#1 This guy was absolutely a stud.
But - to give heroic credit where it is due, the record needs to be corrected - Ken Reusser did earn a Navy Cross for pursuit of a Japanese observation plane, but it was a pilot named Robert Klingman who used his propellers to down the enemy plane.
Details at http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7795385237882019506/posts/default
Checkerboarder Jim Cox's Corsair kept dropping back until he was a thousand feet below and behind. He wasn't able to coax one more knot out of his battle-weary plane. Reusser told Cox and the other pilot to return, while he and Klingman continued their pursuit.
At 38,000 feet, they were at their struggling Corsairs' service ceiling. But the Nick was still one mile ahead. In the thin air, they were on the edge of stall, and had to make only small and gentle movements of their controls to avoid the drag of a pre-stall burble that would allow the enemy to extend further out of range.
Reusser recalls, "The gunner pounded with his fist on the action of his machine gun to free it up.
Klingman continued,
As we got closer, Ken was firing and the bogey's rear gunner started firing back at us. I was taking a few small bullet holes. My plane had no gun heaters and my guns were frozen and inoperative. But I was still pretty eager to get me a Jap plane.
My Corsair was a bit faster than the other one. So I crept ahead. I closed until I was 20 or 30 feet behind him. I couldn't get any closer due to his prop wash. Held me back. I slowly climbed above, then nosed over slightly and sliced into his tail with my prop. I only had enough extra speed to chew off some of his rudder and elevator before being blown away by the Nick's prop wash.
He was still flying, so I climbed above him for a second run. I nosed down toward him again, but pulled out too soon. I only got some of his rudder - and part of the top of the rear canopy as the gunner frantically tried to use his machine gun.
I climbed slightly above for a third run, then chopped off his right elevator. That hit did most of the damage to my plane. And we both spun down out of control. After losing only about 1,000 feet I recovered. But the enemy plane continued its spin until, at about 15,000 feet, both its wings came off.
Klingman didn't have a 'shoot down.' But . . he definitely had a ' knock-down.'
They were hundreds of miles from home with Klingman's control stick shaking so hard it was "leaping around " in his cockpit. Then, as they worked their way home, descending through 10,000 feet, Klingman radioed that his engine had quit.
Others radioed Bob to "Go over the side."
In his own judgment, Klingman thought he had a fair chance to glide as far as the airstrip's closest end, then land it ' dead stick' out of a straight-in approach.
There would be no forgiveness for his slightest misjudgment.
Alerted by radio, all the pilots and crew members near the airstrip were transfixed as Klingman, with propeller silently windmilling, approached the airstrip for a ' no-go-around ' landing.
At the last second, Klingman flared. His plane touched down on the dirt overrun, bounced a handful of yards to the airstrip's hard surface, and rolled to a stop.
As the pilots and crew members ran over to examine the aircraft and applaud the pilot, they were astonished by the plane's damage. All three blades of Klingman's propeller had six inches missing from the tip. The bird's wings were riddled with bullets, and chunks of the Japanese airplane were found inside the cowling.
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