Free Once They Were Eagles by Frank Walton Page B

tail and worked up his fuselage; one entered at an angle just back of his cockpit, nicked his knife, and hit him in the left hip. The slug traveled on down through his thigh, stopping just under the skin about eight inches down on his left leg.
    Rollie attempted to stay in formation but couldn’t do so. Then the shells really began to hit him as the enemy planes all piled onto the cripple. A second 20-mm shell exploded in his left wing; a third struck the right side of his cowl, breaking his oil line and putting one cylinder out of commission; another entered his fuselage and exploded back of his cockpit, starting a fire; still another hit his left wing, bursting his tire and destroying his flap control on that side, while machine gun bullets raked him fore and aft.
    Mullen brought the remainder of his division around as sharply as he could and engaged the swarm of Zeros as Rollie dived out, smoking badly. For 140 miles these three Black Sheep fought off the pack of Zeros attempting to finish off their squadron mate. They worked gradually toward Munda, keeping the Zeros several thousand feet above Rinabarger, whose engine was smoking badly.
    The fire in the fuselage behind Rollie burned out, but oil obscured his windshield; blood ran out the leg of his trousers, filled his shoe, and covered the floor of his cockpit. He limped into Munda, coming in too fast—about 140 miles an hour—because his air speed indicator hadbeen shot out and his left flap was damaged; he was unable to see through the oil on the windshield, and one tire was flat.
    He drifted too far without his flaps but sat down well in spite of the flat tire, rolled down the runway, and might have made it except for a grader parked to the right. His right wing struck the grader; the Corsair spun, rolled over, and was washed out.
    Doc Reames rode with Rollie up to the hospital, and Boyington and I went up to see him as soon as the flight was in. He lay on a canvas cot in the hospital, a long tent with open sides and a bare, muddy coral floor. His face was pale, and we could see that his wound was painful.
    â€œGee, Skipper, I’m sorry I wrecked the airplane,” he said. Rollie was evacuated to New Zealand to recover.
    The next day, our Black Sheep knocked down four more Zeros to run our score up to 23, plus 13 probables. Ten Black Sheep tangled with 50 Zeros in that action, which took place off southern Bougainville.
    Boyington had Mo Fisher on his wing, with Bill Case leading his second section and Red Harris on Case’s wing.
    These four attacked 20 Zeros and shot down three, Boyington, Fisher, and Case each getting one. The remaining six Black Sheep jumped 30 Zeros, and Don Moore sent one spinning down.
    In the scramble, the Black Sheep became separated and then had to battle a storm for 15 minutes before coming out into the clear.
    Case and Harris were apparently alone in the sky as they came out in the vicinity of Treasury Island, so the two of them headed for Vella Lavella. Almost there, Case looked back and saw a swarm of Zeros attacking the rear of the bomber formation that had just broken clear of the storm. One bomber was smoking.
    â€œRed, we’ve got to go back,” he radioed to Harris, and the two turned to try to fight the Zeros off the flight of Army Liberators. As they drew closer, they could see about 40 enemy planes.
    Climbing as they went back, the two Black Sheep gained altitude and then came down on the Zeros, scattering them. They pulled back above the bombers and scissored over them as the Zeros reformed still farther above. One after the other and in pairs, the Zeros began to dive on the two Corsairs and then pull out.
    The bombers were going very, very slowly, and the Black Sheep were buying their passage, foot by foot.
    Suddenly, Japanese planes were coming in from all directions; one was directly on Red’s tail. Case turned and fought him off, but a 20-mm shell exploded in his left wing and a flight of