Robert Scott, God is My Co-pilot

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Robert Scott

"Old Exterminator" P-40K

Arthur of "God is my Copilot"

By Sir Ernie Hamilton Boyette

Print size 18x24"

Limited Edition $95.00 Autographed by Robert Scott and the artist.

Open Edition $20.00 Signed by the artist only.

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Robert Lee Scott Jr.

By Sir Ernie Hamilton Boyette

Robert Lee Scott Jr. was born in a small town in Georgia. The date was the twelfth of April 1908. He was born in Waynesboro and grew up in Macon. After seeing his first airplane a very young Robert jumped off a neighbor’s house, the “Old Napier Mansion” in an attempt to fly. He is not the only boy that jumped off the roof of a house, or a barn in an attempt to fly. Pilots from all nations have told me the same story.

Robert and a friend build a very un-aerobatic aircraft from scrap lumber and what ever they had on hand. And yes Robert told me that they pulled the airplane up to the top of the roof with a rope and Robert took the controls only to find actual flight quite short and most of those three to four seconds were pointing towards the earth. Robert ended up in a large flowering bush that grew against the house. He told me that he was lucky. However the bush in question was a rose bush with thorns so Robert did not get away unscratched. He told me, “He was tore up good!”

His passion was identical to all the famous aviators that I have interviewed. He was obsessed with the thought of aviation. Robert was very goal oriented. He was going to be a pilot. After the First World War when he was still in high school, he saved his money and placed a bid on a surplus fighter. He won the bid but could not fly it. He took a partner who had been a pilot in the war, not an ace or anything just someone who was there at the moment. Fortune was not to be with him on this venture. The pilot ended up crashing the plane ruining it and left.

Robert’s real goal was to go to West Point. He worked on his grades and his parents with his encouragement contacted local congressmen to try to get him accepted. The first attempts were fruitless. Robert continued his education with collage and enlisted in the Army in 1927. He then gained an appointment to the U.S. Military Academy where he hit the books hard.

Robert graduated on June 10, 1932 and then pursued his wings. His wings were finally pinned on his uniform in 1933 at Randolph Field, Texas. Scot flew most all the early Army Air Corp fighters. One he told me he liked the P-12 “Pea shooter.” He was rated as an excellent marksman in gunnery competition.

Robert ended up becoming a flight instructor for many years. He was stationed at Cal Aero Academy at Ontario, California when the war in Europe was raging. The thoughts of being a fighter pilot and not be able to fly and fight stirred emotions in his heart.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, Scott volunteered for combat in March 1942. He was now tired of training pilots and was longing for the opportunity to fly and fight like the brave RAF pilots against the Luftwaffe. Now the Japanese were on the move to control the entire Pacific. Robert knew that his age would be held against him but he hoped that his record and his persuasiveness would prevail. He was quite disappointed for at the age of 33 he was considered to old for combat duty and would remain a flight instructor.

By chance there was a request for volunteers for flying the new B-17 in combat in China. Bob was invited to an officers party where he met the men that were looking for the volunteers. He engaged them into conversation about the missions and Bob commented that he had some training in the B-17 and he openly volunteered. By chance he was notified after the party that he was in fact selected because he presented himself as a flying veteran, was mature and confident. Just the right character needed for a brave bomber pilot going into combat. Bob knew nothing about the new Fortress but he was willing to learn. A few of the bombers had landed at the base and he obtained a manual and was given privileges of going through the aircraft and learned everything about it. He told a lie, knowingly, about his experiences with the aircraft but no one looked any further than his testimony. The need for combat ready pilots was imminent. Bob was chosen and off to the Orient he would go.

Bob did not know all the details at the time but if everything had gone as planned his bombing group would have attacked the main island of Japan from bases in China. By the time the group got to the middle east the territories where their bomber base was to be located fell to the Japanese. Thus there would be no bases close enough to threaten the Japanese homeland.

Bob’s mission was now changed. The B-17’s went to American units in North Africa and Bob went to fly with the newly formed Assam-Burma-China Transport command. Instead of flying Boeing Bombers in combat Bob found himself flying cargo planes over the “Hump” taking supplies over the earth’s highest peeks. This was a dreary flight with many risks from climate and weather conditions to mechanical malfunctions and then enemy fighters.

At this time Bob was itching for combat and not in a cargo plane. The Flying Tigers were famous for their exploits fighting outnumbered by enemy fighters and bombers and always being victorious. And here was Bob flying back and forth over these ridiculous high mountains risking his life to bring them, aviation gasoline, oil, food, medical supplies, and aircraft parts.

Bob told me he got to thinking. He found out what type of whiskey Chennault drank and got a fifth. On his next flight Bob took the bottle to the AVG headquarters and introduced himself to Chennault and offered the bottle to him as a gift. Chennault was rough but Bob is a charming man. From then on he took Chennault a bottle and repeatedly offered his services to him. Bob knew the fix the AVG was in with few parts for the aircraft in the middle of a war zone. Chennault would tell Bob several times that he could not help him. Robert L. Scott would not give up.

Finally somehow, and when I say somehow, Chennault was taken by Scott’s positive attitude. And he gave him a P-40. This was not normal military protocol. But Colonel Bob Scott got his fighter on April 29^th.

From then on he was more or less a free wheeling self-imposed fighter pilot. The very first thing he did to his fighter was he personally drew with a piece of caulk the famous Flying Tiger shark teeth at the opening of his radiator on both sides of the fuselage. Bob told me that he painted the design on himself and all the while he was painting he though that he was the proudest man ever.

Hands down Bob pulled off something that was a controlled compulsion towards a goal of getting into combat no matter what, or by any means necessary. Bob Scott from what I got from our many interviews and what I have read and heard was an extremely focused man. With a positive attitude and all the drive needed to get things done.

Bob started flying solo missions into enemy territory. With no previous experience this was indeed a bold move. Not foolish, brave. His first missions were against Japanese troop movements, convoys and barge traffic. He had his P-40 equipped to carry small bombs to give him more punch for a single aircraft. In May Bob logged 214 hours and 45 minutes of combat hours flying as many as four missions a day. Self imposed leadership at its best.

Bob told me that at first it was exciting to be able to come down on a Japanese convoy on the perilous Burma Road, at his mercy as he strafed their troops and vehicles. But he told me that it also touched him in that he knew that his deeds were leaving dozens dead and hundreds wounded in his raids. Many mothers would get letters from their son’s commanding officers. Bob knew the human toll, but he was well aware of the terrible acts of crimes against humanity that the Japanese were guilty of. This was war, Bob told himself, he told me that this is how he had to accept it, and it was war. Those Japanese troops were on their way to the next Chinese city to burn, torment and enslave. Bob was doing his job. A self-imposed open act of stopping the Japanese if he could even if he had to do it all by himself.

Affectionately Bob named his fighter “Old Exterminator.” Bob found out on one raid on the mountain road with the use of a bomb and his guns he killed approximately four hundred Japanese troops form British intelligence in the area. That is a lot of enemy casualties from one aircraft but quite possible because troop convoys on that mountain highway was completely venerable to any determined aerial attack. Bob told me that he watched Japanese troops jump to their deaths to avoid being hit by his machine guns, which just ripped through a truck disabling the vehicle and decimating anyone still inside.

If the truck contained gasoline or munitions, fireballs would incinerate anyone within thirty to forty feet or more from the vehicle. Bob also saw troops thrown over the cliffs from the explosions that were taking place before his eyes. “Ernie” he said to me, “I watched this through my windscreen.”

Bob flew up and down, back and forth firing until his ammo was spent. The enemy troops had much difficulty in defending their position in that the P-40 came in quick; defense from the American’s guns would have been the first priority. The bullets would penetrate any vehicle in the convoy. After the first pass there would be much confusion, trucks and transports would be on fire and exploding. The dead and wounded would not even be taken into consideration at the moment.

On the next pass Bob would say that he could see that any means of organized collection of firepower against him was weakened when the causalities mounted to a point that there were the dead, the wounded, and the ones soiling their trousers. I asked if there were any that did shoot back. “O yes.” He said. They fired back because Bob always returned to base with battle damage. I asked Bob did he ever see his bullets hit the enemy troops. Again Bob said “O yes.” He told me of troops that would stand and fire at his P-40 with their field rifles. Bob said "the sight was terrible to see. He said you certainly don’t think about it at the time, but when you do think about it you can’t help be affected."

Bob said that usually his third pass would be his last because he would want to save a few bullets for an enemy fighter if he encountered one on the way back to base. It was also not advised to make multiple passes because if the enemy had proper opportunity, your chance of surviving each pass dropped drastically. The third pass would simply torment and kill anyone trying to rally among the convoy, trying to save fellow troops in burning vehicles and the like. Bob would fly off into the blue as flames burned the flesh of the Japanese advance.

Reports of Bob were getting around with him being called a “One Man Air Force.” Bob told me at the time it didn’t seem right because the enemy presence was growing in the area and that is what he was worried about. Bob was also flying up to four missions a day. He tried everything to confuse the enemy and one way that was really quite simple was that Bob came up with the idea of painting the nose cap of his propeller a different color to let the Japanese believe that each aircraft that attacked them was from a different squadron. It worked just as he had planned. On a few missions in one day on the same troop movement he would attack with his spinner painted white, then the next attack it would be blue and the next red. Bob said that the paint would not have time to dry before he was speeding down the runway to his next mission.

Bob’s goal was to join the Flying Tigers and finally he was offered the opportunity to fly as a “Guest.” He flew wing on several missions and felt like this would all work out. Bob always had a goal and he always worked towards his goal. The AVG pilots did treat Bob with a little distance because he was officially an Army Air Force pilot. They were civilian volunteers.

Bob continued his solo missions. On one mission he found barge traffic on the Chindwin River. The barges were filled with troops and supplies. Bob attacked the enemy several times destroying one barge with a low level bombing run. Many exploded from munitions sent what troops that did not die in the blast into the river wearing full combat gear that would take them to the bottom drowning alive.

Several days’ later British intelligence sent several American air bases in the area congratulations on the attack on the troop movement on the Chindwin River. The message said that at least six hundred Japanese bodies were seen floating down stream. The air bases were confused as to who had flown these missions, because they had not. No one knew who preformed the attack until they realized that it was Bob Scott. The one man air force.

On returning from a mission on June 26^th he was met with a telegram he said he would never forget. He was to report to Chennault as the commanding officer of the newly formed 23^rd Fighter Group, which was to be activated from the remaining AVG on July 4, 1942. Bob said he was flying but he wasn’t in “Old Exterminator.” His heart sang. This was truly the greatest opportunity any man could ever earn. And Robert Scott did in fact earn this position.

Bob was not the type of leader that commanded from behind a desk. He led mission after mission flying the P-40.

I have much more to add here so come back and enjoy the story again later.

My reflections of Robert Scott

I became interested in warfare I guess about the fourth grade. The war movies were my favorite with the Battle of Midway and the story of George Gay who was the lone survivor of Torpedo Squadron 8. Thirty Seconds over Tokyo, and the Battle of Guadalcanal, they were all great. John Wayne flew with the Fling Tigers and Marine Squadrons. He fought with the Japanese in the trenches and Jungle combat. John Wayne got around but this was what Hollywood produced and this is what I saw. So I started with reading the war books in the school library. I read them all by the time I got out of sixth grade. But it was in the sixth grade that I read God is my Co-Pilot by Robert L. Scott. That changed my life.

As a young boy I was also interested in sports. I liked Baseball and followed Football. Mickey Mantel and Joe Namath were my sports heroes. But after reading God is my Co-Pilot, I realized that what makes a man was his performance under pressure. Under ungodly odds of savagery. I knew that Joe Namath was a good quarter back, but could he get the ball down field if he was being fired it? That is the mantel of the man. Robert Scott flew one mission after another into the face of death and came out fighting. Scott flew as many as four missions a day. Everyday his fighter would come back with enemy bullet holes.

Scott had his fighter rigged to carry a bomb to give him more impact. The bombs had fuses on them to determine when they would explode. Most were set to explode on contact. Some ten seconds after burring themselves in the earth. On one mission Scott was going out on his second sortie on the same Japanese troop movement. The Japanese were crossing a river with a very basic bridge that Scottie wanted to take out. His told the ground crewman who was rigging the bomb under the belly of the P-40, Scott asked him to set the detonator for it to explode in ten seconds. Scott wanted the bomb to explode after it hit the water and went deep and not explode when it hit the top of the water which would diminish the concussion of the explosion.

The ground crewman did as he was asked. Scott climbed into the cockpit and strapped himself in as he ran the Allison engine. As the engine hummed Scot was contemplating his strategy for his attach on the bridge the Japanese were forced to use. Scot signaled for the blocks to the removed and a man on each side of the fighter pulled the cords freeing the Tiger painted fighter forward. Down the field Scott rolled giving himself a few more yards with the extra weight of the bomb. Up and over the trees his wheels still rolling turned sideways and were pulled up into the wings. Scott pushed his canopy forward to shut out the flow of mid day air.

He gained altitude flying straight towards the target. Scott planned to bomb the bridge first and then come back for two strafing passes. He knew that the Japanese would be ready, he had given them a few disabled vehicles and many dead just two hours earlier. Scott came upon the river and followed it losing altitude as he neared the target. At only about one hundred feet above the water Scott bellowed down the narrow river cannon with his six fifty-caliber machine guns blazing. He watches his bullets strike the wooden bridge as well as the men and their trucks. Splinters of wood and other debris flying up from being lessened by his bullets. Pulling up a little to clear the bridge Scott waited for the last second to release his bomb. Once the bomb released his fighter bounced up some which he expected from the loss of weight.

Suddenly an explosion rocked his fighter throwing the tail up some, Scott's fighter was mushy in the air as fire from the explosion glared in his side vision on both sides of his head. There was also during the explosion the sounds of metal ripping into his fighter and he was in pain! Metal from the explosion came through the bottom of his fighter and caught him in his legs and butt. Scott was clouded from the experience so he pointed his damaged fighter and ass back to base. Touch down on landing was precarious and painful.

Scott found himself lying flat on his stomach with his pants down in an operating room. The doctor was a friend as well as a drinking buddy. Scott had his elbows out and both his hands under his chin propping his head up some so he could talk to the doctor as he applied attention to his dearer. Scot told me that the doctor was actually getting on him for his acts of bravery, acts of stupidity, whatever. He said the doctor was ranting. During this the doctor is really cutting and pulling out scrap metal from Scott's butt with the nurse standing by holding a metal bowl. Scott said that the doctor would tug on something, free it and "clink" the metal sound of the scrap metal hitting the metal bowl was remember able.

As the doctor was methodically working on Scott the doctor said to him, "Really Scott, with all the things you get your self into, God must be your co-pilot." Scott was lying there with his chin resting on his tightened fists (from the pain he was enduring) and he was biting down hard, but his brain was running at full speed. Scot told me he said back to the dock as he composed himself, "You know doc, that would be a great idea for the name of a book, God is my Co-pilot." "God needs to be your co-pilot if you keep this up mister!" the doctor replied back. Scott told me for the next five or more minutes he was forced to lay there and endure some whiskey and metal mining. He told me that for those few more precious minutes he cold not get the idea out of his head! All he could think about was the idea of writing down his stories and having it published. Plus he was clinching his teeth as the doctor finished.

He had a few days to sit around and start writing as fast as he could. Just getting enough paper was a challenge in a war zone with crappy supply lines. He requested more paper and got the supply coming in. During his healing and after he returned to flying he banged out the rough manuscript and sent it in for review. Unbelievably it was picked up right away. It was a true story and it was current. I think Scott told me he was on that operating table in march and by December I think it was a movie playing in theatres nation wide. In his home town of Macon, Georgia, his mother, father and family, friends, and friends of the family filled the local theatre to watch their "Scottie", their home town son and hero on the wide screen. And as they watched the movie Scott was still in China flying and fighting. It was a true time media event.

If you read the book and watched the movie, they are nothing alike. Scott told me he was really happy and proud a movie was made of his story, but the movie in whole was made up by Hollywood script writers. He said that the only part in the movie that was in fact accurate were the strafing missions on the Japanese Army on the mountain roads where he slaughtered them. All the rest was made up. And again, if you read the book and watched the movie, you can see the difference. But I don't want to spoil the movie for you. Enjoy it, just remember it was written by Hollywood type people.

Lets transgress back to the bombing mission that started the book and movie. When Scott got back to flying he was telling every one back at the squadron as they gathered around about his mission. Then the ended with the story with the explosion right after he released his bomb, Scott told every one that he just didn't expect his bomb to hit the target so fast and explode. It was a mystery. However the explanation was forth coming. The ground crewman that set the time for Scott's bomb the day of the mission came running up to him a few days later all in a rush and looking all embarrassed. Captain Scott the crewman started, I am so sorry, the time I set on your bomb was not ten seconds, but I accidentally set it on one second! Scott was standing there opened mouthed as the crewman continued. "Yes sir, I was just setting the time on some bombs just now and realized what I did when I set your bomb." "So I came to say I am sorry sir." Scott took in in stride and slapped the crewman on the back and said, "I almost got myself killed! But now I know what happened". Scott was like that, he was a great guy. My hero.

More reflections of Robert Scott

When I planned my "Famous American Aviator" series, I wanted to start with the men who impressed me the most when I was young. My first print was with George Gay. My second print was with Robert Scott. I found Scott by chance. I was educated in marketing and since I knew no famous aviators I called the Air Force museum at the Warner Robbins Air Force base in Warner Robbins, Georgia. I first called the Warner Robbins Chamber of Commence and they gave me the number of the museum.

I found myself talking to a young man who worked at the museum doing history research and helping in setting up museum displays. I told him my tale and he told me that he would help. He was able to help right away in that Robert Scott was a volunteer at the museum. I arranged a meeting right away. I had just released my print of George Gay who was also friends with the museum. I met with Scott the Museum curator and the historian I talked to on the phone. They were impressed enough to work with me on the project. It was an honor to talk to Scott. Mind you at this time of my painting career, I was still somewhat primitive in my renderings, so the George Gay and Robert Scott prints were more basic than the rest. I got much better.

I produced the "Old Exterminator" print 12x18" which I thought at the time was a reasonable print size. I donated to the museum 25% of the 1,250 Limited Edition prints we both signed. Actually the first print I had published was a waist because it had an unacceptable flaw. During the time I was proofing the print before it was published I drove up to the publishing company four times to make corrections on the layout as well as proofing the story. In the story it states that the date the AVG became the official Air Force, was July 4, 1942. However every time I re-read the proof to make sure it was corrected, they kept typing in July 3rd. I noted it to my reprehensive every time. They changed everything else. Finally the print was ran, cut, dried wrapped up and picked up by the happy artist. I drove all the way to Warner Robbins Air Force Museum and beamed with my new print. I was annoyed that the printer "punched the yellow" in the canopy to "spice it up" but I let it ride. I wanted the print. Anyway I was sitting there across the table from Robert Scott as he autographed my second print. Every once in a while he would stop signing as he talked and admired the artwork. One time he stopped to read the text.

Scott then looked up at me and said, "It was July 4th, not the 3rd that the AVG became the Air Force." I shuddered with anger, but I kept my cool. I turned the print around and read for myself my finished product. The print said the 3rd, not the 4th! I stopped the signing right away. I gathered up all 1,250 prints, put them back in my car and drove straight back to the publisher in Jacksonville, Florida. I sat across form the desk of my representative with one of the prints rolled up in my hand. We talked, chit-chatted per say, when I got around to "remember all those times I asked over and over for the date on the print to be changed from July 3rd to July 4th?" He responded, "Oh yes we finally got that cleared up." "No we did not." I stated as I stood up and unrolled the print with the date clearly circled in pencil. He was speechless. He reprinted them again for free and I drove back to the Museum for a proper print signing.

I did continue to visit from time to time with Scott. He had his own office in the museum. After his wife died he needed something else to do with his life. His wife was everything to him. So he took to the museum and they treated him well. In a way he was a living exhibition. All VIP's that visited the museum got to meet the famous Robert Scott. Everyone got a autographed copy of his book as well. A living legend.

There were also many in the community that had the privilege to "drop by and visit" with "Scottie" from time to time at the museum. One of the funniest things I ever over heard was one day as I was waiting to visit with Scott. I was sitting in a chair with all my stuff outside his door as a fellow resident of the area was visiting with "Scottie." I had an appointment and the visitor was cutting into my time. I over heard the conversation clearly since it was only a few feet away from me. Scott mentioned to the visitor that he had someone with an appointment waiting so the guy said his good-bye's and as he was leaving the office he asked Scott for a golf game later. Scott replied that he was going to cut his grass. The guy then asked Scott what kind of riding mower he had. Scott replied that he had a push mower. O' my-god the guy got all concerned for Scott to be push mowing his grass. He told Scott that he had just bought a new riding mower and his old one was still good as new so he was going to load it up and bring it over to Scott's house. Scott said, "No, no, I don't need a riding mower." The guy keep it up offering his mower for free, just tell him when he can drop it off. Scot kept saying, "No, no I don't need a riding mower." It was a no-win situation, this guy was a good friend of Scott's and insisted on delivering the mower. Finally Scott raised his voice and said, "I enjoy cutting my grass, it gives me good exercise. I don't need a god damn riding mower, when I get old, then I will get one!" At that the guy wished him a warm good buy, there was nothing to it. Except that Scott was eighty-four years old!

I then came in the office and set up a video camera and videotaped Scott for an hour. I was in heaven. What a great guy. A great American.

Enjoy the photos I have below of a reunion I attended with both Tex Hill and Scott.

Photo of Robert "Bob" Scott.

Tex Hill, Ernie Boyette, and Robert Scott.

At reunions with the aviators I like to listen. I never have to ask a question. I just took in their stories. I was able to sit for several hours over two occasions listing to one story after another. They were endless. "Remember that day we attacked the Japanese headquarters?" "Hell ya, almost got my ass shot off." I love it, I just stand around being polite holding my camera listening.

I was in heaven just smiling and taking photos. Tex Hill's wife asked me to relax and make myself a drink. I do like to drink but very little and not when I am working. And I was officially working. I was drinking coke with ice and eating nuts, pretzels, and other finger foods, but I had no interest in a beverage. She showed me the table which was full of anything I wanted, and I said ,"No, I don't drink." Mrs. Hill told me then to let her know if I needed anything.

I was in the middle of Hill and Scott when one of Tex Hill's friends pulled out a surprise he had for Tex. "White Lighting." The first photo below is Tex taking the first drink. The second photo is funny because Tex was holding the bottle out where Scott could not reach it. Every time Scott would try to grab the mason jar, Tex would pull it out of his reach. Talk about the big guy picking on the little guy this was a fun tug-o-war for the mason jar. The bottom photo is Bob taking his drink.

The mason jar was passed around our little circle until it came to me. I put my camera down and held the jar with both hands. This was going to be something new to me but here goes. I brought the jar to my lips and felt someone tapping me on my shoulder. I lowered the jar and turned to see Mrs. Hill. She said, "I thought said you didn't drink?" I commented, "Mrs. Hill, I can't pass up the opportunity say I drank moonshine with the Flying Tigers!" I raised the jar and I know I took an ounce. It was soooo goooood! It made twenty five year old whiskey taste cheep. I took one more draw and passed the bottle. That was sweet. I don't think I look fuzzy in the photo one of them took of me, but I was a little. Another person in this special circle was P-47 Ace, Gabby Gabreski. He was a jokester as well.