Sorry I couldnt just paste a link, but they want you to uggg register
Anyhow this guy had an interesting career.
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Medal of Honor recipient recalls survival skills as WWII, Korea pilot
Retired Brig. Gen. Robert E. Galer might be the most modest war hero in America.
Sixty years ago this month, President Franklin D. Roosevelt called Mr. Galer to the White House to receive the nation's highest military award, the Medal of Honor, for his "superb airmanship, outstanding skill and personal bravery" in the brutal air battles above Guadalcanal.
Mr. Galer, now living in Dallas, cherishes the memory and recalled his mother's happiness that day.
KIM RITZENTHALER / DMN
Former Marine flier Brigadier General Robert E. Galer was presented with the Medal of Honor 60 years ago from President Franklin D. Roosevelt for his bravery at Guadalcanal in the South Pacific.
"It was almost like she saw the pope," he said. "She loved Mr. Roosevelt."
But Mr. Galer still prefers to think of himself as "the luckiest old Marine around."
During his career as a Marine pilot, Mr. Galer was shot down four times and had to ditch a fifth plane in the ocean. He survived each with nothing worse than a few cracked ribs, he said.
"My smart aleck son says, 'Dad, you lost five planes. You're an enemy ace!" Mr. Galer said.
An ace, surely, but as a combat pilot in World War II and the Korean War, Mr. Galer proved himself a formidable opponent to America's enemies. An intuitive pilot trained as a no-nonsense engineer, he was a flier of exceptional skill and almost limitless courage.
Nearly 90 now, Mr. Galer still stands with military bearing, though after three strokes, he doesn't move as well as he once did. He reads voraciously and closely follows news of the possible war with Iraq. And he has some definite opinions about it.
"I'm not worried about attacking the enemy," he said. "I'm worried that the attack will free about a million hungry people."
When those desperate refugees flood neighboring nations, "we'll make new enemies and be right in the middle of a mess," he said.
"Of course, we can't bomb any place and kill a lot of people without making enemies."
But back in 1942, the enemies were defined and it was the United States that had been attacked. And for six weeks of terrible aerial combat, Maj. Galer led a group of green Marine pilots in almost daily sorties against superior Japanese forces. There, he helped devise the strategy that made the most of the Marines' Grumman F4F Wildcat.
Medal of Honor
Congress passes a bill Dec. 21, 1861, creating "medals of honor" for members of the U.S. Navy who distinguished themselves by gallantry in action during the Civil War.
Two months later, a similar bill was introduced authorizing "the President to distribute medals to privates in the Army of the United States who shall distinguish themselves in battle."
The language is later amended to allow officers and other noncommissioned soldiers to qualify.
On Feb. 21, 1861, Army Assistant Surgeon J.D. Irwin led the rescue of 60 soldiers trapped at Apache Pass, Ariz. – the first heroic act for which the Medal of Honor would be awarded. Mr. Irwin didn't receive the medal until 1894.
Three different Medals of Honor are now awarded – one for the Army, one for the Air Force and one for the Navy, Marines and Coast Guard.
3,459 medals have been awarded.
There are 159 living recipients, most from World War II and the Korean War. Three World War II recipients live in Texas.
The most recent action honored was by Army Sgt. Gary Gordon and Army Sgt. Randy Shughart for bravery in Somalia in 1993. Both were issued posthumously.
SOURCE: Congressional Medal of Honor Society
Heavier, slower and less maneuverable than the Japanese Zero, the Wildcat was at a serious disadvantage in a dogfight. But the Wildcat packed more firepower. And in a dive, it gave up nothing in speed to the Japanese.
So with enough advance warning, the Wildcats could take off and climb to 28,000 feet to await the approaching bombers and their fighter escorts, then dive down and attack.
U.S. pilots relied on "coast watchers" who lived in hiding, tracking Japanese military movements. One watched the nearest Japanese airfield, Mr. Galer said, and he gave the Marines an edge.
"He'd call every morning and say something like, 'Twenty bombers and 20 fighters en route.' And we'd scramble," he said.
The strategy was simple but dangerous. Climbing to 28,000 feet meant the pilots needed oxygen, and some never learned to put on their rudimentary masks. As the air thinned, the pilots blacked out, their planes peeling away and plunging to earth.
The Marines targeted the lead Japanese bomber, because it directed the mission, Mr. Galer said. And if it went down, the planes following the leader dropped their bombs and ran.
"A couple of times, we got to the lead bomber before they got to our field, and the rest of the bombers would just drop their bombs, on their side of the island," he said.
Dropping down on the Japanese, American fighters locked onto the bombers' tails, firing furiously. In one twisting dive, Mr. Galer shot down three planes in less than a minute, three of his 13 confirmed kills in the campaign.
But with the dive complete, the plodding Wildcats had to face the Zeroes, and U.S. losses were high.
Staying alive
In his six-week tour, Mr. Galer was shot down three times. Once he managed to coax his badly damaged plane back to the base for a dead-stick, crash landing. He walked away from the wreckage.
Another time, he crashed into Iron Bottom Sound, named for the ships sunk there.
"When you land in the water," Mr. Galer said, "it's like hitting a brick wall."
A group of Marines rescued him in a small boat "and tried to drown me on the way in," he joked.
The third time, toward the end of his tour, Mr. Galer was shot down over the water, swam for an hour to reach the island of Mandoliana and collapsed on the beach. Islanders found him there and took him by outrigger canoe to a Marine outpost on Tulagi.
When he returned to base the next day, he found his squadron preparing his memorial service.
After each crash, he climbed back into the cockpit and led his men back into battle until finally, new pilots came to relieve the exhausted men. Admiral Chester W. Nimitz stopped by before Mr. Galer shipped out to give him the Navy Cross, the second-highest military medal.
Can't be too careful
Mr. Galer itched to fly combat missions again, but his bosses said no. No one wanted to risk losing a Medal of Honor winner. So he took any aviation-related assignment he could get.
He formed and taught three groups that guided Marine pilots to their targets from positions near the front lines. And he waded ashore on D-Days at Iwo Jima, Luzon and Okinawa with his men.
"I went on three D-Days," he said, shaking his head. "I really wished I'd been flying."
He finally got his chance in Korea in 1952. But unlike World War II, there was little air-to-air combat. The threat came from North Korea's anti-aircraft weapons.
Mr. Galer, then a colonel, led strike after strike against North Korean targets. The raids were so successful that Col. Galer won his second Distinguished Flying Cross.
'I did a dumb thing'
Courtesy photo
Robert E. Galer with his Grumman F4F Wildcat, "Barbara Jane," at Henderson Field, where he flew as part of Major General Roy Geiger's Cactus Air Force.
But on Aug. 5, 1952, he flew his last mission. He led his unit on another successful raid. But then, "I did a dumb thing."
"We were bombing and when we finished, I went back to take a picture. And this anti-aircraft gun, he nailed me," Mr. Galer said.
With his plane badly damaged, he tried to climb high enough to parachute, but his engine died.
He tried to bail out, but his foot caught on something in the cockpit. He kicked free, the plane plummeting straight down. He slammed into part of the tail, spun around 360 degrees and yanked his ripcord. Mr. Galer estimates he was 150 feet off the ground.
With cracked ribs and a separated shoulder, he radioed for help, then tried to evade North Korean troops. A Navy helicopter managed to reach him, but pulling him free was almost impossible. Mr. Galer grasped the sling with his good arm and hung on as the North Koreans opened fire. The helicopter dragged him through the trees before the crew could finally pull him aboard.
Korean gunners kept firing, hitting the helicopter three times, spinning it 180 degrees. The helicopter limped back to its ship through heavy fog, landing with 10 gallons of fuel in its tanks.
After a series of staff jobs and a promotion to brigadier general, Mr. Galer retired from the military in 1957, taking a job with a military contractor near Dallas, where he's lived ever since. Much of his family lives nearby.
But when his time comes, he'll trade Texas for a little patch of ground in Virginia, at Arlington National Cemetery, in a section devoted to Medal of Honor winners, where he'll join old friends like fellow ace Joe Foss.
"I was up there a few months ago for Joe's funeral," Mr. Galer said. "It was snowing, and it was beautiful.
"I told my wife then, 'That's where I want to be buried.
