As a World War II veteran who served as a Navy pilot, in this interview, Augustus "Red" Bullock reflects on a life shaped by both remarkable experiences and enduring family bonds. From growing up in Brooklyn to flying Grumman F6F Hellcats, his journey offers powerful insights into service, family, and a life well-lived.

I was born at home, which was immediately next to the grade school (St. Agnes) that I attended until grade seven. The oldest memory that I have is of a time when I was standing in the kitchen with my grandmother, looking at the sky through a window.  I remember asking her what a cloud was.  Why do I remember that? I have no idea. 

In any case, I don’t remember much from those early years in Brooklyn, but I do remember events that occurred on summer days in Staten Island, where we vacationed. I fished, caught crabs in a trap, watched ocean liners as they first appeared as specks on the horizon on their way into N.Y. Harbor, and watched bloated dead bodies as they washed onto the beach. The theory was that they were drunks who fell off the docks in the harbor and who were then carried by the tides out to the Staten Island beaches.

I accepted them as part of island living and was not at all horrified.

Our family moved to a nicer area of Brooklyn in 1936, and I graduated from The Holy Name grade school in 1937. I thus began high school at Manual Training High School, not one of the more prestigious Highs in the city.

My career at “St. Manual,” as we “Katlic Kids” called it, was uneventful, and I was all set to graduate early in January of 1938. (In NYC, we graduated in January or June.) On December 7th, I was listening to a football game on the radio (long before TV) when the broadcast was interrupted by the announcement that Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor. I knew at that instant that my life had just changed.

Wrong question. The attack on Pearl marked the beginning of our participation in WW2, and even a green 18-year-old knew it. We didn’t join the military; the military joined us. The draft age was lowered from 21 to 18, and every young man who could pass the physicals was forced to fight.

On a ride home from school one day, in the subway, sometime during the 24 days between 12/7 and my graduation, I spied an ad that read, “Win Your Navy Wings of Gold”! Right then and there, I decided I would rather do that than get drafted into the army. 

Shortly after graduation, I applied for entry into the Navy’s V-5 program, which was to train pilots of all types - Land and Sea multi-engine pilots, Carrier-based dive-bomber pilots, torpedo pilots, and fighter pilots, The tests, mental and physical, took a week, and on the Friday of my week I was called in and told that I had passed, but with one exception.  That exception was that the fillings in my teeth were of plastic, and the navy required silver or gold. I was crushed.

I had no money, so I went to a dentist and told him I could afford $5 per week.  He agreed to do work for that amount of money, and it took almost four months to get the job done.  I went back to the Navy and got sworn in. When I got home, my draft notice was in our mail, and I escaped going into the army by pure luck and pluck. 

Upon the completion of my training in the V5 program, I was designated as a Naval Aviator. The beginning of that program was at RPI, and it progressed from there to a civilian airport in Dansville, N.Y., and from there to the University of North Carolina, to the Naval Air Station in Glenview, IL, and finally to the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, FL. Upon graduation, I was ordered to the Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, FL to begin my training as a fighter pilot, flying the Grumman F6F Hellcat and the Chance Vaught F4U Corsair. Upon completion of that training, I was ordered back to Glenview, which was my base for about a week as I made my first carrier landings (9) aboard the USS Sable on Lake Michigan. (As enemy submarines operated in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, the navy converted two lake steamers to miniature aircraft carriers for training pilots.) I was then ordered to San Diego, CA, where I joined the Pacific Fleet as a fighter pilot in Air Group 98. Air Group 98 was designated for the invasion of Japan, which was never needed when we dropped nuclear bombs to end the war. After the war, I stayed active in the naval reserve and ended up flying jets and anti-submarine aircraft.

 Elsie and I got married in 1949 and, after a while, opened up a travel agency in East Norwich, Long Island. We lived hand to mouth when that business began, but it turned out fine as we became the in-house travel agents for Dow Jones (the Wall Street Journal.) Along the way, we had six children, five girls and one boy.  All of them have college degrees, along with three Master's Degrees and one PhD. We retired to Great Hill on March 18, 1996, and have lived relatively healthy since that time. My wife, Elsie, and I celebrated our 75th Anniversary on September 10th, with dinner at the Ponte Vecchia Restaurant in Danvers. (Picture nearby.)

People are curious about our lives—what is the secret that we possess for living so long? The answer is that we don’t know. Good genes, certainly. Living in moderation. Good luck. (I survived an airplane crash at night into a farm field and an over-turned raft in the Colorado River’s rapids.)

We both admit that we are not perfect, so when we disagree, we don’t yell for a divorce; we compromise.  Our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren all love us, and that is the source of our “wealth” for the remaining days of our lives. We know that one day, relatively soon, Elsie or I will be alone. But we can’t think of a better place to endure that loneliness than here at Great Hill.