At 7:32 on the morning of January 11th, 1945, Captain William Shomo climbed into the cockpit of his F-6D Mustang at Muro Airstrip in the Philippines, watching the ground crew finished fueling his plane for what should have been another routine photo reconnaissance run over Northern Luzon.
26 years old, 203 combat missions, one aerial victory.
The Japanese still had an estimated 300 fighters operating from airfields at Tuggearo, Apari, and Lag in northern Luzon.
Shomo had been flying combat missions since early 1943.
16 months in the 82nd Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron, 16 months of moving from airirstrip to airrip along the New Guinea coast and then to Moroai.
16 months of photographing enemy positions and strafing ground targets.
16 months in obsolete P39 Aeracco Cobras and P40 Warhawks that were too short-ranged to reach areas where Japanese fighters operated.
The P38 and P47 squadrons got the aerial combat, the glory, the aces.
Shomo got photos of empty beaches and wrecked supply dumps.
Before the war, he had worked as an undertaker in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
He had attended the Cincinnati College of Inbalming and the Pittsburgh School of Inbalming.
He knew how to prepare bodies for burial.
Now he was supposed to take pictures while other pilots became fighter aces.
In December of 1944, his squadron finally received F6D Mustangs, armed photo reconnaissance versions of the P-51.
Longer range, better speed, the possibility of finally encountering enemy aircraft.
On December 24th, Shomo took command of the squadron and moved it to Muro to support MacArthur’s landing at Lingayan Gulf.
He led his first combat mission in the new Mustang on January 9th, a low-level reconnaissance run to determine Japanese air strength in northern Luzon.
As they approached the airfield at Tug Garau, Shomo spotted something he had never seen during all his months of combat flying.
an enemy aircraft.
A Val dive bomber turning onto final approach to land.
Show closed to firing range.
650 caliber machine guns.
One burst.
The Val went down in flames.
First aerial victory.
After 202 missions after 16 months of waiting, one Val bomber shot down while it was landing.
24 hours later, Shomo was airborne again.
Same mission.
Check the Japanese airfields at Tuggearo, Apati, and Laog.
Take photos.
Strafe any targets of opportunity.
His wingman was Lieutenant Paul Lipkcom.
Two F-6D Mustangs heading north on the deck.
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Back to Shomo.
They were flying at 500 ft, below radar coverage.
Standard procedure for photo reconnaissance missions.
The weather was clear, visibility unlimited, perfect conditions for photography, perfect conditions for spotting enemy aircraft.
At approximately 0900 hours, Shomo looked up.
2,000 ft above them, flying south, coming directly toward them.
A formation of Japanese aircraft.
Shomo counted them.
12 fighters.
All Kawasaki Ki61 Tony’s except one.
A Nakajima KI44 Tojo.
13 fighters total.
Number, not just fighters.
They were escorting something.
A twin engine bomber.
A Mitsubishi G4M Betty.
13 Japanese aircraft.
Two American Mustangs.
The smart move was to stay low, stay undetected, let them pass, complete the photo mission, go home.
Nobody would question that decision.
Shomo had waited 16 months for aerial combat.
203 missions.
Yesterday, he got one kill.
A bomber caught landing.
That was not fighter combat.
That was target practice.
Now he had 13 enemy aircraft 2,000 ft above him.
Real combat.
Real odds.
This was what he had joined the Army Air Forces to do.
Shommo keyed his radio, told Lipkcom they were attacking, pulled his Mustang into a climbing turn and Ilman up and over.
Lipkcom stayed on his wing.
The Japanese formation continued south.
Steady course, steady altitude.
They had not seen the two Mustangs climbing below them.
Shomo completed the IMLman and rolled out directly behind the enemy formation.
Less than 40 yards separation.
Point blank range.
The Japanese pilots still had not reacted.
They thought the two Mustangs were friendly fighters joining the formation.
Some of the Tony pilots opened their canopies, waved.
One pilot stood up in his cockpit and waved his arm.
Shomo opened fire.
The leader of the trailing element exploded first.
Shomo’s 650 caliber guns firing convergent patterns at less than 40 yards.
The Tony disintegrated in midair.
Pieces of wing and fuselage tumbling through the formation.
Shomo shifted his aim to the wingman.
Another burst.
The second Tony caught fire and fell away burning.
Two kills in the first 3 seconds.
The Japanese formation broke.
Pilots realized they were under attack.
Some tried to turn into the threat.
Some tried to dive away.
Some froze.
The neat formation dissolved into chaos.
Shomo attacked the second element from the left side.
Closed to minimum range, fired.
The third Tony exploded and fell.
Flames and smoke marking where it had been.
Three kills in approximately 10 seconds.
The remaining Japanese pilots were forming for a counterattack, trying to use their numerical advantage, trying to get organized.
Shomo did not give them time.
He moved to the opposite side of the formation, hit a fourth Tony.
It exploded and dropped out of the sky.
Four fighters down.
The Betty bomber was trying to escape, diving away, losing altitude, attempting to get low where the terrain might offer some protection.
Two Tony fighters stayed with it.
escort duty, protecting the bomber even while their formation was being destroyed.
Shomo rolled inverted and pulled through a split S maneuver, diving below the bomber, coming up underneath it.
The Betty’s belly was unprotected, no defensive armament pointing down.
Shomo fired a burst into the underside of the fuselage.
The bomber caught fire immediately.
The pilot was trying to control the burning aircraft, trying to line up for a crash landing in a field below.
Fifth kill, the bomber.
Shomo pulled up in a tight vertical spiral to regain altitude.
The Nakajima Tojo had locked onto his tail.
The Japanese pilot was firing.
Tracer rounds passing close.
The Tojo was a fast interceptor, good climb rate, dangerous opponent.
Shomo kept the spiral tight.
The Mustang could outturn the Tojo at low speeds.
The Japanese pilot kept firing, kept trying to get lead.
The tojo began to lose air speed.
The nose dropped.
The fighter stalled and slipped away into a cloud layer below.
Below him, the Betty exploded.
The crash landing had failed.
The bomber erupted in flames as it hit the ground.
Shomo was so close that his Mustang lurched from the blast wave.
Debris from the Betty pelted his aircraft.
Small impacts along the fuselage and wings.
The two Tony escorts that had stayed with the bomber broke away, flying low, trying to escape.
Shomo rolled into a dive, came down behind them.
They were on the deck now, less than 300 ft, flying flat out.
Shomo caught the first one.
A short burst, it crashed in flames.
Sixth kill.
The second Tony was still running.
Shomo dived another 100 ft.
Nearly at ground level now.
Pulled lead.
Fired.
The seventh Tony went down burning.
Seven kills, six minutes of combat, maybe less.
The sky was clear except for smoke from burning wreckage on the ground and Lipkcom’s Mustang higher up.
Shomo looked around, checked his fuel, checked his ammunition.
Still had rounds left, still had enough fuel to make it home.
Lipkcom had been fighting his own battle during those six minutes.
He had engaged the other Japanese fighters.
Shomo had been too focused on his own targets to track what his wingman was doing.
Now he could see three more smoke columns on the ground.
Lipkcom had shot down three Tony’s.
10 Japanese aircraft destroyed total.
Three had escaped into the clouds.
13 aircraft attacked, 10 destroyed, three fled.
Two American Mustangs against 13 Japanese aircraft.
10 kills.
No losses.
Shomo turned south.
Lipkcom formed up on his wing.
The flight back to Muro would take approximately 40 minutes.
Shomo had time to think about what had just happened.
Seven aerial victories in one mission.
That made him an ace.
More than an ace.
Most pilots spent months or years accumulating five kills.
Shomo had done it in 6 minutes.
After waiting 16 months for the opportunity, the ground crews at Muro knew the tradition.
When a pilot scored an aerial victory, he celebrated with a barrel roll over the airfield before landing.
A victory roll.
One roll for each kill.
Show was going to need seven rolls.
The brass were going to think he had lost his mind.
Nobody got seven kills in one mission.
Nobody would believe it until they heard the full story.
He still had 40 minutes to figure out how to explain what had just happened over northern Luzon.
Shom crossed the coastline at Lingai and Gulf at 10:47.
Muro airirstrip was 20 minutes ahead.
He had used the flight time to review the combat in his mind.
Every maneuver, every shot, every kill.
The story had to be accurate, had to be believable.
Seven aerial victories in one mission sounded impossible.
He could see the airirstrip now.
Two runways, rows of aircraft, support buildings.
the 82nd Reconnaissance Squadron operations tent.
Ground crews would be waiting.
They always waited when missions were overdue or when pilots were returning from combat.
Shom keyed his radio, called the tower, reported two F-6D Mustangs inbound, no damage, no casualties, 10 enemy aircraft destroyed.
There was a pause.
Then the tower asked him to repeat.
Shomo repeated, “10 enemy aircraft destroyed.
Seven by him, three by Lieutenant Lipscomb.
Another pause, then clear to land.
Shom was not landing yet.
He had seven barrel rolls to perform.
First, he came in low over the field, pulled the Mustang into a victory roll.
The aircraft rotated smoothly.
One complete rotation.
The ground crews were already gathering, watching.
He leveled out and climbed again.
Second barrel roll.
Clean, precise.
The crowd on the ground was growing.
More personnel coming out of tents and buildings.
Third roll.
Fourth roll.
By now, the entire airship knew something unusual was happening.
Nobody did four victory rolls.
Three was exceptional.
Four meant something extraordinary had occurred.
Fifth role.
Sixth role.
Officers were coming out of the operations buildings.
Now, senior staff, colonels, generals, everyone wanted to see who was doing six victory rolls and why.
Seventh roll.
Show completed it and entered the landing pattern.
Lipscom was still holding overhead, waiting his turn.
He would do three rolls, three kills.
Impressive by any standard, overshadowed completely by what Shomo had just done.
Shomo touched down at 11:09 local time.
2 hours and 27 minutes after takeoff.
Six of those minutes had changed everything.
He taxied to the squadron area, shut down the engine, opened the canopy.
The ground crew chief was already climbing onto the wing, pointing at the gun camera, asking questions, demanding to know what happened.
Shomo climbed out.
His flight suit was soaked with sweat.
The adrenaline was wearing off now.
His hands were shaking slightly.
Normal reaction after combat.
After that much combat, the squadron intelligence officer arrived.
Captain Shomo needed to debrief immediately, report everything while the details were fresh.
The gun camera film needed to be developed.
The kills needed to be confirmed.
Shomo spent the next 3 hours in debriefing.
He described the mission from takeoff to landing.
Every detail, the climb, the IMLoman turn, the first burst, each subsequent kill, the tojo on his tail, the Betty exploding, Lipkcom’s three kills, the flight home, all of it documented, all of it recorded.
The gun camera film was developed by,400 hours.
The images confirmed everything.
Clear footage of Japanese aircraft exploding, breaking apart, falling in flames.
Seven distinct kills, all within 6 minutes.
The film did not lie.
Lipkcom’s debriefing confirmed the same story from a different angle.
13 enemy aircraft, two Mustangs, attack initiated, 10 kills confirmed, three escaped.
By 1600 hours, the confirmation was official.
Captain William Shomo, seven aerial victories, one mission, ace in a day.
only the second American pilot to score seven or more confirmed kills in a single mission.
Navy commander David Mccell had scored nine victories plus two probables back in October of 1944.
Nobody else had come close.
Word spread fast.
By evening, pilots from other squadrons were coming by to hear the story directly, to see the pilot who had done the impossible, to ask questions about the tactics, the approach, the shooting.
Shomo answered their questions, described the combat again and again.
Each time the story sounded more unbelievable, each time it was completely true.
He had flown 203 combat missions before that day.
He had seen exactly two enemy aircraft from his cockpit during all those missions.
One Val bomber on January 10th, 13 aircraft on January 11th, 14 total enemy aircraft sighted during the entire war, eight destroyed.
That was a kill ratio no other pilot could match.
57% of all enemy aircraft he ever saw.
Three months later, on April 1st, 1945, Major William Shomo stood on Luzon in front of Major General Ennis Whitehead and received the Medal of Honor for leading an attack against overwhelming odds and destroying seven enemy aircraft in one action.
The citation called it extraordinary gallantry and intrepidity, unparalleled in the Southwest Pacific area.
Shomo knew what it really was.
6 minutes after waiting 16 months.
The story began long before January 11th.
It began in August of 1941 when William Shomo enlisted in the Aviation Cadet program.
He wanted to fly fighters.
He wanted aerial combat.
What he got was reconnaissance.
The 82nd Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron flew missions that other pilots considered secondary work.
photo reconnaissance, ground attack, strafing runs, important work, necessary work, not the kind of work that made aces.
In early 1943, the squadron deployed to New Guinea.
They were equipped with P39 Araco Cobras.
The P39 was an unusual aircraft.
The engine was mounted behind the pilot.
A 37 mm cannon fired through the propeller hub.
On paper, it looked formidable.
In practice, it had problems.
The primary problem was range.
The P39 could fly approximately 525 miles total range.
That meant 260 mi out and 260 mi back with minimal reserves.
The Japanese were operating from airfields beyond that radius.
Rabal Truck Weiwok all out of range for a P39 on a combat mission.
The squadron also operated P40 Warhawks.
Similar range problem, similar limitations.
Good aircraft for ground attack.
adequate for photo reconnaissance over friendly or recently captured territory, useless for reaching areas where Japanese fighters operated in strength.
Meanwhile, P38 Lightning squadrons and P47 Thunderbolt squadrons were scoring victories.
Pilots were becoming aces.
Richard Bong, Tommy Maguire, Gerald Johnson, names that would become famous.
They flew aircraft with the range to reach Japanese airspace.
They flew missions where aerial combat was expected, likely almost guaranteed.
Shomo flew missions where seeing an enemy aircraft was statistically improbable.
Month after month, air strip to airirstrip along the New Guinea coast, photographing beaches, counting supply dumps, strafing trucks and barges, never seeing an enemy fighter.
Other pilots in his squadron felt the same frustration.
They had trained for aerial combat.
They had the skills.
They had the desire.
They did not have the aircraft range or the mission assignments that would put them in position to use those skills.
By late 1944, the situation had not improved.
The squadron moved to Moratai.
MacArthur’s drive toward the Philippines was accelerating.
The reconnaissance missions became more important, more dangerous.
Flying low over enemy territory, photographing defenses, marking targets for bomber strikes, getting shot at by anti-aircraft guns.
No aerial combat.
Then in December, everything changed.
The squadron received new aircraft, F-6D Mustangs.
These were P-51D Mustangs modified for armed photo reconnaissance, cameras mounted in the fuselage, 650 caliber machine guns retained, and most importantly, range.
The F-6D could fly over 900 m on internal fuel with drop tanks over 1,400 m.
For the first time, Shomo had an aircraft that could reach Japanese airspace and return.
For the first time, aerial combat was possible.
On December 24th, Shomo took command of the squadron.
He was now responsible for leading missions, planning routes, assigning targets.
He moved the squadron to Muro on January 1st, 1945.
They were positioned to support the Lingayan Gulf landings.
Finally in position, finally with the right aircraft, finally with a chance.
January 9th was his first combat mission in the Mustang.
It was also only his sixth flight in the aircraft type.
He was learning the Mustang while leading combat missions.
The aircraft handled beautifully, faster than anything he had flown before.
More responsive, better visibility, every advantage.
The mission was simple.
Fly north to 2 Gigaro.
Photograph the Japanese airfield.
Determine enemy strength.
Look for aircraft on the ground.
Take pictures.
Return.
They approached 2 Garo at low altitude.
Shomo saw the airfield.
saw aircraft on the ground, then saw movement, an aircraft in the air, a Val dive bomber on final approach, landing.
Shomo had a choice.
His mission was photo reconnaissance.
He was supposed to take pictures and leave.
Engaging an enemy aircraft was not part of the assigned mission, but he had waited 2 years for this moment.
One enemy aircraft.
Finally, he closed on the val.
The Japanese pilot was focused on landing.
Did not see the Mustang approaching from behind.
Shomo opened fire at close range.
The Val caught fire and crashed short of the runway.
One victory, first kill.
After 202 missions after 28 months of combat flying that night, Shomo could not sleep.
He kept thinking about the next mission.
What if he saw more enemy aircraft? What if the opportunity came again? What if he finally got the aerial combat he had been waiting for since 1941? 24 hours later, he got his answer.
The mission on January 11th started as routine.
Photo reconnaissance over northern Luzon.
Check three airfields, Tigaro, Apari, Loag.
Document Japanese air strength.
returned with intelligence for the upcoming ground operations.
Lieutenant Paul Lipkcom was 23 years old.
He had joined the squadron in late 1944.
Experienced pilot, good formation flyer.
This was his first mission where aerial combat was a realistic possibility.
He was flying as Shomo’s wingman.
His job was to stay in position, protect Shomo’s blind spots, engage any threats that appeared.
Neither pilot expected to find 13 enemy aircraft in one formation.
The Japanese were withdrawing strength from northern Luzon in January of 1945.
American forces had landed at Lingayan Gulf on January 9th.
The invasion was succeeding.
Japanese commanders were pulling aircraft back to Formosa, consolidating forces, preparing for the defense of the home islands.
That Betty bomber Shomo encountered was likely carrying important personnel or critical cargo.
13 fighter escorts for one bomber meant high value.
The Japanese did not waste that many fighters on routine transport missions.
Something or someone aboard that Betty was important enough to justify a massive escort.
The fighters were a mix of types.
11 Kawasaki Ki61 Tony’s, one Nakajima Ki44 Tojo.
The Tony was Japan’s answer to American fighters like the P38 and P47.
Inline liquid cooled engine similar to German fighters.
Top speed around 360 mph at altitude.
Armed with two 12.
7 mm machine guns and two 20 mm cannon.
Decent aircraft not exceptional.
The Tojo was faster.
Interceptor design.
Top speed around 375 mph.
Better climb rate than the Tony.
Armed with four 12.
7 mm machine guns or two 20mm cannon depending on variant.
Designed to climb fast and hit hard, the F6D Mustang Shomo was flying had advantages.
Top speed around 437 miles per hour.
Faster than either Japanese type.
Better dive performance.
650 caliber machine guns with combined firepower that could destroy a fighter with a 1 or 2 second burst.
But technical specifications meant nothing if the pilot did not use them correctly.
Speed advantage was irrelevant if the enemy saw you first and got into firing position.
Firepower meant nothing if you could not get close enough to use it.
The Mustang gave Shomo tools.
He still had to use them effectively.
The tactical situation on January 11th favored Shomo in several ways.
First, altitude.
The Japanese formation was at 2,500 ft.
Shomo was at 500 ft.
He could climb into a perfect attack position while remaining unseen.
The Japanese pilots were looking ahead and above, not below.
Second surprise, the F-6D Mustang was new to the theater.
Most Japanese pilots had not encountered Mustangs yet.
They were familiar with P38s and P47s.
When they saw two fighters climbing toward their formation, they assumed friendly aircraft, Tony’s, coming to join the escort.
That assumption gave Shomo several crucial seconds.
Enough time to get into pointblank range before the Japanese realized their mistake.
Third, training.
Shomo had spent 3 years preparing for aerial combat.
He had studied tactics, practiced gunnery, analyzed gun camera footage from successful pilots.
He knew how to lead a target, how to estimate range, how to manage ammunition, how to keep situational awareness during high-speed maneuvering.
He had the theoretical knowledge.
He had never applied it in actual combat until January 10th.
One kill against a landing bomber did not count as real experience.
January 11th would be different.
This would be combat against alert fighters against trained pilots against aircraft that could fight back.
Lipkcom had less experience, newer to the squadron, fewer total flight hours in combat, but he understood his role.
Stay with the leader.
Cover his attacks.
Engage targets of opportunity.
Do not break formation unless necessary.
The flight north to the target area took approximately 50 minutes.
Standard altitude 500 ft below radar.
Flying over water and then over the northern coast of Luzon.
Weather was perfect.
Clear skies, unlimited visibility, good conditions for photography.
Also good conditions for spotting enemy aircraft at distance.
At approximately 0900 hours, Shomo saw them high above formation of aircraft heading south.
He counted quickly.
13 total, 12 fighters, one bomber.
He had two choices.
continue the mission, avoid contact, complete the photo reconnaissance and return safely, or attack, risk everything for the possibility of aerial combat.
After waiting 3 years, the choice was obvious.
Shammo keyed his radio, told Lipkcom they were engaging.
He did not wait for acknowledgement.
He pulled the Mustang into a climbing turn, an IMLman maneuver, up and over, gaining altitude while reversing direction.
Textbook tactical approach.
Lipscom followed.
The two Mustangs climbed from 500 ft toward the Japanese formation at 2,500 ft.
2,000 ft of vertical separation, closing rapidly.
The Mustang climbed at approximately 3,000 ft per minute at combat power.
less than a minute to reach attack altitude.
The Japanese formation maintained course and speed, flying south, heading away from the American fighters, climbing behind them.
No evasive action, no indication they had spotted the threat.
Shomo completed the immoman and rolled out behind the enemy formation.
He was now at their 6:00 position, directly a stern, the most vulnerable position for any formation.
He closed the distance rapidly.
The Mustang was faster than the Tony’s in level flight.
He had overtake speed.
At less than 40 yards range, he opened fire.
The convergence point for his 650 caliber machine guns was set for approximately 300 yd.
At 40 yards, all six gun streams were still spreading slightly, but at that range, accuracy was nearly guaranteed.
The combined firepower was devastating.
The first Tony exploded instantly.
The pilot never knew what happened.
One moment he was flying formation, the next moment his aircraft was disintegrating around him.
The wreckage tumbled through the formation.
Other pilots saw it, realized they were under attack.
Shomo shifted aim.
Second Tony, same result.
Explosion.
Debris.
The aircraft ceased to exist as a functional machine within 2 seconds of being hit.
Now the formation broke.
Pilots reacted.
Some turned left, some turned right, some dived, some climbed.
The neat escort formation dissolved into individual aircraft taking individual evasive actions.
No coordination, no tactical response, just survival instinct.
Shomo had trained for this moment.
He knew what happened when formations broke under attack.
Chaos favored the attacker if the attacker stayed calm, maintained awareness, picked targets methodically.
He went after the second element, came in from the left side.
The Tony pilot saw him coming, started to turn.
Too late.
Shomo fired.
The aircraft exploded.
Three kills.
The remaining Japanese pilots were trying to form some kind of defensive response.
They had numbers 13 against two.
If they could coordinate, get organized, use their numerical advantage, they could overwhelm the American fighters.
Shomo did not give them time.
He moved to the opposite side of the disintegrating formation.
Found another target.
Fired.
Fourth Tony destroyed.
The Betty bomber was diving away, losing altitude fast, trying to escape while the fighters engaged the Americans.
Two Tony stayed with it.
loyal escort protecting the bomber even while their own formation was being annihilated.
Shomo inverted and pulled through into a split S, rolled upside down, pulled the nose down toward the ground, a diving attack.
He came out below the Betty underneath where the defensive guns could not reach.
The Betty had guns in the tail, guns in the nose, guns in the top turret, no belly guns.
He pulled up into a steep climb directly below the bomber, closed to minimum range, fired into the underside.
The Betty caught fire.
The pilot tried to control it, tried to set up for an emergency landing.
The bomber was still flyable, but burning.
Fifth kill confirmed.
Shomo pulled up and climbed.
The Tojo was on him immediately.
The Japanese pilot had seen what Shomo was doing.
Had maneuvered into position.
Now he was firing.
Tracer rounds streaking past the Mustang’s canopy.
Show pulled hard into a vertical spiral.
Tight turn.
Maximum G-force.
The Mustang could handle it.
The airframe was strong.
He pulled tighter.
The Tojo tried to follow, tried to keep firing, but the tight turn bled air speed.
The Tojo began to slow.
The nose dropped.
The fighter stalled and fell away into clouds below.
Shomo checked his position.
The Betty hit the ground and exploded.
Massive fireball.
The two escort Tony’s broke away from the wreckage.
Flying low, maximum speed, trying to escape.
Shomo rolled into a dive, went after them.
Caught the first one at 300 ft altitude, short burst, it crashed.
Sixth kill.
He stayed in the dive, went lower, nearly at ground level, caught the second escaping Tony, fired.
It went down burning.
Seventh kill.
6 minutes had elapsed since the initial attack, maybe less.
The combat had moved across approximately 15 mi of terrain.
Started at 2,500 ft, ended at ground level.
Seven Japanese aircraft destroyed.
Wreckage scattered across northern Luzon.
Shomo pulled up and looked for Lipkcom.
Found him higher up.
Still engaged, still fighting.
Three more smoke columns on the ground marked Lipkcom’s kills.
10 total.
Three escaped.
The mission was complete.
The aerial combat was over.
Now they had to get home.
Shom checked his fuel gauge.
He had enough to make Muro with reserves.
The combat had consumed ammunition, but relatively little fuel.
The entire engagement lasted 6 minutes.
High intensity, short duration.
The Mustang’s fuel tanks were still more than half full.
He scanned the sky one more time.
No additional enemy aircraft.
The three Tony’s that escaped had disappeared into cloud cover.
They were not coming back.
They were running for Formosa or another Japanese- held airfield, running to report what had happened.
13 aircraft, 10 destroyed, three survived.
Lipscom formed up on Shomo’s wing.
The two Mustangs turned south.
Flight time to Muro would be approximately 40 minutes.
Time to process what had just occurred.
In 6 minutes, Shomo had accomplished what most fighter pilots never achieved in entire combat careers.
Seven confirmed aerial victories.
The definition of a fighter ace was five confirmed kills.
Shomo had exceeded that by two in one mission, in six minutes.
Only one other American pilot had scored more victories in a single mission.
Navy commander David Mccell.
October 24th, 1944.
Nine confirmed kills plus two probables during the battle of Lee Gulf.
Mccambbell was already a legend.
Multiple aces in the Navy knew his record.
Shomo had come close to matching it, but Mccell had accumulated previous victories before that mission.
He had experience, combat proven tactics, confidence built through dozens of engagements.
Shomo had one previous kill, a Val bomber caught landing.
His combat on January 11th was essentially his first real air-to-air engagement against alert armed fighters.
The gun camera footage would tell the complete story.
Every kill recorded, every maneuver documented.
The film would be analyzed by intelligence officers, by tactics instructors, by other pilots looking to learn.
Six minutes of combat that would be studied for years.
After landing and debriefing, word spread beyond the 82nd squadron.
Beyond Muro, radio messages went to fifth air force headquarters to General Kenny’s staff to MacArthur’s command.
Captain William Shomo had destroyed seven enemy aircraft in one mission.
Confirmation pending gun camera review.
If confirmed, this was exceptional.
By January 12th, the confirmation was official.
Seven kills.
Lipkcom’s three kills also confirmed.
The mission report went into permanent records.
Shomo’s name went onto the list of American aces.
Not just an ace, an ace achieved in one day.
The recognition came fast.
Within weeks, recommendations for the Medal of Honor were drafted, submitted, approved.
The Medal was America’s highest military decoration, reserved for actions above and beyond normal duty.
Actions that demonstrated extraordinary gallantry under extreme circumstances.
Attacking 13 enemy aircraft with only two fighters qualified as extreme circumstances.
Destroying seven of them qualified as extraordinary gallantry.
The Medal of Honor was appropriate.
On April 3rd, 1945, Major General Ennis Whitehead presented the Medal on Luzon.
Shomo had been promoted to major on April 1st.
The ceremony was brief military formality.
The citation read aloud.
The medal presented, photographs taken.
Shomo continued flying combat missions.
After January 11th, he flew additional reconnaissance missions over Japanese held territory.
He encountered enemy aircraft only one more time during the war.
Saw four Japanese fighters at distance.
Did not engage.
Wrong tactical situation.
Wrong mission parameters.
His final combat statistics were unusual.
203 missions before January 11th.
14 total enemy aircraft cited during entire war.
Eight destroyed.
57% kill ratio.
No other pilot in the Pacific theater had that percentage.
The F-6D Mustang he flew on January 11th was named Snooks 5.
All of Shomo’s aircraft carried that name, Snooks, plus the appropriate number, a reference to his civilian profession, his background, his identity before the war.
Snooks 5 was later lost.
Another pilot flying it on a different mission.
Aircraft destroyed.
Pilot survived.
Shomo’s next Mustang was briefly named Snook 6.
He changed it.
The new name was the flying undertaker.
Recognition of what he had done, who he was, his previous profession combined with his combat record.
The war ended in August of 1945.
Shomo stayed in the military.
The Army Air Forces became the United States Air Force in 1947.
He transitioned to the new service, continued flying, continued serving.
He was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel on February 20th, 1951.
Retired in 1968 after 27 years of military service.
Return to Pennsylvania.
Return to civilian life.
In interviews years later, reporters asked him about January 11th, 1945, about the 6 minutes that made him famous, about seven kills in one mission.
Shomo’s answers were consistent.
He emphasized luck, timing, the right circumstances.
He did not claim to be exceptional, did not claim superior skill.
Just a pilot who got the opportunity and took it.
But other pilots who studied the gun camera footage saw something different.
They saw precise shooting, perfect deflection angles, efficient ammunition use, situational awareness, tactical intelligence.
Those things were not luck.
Those things were skill applied under maximum pressure.
January 11th, 1945 demonstrated what happened when 3 years of frustrated waiting combined with 6 minutes of perfect opportunity.
Shomo had been ready.
When the moment came, he executed flawlessly.
That execution saved American lives.
10 fewer Japanese aircraft meant 10 fewer threats to American bombers, to transport aircraft, to reconnaissance missions.
Every enemy aircraft destroyed was one less weapon pointed at American forces.
Shomo died on June 25th, 1990, 72 years old, buried in St.
Clair Cemetery in Greensburg, Pennsylvania.
The Medal of Honor went with him.
The recognition, the record, but the lesson remained.
The lesson was simple.
Preparation matters.
Three years of training, three years of studying tactics, three years of frustrated waiting while other pilots became aces.
All of that preparation meant nothing until the moment arrived.
But when the moment arrived, the preparation made the difference between success and failure, between seven kills and getting shot down.
Shomo understood something that many pilots never learned.
Aerial combat was not about bravery alone.
It was about skill applied correctly, about recognizing the tactical situation, about using every advantage, speed, position, surprise, firepower.
The Mustang gave him the tools.
His training told him how to use them.
His decision to attack gave him the opportunity.
Lieutenant Paul Lipkcom received the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions on January 11th.
Three confirmed kills.
aggressive engagement against overwhelming odds.
Support for his squadron commander during the attack.
Lipkcom’s three victories brought his total combat score to three.
He survived the war returned home.
His name appears in military records alongside Shomos.
Two pilots, 13 enemy aircraft, 10 destroyed.
The three Japanese pilots who escaped carry the story back to their commanders.
13 aircraft attacked by two American fighters.
10 destroyed in 6 minutes.
The report was difficult to believe, but the evidence was undeniable.
10 aircraft missing, 10 crews lost, only three returned.
Japanese air strength in the Philippines was already weakening by January of 1945.
American air superiority was established.
Missions like Shomos accelerated the process.
Every Japanese aircraft destroyed reduced their capability to resist, reduced their ability to attack American forces, reduced the duration of the war.
Individual actions mattered.
One pilot, one mission, seven aircraft destroyed.
The cumulative effect of hundreds of missions like this across the Pacific theater created the conditions for American victory.
No single mission won the war, but every successful mission contributed.
The Medal of Honor citation for William Shomo emphasized his decision to attack despite overwhelming odds.
13-2.
Most tactical doctrine would call that suicide.
Most pilots would avoid engagement.
Complete the assigned mission.
Return safely.
No criticism for that choice.
Shomo chose differently.
He had waited 3 years for aerial combat.
The opportunity appeared.
He took it.
The citation called it gallantry and intrepidity accurate description.
It was also calculated risk based on tactical advantage, altitude, surprise, position, speed, firepower.
All favored the attack if executed correctly.
The execution was flawless.
Seven aircraft destroyed, zero damage to his Mustang, zero casualties on the American side.
Perfect tactical outcome.
The kind of outcome that becomes legend.
Years after the war, military historians analyzed the combat.
They studied the gun camera footage, reviewed the tactical decisions, examined the results.
Their conclusion was consistent.
Shomo’s attack on January 11th, 1945 represented one of the most successful fighter engagements in the Pacific War.
measured by kills per minute, by efficiency, by tactical execution.
The story spread beyond military circles.
January 11th became known among aviation enthusiasts, among historians, among people interested in World War II.
The pilot who waited 3 years and then became an ace in 6 minutes.
The Undertaker who destroyed seven Japanese aircraft in one mission.
Shomo rarely spoke about it publicly.
When he did, he remained humble, deflected praise, emphasized the role of his wingman, the capability of the aircraft, the training he received, the luck of being in the right position at the right time.
Other pilots who knew him disagreed with the luck assessment.
They had seen his flying, his gunnery scores, his tactical knowledge.
They knew the difference between luck and skill.
January 11th was skill.
The name Snooks appeared on six different aircraft during Shomo’s career.
The final aircraft, the Flying Undertaker.
That name told the complete story, his civilian profession, his military achievement, the combination of both identities into one legend.
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