I’m almost finished with “Baa Baa Black Sheep.”  I’ve learned a lot about WWII in the Pacific.  Pappy was given the Congressional Medal of Honor. They thought he was dead, but he was in a Japanese prison camp--for two years after crashing into the ocean.

If you were captured and declared a prisoner of war, they reported you.  If you were listed as a captive instead, they didn’t.  He didn’t know about B-29’s until they flew over the camp he was in.  

He didn’t know about the A-bomb until he read about it on the way home after being released.

I knew he was a drunk.  That’s all.  But in reading the book, I’ve discovered that he was also a human being who knew himself very well.  It’s interesting that we only hear about the bad, and sometimes make an unfair evaluation of a person.  He is an excellent writer.

He was a Marine.  He loved to fly.  He holds the lifetime record for shooting down enemy planes.  And he finally conquered his demons.  I bought the book in ‘68, I wish I had read it then--during the time my life was surrounded by Marine fighter pilots.  I would have had a better idea of what they did back when I was living through it.  Every Marine I knew was a fighter pilot.  I didn’t know they were unusual.