Into the Teeth of the Tiger provides a vivid, pilot’s-eye view of one of the most extended projections of American air power in World War II Asia. Lopez chronicles every aspect of fighter combat in that harrowing aerial battles, interludes of boredom and inactivity, instances of courage and cowardice. Describing different pilots’ roles in each type of mission, the operation of the P-40, and the use of various weapons, he tells how he and his fellow pilots faced not only constant danger but also the munitions shortages, poor food, and rat-infested barracks of a remote sector of the war. The author also offers keen observations of wartime China, from the brutalities of the Japanese occupation to the conflict between Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalists and the Communist movement.
This edition of Lopez's acclaimed account features new photographs, most of which have never before been published. Relating how the 23rd Fighter Group continued to win battles even as the Japanese gained ground, Into the Teeth of the Tiger is the humorous and insightful memoir of an ace pilot caught in the paradox of victory in retreat.
Donald S. Lopez (July 15, 1923 – March 3, 2008) was a former U.S. Army and U.S. Air Force fighter and test pilot and until his death the deputy director of the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum. In 1948 he married Glindel Barron, sister of Florida State Senator Dempsey Barron.
Father of professor of Buddhist studies at the University of Michigan Donald S. Lopez Jr.
Here is Donald Lopez's story, told in his own words, of his experiences as a fighter pilot with the 23rd Fighter Group (United States Army Air Force = USAAF) in China during the Second World War. He emerged from the war with 5 Japanese planes to his credit.
Donald S. Lopez relates his experiences as a fighter pilot in China during World War 2 in this fascinating look at one of the least-known theaters of the war.
Beginning with his early experiences with flying planes, Lopez takes the reader through his enlistment, training, deployment, and his combat experience, serving on a frontier where one of the last offensive thrusts by the Japanese was underway.
This is published by the Smithsonian Institution, where Lopez served as a deputy director of the Air & Space Museum, and I bought this on a visit to that museum. I'm researching WWII-era aircraft for my own writing, and wanted a source that would put me in the pilot's seat. In that regard, Lopez delivered. His love of flying and his technical knowhow come through in every scene that takes place in the air.
He also gives the reader a good sense of life in wartime China, from the rat-infested barracks to the monotonous food and the constantly-low supplies. He tells stories of courage by his fellow pilots, and doesn't hold back when describing some instances of cowardice as well.
His attitude can come off as a bit colonialist in places, although probably in ways that are typical for an American writer in his situation and time. He also tries, perhaps a bit too hard in places, to convince the reader of his own fearlessness.
That being said, this is a book full of great details, and it certainly doesn't try to paint an overly-rosy picture of war. Lopez was witness to a great deal of tragedy, as well as acts of tremendous bravery and selflessness.
This is fast-paced and detailed look at a seldom-seen chapter in history.
Freedom is not free. No (irrational) commitment, no union.
Libertarians and neo-liberals are fools: cheap goods from Asia won't make the world sing konbanwa together, without shared values, or the will to die irrationally for each other, global society is just a illusion.
I hadn't ever heard of the Flying Tigers. Cue a family trip to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum. I learn of the American volunteers who flew through China to help the Chinese National Army end Japanese occupation. And I purchased Lopez's book, and learned a whole lot.
It was good, very straightforward, and very informative. It reads like a History Channel documentary transcript, and every term used is explained in a brief, non-condescending way. I liked Lopez's style, and you really got to know the men in his division, so you feel his pain at losing one of them.