright at the controls!

Chuck Yeager, the famous test pilot who first flew through the sound barrier at Edwards Air Force Base in 1947 also personified the “right stuff”, and nobody knew his name. Also anonymous were his fellow test pilots at Edwards who risked their necks while pushing aviation’s “envelope” in the early part of the last century. But, all of it started with the Wright brothers from Dayton, Ohio.

Humans had dreamt of flying for centuries. It finally truly happened on December 17, 1903 on the barren sand dunes of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. The chosen site of mankind’s first self-sustained, powered flight had little to offer as amenities except sweeping expanses of soft sand and virtually constant wind – just what the brothers Wright were looking to find. Despite all the hot-air ballooning and gliding experiments that had taken place decades before that day in December, 1903, there were many so-called aviation “experts” who said man would never truly fly…right up to the time of the Wright brothers’ first powered flight.

Wright Bros. Stamp_1Wilbur and Orville Wright were not listening to the skeptical “experts.” They navigated their successful course relying on their own compass bearings: That was just their way of doing things – a necessary ingredient for the “right stuff” recipe. Even so, they had hoped to leverage their engineering/design efforts by using worthy findings and data compiled by their contemporaries and predecessors in “the flying machine game.” It was only common sense to use what findings were already available. But, as often as not, the brothers had to invent and chart their own course in so many ways.

Even the great German, Otto Lilienthal, whose pioneering experimentation with gliders furthered the cause of flight, had compiled data on wing curvature that was proven erroneous by the independent-minded brothers who proceeded to correct Lilienthal’s findings. Ultimately, the brothers Wright did things their own way, and, in the process, provided society not only with man’s first flying machine, but with a template for future large-scale engineering and manufacturing processes.

1909_Wright_Cycle_Shop[1]There are few stories more engaging than that of these two brothers who turned the world on its ear through their vision, ingenuity, and stark determination. Imagine: Two brothers in the business of manufacturing and selling bicycles from their tiny shop in Dayton, Ohio, taking upon themselves the immense task of building a flying machine by studying and observing birds in order to decipher their DNA encoded secrets of flight. Wilbur and Orville had no fancy college education to enable them. It was their curiosity and sense of wonder, coupled with their practical, can-do attitude, that powered them to success in the venture.

Their father, Bishop Wright, was a religious man – a traveling pastor whose personal example instilled in the brothers their common-sense approach to life and their devotion to hard work. And the task they undertook required copious quantities of both virtues.

Their first successful powered flight of 12 seconds duration over120 feet of distance occurred during the third of three extended trips to Kitty Hawk. The first two outings which began in 1900 were devoted to gliding experiments.

Among the critical findings during those first two extended stays on the site’s desolate sands were the concepts of wing-warping and proper wing curvature. Warping of the wings using controls by the prone pilot anticipated the modern aileron design present in all modern airplanes and crucial to controlled turns. It was their correct surmise that control of the machine was the ultimate problem standing in the way of successful flight, and they attacked it with a vengeance. The critical wing curvature question was tackled in the backroom of their cycle shop using one of the first wind tunnels ever constructed (by themselves, of course!).

There was one major problem remaining, and that was acquiring a very lightweight engine capable of launching their craft in the air…and keeping it there. A search for appropriate power-plants revealed none, so the brothers furnished their own! The twelve horsepower, four cylinder engine with a lightweight aluminum block was designed and built by Charlie Taylor, a mechanic with a genius bent who worked for the brothers in the backroom “machine shop” of their cycle shop. Yes, luck is always present in any successful endeavor with a long reach, but the brothers’ association with Mr. Taylor accurately illustrates the adage that talent attracts talent. It is quite incredible and so fitting that the brothers produced, as icing on the cake, their own power-plant for the world’s first true flying machine.

The brothers continued their pioneering work on flight in the years which followed Kitty Hawk, keeping much of it under wraps for fear of those who would steal from them, their patentable ideas. Indeed, in France they believed that they, the French, were leading the charge in aviation – that is, until Wilbur traveled to France in 1908 and took the wraps off the brothers’ latest refinements with a tour-de-force series of demonstration flights by Wilbur in the latest “Wright Flyer.” The French were stunned and found themselves quickly relegated to a back seat in the bus along with the rest of the “flying machine” contenders.

Wilbur died early, in 1912, but Orville lived until 1948, long enough to see their brainchild, the airplane, exceed anyone’s wildest imaginings. I recall that Orville’s death occurred just one year after Chuck Yeager shattered the sound barrier in the rocket-propelled Bell X-1 at Edwards, thus giving birth to a new age in aviation.


The saga of the Wright brothers is the quintessential American story. Fact is always stranger than fiction…and so much more engrossing. I love a true story, well-told, so I am very pleased that the author/historian best positioned to do the Wright brothers justice has chosen to do so in his just-released book, The Wright Brothers. That, of course would be David McCullough, winner of two Pulitzer Prizes for his biographies, Truman, and John Adams.

Wright_Brothers_in_1910[1]Author McCullough maintains that Wilbur and Orville Wright, though well-known, are under-appreciated by today’s public; I agree. In reading McCullough’s carefully researched account, I find so much of value in their story which sticks to the reader’s ribs. The author’s demonstrated appreciation of “excellence” and “self-reliant” motivation resonates perfectly with the characters in his book. In today’s world, with its emphasis on glitz and immediate, though transient impact, the devotion-to-task and patient steadfastness of the Wright brothers may appear old-fashioned and out-of-date, but there is no denying that that they, as much as anyone in our history, characterize our celebrated “Yankee ingenuity” and inventiveness. These were serious people, doing serious engineering, and making great history. I applaud author McCullough for his thorough research which figures so prominently in highlighting the personal characteristics of these men, characteristics which enabled their great success. The world has been and continues to be changed forever by the likes of them.

Remarkably, they achieved this great success without any outside funding for their efforts – unlike some other competitors who failed, despite government funding. True to their independent nature, the brothers paid their own way – entirely. Later, the government in Washington predictably became very interested in their flying machine… for military purposes.

I found fascinating, McCullough’s vignette on Amos I. Root, an enterprising beekeeper from upstate Ohio and one of the very few people who took any notice of the Wright’s extensive test flying at Huffman Prairie, near Dayton, in the spring of 1904. It was over that expansive prairie that the brothers perfected their flyer and honed their flying skills. This went on for months, to the complete oblivion of virtually everyone in the region including the local Dayton newspapers. Proud owner of a new Oldsmobile automobile, Root would motor down to Dayton to watch the brothers fly, earning their friendship and confidence, in the process. It was months before the population and the local papers finally latched on to the importance of what was visibly happening right under their distracted noses. In contrast to the public at large, Mr. Root possessed intellectual curiosity and sufficient wisdom to be able to discern history in the making.

And finally, much like the brave, intrepid test pilots like Chuck Yeager at the Edwards Air Force Base Test Center, the two brothers risked their lives every time they went up in the air – even in the early gliders. The brothers did all of their own flying. The first airplane passenger ever killed was a member of the Signal Corps who went up with Orville in 1908. Orville was seriously injured and barely survived the crash. Nothing about their remarkable, successful journey was simple or easy. I confidently hope that David McCullough’s book will help to impress that fact upon the public while generating new interest.

The quote which opens chapter one is perfectly suited to the message received from the story within the book:

“If I were giving a young man advice as to how he might succeed in life, I would say to him, pick out a good father and mother, and begin life in Ohio.”

 – Wilbur Wright


With all due respect to Ohio, that state may not quite be the exciting cauldron of opportunity it once was, but Wilbur’s contention that a good father and mother are  prime catalysts to the success of their offspring still holds true. I feel so strongly about that contention that my blog post last week happens to be about the most important job in the world: PARENTING. I think the brothers Wright would agree.

Click here to see last week’s post on PARENTING

 For my previous blog post on author David McCullough click here:

My post on David McCullough