Once They Were Eagles Read Online Free PDF

tossing away a phrase so carelessly that he’d be two paragraphs further along before the import hit you.
    William “Junior” Heier had signed on in the fall of 1941 with the Royal Canadian Air Force because he’d lacked the two years of college required to join any of the U.S. air arms. He’d transferred to the Marine Corps in the spring of 1942. He was sure that nothing could stop the Army Air Corps but the weather. He was always there with a quick comeback.
    Denmark Groover, Jr., born and raised in Quitman, Georgia, had had two years in pre-law at the University of Georgia. His accent was soft as butter, and we nominated him as First Vice-President of theYamheads. We originally called him “Boone” but changed it to “Quill” or “Quill Skull” because his hair stuck out from his scalp like the quills of a porcupine.
    Burney “Tuck” Tucker was another southerner, born in Nashville, and another fine athlete; he’d lettered in football, track, and basketball during two and a half years at Tennessee State. As big men often are, he was softspoken and gentle, and spent much of his time keeping the Quartermaster Kids quiet.
    We called Jim Hill the exception: he was a quiet Chicago boy. He’d had two years at Northwestern, his second year as an engineering major. He didn’t have a lot to say but he was always in there in the formation where he belonged.
    Virgil Ray, from Hallsboro, North Carolina, had earned his commission the hard way. He’d enlisted in the Marine Corps and gone to boot camp at Parris Island. He’d passed top man in a competitive examination to transfer to aviation, taken his flight training, and flown one combat tour at Guadalcanal as an enlisted pilot.
    Bob Alexander was the typical all-American boy. In his nearly three years at Iowa State, he’d been a track man, a wrestler, and a gymnast. He’d also been Governor of Boy’s State in 1939. A fine, strapping, crewcut lad, he could have posed for a Marine recruiting poster.
    Tall, likable Walter “Red” Harris was in his last year as a zoology major at the University of Nebraska when he joined the Marine Corps. He’d been a member of the basketball team, the Thespians, and the Glee Club.
    Rolland “Rollie” Rinabarger had majored in mechanical engineering during his two years at Oregon State. He’d also found time to letter on the boxing team, though he was tall and slender enough to have made a good basketball player.
    Don “Deejay” Moore, from Amarillo, was the only Texan in our squadron. He was another who’d first joined the Royal Canadian Air Force, transferring to the Marine Corps after serving ten months there. He spent part of his spare time working on lessons for correspondence courses, and the rest he whiled away on the silver trombone he carted about with him.
    Bob McClurg was a quarterback and a business administration grad from Westminster College in New Wilmington, Pennsylvania. He was said to have been rejected by other squadrons because he couldn’t fly well enough. When Boyington heard this, he snorted, “If the boy can’t fly well enough, it’s up to me to teach him.” And the CO proceeded to do just that.
    Chris “Wild Man” or “Maggie” Magee was our free spirit. Heusually carried with him some thick tome on witchcraft or philosophy. He refused to wear boots; instead, he wore tennis shoes when he was flying. Utterly fearless, he usually took along a lapful of hand grenades, which he tossed over the side at various Japanese installations as he flew at hair-raisingly low levels. He always, and I mean always, wore blue nylon bathing trunks—we wondered if he ever took them off. A physical culture faddist, he could be seen in his spare time working out with his barbell, a blue kerchief tied on his head and his muscular body glistening in the sun.
    No one, no one, messed with Maggie. One