Lincoln Piazzo was born in December 1918 in Reno, Nevada. His father was an immigrant, working in the transportation of goods who died in a highway accident in 1928, leaving a wife and five children. Because of his mother's lessons on thrift, Piazzo had 220 dollars on deposit at the local bank when he was 11 years old. The family ran a store and at the start of the Great Depression it was his mother who told him about the stock market crash and the failure of the banks. Disbelieving, he ran to the bank and found it closed; Piazzo said it was the "saddest day of his life." Over the ensuing years, however, the owner of the bank paid everybody off, and even gave Piazzo one of his favorite hunting dogs. Piazzo was on a ski trip with friends when he learned of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor [Annotator's Note: Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on 7 December 1941]. Soon afterward he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He was old enough to join and he knew he was going to be drafted if he didn't enlist, and he thought he should defend his country. Piazzo pointed out that some of his friends "dodged" the draft, but his family had visited Italy when it was under the control of Mussolini [Annotator's Note: fascist Italian dictator Benito Mussolini], and he understood that Americans enjoyed a great way of life and it was worth protecting. He chose the Air Corps because he knew it to be the "best branch," even though he had been in an airplane only once. Piazzo went through pre-flight training at Santa Anna, California, and was classified as a "bombardier." Against advice, he requested a change to "pilot," and by appealing to his superior's love of model airplanes, and lying about his hours in flight, Piazzo accomplished his preferred designation. The major warned Piazzo, "Don't let me down," and Piazzo said his record shows that he didn't.

Air Corps training for Lincoln Piazzo consisted of primary, basic and advanced programs, and was conducted in three different types of airplane. In primary training he had a tough civilian instructor and flew a Stearman [Annotator's Note: Boeing-Stearman Model 75 Kaydet primary trainer aircraft]. Piazzo remembers flying a bigger, British airplane during basic flight training, and that he had military instructors for that and for advanced training. Piazzo had not been to college and said the better educated guys had an advantage. At one point, he exaggerated a case of athlete's foot to delay his examination and extend his studies. In spite of this disadvantage, he said he was the best pilot in his squadron. Piazzo also joked about how he fudged on the eye exams to get through the tests. He was commissioned in Stockton, California, and recalled that both he and his mother got a pair of wings when he graduated. He was trained on B-25s [Annotator's Note: North American B-25 Mitchell medium bomber] and loved the plane. Then, his commanding officer declared their focus would change to A-20s [Annotator's note: Douglas A-20 Havoc medium bomber] and Piazzo was sent to Will Rogers Field in Oklahoma. He related the story of how he got back to training on B-25s in Greenville, South Carolina, and described the differences in the two aircraft. Piazzo believed the B-25 was far superior, and although he "lost" five of them in combat, he was able to get them home without his crew ever suffering a scratch. He asserts that would not have been true if he had been flying an A-20.

When Lincoln Piazzo deployed for overseas service, he was flown from San Francisco, California to New Guinea without any advance notice. Thankfully, the land was bountiful, because there was a shortage of Army food supplies; Piazzo learned that supplies were being stolen by someone further up the supply line—one of the "thousand crazy things you run into in the service." Piazzo lived in a tent with a dirt floor and slept on an Army bunk covered by a mosquito net that kept out malaria-bearing mosquitoes, but also entangled the big rats that were prevalent in the area. He said he was ready to go to the combat zone, and was initially ferrying B-25s [Annotator's Note: North American B-25 Mitchell medium bomber] to Australia. On one of those trips, he broke regulations, test flying an A-20 [Annotator's Note: Douglas A-20 Havoc medium bomber], and got assigned to the "suicide squadron," nicknamed that because it was wiped out twice, the 17th Reconnaissance Squadron, 71st Reconnaissance Group.

Once assigned to the 17th Reconnaissance Squadron [Annotator's Note: 17th Reconnaissance Squadron, 71st Reconnaissance Group], Lincoln Piazzo said he never knew until the day of action what his mission would be. He was on duty every other day, and on his day to fly, he got up early, prepared for the day, and consulted a chalkboard that outlined the crew and mission. The group commander often flew along with Piazzo while he was fulfilling his 67 missions. In the Pacific Theater of Operations, a pilot had to fly 300 combat hours before rotating back to the United States. Five or six of his missions were "direct theater orders" that came from General MacArthur [Annotator's Note: General of the Army Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander, Southwest Pacific Area], which meant jumping into a plane on last minute notice, and getting instructions at the wheel. Piazzo told the story of such a mission when four of the five planes in the squadron were lost and his plane was badly crippled before returning to base. He credits "the Good Lord" for saving him on that and many other missions. Piazzo said he was never frightened, because he knew he was going to get killed, and it was useless to be afraid. By the time he reached 300 combat hours, Piazzo had attained the rank of captain.

Lincoln Piazzo was recommended for the Medal of Honor for a mission over the most highly fortified area of the Pacific. Piazzo credits his extensive training for a 90 percent kill rating and he recalled when his plane was part of a squadron flying on a direct theater order from General MacArthur [Annotator's Note: General of the Army Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander, Southwest Pacific Area] to hit an alcohol plant at Formosa. On ordinary missions pilots were strictly instructed to avoid the vicinity because of its volatility. When his squadron [Annotator's Note: 17th Reconnaissance Squadron, 71st Reconnaissance Group] reached the area of the plant, Piazzo lost his wingmen, but individually destroyed the plant's barracks and 17 of the enemy's aircraft on the adjacent airstrip. Flying on instruments, he narrowly missed hitting a mountain range by executing a 180 degree turn, and, coming into the target from the east, strafed the huge alcohol tank, creating a massive explosion and drawing dense flak [Annotator's Note: antiaircraft artillery fire]. While getting away from the scene, he strafed a munitions train, knocking out the engine and a couple of train cars, then headed home. The flight film of the incident seemed unbelievable, even to Piazzo. At the time of this interview, Piazzo had not yet had word on whether he will receive the decoration. He belongs to the Rotary Club, and awarded a quarter of a million dollars to Rotary International for finding the answer to his question of why his aircraft didn't hit the mountain range he so nearly missed on that mission.

According to Lincoln Piazzo, the J model of the B-25 [Annotator's Note: North American B-25 Mitchell medium bomber] that he was flying in the Pacific was a tremendous aircraft. On five different occasions while flying that model, he was "all shot up," or lost parts, or had engines blown out, and still got home. Once a plane had been relegated to what Piazzo called the "bone yard," it would be scavenged for spare parts. When one of Piazzo's planes had to be scrapped, he got another B-25 immediately. After the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the whole air group was called together and instructed not to fly over the bombsites. The next morning, Piazza took the photo lab technician and his two good cameras, and took "a lot of pictures"; many of which have shown up in magazines and elsewhere. Piazzo said he had dropped 1,000 pound bombs, but nothing he had seen before compared to the destruction he saw wrought by the "big bombs." When the war ended, Piazzo was sent to Tokyo, Japan to "open up" their occupation outfit. He was given a letter from General MacArthur [Annotator's Note: General of the Army Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander, Southwest Pacific Area] authorizing him to commandeer anything he needed to make him and his men comfortable. They went to a private club, and started taking things, all the while controlling the excited Japanese manager of the place with a pistol. Otherwise, Piazzo felt the people of Japan were terrific, and at one point he defended a Japanese serving boy being abused by a major. The colonel of the base complimented Piazzo on his war record, and named the flight tower after Piazzo's hometown: the Reno Tower.

On his way back home, Lincoln Piazzo was relieved to be leaving the scene of the war. He admitted that he was disappointed in those men who didn't perform to their best ability. Asked if he thought it important to have institutions like The National WWII Museum [Annotator's Note: in New Orleans, Louisiana], Piazzo said, "Oh, positively," people need to understand what the soldiers went through. He has recorded many of his own experiences in a book.