This 100-year-old Korean War pilot just won the Medal of Honor

from Deborah BrennanCalMatters

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In 1952, Navy pilot Royce Williams engaged in a 35-minute engagement against seven enemy aircraft during the Korean War, shooting down four before landing his badly damaged plane on the USS Oriskany.

This aerial battle would go down in military history, but only after half a century of silence and secrecy. It took the US decades more to recognize his victory.

Last month, Williams, now 100 years old, received the Medal of Honor during President Donald Trump’s State of the Union address after a years-long campaign by military leaders and politicians to secure the award.

Williams beamed amid cheers as First Lady Melania Trump placed the Medal of Honor around his neck.

“It was a big moment for me,” he said simply during an interview at his home in North San Diego County.

For the military leaders who approved the medal, it is an acknowledgment of what they call the longest combat in history and the heroism of a lone pilot.

“This is the longest Navy dogfight of any that we know of, and it was one against many,” said retired Navy Capt. Kent Ewing, who fought in honor of Williams. “The bottom line is that an American who stayed in the fight for 35 minutes came home with bullet holes in his ship. He almost died landing on the carrier. He’s a true hero.”

Williams was 16 when he joined the Army during World War II and served at Camp Ripley in Minnesota. A year later, he joined the Naval Aviation Cadet Program and began a 35-year flying career.

“I’ve flown about five different planes, everything from open-cockpit biplanes to ‘all metal and the wheels retract,'” he said. “And then I got my wings.”

At the start of the Korean War, Williams was stationed on the USS Oriskany, protecting American troops and rooting out North Korean trains, trucks and bridges.

On a blustery morning, Williams flew a formation of four F9F Panthers into a cloud layer at 500 feet. They appeared at 12,000 feet to the top of the storm and trouble.

“We took off in terrible weather, a blizzard,” Williams said. “As we were climbing, we received word from the ship’s controllers that there were enemy planes coming in.”

They were not Korean planes, but Russian MIGs. Officials aboard the Navy listening to their communications heard Russian authorities ordering their pilots to “fight.”

As the American formation approached the seven MIGS, the leader and his wingman were forced to return to the ship due to a fuel pump malfunction. Williams pressed the Russian planes.

“Four of them came in and shot at me,” Williams said. “And a surprise! They weren’t supposed to be there. But the battle was on. And I made a sharp turn and got on the tail of their number four from the tailwind and shot him down. And as he went down my wing left me. And that was only the beginning of the battle and now I was alone with six of them.”

The MIGS were more agile and better suited to air combat than the F9F Panther, which was designed for air-to-ground operations, said Jim Kidrick, president and CEO of the San Diego Air and Space Museum. Williams was outnumbered and outmatched in a physically taxing battle.

“His air combat skills and skill set and abilities were completely beyond that involvement, Kidrick said. “And he kept going because after 35 minutes you get tired. You pull Gs, bank the plane hard, you’ll be upside down and upside down in the firefight. You will expect to be challenged to fly this aircraft to its capacity.

Despite the daunting odds, Williams said he wasn’t afraid: “God was in control. I was calm.”

The remaining Russian planes fire in succession, forcing Williams to engage each attacker while avoiding the others.

“The other three came in from the other side,” he said. “And they weren’t attacking me in formation anymore, but one plane at a time, taking turns. One after the other. Every once in a while they’d either make a mistake or do something really fantastic. And it turned out that a few of them were shot down.”

But not before taking the casualties on his plane. Williams considered ejecting, but concluded that if he did, he could not be saved in the winter. Instead, he returned to the ship with 263 bullet holes and a 37mm cannon blast that disrupted the aircraft’s handling.

He circled his damaged plane for 10 minutes while the crew cleared space on the landing deck, he said. He ordered to land, slowing down as much as he could, but heard the landing officer warn the captain, “Coming in hot.”

Williams’ superiors then swore him to secrecy, knowing that information about the fight with the Russian pilots could cause a much bigger conflict.

“Russia didn’t want to reveal it, and America didn’t want to reveal it,” Williams said. “We didn’t want World War III.”

For decades he kept the whole story hidden even from his wife. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, rumors began to circulate about the extraordinary air battle. A Russian newspaper then published the names of the dead Russian pilots, confirming that at least four of the seven did not return.

In 2002, the Korean War records were declassified and the story slowly became public. By then, Williams decided it was old news.

Nobody cares at this point, Williams thought. “It’s history, but at this point I never thought I’d get a medal.”

His friends didn’t want to let his story fade. Williams received a Silver Star in 1953 for hand-to-hand combat without mentioning the Russian pilots. Retired Admiral Don Shelton, retired Capt. Kent Ewing and others wanted it modernized.

“There were lots and lots of pushback from people who knew the mission was extremely important,” Kidrick said. “Seven (Russian) pilots took off that day and only one came back.”

Shelton spent the last decade of his life researching William’s aerial battle and lobbying for his recognition, according to American Legion. He and others urged Navy leadership to award Williams the Navy Cross, the branch’s second-highest honor. For years, officials denied their requests.

Ewing faced three different military boards that reviewed the request. They asked for new information on the case from more than half a century ago.

“We went to the National Archives, we went to March Air Force Base, we went on a wild goose chase looking for gun cam footage” of the battle, Ewing said. “It might have been in someone’s attic, but we never found it.”

Ewing finally turned to former Navy Secretary Carlos del Toro, who visited Williams at his home in the San Diego area and made the decision himself.

“He called me and said it’s a no-brainer, we’re going to award him the Navy Cross,” Ewing said.

In 2023, more than 70 years after the historic match, Williams received the award Navy Cross during a ceremony at the San Diego Air and Space Museum. But his high-ranking friends were not satisfied. They wanted him to receive the nation’s highest honor.

Last year, Representative Darrell Issa, R-San Diego, introduced legislation in the National Defense Authorization Act of 2026 to allow Williams to receive Medal of Honor.

“Royce Williams of Escondido is 100 years young, a Top Gun pilot like no other, and an all-time American hero,” Issa said in a statement. “His story is a story for the ages and now has its rightful chapter as Royce receives the Medal of Honor.”

Williams flew to Washington for the State of the Union address in February. Members of Congress and their guest rose in thunderous applause as the First Lady placed the medal around his neck.

“He was a legend long before tonight,” Trump praised.

Before leaving, Williams paid tribute to his friend and champion, the late Admiral Shelton, who died at the age of 100 in 2021, shortly before his campaign to award Williams the Medal of Honor came to fruition.

“I went to his grave in Arlington (National Cemetery) with gratitude in my heart,” Williams said.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and is republished under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-No Derivatives license.