To be designated an "ace," a fighter pilot must shoot down at least five enemy aircraft.
Michael Brandy, Deseret Morning NewsAlden P. Rigby, 84, a World War II flying ace, displays his Utah Aviation Hall of Fame medal at his home in Bountiful.Not many do it in one day, but Alden P. Rigby came close. He earned that designation on the morning of Jan. 1, 1945, when he added four additional planes to the one he had previously downed.
On that morning, Rigby was part of what has since become known as the "Legend of Y-29," or, as Rigby terms it, "The Miracle of Y-29." It was part of the Battle of the Bulge, a desperation move of the increasingly desperate Nazi regime, and Rigby ended up right in the middle of it.
Ace is not a designation to be taken lightly. Starting with World War I and going through Vietnam, some 1,450 Americans in all branches of the armed forces have become aces. "Now there are less than 300 still living," says Rigby. "I'm honored to be one name on the list." There is even an organization called the American Fighter Aces Association.
Rigby's experiences in the war, as well as a lifetime of service in both the Utah Air National Guard and with the Federal Aviation Administration as an air-traffic controller and supervisor at the Salt Lake International Airport, have also earned him induction into the Utah Aviation Hall of Fame, which is based in the Hill Aerospace Museum.
Rigby is the 21st Utahn inducted into the hall.
That is "the ultimate honor for a fighter pilot, or any pilot," says Rigby. "If I had any word better than awesome, that's what I would say."
Rigby's story began near Fairview in Sanpete County, where he grew up on the family farm. At that time, he had few aspirations about flying. He had certainly never been in an airplane, and if the occasional one flew over and caught his attention, it was only part of a world that seemed far away from farm life.
But Rigby knew the limited acreage of the farm could not support more than one family, and he began to look beyond it. After graduation from North Sanpete High School, he enrolled at Brigham Young University. As it did for so many others, however, life changed on the morning of Dec. 7, 1941, with the bombing of Pearl Harbor. He will never forget the next day "being in geology class and listening to President Roosevelt declare war on Japan. All of a sudden there was a big question about more school for me and many others. That changed a lot of plans."
Rigby had a high school sweetheart back home. They had planned on getting married after he completed an LDS mission and got in a couple of years of schooling. But after a year, "we could see the writing on the wall." He and Eleen decided to get married, so they could have some time together before his expected draft notice arrived.
Soon enough, "I found myself at Fort Douglas, and they gave me two options. I could become a paratrooper or try to become an aviation cadet. I didn't want to jump out of planes, so I thought I'd see if I could pass the cadet test." It was a "stiff acceptance procedure," but he made it.
His first assignment was a school in Nashville, Tenn. "There we were classified as pilots, navigators or bombardiers. Of course, everyone wanted to be a pilot. I got on the short list, and that was a big deal for me."
He went on to training in Alabama and then South Carolina, and "as a married man, I had to fight my way through. There weren't many married pilots; everyone thought they should have safer work. But I wanted to fly alone. I wanted to be responsible for me. I wanted to have control of my aircraft as a fighter pilot. I wasn't a warmonger, but I saw flying alone as more of a challenge than flying with a dozen other people. I wanted to see if I could do it."
The washout rate was about 50 percent at every school, as those who couldn't make it were weeded out. But Rigby credits his wife for his success. "I had her with me, and that gave me more incentive to graduate. I was not about to disappoint her. She's my real source of strength."
By December 1943, Rigby had been training for nearly two years, "and I knew combat was coming. On July 1, 1944, I found myself in England with the 352nd fighter group."
In November of that year, Rigby got his own aircraft, a P-51D Mustang, and named it the Eleen and Jerry, after his wife and new daughter. "I flew 35 missions out of England before the Battle of the Bulge started."
With the Bulge came the Battle of Y-29, when 12 pilots of the 487th squadron destroyed 23 enemy aircraft in a low-altitude air battle that has come to be considered one of the epic battles of World War II. The squadron received a Presidential Citation for its actions. "It was a time when the Americans were at a great disadvantage and came out on top," says Rigby. "It was part of one of the most devastating air-ground attacks of World War II."
Y-29 will be featured this fall on the History Channel, he notes. In September he has also been invited to participate in ceremonies honoring a hundred P-51 pilots in Columbus, Ohio.
Overall, he says, it is just a small part in the big picture of his life. "I'm glad I had an opportunity to serve. We were just doing what we took an oath to do: Defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. I acknowledge that I had a lot of help from above in getting the job done."
After the war, Rigby tried his hand at other work but decided he liked the military and he liked aviation. He joined the Utah Air National Guard and was called to active duty during the Korean conflict. But that one was spent in Kansas as an instructor.
Then he was lured into the budding aviation field, working for the Civil Aeronautics Administration, which became the FAA. He designed curriculum and many of the training procedures for air-traffic controllers. "The technology has changed, but a lot of the procedures are still the same," he says.
He and Eleen had four children, and now, at age 84, he spends a lot of time being grandpa. After retirement, he and his wife also served two LDS missions, one in India and Sri Lanka, and one in Israel.
In many ways, he was just another member of what has come to be known as the Greatest Generation — the men who fought the war and came home to build the country. "It's nice to be in that category," he says. "We'll never see that time again. But I've always felt that what I did just came with the territory."
Of of all the honors and accolades that have come to him over the years, one that has meant a lot was an e-mail from the son of a P-47 pilot at Y-29. "In case I haven't said so before," wrote David Kennedy, "thanks from all of us 10 Kennedy kids and 28 grandkids and great-grandkids who wouldn't be here today if you hadn't crossed paths with Dad way back on January 1, 1945. I have told my brothers and sisters that you are probably the person who saved Dad's life that day, chasing off the (Messerschmitt) 109s from Dad's tail."
Family and friends, says Rigby, "that's what it all adds up to in the end."
E-mail: carma@desnews.com