Today, 67 years after Capt. William Chow King – a Chinese American from Locke – rescued his flight commander in China from a swarm of eight Japanese fighter planes, the Taiwanese government will give his widow Ruby Chann two long-overdue medals.

One of the elite Flying Tigers – an all-volunteer force of U.S. flyers battling the Japanese – the easygoing King died Jan. 1, 2002 at 86, planning to take his war secrets with him.

But his nephew Gene O. Chan, a retired Aerojet rocket engineer, spent nine years studying dozens of King's letters written on rice paper, photos and flight logs. Chan discovered that his uncle had earned 13 medals, including the Distinguished Flying Cross from what was then called the United States Army Air Forces, and a Unit Citation from President Harry Truman.

"He was my idol, the bravest person I know," said Chan, 79, who was 7 when he saw King leave Locke in 1939 for the Chinese air force academy in Kunming, China. "He had 109 missions in a little over a year, and one air kill."

On Aug. 4, 1944, after King's plane was hit by enemy fire, he crashed it in a rice field, crossed a river and hiked four days back to base, said Chan.

The Flying Tigers, who flew P-40s with noses painted like the mouths of tiger sharks, shot down 300 Japanese Zeroes and are credited with having a key role in preventing the Japanese from conquering China.

This morning, at the home King built in Lodi, a four-star Taiwanese general will present King's 83-year-old widow with the Order of the War of Resistance Victory "for service during the Sino-Japanese war of 1937-1945" and the Order of Chiang Kai-shek "for outstanding contributions to the development of the nation and culture."

The United States didn't enter World War II until after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941.

But King and others couldn't wait to sign up for war duty after the Dec. 13, 1937 "Rape of Nanking," where the Japanese Imperial Army raped and killed tens of thousands of Chinese.

King was the second boy born in the town of Locke, a Chinese community that passionately supported a democratic China.

"His grandfather Chao Kee came over in 1855 when he was 16 and learned English from the gold miners, who renamed him Jim King," Chan said. "Jim King worked as a contractor hiring Chinese to build the transcontinental railroad, then served as a foreman hiring Chinese to build the delta's levees at 14 cents a cubic yard."

Like other Chinese American kids, William King attended the Asian elementary school in Walnut Grove.

"He finished high school in Courtland, where he boxed and was an all-league end in football," Chan said.

King graduated from Sacramento City College with an aeronautics degree and learned how to fly at Solano County airport in 1938, Chan said.

King flew for the Chinese air force and then for retired U.S. Army captain Claire Lee Chennault, who transformed three squadrons of mercenaries into brilliant combat pilots known for fighting in pairs.

In August 1944, King and his commander, Col. Frank Rouse, left for an early morning bombing mission over Hunan, China, and were intercepted by eight Japanese Zeroes, according to U.S. Army Air Forces Capt. James R. McCutchan.

"Bill, seeing the enemy first made a pass on an entire (Japanese) formation and broke it up, enabling the colonel to make good his escape," McCutchan said in his August 1945 letter to King's mom. "Bill shot down one Zero on his first pass and fled south."

With the Zeroes in pursuit, King was forced to land in a field south of Shengyang. He set fire to his plane and hiked four days behind enemy lines, living off sweet potatoes, Chan said.

King came back to Locke in 1947 with two samurai swords given to him by a general he escorted after the Japanese surrender in Nanking.

He met his wife, Ruby Chann, working in the Yuen Chong general store in Locke. "My cousin bet me $1 I wouldn't go out with him, so I did," she said with a smile. "He's one of those guys you meet and right away you like him."

King managed a girl's basketball team and worked as an inspector for General Mills in Lodi for 28 years. "He turned down a job at Aerojet because he didn't want to wear a suit and tie to work," Chann said.

King taught their sons Terry, Randy and Marty how to swim and play tennis and basketball, she said. "He told them, 'I don't want you to play with guns, that's a no-no – that's why people get killed.' He was the type that didn't like to talk about the war because he'd seen so much."

She said she misses his cooking – turkey, chicken and freshly caught stripers – and his can-do spirit. "He's such an all-around man," she said. "He was so good with the kids and me, whatever he talks about we try to take it to heart. He said there's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it."

Chann thinks the medals are long overdue, but it wouldn't have made any difference to her husband. "To him, it was the natural thing to do to save those people," she said.

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Call The Bee's Stephen Magagnini, (916) 321-1072. Bee researcher Pete Basofin contributed to this report.

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