My dad was killed in the Korean war. Never met him. I was eight months old, sucking up whisky from my mom’s legendary partying after shifts at Lockheed, building P-38’s. My placenta had a cherry stuck it in when I was delivered….Speaking of P-38’s…Have to tell my Dick Bong story in memory of all the vets….Bong was an all American boy. Flew the P-38 in the Pacific theatre against the Japanese Zero’s. He recieved the medal of honor. Had 40 kills in dogfights. He had his girlfriends, later wifes, name, Marge, on the nose of his various planes. Usually old planes shot full of holes. He comes home to become a test pilot for Lockheed in Burbank. My grandma is hanging laundry on Witnall hwy. She hears a jets motor cut out. She looks up to see a smoking jet clear some trees. It was Bong testing a new jet…The tower told Bong to ‘punch out’. Bong’s last words? “Can’t do it, kids in a school yard”! He did his duty…A REAL hero…
