into a MiG-rich environment. They were at 40,000 feet but no MiGs were up, so they
descended though dense cloud cover. Shortly after breaking into the clear, at about 19,000 feet, they sighted a gaggle of
MiGs, fourteen or sixteen aircraft. Maitland and Boyd dove into the formation. Maitland maneuvered onto the six of a fleeing
MiG but did not shoot. He was 200 feet behind the MiG, locked on its tail, and not shooting. Boyd got on the radio and said,
“Damn, Jock, why don’t you shoot? Goddamn, Jock, those other guys are coming. You have to hose that guy.” Maitland did not
answer.
The two pilots horsed their aircraft all over the sky, caught in a gaggle of MiGs. What Boyd did not know until later was
that Maitland had an electrical failure and his guns would not fire. Then the two pilots came under attack from anti-aircraft
fire. They were low on fuel so they disengaged and climbed back to altitude and returned to K-13. Boyd led the descent through
the clouds with Maitland on his wing. (Maitland confirms this story.) The two men were fortunate they were not sent home.
In the last few months of the war, the 25th sent home six pilots for crossing the Yalu.
By June the hotshot Soviet pilots were no longer flying in North Korea, and American pilots shot down seventy-seven MiGs without
the loss of a single F-86. It was a turkey shoot for F-86 pilots, so a question naturally arises: if Boyd was so good, and
if he was there at the best time for an F-86 pilot to be there, why did he not shoot down MiGs?
The answer is that he never had the chance. Hostilities ceased before he was promoted to element leader, so he never was a
shooter. But even if he had been a shooter, it does not follow that he would have bagged a MiG. Some pilots seemed to find
MiGs almost every time they went up. Other pilots flew twenty or thirty missions—one flew fifty-one missions—without seeing
a MiG.
The most important part of the Korean War for Boyd was not that he never shot down a MiG, but rather what he did and what
he discovered after hostilities ceased. Rarely in the life of a man are successes so clearly stacked one atop the other in
a precise, easy-to-see evolution as they are in the life of John Boyd. The accomplishments of Korea are the foundation of
that evolution.
First, Boyd’s ability as a pilot was outstanding. After hostilities ceased, most of the high-time combat veterans quickly
rotated to flesh out fighter squadrons at other bases around the world. F-86s still patrolled MiG Alley, and on the return
flights, if there was sufficient fuel, the pilots engaged in simulated air-to-air combat. On days when there were no reconnaissance
flights, the pilots slid into their Sabres, climbed to 30,000 feet, and fought until the fuel was exhausted. Boyd clearly
was the best F-86 driver in the squadron, so good that on October 20, 1953, he was made the assistant operations officer.
In addition to being known as a “good stick,” Boyd became known in his squadron for the appetite that had so impressed his
fellow pilots at Columbus AFB. The Officers Club had an all-you-can-eat “steak night” once a week. Jerald Parker remembers
that he and Boyd would go to the club together, order a steak, and begin eating. Parker would take only a few bites when Boyd
would jump up and go for his second, usually bigger, steak. By now Boyd also was becoming known as a talker, and about the
only thing he talked about was airto-air combat. He had a one-track mind. He talked as fast as he ate, and he could do both
at the same time. Sometimes food and spittle flew from his mouth as he talked. Other officers spoke of Boyd’s table manners
with dismay, even disgust. His behavior was most unbecoming for an officer and a gentleman. Few other pilots wanted to sit
near Boyd at the dining table. He leaned close when he talked to them. And if he thought they did not understand, he would
reach out with a long