COL. JOHN and GINNIE MARCOTTE

I was born in New Jersey, of poor parents that were however, rich beyond your imagination in love and caring.  Educated in Catholic schools my entire academic life where the ruler and a few smacks were judiciously administered when required.  Schooled in the way of honesty and integrity, which were to shape my life in the future.

 

At an early age I was enamored by flight to the point of building a ground bound cockpit simulator of a fighter plane.  As my Uncle Billy came home from the First world war a human wreck from gas, I made up my mind early that I was to return a whole man or not at all.  This philosophy has remained with me.  To be less that whole was unthinkable.  As the world conditions worsened and war drew nearer I was drawn more closely to the aspect of fighter aviation.  This was really the starting point of my life.

 

I began by trying for the Navy Navcad program but was turned down for lack of all of my teeth. I can remember thinking that I would have to bite the bastards rather than shoot them down. The Army Cadet program was less stringent and I was whisked off to the Army for basic training and earmarked for the Aviation Cadets.  Finally sent to the Nashville Classification center where I was indoctrinated into the rigors of basic training all over again.  Finally, on New Years eve we were shipped to Maxwell Field for Preflight training.  If I thought basic was bad this was a whole new life.  Up at 05:00 and lights out at 21:00.  Needlessly to say I lived through it.

 

Primary, Basic and Advanced training passed quickly and then the day of  deliverance was at hand.  Commissioned as a brand new shavetail  I headed for home and 15 days of leave.  Time flew by and once again I was saying goodbye to a tearful mother and a proud father. Operational training flew by and soon we were on our way to the European Theatre of Operations as it was known and assigned to Zempke’s Wolfpack.  Not too many missions later I was shot out of the skies and after a thirteen day evasion in the country of Germany I was caught and shipped to prison camp where I was one of 3500 other prisoners.  At last UNCLES Joe and Ike ended the conflict and I was returned to allied control.  If you ever want to lose weight  get captured .  I came out of there weighing119.

 

Returning home and being discharged there was little for an unemployed fighter pilot  to do.  So I joined the N.J. Air National Guard.  Korea came along and we were activated and placed in SAC.  That was the closest I had come to being frustrated.  The demise of a senators son in Korea changed all of that and the whole unit was transferred to TAC.  Goddamn Field ( I mean Godman)  at Fort Knox  became home base for the next couple of years and then off to JET school.  What a difference.  Quiet as a mouse and no oil on the windshield.  Change of station to Langley and after a couple of years  a Tour with the Navy where I flew everything that they possessed.  Quite Impressive.  I remember looking down and seeing the carrier and thinking no one in his right mind would try and land on that.  However, it became routine after a while and a lot of clean underwear.

 

A tour of duty in France and Germany for 3 years flying F-86’s and F-100’s completed, I returned to the most horrible assignment a fighter pilot could ever imagine.  ADC as a controller.  The less said about that here  is the better.  I broke the strangle hold and was assigned to the 460^th Fighter Squadron in Portland.  From there the force sent me to THULE Greenland, The land of the midnight sun, but only in the summer time.  Six months of darkness and six months of sun.  The fighters were withdrawn from Thule and I was assigned to the 456^th Fighter Squadron at Castle to fly the cream of the crop the F-106.  Never have I enjoyed an aero plane so much.  The unit was moved to Oxnard AFB and after a short stay there I was transferred to George AFB and the circle was complete.  I was back in TAC.  After six months of training, Southeast Asia called and I was fortunate enough to land the commanders slot in the 433^rd Squadron, which was tasked with the development of the guided bomb.  What a weapon !

 

Returning to the States assignment to ADC at Fort Lee Virginia ended my career.  I Retired on 1 January,  1976.  Interesting and varied I have never regretted a moment of it with the exception of Prison Camp.  That is one experience that I wouldn’t take a million dollars for but I wouldn’t give a plugged nickel  to  repeat.

                                                                                                                                                        

John C. Marcotte

Colonel United States Air Force Retired.

Last Commander of the 456th Fighter Interceptor Squadron

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