In 1945, while conflict dwindled in most
theaters, the Pacific remained fiercely contested. Amid this chaos, Lieutenant Louis
E. Curdes, already notable for downing German, Italian, and Japanese aircraft, suddenly
encountered an unprecedented challenge. Piloting his P-51 Mustang "Bad Angel," Curdes
was patrolling the Philippine Sea when he spotted a C-47, an American transport
plane veering dangerously off course, aiming straight for an enemy-held airstrip. The aircraft below could have been a
Japanese decoy or, more alarmingly, an American crew unwittingly on the brink of
capture. Curdes radioed down a stark warning: (QUOTE) “For God’s sake, keep
away from shore. Japs there.” He then initiated a series
of maneuvers, firing warning shots in a desperate bid to divert the
plane's course. Yet, the C-47 advanced. Suspecting the worst but acting with
the determination of a seasoned fighter, Curdes closed to 20 yards, about to make a fateful
decision. Few had achieved the distinction of downing aircraft from three nations. Curdes,
however, was about to distinguish himself further, marking German, Italian, Japanese, and now, under
extraordinary circumstances, an American plane. Born in 1919, just as the aviation industry began to burgeon, Louis Edward Curdes
was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Under the watchful eyes of his aviation
enthusiast father, who helped Art Smith get his aircraft airborne and took his young
son on trips to see the construction of USS Akron and USS Macon airships, the early
encounters ignited a deep passion in Louis, unlike any other. He dreamt of soaring through the
skies, charting his own course through the clouds. While in college, Lou's attention was increasingly
drawn to the escalating conflict in Europe, fueling a deepening disdain for figures like
Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini. By 1941, compelled by a sense of duty to counter the
Axis threat, he left his studies behind and enlisted in the military, seeking to join
the ranks of those who commanded the skies. Remarkably, his induction into
military service happened the day before Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. Following rigorous training, by December
1942, Curdes was commissioned as a Lieutenant, earning his wings and a ticket to the
heart of the conflict. By March of 1943, he found himself assigned to the 95th
Fighter Squadron of the 82nd Fighter Group in North Africa, poised on the cusp
of the Mediterranean theater's challenges. Ready and eager to fly, Lou felt as
though every moment of his life had been leading to this point. Yet, the
true magnitude of the impact he was about to make on the war effort
remained beyond his imagination. As the conflict intensified, the Axis grip
on Tunisia was beginning to be overcome by the Allies, partly due to strategic
disruptions from British operations based out of Malta. These efforts began to
turn the tide as early as the end of 1942. But the war was not yet over. Upon setting foot in North Africa,
22-year-old Louis Curdes was assigned the Lockheed P-38 Lightning. This
aircraft, known for its agility and speed, clocking in at 413 miles per hour, outmatched
many of its Axis adversaries in the sky. The day for Curdes to prove himself
came on March 23. Soaring over Tunisia, despite understanding the gravity of his mission,
the thrill of flight enthralled him. It wasn’t long before he encountered Messerschmitt Bf 109s
from Jagdgeschwader 27. Without hesitation, Curdes dove into the fray, astonishingly downing three
and damaging a fourth near the Cap Bon peninsula. But this maiden venture drained his fuel to a critical level and forced him to make
an emergency landing in a dry riverbed. There, the newbie, yet now
battle-proven First Lieutenant, awaited the arrival of fuel and supplies
necessary to makeshift a runway for takeoff. On May 19, while providing cover for B-25 Mitchell
bombers near Villacidro, Sardinia, Curdes’s squadron clashed with eight Bf 109s on their
return. In the fierce exchange that followed, Curdes’s unmatched skill downed two additional
enemy planes, further cementing his reputation. This series of engagements elevated Louis
Curdes to the status of an ace within just three months of combat, a rapid ascent that
led him to christen his P-38 Lightning "Good Devil," complete with a distinctive emblem
showcasing Lucifer adorned with a halo. As the summer of '43 unfolded, Curdes became
a beacon for the Allied cause. Days later, on June 24, Curdes cemented his reputation within
the US Army Air Forces as a feared adversary. He was on an escort mission over Sardinia
when he came face-to-face with a new enemy: Italy's Regia Aeronautica. Curdes
plunged into the fray in a heartbeat and downed a Macchi C.202 Folgore, marking
victories against two of the Axis powers. That summer, beyond engaging another German
Bf 109 over Italy, he received his first Distinguished Flying Cross, a recognition
few pilots achieved in such a short span. But all good things come to an end, and as the season shifted on August
27, so did Curdes’s fortunes. On an escort mission near Naples, a
distress call over the radio signaled that Flight Officer Melvin Sheets
was in peril. True to his character, Curdes broke protocol to assist, plunging
into a fierce battle against German Bf 109s. In the intense dogfight that
ensued, his P-38 Lightning, "Good Devil," proved dominant, claiming
two more Bf 109s — his final victories in Europe. However, the skirmish led
to shrapnel injury to his shoulder, and a critical fuel shortage forced him to do
a risky landing on a beach south of Salerno. It was only a matter of time before one
of America’s greatest pilots was captured. Lou was quickly taken in as a prisoner of war
by Italian authorities and, according to him, was treated well by the guards, who even
refused a German attempt to transfer him over to them. That same day, the brave
pilot and four other Americans managed to steal a Red Cross boat and attempted
an escape operation. Though recaptured and placed in a more secure prison near Rome,
their spirit of defiance was undiminished. Only four days later, however, the
Italians surrendered to the Allies. With this, an enraged Nazi Germany invaded
its now former ally, taking over their many prison camps and occupying half the country –
the half that Curdes was in. Before leaving, some of the Italian prison guards gave Curdes and
the other Allied POWs rifles, blankets, and food. Back at the 82nd’s headquarters, after their
young yet battle-hardened pilot failed to make it back to base, the military listed Louis
Curdes as Missing in Action. In a letter to the Curdes family, Captain Robert, the Fighter
Group’s intelligence officer, said: [QUOTE] “I’ve never seen him go out on a mission when
he wasn’t confident of returning, when he wasn’t always the happy-go-lucky kid whose skilled hands
drove the best fighter plane the Luftwaffe could throw against us. He was always the first to
pitch into a fight, always the last to leave.” Unbeknownst to everyone, Curdes would
not give up without one hell of a fight. At the time, American pilots did not
receive any Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape training. Louis Curdes was left to
his own devices with only a packet of local currency and a few maps, which he called
useless, and a small .45 caliber pistol. Still, he and a group of about 20 officers were
determined to make it back into allied lines, and the team began their trek south through
the central Apennine Mountains. But the trip, in occupied land, was fraught with danger, and
one of the men in the group was killed soon after. For over eight months, Curdes and his men
slept during the day wherever they could and traveled by night, aided by local civilians
and members of the communist Italian resistance, who gave them handguns and essential supplies. As 1944 rolled around, back in Indiana, the Curdes
family was about to give up hope about Lou when their son’s best friend, First Lieutenant
Burt Lutz, sent them a letter stating he’d heard on the military grapevine he was indeed
alive. Cautious but hopeful, the family waited. Finally, after nearly a year of endless
walking, on May 27, 1944, Lou Curdes, thinner than he’d ever been in his adult life,
heard the sounds of what he later learned was the Battle for Monte Cassino. Heading
there, he spotted some British troops from the Eighth Army after slipping through
Allied lines. He later recalled: [QUOTE] “And here I am. I’m in civilian clothes with a
fake Italian ID card. [...] I think I surprised them as much as they surprised me. And I yelled
out, I said, “Have you got a cigarette?” And this lieutenant’s eyes sort of lit up. He looked
up and he said, “Sure. Come over here, Yank.” Following a thorough questioning from the
British, Curdes was given over to the Americans, who were able to confirm his identity. When he
told them about his incredible story of survival, his superiors asked him to stay on and teach
survival and escape methods to Allied aircrews. After a couple of weeks, he was repatriated
to the United States, and Louis Curdes was given a heroes’ welcome in Fort Wayne, where
his family threw him an improvised parade. While pilot Curdes was eager
to return to active duty, the Geneva Conventions forbade a former Prisoner
of War to risk flying in the same theater twice, and thus, in August 1944, he
was transferred to the Pacific. By that fall, some parts of the Philippines
were once again under American control, and Curdes’ unit, the 3rd Air Commando Group,
was tasked with bombing Japanese bases, supporting ground troops, escort
duties to Allied ships, and more. This time, Lou was put behind the cockpit
of a North American Aviation P-51 Mustang, the powerhouse of the American Forces.
While quite different from his P-38, Curdes hoped his new model, aptly
named Bad Angel, would work. Sure enough, on February 7, 1945, only
a month into his Philippines tour, while flying about 30 miles southwest of
Taiwan, he spotted a lonesome Japanese Mitsubishi Ki-46-II flying through Curdes'
formation. Catching one of these reconnaissance was no easy feat. One of the best aircraft
of the entire war, the type was capable of 400 miles per hour, and for a time, even
Germany was interested in licensing the design. And so, the sneaky pilot called out that the
aircraft was at 3 o'clock, when in reality, it was at 9 o’clock, giving Curdes and his wingman
the perfect opportunity to get the victory. By shooting down the Ki-46, Pilot
Lou Curdes became one of only three Aces to have successfully shot down German,
Italian, and Japanese planes during the war. He would still break yet
another wildly strange record. On February 10, Lieutenant Curdes was leading a
squadron of four aircraft back to the Philippines from the southern tip of Taiwan when flying
over Bataan Island, the group split up, with Lou and Lieutenant Schmidtke banking north while
Lieutenants Scalley and La Croix headed south. Suddenly, pilot Scalley called
for backup as they’d spotted a small Japanese airfield on the still-occupied
island. However, during the foursome’s attack, La Croix’s aircraft was hit, and
he had no choice but to bail out. Curdes was worried for a brief second until
he saw LaCroix deploy his parachute pack that came with a dingy, and, knowing he
was safe, the leader ordered the others to head back to base, and he began a
final strafing run over the airbase. However, as he pulled up, he noticed a single
C-47 Skytrain model approaching. Upon a closer inspection, he saw that it had the markings
from the 317th Troop Carrier Group. Initially, Curdes believed the Japanese likely
stole the model, and he was furious. But after radioing the plane’s pilot,
he got no response. The situation only got stranger once Curdes flew right
across the plane’s flight path to try to get it to change its course away
from the landing strip, to no avail. The Skytrain and everyone aboard
it were determined to land. But time was running out, and pilot
Curdes had to make an important decision, whether it was an American aircraft that was
lost or a Jap-built similar model with American insignia. Knowing the model would be relentlessly
attacked once it landed, no matter what it was, Curdes surmised it would be better to shoot them
down than let them fall into Japanese hands. In a desperate measure to
take it down before it landed, he shot across the nose of the ship,
but the aircraft continued to move. Now, as a last resort, he closed into 20 yards,
and with the aim only aces that have taken down models from three different countries could,
he shot right through the Skytrain’s right engine. And when the aircraft still didn’t
stop, he finally took out the other one, forcing the large aircraft to land on
the water, very near where LaCroix was. After a dinghy blew up, Curdes
saw that the people climbing on it were very likely Americans. Relieved,
La Croix paddled over to hear their story. As it turned out, the plane had gotten lost in
bad weather, and, with a malfunctioning radio and critically low on fuel, the pilot headed
towards the closest airfield he could find, unaware it was an enemy base. While the group
was initially angered about the actions of the P-51 aboard, when the situation was explained to
them, the Bad Angel and the legendary Ace flying it that saved them from a grim fate went from
enemy to the greatest hero they’d ever witnessed. On a wild twist, the day after the incident,
Lieutenant Curdes found out that one of the passengers he’d shot down was a nurse
he had had a date with only the night before. When retelling his story for the
August 1945 issue of Air Force magazine, Lou recalled his tally: [QUOTE] “Seven 109s
and one Macchi in North Africa, one Jap, and one Yank in the Pacific—and to top it, I
have to go out and shoot down the girlfriend.” Following this, Curdes’ P-51, which
already had seven Nazi swastikas, one Italian insignia, and a Japanese flag,
was allowed to also add an American flag in memory of his latest exploit, with the
promise not to repeat that one ever again. However, since the C-47 was not
counted as an official victory, Louis Curdes’ final score stands at nine,
and he holds the distinction of being the only pilot with victories against
pilots from four different countries.
