THE STORY OF EDDIE RICKENBACKER

It was Washington. It was December 1942. Captain Eddie Rickenbacher was relating one of the grimst tales of the Second World War. The story of his three weeks a drift in a life raft in the Pacific Ocean. Our prayers were answered. And if we hadn't had or I hadn't had seven witnesses, I wouldn't dare tell the story. For a seagull landed on my head and gave us food to sustain us for two days and sufficient bait through the use of its intestines in order that we may catch a couple of fish. Afterwards, Secretary of War Stimson commented, "Welcome home. I said it once before and I say it now again. The usual rules of fate do not apply to you. Thank you, sir." The rules of fate had never applied to Eddie Rickenbacker. Ever since the beginning in Columbus, Ohio at the turn of the 20th century, Eddie had made his own rules. His family lived on the wrong side of the tracks. Grinding poverty produced a kid who was tough, stubborn, and rebellious. His father couldn't handle him. Neither could his teachers. Neighbors predicted he would come to a bad end. Then his father died, and Eddie became breadwinner of the family. No more school. The boy found a job in a shop which produced those new fangled gasoline buggies. One day he read that two brothers named Wright had actually flown an airplane. They became his heroes. Perhaps he too might become an aviator. But first he had to learn all there was to know about cars. Eddie was 15 when he took his first automobile ride. The next step, automobile racing. Indianapolis 1911. The first 500mile race in history was beginning. Among the drivers entered was 21-year-old Eddie Rickenbacker. His first big race, 7 hours of mental and physical agony. He didn't hope to win. If he finished in the money, that would be enough. Other drivers crashed through the fence, but the rules of fate didn't apply to Eddie. He didn't win, but he did finish in the money. Soon, he was famous as a daredevil of the tracks. By 1916, he stood third among the speed kings. That year he earned $40,000. Next year he might well become America's top ranking driver. But Eddie gave it up for a chance to become an aviator. 1917, the United States had declared war on Germany. Rickenbacher enlisted as a doughboy hoping to get transferred to the air. It didn't work out that way. Eddie became a driver for General Persing staff. His request for transfer rejected. Too old, not enough education, too good a driver. It seemed he would serve out the war behind the wheel. [Music] Then Eddie met General Billy Mitchell, America's first great advocate of air power. Mitchell took a liking to the young speed demon. He pulled a few strings and Eddie got his transfer. In that brand new officer's uniform, you were the proudest pilot in the Air Force. Your outfit was the 94th Squadron. In defiance of the enemy, you named it the Hat in the Ring Squadron. But could you, a novice, hold your own against the German aces. You soon proved that you could hold your own and more. April 1918, your first encounter with the enemy. You were flying a routine patrol when several German pilots jumped you. In a moment, there was a wild scramble in the sky as you fought for your life. Swinging behind a German plane. You lined him up in your gun sights. He peeled off trying to escape. But you hung on and a moment later he went down in flames. The first kill of many. Soon you were a captain and an ace decorated for bravery. You became commander of your squadron. A born leader, you set an example of determination and courage for your men. The 94th quickly became the outstanding group in the American army. It led all others in bombing missions and enemy planes brought down. [Music] You were a fighting leader in the air daily searching for Germans. Your score of victories grew steadily as the months passed. 12 Germans shot down by September 1918, 22 by October, 26 by November. In recognition of valor, more decorations for you and your men. When the war ended in November, you were America's ace of aces. Peace at last. Hands that had held guns were now outstretched in friendship, and with peace thoughts of the future. You would not go back to automobile racing. You had learned where you belonged. Your future was in aviation. To Detroit in 1919 went Eddie Rickenbacher after his discharge from the army. With financial backing, he began the manufacturer of automobiles. Sternly realistic, he knew aviation was then still in its infancy. Somehow he would get back into flying later on. Right now, he wanted to make money. His was the first American stock car to use four-wheel brakes. Newly married, he seemed slated for success. But his car was too advanced for the public, and the company failed. Eddie took a job selling automobiles. But the United States did not forget her avases. Eddie Rickenbacher was the most decorated flyer of the First World War. Now with President Herbert Hoover looking on, he received the most highly prized decoration of all, the Congressional Medal of Honor. A proud moment for Captain Eddie, his wife, and sons. There was another proud moment when Eddie was named divisional sales manager of the General Motors Corporation. He worked hard, gained the trust of his superiors. But Eddie still loved planes and in 1933 came the chance to go back into aviation. At that time, Eastern was a rundown operation. Against the advice of friends, Eddie took over and set to work reorganizing the airline. He was constantly traveling, flying the routes, revamping the operation from top to bottom. His knowledge of flying and instinct for leadership came into play. As he had inspired his men of the old 94th Squadron, so now he inspired his co-workers at Eastern. Hard work brought results. The line began to make money. Then in 1938 unless Eddie bought the line, he was out. He went to Wall Street for financial backing. All he could offer as security was his name and record. But that was enough. He got the money. Ownership of the line involved even more work and greater responsibilities. New planes were ordered, the most modern the industry could produce. Rickenbacher personally supervised details of construction. A happy moment as one of the new airliners was christened by the then first lady, Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt. The event had its humorous side. Mrs. FDR couldn't break the champagne bottle. Then tragedy in 1941. Eddie was flying south near Atlanta, Georgia. The airliner crashed. Rickenbacher had been trapped in the wreckage with broken ribs and gasoline burns. Although in terrible pain, he refused to be removed until the last passenger had been rescued. It was hours before he could be taken to the hospital. The doctors gave him up for lost. But as usual, the rules of fate didn't apply to Eddie. He recovered. 1942, America was at war, and again, you tossed your hat into the ring. Back on your feet, you helped to boost morale on the home front. Then a visit with the boys of the new 94 Squadron. You wish them good luck and good hunting. too old to fight. But for you, General Arnold, commander of the Army Air Force, had a more important duty. A mission to MacArthur in the Southwest Pacific. Hickhamfield, Hawaii. First leg of the long flight. You talked there with the GIS while your plane was being made ready. Next stop, Canton Island, 1,800 m away. With a good ship and a good crew, the length of the hop was nothing to worry about. Or so you thought. Far out in the Pacific, the plane went off course, lost over the ocean. Fuel tanks almost empty. You took command. When the tanks were empty, you ordered a crash landing in the ocean. Things happened quickly. Water flooded the ship as she hit the sea. You knew she'd sink fast. Only a few seconds to float the life rafts and abandon the plane. In the confusion, food and water was forgotten as you watched the plane go down. Eight men a drift on three rafts. For food, only a seagull, a few fish, and some rainwater. 24 days passed. One man died. The others were close to death. You had given up all hope. When the night was lit with flares, and a plane landed nearby. Rescue. It was hard to believe. They had found you in the nick of time. Another day might have been too late. They brought Eddie and his men to the Air Force base at Samoa, suffering from starvation, exhaustion, shock, covered with soores from long exposure to the sea, into the hospital for rest and treatment. Prognosis unfavorable. But again, Eddie cheated death. Two weeks later, he was ready to go on and complete his mission. [Music] Then home to Washington, the army had prepared a hero's welcome. But for Eddie, the three most important people on the field were his wife and sons. Drifting on that raft, he had been certain he would never see them again. It was good to be back. He had proved with his life as a pilot and airline executive that the rules of fate did not apply to him. Eddie Rickenbacher, ace of aces.