The author begins with a definition:
wingman noun
a : a pilot who flies behind and outside the leader of a flying formation
b informal : a male friend or partner who accompanies and supports a man in some activity
He means to suggest that John Glenn and Ted Williams were wingmen to each other and in both definitions. I confess that although Glenn and Williams were large figures in my early childhood I never connected the two. But connected they were.
The short version is that Glenn and Williams were both pilots in the Korean War, with Williams serving as Glenn's wingman. Glenn, an ambitious marine, pulled strings to get there. Williams, arguably the best baseball hitter at the time, was not at all pleased to have been recalled to service. But both served with great bravery. There are thrilling stories of their derring-do here, but I won't share them. You'll have to read them yourself if interested. What is true though, as the rest of the title of this book suggests, is that the two men formed an unbreakable bond that lasted until both of them died.
And unlikely only because they appeared to be so different. The author summed it up nicely:
John Glenn was modest, measured, and above all loyal, loyal to his Presbyterian faith, his nation, the Democratic Party, his children, and his wife of seventy-three years, Annie. Ted Williams was a cocky, moody, foulmouthed agnostic, an unwavering Republican who had three ex-wives, multiple mistresses, and three children whom he only saw when it was convenient.
I knew much of the story told here, but still learned some things. Like Ted Williams was born "Teddy" Williams, named after the Republican president Teddy Roosevelt. Williams' father claimed to have served in Roosevelt's fabled Rough Riders. Williams later changed his name to Theodore, which he preferred.
I did know that Williams often said, "All I want out of life is that when I walk down the street folks will say, 'There goes the greatest hitter who ever lived.'" And some people do say that.
If, like me, you were fascinated by these men when you were a child, I think you must read this book.
And at the risk of plot-spoiling, I need to share their divergent endings. John Glenn was buried at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors after a solemn cortège. Williams, who only wanted to be cremated and have his ashes mixed with his dog Slugger's ashes and deposited in the deep waters off Florida, instead was whisked off to a cryogenics laboratory at the direction of his son. There, his head and body were frozen . . . separately.