When Marine Fighter Squadron 214 (VMF-214) comes up in conversation, thoughts turn to a certain television show from the 1970s. A show that helped steep the story of VMF-214 Black Sheep in myth and legend.
VMF-214: in the Beginning
The original VMF-214 was commissioned at Marine Corps Air Station Ewa, Hawaii on 1 July 1942. Named the Swashbucklers, VMF-214 deployed to the South Pacific in February of 1943.
The squadron had been equipped with the Brewster F2A Buffalo, but left these behind when they left Ewa. Flying borrowed, worn-out Grumman F4F Wildcats, VMF-214 operated from Turtle Bay Airfield on Espiritu Santo Island, and then Henderson Field, Guadalcanal.
Its first tour of duty at Henderson ended in early September of 1943, and the squadron was disbanded . The pilots awaited reassignment or were sent home on leave. But VMF-214 was almost immediately reconstituted at Espiritu Santo under command of its most famous leader, Major Gregory Boyington. Their mount would be the Chance-Vought F4U Corsair.
Oh, about the nickname ‘Pappy’. He was indeed older than most of the other pilots in the outfit, by almost a decade. But they apparently never called him ‘Pappy’, instead referring to him as ‘Gramps’.
The nickname we’ve come to know and love was an invention of the press.
The Myth of VMF-214 Black Sheep
VMF-214 is fabled in legend as a band of rebellious misfits, a notion popularized in the 1970s television series, Baa Baa Black Sheep. (later re-titled Black Sheep Squadron) But nothing could be further from the truth.
The pilots of this second incarnation of VMF-214 were something of a ragtag bunch, true. But none came from the stockade or anything like that, as has been suggested by some. They came from Marine Aircraft Group 11’s (MAG-11) pilot pool.
The pools were made up of pilots whose former squadrons had disbanded, and were simply waiting around for orders. Some of these guys were among the most experienced fighter pilots in the Pacific at that time. Included were eight members of Boyington’s previous squadron, VMF-122.
Other than Boyington himself, who did indeed have a reputation as a drinker and brawler, there weren’t any really rowdy types. Well, none more so than you would have found in your typical Marine fighter squadron, that is.
No, these guys simply happened to be in the right place at the right time. And they just happened to wind up with what became one of the most famous flying units in history.
Why ‘Black Sheep’?
An early order of business during their month or so of training at Espiritu Santo was to select a name for the outfit. Some of the guys had been referring to themselves as ‘Boyington’s Bastards’. Classic fighter pilot stuff, but not something that would go over well in the press.
The resident Marine Corps public relations officer at Espiritu Santo, Captain Jack DeChant, suggested they go with ‘Black Sheep’. It essentially had the same meaning and was still ‘colorful’, but less ‘abrasive’.
And so was born VMF-214 Black Sheep.
After training, VMF-214 moved from Espiritu Santo to Munda Airfield on New Georgia Island, then to Barakoma Airstrip on Vella LaVella Island. From these fields VMF-214 would fly most of its missions against Japanese forces for roughly three months during the Solomon Islands campaign.
VMF-214 Black Sheep and Rawhide
Like most Americans of the era, many of the the Black Sheep were baseball fans. During the World Series in October of 1943, most fans of America’s greatest pastime had the war on their minds. But the Black Sheep had baseball on theirs.
Baseball caps were prized possessions in the day, especially among Navy and Marine pilots throughout the Pacific. In the series that year it was the St. Louis Cardinals against the New York Yankees, and the men of VMF-214 proposed an unusual trade with the teams.
For every game-worn ball cap the players sent them, the Black Sheep would down one Japanese plane. The offer was accepted. At the end of the series, both teams sent around 20 baseball caps to the men of VMF-214, along with some bats and balls.
The Black Sheep held up their end of the bargain, and then some. They shot down 48 planes. ‘Twas good publicity and good fun all way ’round. And most importantly to the Black Sheep, they got their prized caps which were in short supply out in the Pacific.
Not All Fun and Games For VMF-214 Black Sheep
The baseball stuff was, of course, just a distraction. There was a war on and grim work to be done. The battle for the Solomons was raging, and VMF 214 was in the thick of it.
Boyington and VMF-214 often flew aggressive fighter sweeps around enemy airfields. There were times when they arrived at a field and found no airborne enemy. So they would simply parade around the area, inviting the Japanese up for a scrap.
Though highly exaggerated in books and on screens both large and small, such encounters were very real. It’s just that the invites were not sent through witty banter on the radio.The Americans’ presence alone was invitation enough.
One of their greatest successes took place during a sweep on 17 October, 1943. Boyington led 24 fighters to Kahili Airfield on southern Bougainville where at least 60 enemy fighters were known to be based.
Boyington and the Black Sheep circled patiently, and up came a large number of enemy aircraft. Then there was a swirling melee reminiscent of the dogfights of the First World War. Down went twenty Japanese. The Marines returned home without loss.
Boyington and the Ace Chase
Boyington had flown with the American Volunteer Group (AVG) in China, fighting the Japanese under the Chinese flag, beginning in late 1941. He claimed six Japanese aircraft destroyed. (He was officially credited with just two by the AVG.)
During his time leading VMF-214, Boyington had added considerably to his score, claiming 19 victories from mid September to late December 1943. In doing so, Boyington had also been inching closer to Eddie Rickenbacker’s record of 26 victories from the First World War.
That record had thus far been equaled by just one pilot, fellow Marine and Medal of Honor winner, Major Joe Foss. And he was no longer flying combat, so this gave Boyington a clear run at matching and perhaps surpassing the record.
The Black Sheep had not only been cheering him on, they’d been actively trying to help him get there. They’d run interference for him, and carefully watch his tail Some would even give up opportunities to flame a Zeke, instead deferring to their skipper.
It Wasn’t Easy Leading VMF-214 Black Sheep
By late December of 1943 Boyington’s score stood at 24. But the strain of combat and of leading men into it was starting to take its toll. And the relentless badgering by war correspondents about the chase to catch Rickenbacker and Foss didn’t help any.
More than once Boyington’s infamous temper got the better of him, usually ending with a press man sheepishly retreating to calmer spaces. The leader of VMF-214 Black Sheep was clearly reaching the end of his rope.
27 December 1943 brought his 25th victory. 28 December brought no luck. A mission to Rabaul on 2 January 1944 seemed promising until Boyintgton’s Corsair started throwing oil, and he had to abort.
Throughout December of 1943 VMF-214 had been staging missions out of Torokina Airfield on Bougainville. That evening of 2 January, Boyington and seven other Black Sheep headed to Torokina for another mission to Rabaul the next morning.
Fateful Day
Dawn came on 3 January 1944, and Boyington departed Bougainville with the other seven members of VMF-214 Black Sheep, headed toward Rabaul. Boyington was leading a combined armada of some 40-50 Navy and Marine fighters.
Nearing Rabaul at about 20,000 feet, Boyington spotted a number of Japanese aircraft rising up from Rapopo airfield to challenge the Americans. Calling on the radio for his section to attack, Boyington and his wingman, Captain George Ashmun, dove down onto the enemy.
Boyington drew first blood.
He poured a long burst into the Zeke. Ashmun called over the radio, “Gramps, you got a flamer.” A flamer it was. True to form, the lightly armored ‘Zero’ burst into a flaming mass, streaking orange and black through the air as it disintegrated.
‘Ole Pappy had done it. He’d tied Rickenbacker’s record. The two continued in their dive, attacking more Japanese aircraft they found below. Pappy nailed a second and Ashmun added a third: it was his first kill of the war.
No Cause For Celebration
Soon after Ashmun scored his victory, Boyinton noticed a number of aircraft descending behind them. He initially thought that these were the rest of his section from VMF-214 coming down to join the fray.
Unbeknownst to Boyington, the other Black Sheep had become separated in cloud and had momentarily lost track of him. The party crashers were Japanese. A moment later, he saw his wingman’s ship shudder and belch smoke, then enter a shallow glide.
The Japanese fighters buzzed ’round the stricken Corsair, pouring more fire into the ship. Boyington yelled over the radio for Ashmun to dive, knowing that that was his wingman’s best bet for escape. But there was no reply, and the Corsair continued in its glide.
Boyington ran headlong into the Japanese fighters, throwing his big Corsair around the sky with abandon. He didn’t take time to aim with the gun sight. The Zekes were all around, at close range, and he simply blazed away whenever one passed in front of his nose.
‘Twas futile. Ashmun’s Corsair burst into flames and crashed into the ocean. Boyington soon came under heavy fire and dived to escape, leveling out just above the water. But his ship, too, became a blowtorch, and it seemed that he would meet the same fate as Ashmun.
VMF-214 Black Sheep Mourn Their Skipper
One by one the other pilots landed back at Vella Lavella. Lieutenant Bruce Matheson reported that the last time he’d seen Boyington, he and and Ashmun were going after 15 Zeros. He also mentioned that Boyington had bagged one.
Everyone cheered. The skipper had tied the record.
None of the other pilots knew anything further about him, however. Other airfields were contacted, but neither the skipper nor Ashmun had landed at any of them.
As the afternoon wore on, slowly it sank in. Boyington was gone.
VMF-214 Black Sheep: End of Tour
This first combat tour for the Black Sheep ended on 8 January 1944, just five days after Boyington went down. The squadron had racked up an impressive tally during its roughly three months in combat.
Some 203 Japanese aircraft had been destroyed, 97 of them confirmed air to air kills. Nine Black Sheep became aces, each with five or more victories.
Also, numerous transport and supply ships were destroyed, as well as many ground targets. Among the squadron’s awards and honors was a Presidential Unit Citation for extraordinary heroism in combat.
VMF-214 would be reconstituted again on 29 January 1944 at MCAS Santa Barbara near Goleta, California. The outfit became carrier qualified and would deploy as part of Carrier Air Group 5 (CAG 5) aboard USS Franklin on 4 February 1945.
On 19 March 1945, during operations off Okinawa, a lone Yokosuka D4Y Suisei (‘Comet’, allied code-name ‘Judy’) penetrated the Franklin’s defenses and struck the flattop with two bombs.
The initial explosions, secondary explosions, and ensuing conflagration killed between 700-800 sailors and Marines, including 32 members of VMF-214.
This would be the end of the war for the Black Sheep.
Boyington Comes Back From the Dead
The Japanese would often announce the capture of allied servicemen, especially someone who was well-known. But no such announcement about Boyington had come, and it was assumed that he had been killed.
Though he had been at very low altitude, Boyington was able to bail out and survive, albeit wounded. He was picked up by a Japanese submarine and taken into captivity.
Like all prisoners of the Japanese, Boyington suffered cruel treatment. But he made it through in one piece, more or less. At the end of the war he was released and came home to a hero’s welcome.
He was surprised, no doubt, to find that he had been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. An even greater surprise must have been finding out that he was also bestowed the USA’s highest military award, the Medal of Honor.
Perhaps most important to him, however, was keeping a date of sorts that he had set with his men in 1943. When asked at the time if he was concerned about being killed, he replied:
“They can’t kill me. If you guys ever see me going down with 30 Zeros on my tail, don’t give me up. Hell, I’ll meet you in a San Diego bar and we’ll all have a drink for old times’ sake.”
And with that, we’ll just wrap things up here with this photo, taken at the bar of the St. Francis Hotel, San Francisco in September of 1945.
