Boyd: The Fighter Pilot Who Changed the Art of War

by Robert Coram

He entered the academic building and knocked on Boyd’s door. “Enter.” Catton stepped inside and saluted. “Sir, Lieutenant Ronald Catton requests permission to speak with the captain.” Boyd nodded. “Sir, I have a problem,” Catton began. “That’s what I hear.” Catton told Boyd his dream and asked what he could do to salvage that dream. For a long moment Boyd did not speak. He turned in his chair and held up his pencil and stared at the tip as if he were looking through a pipper. Then he spun around and looked at Catton. “No one has ever gone through this school with a perfect academic record. I don’t know if you have the smarts to do that, Catton. But if you do, you will get their attention. If you don’t, you can forget your dream.” He paused and repeated. “Nobody has gone through this school with a perfect record.” Catton swallowed hard. Nobody had jumped across the Grand Canyon either. And what Boyd was asking him to do was the equivalent. The bust-out rate at the FWS proved it was the toughest course in the Air Force. Pilots were smart guys; they had to be to master the disciplines involved in flying the Hun. But most of them considered themselves lucky to graduate from the FWS. This school had humbled dozens of college graduates, and Catton had received his commission as an aviation cadet; he had only two years of college. Boyd waggled a finger. “They will be watching you.”