The Kid Who Enlisted Before the Ink Dried

They called him Rapid Robert, the Heater from Van Meter, this lanky Iowa farm boy who could throw a baseball so hard it hummed like a bee past the batter's ear. But on December 9, 1941—two days after Pearl Harbor exploded into the headlines—Bob Feller became the first big-leaguer to enlist, trading the roar of stadiums for the thunder of guns because, as he put it, patriotism wasn't a sometimes thing.

He was 23, coming off a season where he'd won 25 games, struck out 260, and led the majors in just about everything worth leading. He had a deferment—his father was ill back home—but he signed up anyway, Chief Petty Officer on the battleship USS Alabama, captaining a 40mm anti-aircraft gun crew through the Gilbert and Marshall Islands campaigns, the Philippine Sea, eight battle stars earned while the ship dodged kamikazes and shelled shore positions.

He missed nearly four full seasons—prime years that might have pushed him past 350 wins, maybe 3,500 strikeouts—but he never complained. "Baseball is only a game," he said later. "The real heroes didn't come home."

He came out of the service in August 1945 and two days later was back on the mound, throwing a no-hitter in his first start after 1,428 days away—12 strikeouts against the Tigers, picking up like he'd never left.

The kid had burst on the scene in 1936 at 17, straight from the cornfields, no minor leagues, striking out eight of the first nine Cardinals he faced in an exhibition and fanning 15 Browns in his first start. By 1940 he threw the only Opening Day no-hitter in history—April 16 against the White Sox, a 1-0 gem on a raw Chicago afternoon with his folks in the stands.

He'd throw two more no-nos, 12 one-hitters, lead the league in wins six times, strikeouts seven, innings six. Lifetime: 266-162, 2,581 Ks, a 3.25 ERA over 18 years, all with Cleveland. Eight-time All-Star, pitched in the '48 Series when the Indians won it all.

Feller was prickly sometimes, barnstormed like a businessman, spoke his mind on everything from integration (he was for it early) to contracts. But his service was unquestioned, his pride in it fierce. He founded the Bob Feller Act of Valor Award to honor players and veterans who embody citizenship and sacrifice.

He went into the Hall in 1962 on the first ballot, alongside Jackie Robinson, and lived to 92, throwing out first pitches and telling kids that duty came before dollars.

Not bad for a Van Meter hayseed who reared back and let 'em go—whether the target was home plate or the enemy fleet.