Fallbrook man recalls days as a Flying Tiger

JENNIFER MacNEIL

Staff Writer

FALLBROOK — Only months before the U.S. entry into World War II, a group of American pilots shipped off to the dense jungles of Burma where they would come to form one of the most successful fighter groups in military history.

Known as “The Flying Tigers,” the American Volunteer Group was eventually credited with an exemplary air combat record in the early days of the war, going nose-to-nose with some of the best ofJapan’s aviators — all in a time before the United States officially entered the conflict.

One of those American aviators was Fallbrook’s own John Richard ”Dick” Rossi.

Rossi, now 85, clearly recalls those days over Burma with relish and works to keep the memory of his unit’s aerial accomplishments fresh in the minds of new generations of Americans.

To that end, Rossi appeared in a 1999 Public Broadcasting Service documentary about the contribution of the Flying Tigers to the Allied war effort.

Rossi says that he spends many days each year touring the country, attending reunions and retelling his “story” of his days with the Tigers.

Wanted a combat resume

In 1941, after qualifying as a pilot in Pensacola, Fla., Rossi was given the option of choosing a station where he would fly service planes.

“My first choice was Manilla, my second choice was down in the Panama Canal, my third choice was Hawaii. I get my papers back, and I’m staying in Pensacola,” Rossi said.

Rossi soon thereafter resigned his Navy service to join the volunteer group, and transferred to Rangoon with thirty other Pensacola-based fliers.

One of the main draws, said Rossi, was that “we would have the benefit of having a resume with actual combat. First they were trying to get only P-40 Warhawk pilots, and they could only find three of them. The Navy had never even heard of a P-40.”

Under the watchful eye of Claire Chenault, a retired Army AirCorps captain and air adviser to China, Rossi and the rest of the volunteers began their training in the venerable Warhawk — in its day one of the fastest, most capable fighters to take to the skies.

Doing the ‘boom and zoom’

“The P-40 pilot always had an (altitude) advantage,” said Russell Lee, curator of the aeronautics division of the NationalAir and Space Museum.

“They used what were called ‘boom and zoom’ tactics where they’d dive down, go through the Japanese formation of fighters and bombers, hopefully take down some airplanes, and then keep going,” said Lee during an phone interview from his Washington, D.C. offices.

“Then they’d dive down and the Japanese couldn’t follow them, so they’d keep their speed up, climb back up to an altitude, and repeat the process,” Lee said.

Rossi recalled that Chenault was a tough but fair boss who always encouraged the group to exceed their limits. After an early attack against Japan, where the Tigers had defeated four of 10 Japanese planes and heavily damaged several others, Chenault, said Rossi, was heard to say: “Well, that’s a good start, but next time, get ‘em all.”

When Rossi’s squadron received news that Pearl Harbor had been bombed by the Japanese on Dec. 7, the intensity of the group’s combat operations increased.

“On Dec. 23rd, (the Japanese) launched a real heavy attack,” said Rossi. “The (Royal Air Force) and the AVG went up to fight theJapanese. We had two planes shot down, and the pilots were killed. On the 25th, they came back and started, and it lasted all day long.”

Fear always present

Fear, said Rossi, was always present, and even Chenault’s training couldn’t quite prepare Rossi for what lay ahead.

“The first time I fired the (weapon) on a plane, it was at a target on the ground. The second time, it was at a Japanese airplane.”

However, group’s confidence in the far superior U.S. aircraft helped keep up Rossi’s courage, he said.

“(The P-40s) could go up to 500 miles per hour in a dive,” Rossi said. “If the Japanese planes did that, their wings would crumple and their rivets would pop off.”

Lee said that the post-Pearl Harbor combat solidified public faith in troops overseas.

“It was just one victory after another against Japan,” said Lee.” It was very important to the folks back home. They helped keep up morale.” Lee said the general attitude of the American public was one of pride and admiration over what the group had accomplished.

Helped found Flying Tiger line

When the group disbanded in 1942, Rossi joined the China National Aviation Corporation, transporting supplies from India to China. At the end of the war, Rossi and fellow Flying Tiger Ace Bob Prescott formed the Flying Tiger Line, and Rossi flew as a captain for a freight line for 25 years.

The line, later distinguished by its 747 jumbo jets painted in colorful black, orange and white tiger stripes, was a founding member of what would become the overnight air freight industry. The defunct company was eventually acquired by rival Federal Express in the mid-1990s.

Vivid memories

No longer flying, Rossi’s aviation career shows that he’s logged more than 25,000 flight hours and has been awarded the White Cloud Banner V Grade, China Air Force Wings and the China War Memorial by the Chinese government, and two Distinguished Flying Crosses, the Air Medal, two Presidential Unit Citations, a World War II Victory Medal, the Asia Pacific Campaign Medal and the Honorable Service lapel button.

Looking back over the length of his aviation career, Rossi says that it was those few short years as a member of the American Volunteer Group that stand out in his mind the most.

After all, he says, it was a chance for a young man to prove himself, to help fight against the forces of despotism and etch his name into the annals of history all at the same time.

Former journalist tells of small-town reporting

JULY 8, 2001 12 AM PT

JENNIFER MacNEIL

Staff Writer

FALLBROOK — The role of a newspaper reporter may often be a thankless job, but Fallbrook resident Edwin Jacobs, who recently retired after 63 years in the business, knows that the work is what one makes of it.

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In his case, that meant bucking the urban, cosmopolitan career path that many of his college colleagues followed in favor of ownership of a small local paper in a Swedish farming town in Northern California.

In this occupation, Jacobs, now 90, would spend 63 years of his life serving a community of which he was very much a part.

Jacobs’ upbringing had always emphasized education, but not necessarily journalism; his father was president of Ohio’s Ashland College, where Jacobs received a bachelor’s degree and soon made plans to become a teacher.

That particular idea soon changed because of a shortage of teaching positions, and Jacobs’ interest in journalism began to grow. His acceptance to the prestigious Columbia School of Journalism in New York City solidified this new ambition, and gave him the tools with which he would go on to become a career journalist for more than 60 years.

While living in New York, Jacobs wrote church news and filler articles for the New York Times.

“They would send me out to a particular church,” he said, “and they would use it for a filler article. In case they had room, they would have something that they could just put in there.”

Jacobs’ work at the New York Times was followed by a brief stint in advertising, but the fast-paced city life never quite stuck.

“This one (speaker at Columbia) had talked about a small paper and how much better it was, because you knew everybody you were writing about, and they knew you,” said Jacobs. “You were part of the community. I thought, ‘gee, a little newspaper would really be the thing.’ ”

Following that feeling, Jacobs relocated to a small, rural town near Fresno and bought the Kingsburg Recorder for $4,000 in 1937. Though he had not initially intended to purchase his own paper, Jacobs said he felt that doing so would be the best way to mold the paper into the community-oriented publication that he had heard about from the speaker at Columbia.

“I got a hold of a broker,” said Jacobs, “and he told me that the (paper) in Kingsburg was for sale. It was a good paper and a nice town, so I bought it.”

The weekly newspaper, which consisted of two sections, was run by Jacobs and his partner, Betty Kern, who managed the books and finances and wrote the social news. Jacobs himself wrote features, news, editorials and even acted as the paper’s only photographer.

“He wanted to own his own business and be his own boss,” said Jacobs’ oldest daughter, Mary Katherine Swanson.

Not only was Jacobs the sole voice of journalism in the town at that time, he delved into community affairs even further by serving as president of the Chamber of Commerce and the Kiwanis Club and serving on several local commissions. “I wanted to take part in the life, aside from just being a reporter.”

Jacobs would go on to involve himself in nearly every aspect of the town, and once witnessed firsthand the aftermath of a devastating train accident near the town.

During World War II, his job exempted him from joining battle efforts, but he was still able to chronicle the conflict from home, thus making him an important link between the town and the confrontation that raged overseas.

Locally, Jacobs said his occupation occasionally put him in anawkward position as both a journalist and a member of a close-knitcommunity.

“If somebody in town was involved in a scandal, like maybe a bankruptcy or theft, he had to decide how much to publish and how much to tell,” said Swanson. Respect from the community, however, remained strong. “(He was) well-known in his editorials for taking a strong stand.”

Jacobs occasionally let his work follow him home, but not without assistance. Along with her mother Corrine and sister Elizabeth, Swanson took part helping to run certain aspects of the newspaper.

“It was sort of a family thing,” said Swanson. “He had a contest he ran in the newspaper, and it was all the professional teams, and readers would mark which teams they thought were going to win the game and whoever won got a prize. I remember every Sunday sitting around the dining room table and we tallied the votes to see who won.”

On more than one occasion, said Swanson, “on the day the paper was supposed to get to the post office, the (automatic) folder would break. So we would all go down and manually fold the newspapers.”

In 1949, a six-month battle with valley fever prompted Jacobs to sell the Kingsburg Recorder, which he later bought back, along with the nearby Selma Enterprise. The intimate feel of the newspaper gave Jacobs easy access to the town’s social engagements.

“I took part in more things than I would have otherwise,” he said. Jacobs even had the honor of hosting the small Swedish town’s bicentennial celebration, and when it was discovered that there was no ammunition for the fireworks, Jacobs used his own cigar to light the fuse.

Even when Kingsburg’s population began to increase, Jacobs’ commitment to the small newspaper he had always wanted never wavered. “The town grew, but the paper didn’t change much.”

The Recorder would go on to win a slew of awards from the California Newspaper Publisher’s Association. Most notably, said Swanson, “they got best paper for its size, best front page, best community paper.”

Jacobs’ enthusiasm for his work would eventually inspire Swanson to pursue a master’s degree in journalism at UC Berkeley.

Now a teacher and founder of San Diego’s Advancement Via Individual Determination (AVID) education program, Swanson was originally excited about following in her father’s journalistic footsteps, but later came to find that teaching was more suited to her tastes.

Today, Jacobs resides at Fallbrook’s Silvergate retirement community, where he still keeps up-to-date on local and national news.

“I get the paper, and I still watch the TV news,” he said.

Though Jacobs is now keen to let others do the reporting, he said he still acknowledges that there is no substitute for the friendly, intimate feel of the local news.

Contact staff writer Jennifer MacNeil at (760) 739-6671 or jmacneil@nctimes.com.