Joe, however, was not that easily convinced and held her suitor at bay for several years. In April 1917, the United States entered World War I, and Jimmy enlisted in the Army Signal Corps. After completion of his ground school training at the University of California, he was granted a Christmas furlough before having to report for flight training as an air cadet.

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That was when Joe finally agreed to become his wife. Against the advice of their mothers, the couple eloped and were married on Christmas Eve 1917. In view of an acute financial embarrassment on the groom’s part, Joe used a portion of her Christmas money to purchase their license. Then, armed with a lavish nest egg of twenty dollars, the bride and groom spent the remainder of Jim’s furlough honeymooning in San Diego. I asked the general if the fame that he achieved was as superficial and fleeting as it is popularly supposed to be. He replied that’some of the early racing and stunt flying [brought] a lot of publicity at the time [that] was not lasting. On the other hand, I believe that the work I did on blind flying, developing new cockpit apparatus, especially those instruments that permitted flying in bad weather, has been lasting.’ He thought that he was also well remembered for ‘other pioneering procedures that I developed for testing aeroplanes . . . [which] made it possible for us to check the wing loads that were put on the aeroplane in actual flight against its original design factor.’ Doolittle’s master’s thesis on that subject ‘wound up being translated and published in many technological journals throughout the world. I think that was a useful piece of work, and I’m sure that it has lasted.’

Doolittle gave up action flying in 1961, but curiosity eventually got the better of the general, and he ‘decided to check out in several of the newer service aircraft — the first supersonic fighter [the F-100]; the KC-135, which later became the Boeing 707 airliner; the B-47 [a small bomber], and the big bomber, the B-52. After that I turned in my flying suit, and I never flew as first pilot again.’ Although he expected to be discontented after giving up flying, he ‘never missed it a speck!’ What mattered the most to him in life, he added, was ‘Joe, my bride for over seventy years. [She] is a very extraordinary lady.’ In 1973, the couple finally made that trip to Alaska that he had promised her fifty years earlier. ‘It was every bit as beautiful as I’d remembered it,’ Doolittle said. ‘[T]here has never been a time,’ Doolittle told me, ‘when I’ve been completely satisfied with myself. . . . I’ve very much appreciated the respect that my peers have given me throughout a fairly long life. Nowadays I try to spend at least half my time continuing to be useful, still making a contribution, while getting whatever rest, recreation, and diversification I believe is essential if one is to go on living a happy and useful life.’ The general contended that the ‘element of luck is extremely important’ in his life, maybe comprising half the equation. ‘But the ability to exploit that luck makes up at least the other half. Throughout my life I’ve been oh, so lucky in being at exactly the right place at the right time, without any premonition that caused me to be there.’ He puts it down to ‘pure, dumb luck.’ Especially in the case of the Tokyo raid, ‘. . . luck plus having the background necessary for me to take advantage of it, and being willing to work very hard to make it a success. That’s why, whenever I’m asked, I always reply that I’d never want to relive my life. I couldn’t possibly be that lucky a second time.’

This article was written by William R. Wilsont and originally published in the August 1997 issue of American History Magazine. For more great articles, subscribe to American History magazine today!

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