Honoring Those That Have Gone Before Us

 Something different as a bonus today 

It has been 80 years this past August since the guns of World War II finally fell silent, a moment that should stir our souls with both gratitude and profound sorrow. Somewhere between 70 million and 85 million precious lives were torn away in that brutal storm of conflict, extinguished by the cruel ingenuity of man's most horrifying weapons—devices that unleashed hell on earth and shattered families forever. Here in the United States, around 407,000 brave souls—soldiers and civilians alike—gave everything, their final breaths drawn by August 15, 1945, when Japan surrendered at last (with the formal papers signed on September 2). Among those last heartbreaking losses were four young Navy pilots from Fighter Squadron 88 (VF-88), heroes aboard the mighty aircraft carrier USS Yorktown (CV-10) "The Fighting Lady". And it's one of those eternal boys—frozen in youth by time and tragedy—that tugs at my heartstrings relentlessly.

Ensign Wright C. "Billy" Hobbs Jr., a daring fighter-bomber pilot in VF-88, has slipped into the shadows of forgotten history, his valor dimmed like a fading star, though his tale burns brightly in John Wukovits' poignant 2019 book Dogfight Over Tokyo: The Final Air Battle of the Pacific and the Last Four Men to Die in World War II. Born in 1922 on a humble family farm cradled by the gentle banks of Wildcat Creek near Kokomo, Indiana—just 25-30 miles from my own home—Billy was a dreamer with wings in his heart, aching to soar the skies. He chased that dream with unyielding passion, only for the savage grip of World War II to snatch him away at its bitter, ironic close. Enlisting in the Navy in 1942, he honed his skills as a pilot, joining VF-88 to command the fierce Grumman F6F-5 Hellcat fighters. By mid-1945, his squadron formed the backbone of Air Group 88 on the Yorktown, striking deep into the heart of Japanese defenses in the vast Pacific, each mission a testament to courage amid chaos.

Oh, the cruel twist of fate on that fateful morning of August 15, 1945: Billy and 11 fellow Hellcat pilots lifted off from the Yorktown around 4 a.m., hearts pounding as they hurtled toward enemy airfields near Tokyo, including Atsugi. Little did they know, as their engines roared into the dawn, that Emperor Hirohito had already broadcast Japan's surrender hours earlier (Tokyo time). The joyous news crackled over their radios mid-flight, as they wheeled back toward the carrier after unleashing their bombs—a war's end announced in the heavens. But tragedy ambushed them like a thief in the night: some 20 desperate Japanese fighters—Zeros and holdouts clinging to defiance—swarmed them over Sagami Bay in a desperate, furious dogfight. Billy's plane (Bureau Number 78244) took a fatal hit; comrades watched in horror as he readied to bail out, vanishing into the unforgiving sea, never to be found. Alongside him fell Ensign Eugene "Mandy" Mandeberg, Lt(jg) Joseph G. Sahloff, and Lt. Howard M. "Howdy" Harrison—brothers in arms from the same squadron. Amid the whirlwind, VF-88 claimed nine enemy kills, but these losses etched the war's final, gut-wrenching chapter: heroes slain in the dawn of peace, their sacrifices a haunting echo of irony and loss. In death, Billy earned the Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medal, and Purple Heart posthumously, his rank elevated to Lieutenant Junior Grade—a small solace for a life cut so short.

For an agonizing year, Billy and his fallen comrades lingered in limbo as Missing in Action (MIA), a cruel spark of hope flickering for their shattered families. Then, after tireless searches yielded nothing but emptiness, the Navy declared them Killed in Action (KIA) on August 16, 1946, snuffing out that fragile light and plunging loved ones into eternal grief. Billy's uncle, Woodson Hobbs, fought through his own tears to rename the nearby Bunker Hill Naval Air Station in his nephew's honor, but that tribute went to another Indiana son, astronaut Lt. Col. Virgil I. "Gus" Grissom in 1968 (now Grissom Air Reserve Base). Yet Billy's mother, the unbreakable Hattie Hobbs, refused to let her boy's light fade. With a mother's undying love, she poured her anguish into verse, submitting tender poems to the Kokomo Tribune each August 15—the anniversary of his death, a date forever scarred in her soul. For 25 long years, until her own passing in 1971, she kept his memory alive, her words a raw cry of pride, pain, and unyielding remembrance for a son stolen too soon.

Now, 54 years since Hattie's heartbroken voice went silent, and 80 since Billy's final flight, his name whispers faintly in the winds of Kokomo and beyond—known to so few, cherished by even fewer. I stumbled upon his story in a fleeting chat with one of his great-nieces, her eyes glistening with inherited sorrow, love, and fierce pride for a great-uncle and grandmother she never met, only felt through the echoes of family tales that pull at the heart.

I'm pouring out these words today, my voice trembling with emotion, praying that you'll pause and let Billy Hobbs' spirit touch you—a radiant young man from Kokomo, Indiana, who poured out his lifeblood for the freedoms we hold dear. He deserves our tears, our reverence, our eternal honor. In a touching nod to his legacy, Kokomo unveiled Lt. JG Billy Hobbs Memorial Way in August 2024, right near his family's old farm at Park and Alto roads. It's a humble signpost, but oh, how it warms the soul—his name etched for all to see, inviting wanderers to wonder, to weep, to discover the hero behind it.

Please, from the depths of my heart, I beg you to find Dogfight Over Tokyo and immerse yourself in the raw, soul-stirring saga of these four men at the twilight of what we pray is humanity's final global nightmare. Read it to awaken your mind, to feed your curiosity, to pay homage to their unbreakable spirits—the book threads their lives like a tapestry of joy, brotherhood, and devastating loss, reminding us of war's unbearable human toll.

And to you—the vibrant generations unfolding before us, yes, you Gen X, Millennials, Gen Z, and Alpha—don't swallow the shallow bites dished out on social media as your truth. Dive in with passion, unearth the real stories that bleed with humanity's triumphs and tragedies. Seek the history that moves you, that changes you.