“One Man – Three Wars” might be a better column title. That would pay homage to Lt. Col. Robert S. Phillips’ heroic service in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. 

A mutual friend arranged a visit to his Lake Blackshear home. David Hinson and I arrived at ten a.m. on a Wednesday in November. Gay McInvale, a beloved assistant to the Colonel, invited us to the breakfast table.

She served pound cake with whipping cream and fresh strawberries. “He likes strawberries,” said Gay, coyly acknowledging generous servings. Mid-morning desserts must agree with the Colonel. Pictures from his 100th birthday party in August show his vintage Air Force dress uniform fits perfectly. 

As I looked through a photo album of the celebration, our jovial host pointed to a man with a saxophone. “He played for my 99th birthday party too.” 

“Is he coming back next year?” I asked. ”Probably,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s really good and I love the saxophone.” A photo of him dancing offers tender evidence. 

Thursday’s plans were to scatter acorns in the woods to attract deer. He and Randy Powell, another valued assistant, would return Friday and Saturday to hunt. Last year he harvested a nice buck, and almost called one in with a trophy rack. 

“How long have you been hunting deer?” I asked. “About 85 years,” he answered. “I started hunting them in Pennsylvania when I was 15.”

After his 1942 high school graduation, he joined the U. S. Air Force and became a navigator. B-24s carried him on 52 missions to Germany, Austria, and elsewhere. He kept the aircraft on course until their targets were reached, then directed them home after their bombs were dropped.

One of many harrowing moments came when their plane had to land without power. “Just after dropping the bombs, the number one engine got hit and we lost a lot of fuel. We were the lead ship. We broke formation and headed to a secondary airstrip in Yugoslavia.”

“They shut down that engine then another, leaving one operating on each side of the plane for balance.” He calculated it would take 20 minutes to go 76 miles across the Adriatic Sea. The engineer soberly advised they might have enough fuel.

“Only one engine was running when we reached the coastline. Swede Olson, from Atlanta, was our pilot. He put it in a dive from 2000 feet and shut off the engine. The only sound we heard was air going through bullet holes. Swede made a perfect landing.”

That was late in 1944. A twin-engine C-47 transport plane took them to France. He was with the 98th Bomb Group at the time, but finished his tour with another outfit. 

In the spring of 1945 he returned home to Tyrone, Pennsylvania, and took a three year break. He fished, hunted, and went to Penn State for a year. He also met Jenny Colitto and fell in love.

After three months of marriage, he went to Okinawa in 1949 with the Strategic Air Command. Jenny was about to join him when the Korean War started and dependents were no longer allowed. In Korea he was the navigator for sixty B-29 missions.

On a New Year’s Eve flight in 1951, his good friend and pilot, Joe Davis, said, “You guys get your gear on.” An engine was on fire. Davis put the plane in a dive from 25,000 feet to 12,000 and extinguished the flames. “Bob,” he said, ‘get us home.” 

With lost fuel and unknown structural damage, they made it out of Siberia and landed in Japan. The base commander and his wife hosted them for a splendid dinner on New Year’s Day.

In Vietnam the Colonel switched from bombing missions to reconnaissance. Their responsibility was to locate the enemy’s ground missiles and relay those positions to fighter pilots.

He held two acorns in his outstretched palm as we were leaving. “Deer love these,” he said. “I’ve picked up about 15 gallons. They’re in rut now. I’ll rattle my horns and make like a young buck to draw them in.”

The Colonel has survived three wars, buried two wives, and seen 100 birthdays, yet he’s optimistically planning tomorrows. There’s no way to condense his remarkable life into 750 words, so if you get an opportunity to hear the stories of a humble hero firsthand, don’t miss out. And if by chance you play the saxophone well, you may want to audition for next year’s party.