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Robert Scott
"Old Exterminator" P-40K
Arthur of "God is my Copilot"
By Sir Ernie Hamilton Boyette
Print size 18 x 24"
Limited Edition $95.00
Signed by Robert Scott
Open Edition $25.00
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 total 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 was 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 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 were 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 not enough 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 29th.
From then on he was more or less a free wheeling self-imposed fighter pilot. The very first thing he had done to his fighter was he personally drew on the famous Flying Tiger shark teeth at the opening of his radiator. 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.” Because he 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 others exploded sending what troops that did not die in the blast into the river wearing full combat gear that would take them to the bottom.
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 bodies were seen floating down stream. 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 26th 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 23rd 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.”
Bob was not the type of leader that commanded from behind a desk. He led mission after mission flying the P-40.
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. "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 ,"Na, 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 was funny because Tex was holding the bottle out where Scott could not reach it. 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 you didn't drink?" I commented, "Mrs. Hill, I can't pass up the opportunity to drink 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 like it should be sold with cheep beer. I took one more draw and passed the bottle. That was sweet. I don't think I look fuzzy, but I was a little.
I love this guy!
Farewell and blue skies my friend, my hero.
All research, writings and artwork are by Sir Ernie Hamilton Boyette.
No one is permitted to republish any part of this story with out my personal permission.
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Sir. Ernie Hamilton Boyette
904-282-4198
2-9-07