The Story of the Hard Drinking WWII Ace Pilot Who Flew Into Battle

A Fighter with a Larger-than-Life Reputation

World War II produced countless stories of pilots who fought bravely in the skies, but few lived as loudly or as intensely as Gregory “Pappy” Boyington. Known for his hard-living ways and love of drink, he stood out not just for his habits but also for his ability to lead men into combat. At a time when most fighter aces were still in their twenties, Boyington was nearly a decade older than many of those he commanded. That earned him the nickname “Pappy,” which would follow him for the rest of his life.

By the end of the war, he and his squadron were so well-known that their exploits became the subject of books, documentaries, and even a television show in the 1970s. But behind the fame was the story of a man whose early struggles, unconventional choices, and relentless fighting spirit carried him through some of the fiercest air battles of the Pacific.

Early Life and a Passion for Flight

Boyington was born in Idaho on December 4, 1912. When he was three, his family moved to the small logging town of St. Maries. At just six years old, he had his first chance to experience flight when aviation pioneer Clyde Pangborn took him up in a Curtiss biplane. The moment left a lasting impression, fueling his lifelong love for flying.

As a teenager, his family relocated to Tacoma, Washington, where he graduated from Lincoln High School in 1930. He went on to the University of Washington, studying aeronautical engineering and joining the Army ROTC program. After graduation, he briefly worked for Boeing in Seattle before beginning his military career in the mid-1930s.

Struggles and a New Identity

Boyington’s first attempt at flight school was blocked because he was married, which disqualified him at the time. In a surprising turn, while seeking paperwork, he discovered his biological father was not the man who had raised him but another man his mother had divorced when he was an infant. Using the surname “Boyington,” he reapplied and was accepted into Marine Corps flight training at Pensacola in 1936.

Though he earned his wings, his temper nearly ended his career early. After a physical fight with another officer, he resigned in 1941 rather than face a court martial. That decision sent him to China, where he flew with the American Volunteer Group, better known as the Flying Tigers. Despite his rocky reputation and frequent clashes with his commander, he scored several victories against Japanese aircraft, gaining valuable combat experience.

The Black Sheep Squadron

In 1942, Boyington returned to the United States and rejoined the Marine Corps, which was desperate for seasoned combat pilots. By September 1943, he was placed in command of a new squadron, later known as the “Black Sheep Squadron.” The unit, made up of misfit and replacement pilots, soon developed a fierce reputation.

Flying the powerful F4U Corsair, Boyington and his men attacked enemy shipping, struck airfields, and tangled with Japanese fighters across the Solomon Islands. Boyington’s daring style even led Japanese pilots to call him out by name over the radio, daring him to fly lower into their fire. His blunt response became legendary: “Come on up and fight you sons of bitches.”

Rising Fame and Capture

By the end of 1943, Boyington’s confirmed tally had risen to 25 aircraft shot down, making him the Marine Corps’ leading ace. In January 1944, he surpassed World War I ace Eddie Rickenbacker’s record. But during that same mission, his luck ran out. After a fierce dogfight, he was shot down over the ocean and captured by a Japanese submarine.

He spent the final twenty months of the war in prison camps, enduring harsh conditions until Japan’s surrender in 1945. When he was finally liberated, he was welcomed back by members of his squadron and honored in San Francisco with celebrations covered by national magazines.

Legacy of a Fighter

Over his career, Boyington received the Medal of Honor, Navy Cross, and several other decorations. In 1958, he published his autobiography Baa Baa Black Sheep, which inspired a popular television series. He passed away in 1988 at the age of 75 and was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery.

His story remains one of a man who was far from perfect but who fought fiercely, led boldly, and etched his name into the history of World War II aviation.