The Day an American Ace Shot Down an American Plane—and Saved Everyone Aboard
On February 10, 1945, over the vast blue emptiness of the Philippine Sea, a decision was made that has no parallel in American military aviation history. It was a decision taken not out of confusion or panic, but out of clarity, experience, and moral courage. By the time it was over, one American aircraft lay sinking in the ocean, thirteen Americans floated safely in life rafts, and a single fighter pilot had permanently altered the meaning of heroism in war.
The pilot was Lewis Curtis, a seasoned combat aviator flying a P-51 Mustang. The aircraft he destroyed was a C-47 Skytrain—an American transport carrying fellow servicemen and two Army nurses.
Curtis knew exactly what he was doing.
A Quiet Patrol Turns Into an Impossible Choice
Curtis was circling at roughly 3,000 feet when he spotted his wingman, Bob Lacroix, floating in a life raft below. Lacroix had been shot down minutes earlier by ground fire near Batan Island, which was firmly under Japanese control. Rescue would not arrive until morning.
Curtis was already low on fuel, alone over enemy territory, and guarding a downed pilot in shark-infested waters.
Then he saw something that made his blood run cold.
A twin-engine aircraft approached from the east, landing gear down, flaps extended, descending steadily toward the Japanese-held airfield. As Curtis closed the distance, the markings became unmistakable.
American markings.
A C-47.
Friendly aircraft.
Curtis radioed frantically, warning the transport to break off. There was no response. The C-47 continued its descent, now committed to landing.
Curtis knew what capture meant in the Pacific. He had experienced captivity himself in Europe after being shot down in 1943. He knew that if the transport landed, the crew and passengers would face interrogation, brutality, and likely never return home.
At less than 60 seconds from touchdown, Curtis realized there was only one way to save them.
Not a Rookie—A Veteran Who Understood the Cost
Lewis Curtis was not an impulsive pilot. At just 25 years old, he was already an ace with confirmed victories over German and Italian aircraft from his time flying P-38 Lightning in the Mediterranean. He had been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and had survived imprisonment after being shot down near Salerno in 1943.
Rather than accept a safe posting after his escape, Curtis volunteered to return to combat—this time in the Pacific, flying with the 3rd Air Commando Group.
Three days before the Batan incident, he had already shot down a Japanese reconnaissance aircraft, making him one of the very few American pilots to score victories against all three Axis powers.
Experience had taught him one thing: hesitation kills.
The Precision Shot That Changed Everything
Curtis attempted every visual signal he knew—flying alongside the transport, rocking his wings, cutting across its nose. The C-47 did not deviate. Japanese anti-aircraft guns began tracking both aircraft.
With seconds left, Curtis positioned directly behind the transport and made a calculated decision: he would disable it, not destroy it.
At close range, he fired a short burst into the right engine. It erupted in flames but the aircraft continued flying—C-47s were designed to operate on one engine.
Curtis repositioned, ignoring incoming ground fire, and fired again—this time into the left engine. The result was immediate. Both engines failed. The transport lost all power and the pilot had no option but to ditch in the sea.
The aircraft hit the water hard—but intact.
One by one, the crew and passengers evacuated into life rafts. No explosion. No loss of life. Thirteen Americans now floated in open water instead of standing on an enemy runway.
Curtis strafed the shoreline repeatedly to keep Japanese troops at bay, circling until his fuel was nearly gone. Only then did he break off, calling for rescue before landing with an empty fuel gauge.
The Other Side of the Story
The C-47 had taken off hours earlier, flying blind due to bad weather and radio failure. When the crew spotted an island runway, they assumed it was friendly. When Curtis appeared, they thought he was escorting them.
When he opened fire, they believed they were being attacked by a rogue pilot.
Only after ditching did Bob Lacroix paddle over and explain where they were—and what would have happened had they landed.
Fear turned to understanding.
One of the passengers was a 19-year-old Army nurse, Svetlana Valeriya, who would later learn that the man who saved her life was the same pilot she had gone to dinner with just two nights earlier.
Judgment, Not Punishment
Curtis fully expected disciplinary action. Shooting down a friendly aircraft violated every written regulation.
Instead, he was summoned to meet George Kenney, commander of Allied Air Forces in the Southwest Pacific.
Kenney reviewed the facts, the passenger list, and Curtis’s actions. He asked one key question: did Curtis know who was aboard when he fired?
Curtis answered honestly—he did not.
Kenney made his decision.
Curtis was not charged. He was recommended for an oak leaf cluster to his Distinguished Flying Cross. His action was formally recognized as extraordinary judgment under pressure, executed with skill that prevented loss of life.
A Story That Became Legend
The rescue was completed at dawn by a PBY Catalina, escorted by Curtis and other Mustangs. All thirteen Americans were recovered safely.
The story spread quickly across the Pacific Theater. Curtis’s aircraft, Bad Angel, soon bore an unprecedented set of markings: victories over Germany, Italy, Japan—and one American flag.
It remains the only confirmed case of an American pilot being officially credited for destroying a friendly aircraft to save lives.
After the War
Curtis and Svetlana married in 1946. They remained together for nearly half a century. Curtis continued serving, flew during the Berlin Airlift, and retired as a lieutenant colonel.
Today, his P-51 rests in a museum, its markings silently telling a story few believe at first glance.
The Real Lesson
This is not a story about breaking rules.
It is a story about understanding intent.
War creates situations no manual can anticipate. In those moments, leadership is not about obedience—it is about responsibility.
Lewis Curtis did not act recklessly. He acted decisively, with full awareness of the consequences, choosing the only outcome where everyone lived.
Sometimes, the hardest courage is not pulling the trigger.
Sometimes, it is knowing when to pull it—and why.
That is why an American pilot once shot down an American plane and was honored for it.
