Had trouble finding this in the online archives of the Northwest Florida Daily News. So...I'm putting it into the blog so we can find it again next time we need it without tearing apart Grandaddy's office! :-)
Born to Be a Pilot - Monday, May 9, 2005 Northwest Florida Daily News, By Kelly Humphrey
Baker - As a young man, Johnie Courtney dreamed of attending West Point and becoming an Army pilot.
It was an ambition foreshadowed in his childhood as a North Okaloosa County farm boy.
"My mother used to say that she always knew Johnie would grow up to be a pilot, because whenever they'd be out in the fields picking cotton, if a plane flew overhead he'd have to stop and gaze up at it," recalled Courtney's sister, Jeanette Henderson. "He had it in his blood."
For a while, it looked like Courtney's dreams just might come true. Although his family lacked the political connections needed in those days to obtain an academy appointment, Courtney had heard that each year, two enlisted men in the Army were selected to attend West Point.
Determined to be one of those two, he enlisted shortly after graduating from Baker School in 1936.
"I almost made it," Courtney recalled. "I was the number three man on the list, so if anything had happened to the first two, I would have been in."
Fortunately for numbers one and two, but not so fortunately for Courtney, the top two men made it to West Point unscathed. And while Courtney's dreams of flying may have appeared to be grounded, it was only a temporary setback.
"I found out that there was a program where enlisted men could become pilots," he said. "So I stayed on that track, and in 1942 I went to flying school at Kelly Field in Texas."
Ordinarily, the enlisted pilots were not allowed to fly in operational situations.
"We were just supposed to be involved with maintenance and testing," Courtney explained. "But then the war came along and changed everything."
Almost overnight, Courtney went from being a technical sargent to a newly commissioned second lieutenant flying A-36 dive bombers in North Africa.
"There weren't very many of us who survived the war," he stated. "A-36 pilots had about an 86 percent mortality rate."
Flying the tiny bombers was inherently dangerous because of the low altitude at which they operated.
"You can see from the length of our missions that we were incredibly close to the front line," Courtney said, pointing to a report that detailed missions lasting just three or four minutes. "We used to say that if they (they German soldiers) threw their helmets in the air, they'd hit us."
The A-36 pilots' job was to swoop down low over enemy targets and drop bombs on railroad installations, bridges, tunnels, and other infrastructure.
"Our planes were equipped with two guns on each wing, and two synchronized guns that shot through the propeller," Courtney explained. "We'd use the two side guns for strafing targets, and we'd save the synchronized guns for the trip home. We needed the ammunition because we flew so low, and the Germans used to love to fly over us and jump us."
One one occasion, Courtney was flying a mission over Italy when his small aircraft was hit by a 20-mm gun from a flak tower.
"I was strafing some targets, and I didn't see the tower until I was already committed," he recalled. "I saw it coming, but there wasn't anything I could do about it."
A few years later, Courtney would recount his experience for a local newspaper.
"He just boresighted his 20 mm gun on me and WHAM! Smoke and fire began licking my face," he said. "I yanked the stick back hard, and at 800 feet the A-36 and I parted company. The 'chute swung once, maybe twice, then I was on the ground shucking the 'chute and running. I could see some of the 'master race' galloping up to make my acquaintance and I wasn't in a talkative mood."
Courtney headed toward a stand of pine trees, where he tripped and began to roll down a small mountain. Seeing his rather unorthodox landing apparently discouraged the Germans, who gave up the chase.
After taking part in more than 20 missions over enemy territory, Courtney chalked up three confirmed enemy kills and several "probables".
Along the way, he earned a Purple Heart, the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal and several other decorations. In 1943, he was sent back to the states for some rest after being wounded, and paid a visit to his family in Baker.
There the dashing young pilot took part in a bond rally at his alma mater, helping the senior class at Baker School raise more than $9,000 for the war effort.
After Germany surrendered in May 1945, Courtney was assigned to a reorganized squandron that was sent to the Pacific theater to escort bombers launching an offensive against Japan.
All told, he took part in more than 60 missions during the war, both in the European and Pacific theathers.
"We flew our missions out of Iwo Jima," he recalled. "That's where I was when we got the word that the war was over."
Although World War II may have ended, Courtney's service had not. During his early flight training, he and the other enlisted pilots had signed on for an eight-year committment.
"I ended up being assinged to Eglin, which tickled me," Courtney said.
Not long after, the ace pilot was called back to flying service as the Air Force ushered in its new fleet of jets.
Over the next two decards, Courtney would fly dozens of different aircraft, taking part in such important missions as the Berlin Airlift.
All in all, it was a fitting career for a farm boy fascinated by the planes he had watched fly over Baker so many years earlier.
"I joined the Army because I didn't want to pick cotton for the rest of my life," he said with a laugh. "It turned out pretty good."
Born to Be a Pilot - Monday, May 9, 2005 Northwest Florida Daily News, By Kelly Humphrey
Baker - As a young man, Johnie Courtney dreamed of attending West Point and becoming an Army pilot.
It was an ambition foreshadowed in his childhood as a North Okaloosa County farm boy.
"My mother used to say that she always knew Johnie would grow up to be a pilot, because whenever they'd be out in the fields picking cotton, if a plane flew overhead he'd have to stop and gaze up at it," recalled Courtney's sister, Jeanette Henderson. "He had it in his blood."
For a while, it looked like Courtney's dreams just might come true. Although his family lacked the political connections needed in those days to obtain an academy appointment, Courtney had heard that each year, two enlisted men in the Army were selected to attend West Point.
Determined to be one of those two, he enlisted shortly after graduating from Baker School in 1936.
"I almost made it," Courtney recalled. "I was the number three man on the list, so if anything had happened to the first two, I would have been in."
Fortunately for numbers one and two, but not so fortunately for Courtney, the top two men made it to West Point unscathed. And while Courtney's dreams of flying may have appeared to be grounded, it was only a temporary setback.
"I found out that there was a program where enlisted men could become pilots," he said. "So I stayed on that track, and in 1942 I went to flying school at Kelly Field in Texas."
Ordinarily, the enlisted pilots were not allowed to fly in operational situations.
"We were just supposed to be involved with maintenance and testing," Courtney explained. "But then the war came along and changed everything."
Almost overnight, Courtney went from being a technical sargent to a newly commissioned second lieutenant flying A-36 dive bombers in North Africa.
"There weren't very many of us who survived the war," he stated. "A-36 pilots had about an 86 percent mortality rate."
Flying the tiny bombers was inherently dangerous because of the low altitude at which they operated.
"You can see from the length of our missions that we were incredibly close to the front line," Courtney said, pointing to a report that detailed missions lasting just three or four minutes. "We used to say that if they (they German soldiers) threw their helmets in the air, they'd hit us."
The A-36 pilots' job was to swoop down low over enemy targets and drop bombs on railroad installations, bridges, tunnels, and other infrastructure.
"Our planes were equipped with two guns on each wing, and two synchronized guns that shot through the propeller," Courtney explained. "We'd use the two side guns for strafing targets, and we'd save the synchronized guns for the trip home. We needed the ammunition because we flew so low, and the Germans used to love to fly over us and jump us."
One one occasion, Courtney was flying a mission over Italy when his small aircraft was hit by a 20-mm gun from a flak tower.
"I was strafing some targets, and I didn't see the tower until I was already committed," he recalled. "I saw it coming, but there wasn't anything I could do about it."
A few years later, Courtney would recount his experience for a local newspaper.
"He just boresighted his 20 mm gun on me and WHAM! Smoke and fire began licking my face," he said. "I yanked the stick back hard, and at 800 feet the A-36 and I parted company. The 'chute swung once, maybe twice, then I was on the ground shucking the 'chute and running. I could see some of the 'master race' galloping up to make my acquaintance and I wasn't in a talkative mood."
Courtney headed toward a stand of pine trees, where he tripped and began to roll down a small mountain. Seeing his rather unorthodox landing apparently discouraged the Germans, who gave up the chase.
After taking part in more than 20 missions over enemy territory, Courtney chalked up three confirmed enemy kills and several "probables".
Along the way, he earned a Purple Heart, the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal and several other decorations. In 1943, he was sent back to the states for some rest after being wounded, and paid a visit to his family in Baker.
There the dashing young pilot took part in a bond rally at his alma mater, helping the senior class at Baker School raise more than $9,000 for the war effort.
After Germany surrendered in May 1945, Courtney was assigned to a reorganized squandron that was sent to the Pacific theater to escort bombers launching an offensive against Japan.
All told, he took part in more than 60 missions during the war, both in the European and Pacific theathers.
"We flew our missions out of Iwo Jima," he recalled. "That's where I was when we got the word that the war was over."
Although World War II may have ended, Courtney's service had not. During his early flight training, he and the other enlisted pilots had signed on for an eight-year committment.
"I ended up being assinged to Eglin, which tickled me," Courtney said.
Not long after, the ace pilot was called back to flying service as the Air Force ushered in its new fleet of jets.
Over the next two decards, Courtney would fly dozens of different aircraft, taking part in such important missions as the Berlin Airlift.
All in all, it was a fitting career for a farm boy fascinated by the planes he had watched fly over Baker so many years earlier.
"I joined the Army because I didn't want to pick cotton for the rest of my life," he said with a laugh. "It turned out pretty good."
