KOREA

THE FORGOTTEN WAR

 

 

Korea, the Land of the Morning Calm. But in the early morning hours of a sunny Sunday in June 1950, that calm was shattered by the crash of artillery shells and the clanking of tank tracks. All-out war had come to the slender peninsula jutting out from the Asian mainland just cast of China. Three years and one month later, the fighting would cease. But in those three years of war, as many US personnel would be killed in action as in the eleven years of war in Vietnam.

Korea has long been known as the most conquered nation on earth. From the Mongols of Kublai Khan to the Japanese at the turn of the century, Korea has almost never been Korean. The reason was simple, the Korean people were a peace-loving nation with no ambitions other than to be left alone, which they rarely were.

After the end of World War Two, Korea was 'temporarily' occupied by Allied forces - Soviet forces in the north, US in the south. Geographically and politically, Korea was divided along the 38th Parallel. The north was a rugged mountainous terrain, with heavy industry. The south, with its flat lands and rolling hills, was primarily agricultural in nature. The north, being occupied by Soviet forces after the war, had a totalitarian, communist government. While the south, being under the influence of American forces, was close to a democratic nation.

The Cold War had already begun, and confrontations between the Communists and the US had already made headlines. But cooler heads always prevailed and the world had averted war more than once since the end of World War Two. Both sides wanted to unify Korea, but under far different types of government. The Communists wanted to extend the Bamboo Curtain to the tip of the Korean peninsula; while the United Nations wanted to give Korea back to its people under its own government.

On 25 June 1950, the Cold War went 'hot' when North Korean forces equipped with Soviet tanks and trained by Soviet military men, sought to reunify Korea by force. The South Korean military, which was little more than a 'police force' equipped with small arms, was quickly overrun, and fell back in full retreat down the peninsula. The only American forces in Korea were advisors to the Korean military.

President Truman quickly organized an airlift to remove all American personnel not vital to the military mission. He ordered the Far East Air Forces into action, initially to cover the evacuation ports at Kimpo AB and Inchon Harbor, then went to the United Nations to seek help with Countering the attack. For some reason, the Soviets did not attend the Security Council meeting on Korea and President Truman's plea for UN assistance was unanimously accepted. A full UN military response was ordered.

But the nearest forces were the US occupational forces in Japan, which had been significantly reduced in the five years since the end of World War Two. Congress had been cutting back all the military budgets, leaving little money for the training and re-arming of stateside troops, much less those on occupational duty in Japan. Because of that, the first US forces were rushed to Korea piecemeal, with very little equipment, and nothing to stop the North, Korean juggernaut led by Soviet T-34 tanks.

Little by little, and day after day, the small Amen . can forces were being chopped up along the roads in South Korea. American air power from land bases in Japan and aircraft carriers in the Yellow Sea, swept the skies clear over the entire peninsula. But the American ground forces kept falling back until they were surrounded in a small comer of southeastern Korea. But it was here that the Americans and South Koreans held their ground.

With the UN forces holding on by their teeth inside the Pusari Perimeter, General Douglas MacArthur called for a brilliant, but very bold and dangerous, invasion at Inchon. Within days, the South Korean capital of Seoul was recaptured and North Korean forces that had been on the offensive for three months, were in full retreat. It was now time to unify Korea under the UN flag.

The invasion forces joined with the forces that had broken out of the Pusan Perimeter, and crossed the 38th Parallel heading north. Their destination was the Yalu River border between Korea and Manchuria. The North Korean forces fell back in full re treat. By late October 1950, the North Korean capital of Pyongyang was in UN control. Some US Amy troops were already looking across the Yalu at Manpojin. Then suddenly, everything went south.

Throughout early October, UN troops had been encountering some strange soldiers in the much north. They were dressed differently, were armed differently, and spoke a strange dialect. These soldiers were Chinese, Red Chinese. Red China had been warning that they would enter the war in Korea if UN forces attempted to occupy North Korea. The threat became a reality when bugles suddenly broke the calm of the cold Korean night, and hundreds of thousands of Red Chinese troops swarmed out of the hills and attacked the unsuspecting UN forces.

UN ground forces were quickly overwhelmed. Many went into a retreat that was chaotic to say the least. The First Marine Division was completely surrounded along the west side of the Chosin Reservoir, and had to fight their way to freedom some 40 miles away. But fight they did, bringing all their wounded and dead out with them. But the Red Chinese were advancing all along the front, retaking Pyongyang and Seoul before finally being slowed and stopped south of Suwon.

The air war had also taken a sudden change in course. 5th AF F-80 Shooting Stars had kept the skies clear of North Korean fighters and bombers from the first days of the war. In early November 1950, several 5th AF flights had encountered a new swept wing jet fighter in the skies over northwest Korea the Mig-15. The MiG-15 was some 75 mph faster than anything in the theater, and quickly took control of the skies. For the first time since early World War Two, US forces did not have air superiority over a battlefield!

But that would change in mid-December 1950 with the introduction of the F-86 Sabre into the conflict. With the Migs controlling the skies, the Defense Department ordered the 4th Fighter Interceptor Wing to take their F-86A Sabres to Korea and regain air superiority. The first mission was flown on the morn of 17 December 1950. No MiGs were encountered. But on the second mission, Lt Col Bruce Hinton shot down the first MiG-15 that would fall to the guns of 5th AF Sabres in Korea. Air superiority would never again be lost over Korea, although the Migs did make it interesting for the next 2 « years.

During that time, the ground war would move up and down central Korea along the 38th Parallel. By 1952, the ground war had stabilzed into a conflict that looked more like World War One than a modem, mechanized conflict such as had been seen just seven years earlier in Europe and the Pacific. Both sides settled into trenches and bunkers dug deep into the hillsides, exchanging artillery fire over the next year and a half. Each side would attempt to take a more advantageous hill across the valley. If successful, the other side would immediately launch a counter-attack to retake what they had just lost. As in World War One, this type of warfare was very costly in terms of lives lost. Even as the peace talks were ongoing at Kaesong and Panmunjom, the generals kept ordering the hills to be taken and retaken to have mother bargaining 'chit' at the peace table.

In the skies, it was a slaughter. Even with the advantage of being able to attack when they wanted from a safe haven across the Yalu, and being able to withdraw to safety whenever they wanted back across the Yalu, the Mig forces were decimated. It is now admitted by the Russians that Soviet Air Force pilots were flying against the Americans beginning in November 1950. Initially, the Soviet pilots were thrown into the fray to wrestle air superiority away from 5th AF. When they couldn't accomplish this on their own, they began training both Red Chinese and North Korean pilots how to fly and fight with the Mig-15.

By early 1953, they had trained enough Chinese and North Korean pilots that many of the Soviet pilots were withdrawn. But not before losing a great number of experienced pilots. By their own admission, the Soviets lost four Soviet-piloted MiGs to every F-86 shot down. Their archives also note that Chinese Migs went down at a ratio of almost 8-1. No figures have come out regarding North Korean MiG losses.

It has always been a them in the side of many non-American historians that the 5th. AF pilots were credited with a 10-1 kill ratio over the Mig-15s in Korea. But the real number is actually closer to the legendary '14-1' ratio reported by nth AF communique on 29 July 1953. That total was based on 820 Migs going down, as opposed to a loss of only 58 F 86 aircraft in air to air combat. 5th AF revised that count in late 1953 to 792 Migs shot down for a loss of 78 F-86 Sabres, revealing the 'official' ratio of 10-1. However, with Soviet archives material admissions of 4-1 in Soviet MiGs, and 8-1 in Chinese Migs, the legendary 14-1 ratio seems closer to the truth. Does it really matter? 14-1, 10-1, even the revisionist historian claims of 7-1 and 4-1; it was still a slaughter.

But on the ground, the battles for the hills took a tremendous toll in lives. Few in the media note that in the three years and one month of the Korean War, 54,246 US personnel were killed inaction. Over 100,000 South Korean and UN troops also were killed. Losses to the Red Chinese and North Korean armies are estimated to be over three million men And that doesn't count a single civilian casualty, o which there were millions.

And the result? Korea today is basically the same as it was in June 1950, roughly divided along the 38th Parallel, with a communist North and a democratic South. The trenches am still there and still filled with troops, including thousands of Americans. Each side takes turns probing the others defenses just to see if they can. Every US President since Harry Truman has attempted to moderate a peace of some type for the Korean peninsula. All have failed. And on both sides of the barbed wire that criss-crosses the DMZ, men watch the other side through binoculars, with one finger on a trigger, Only today, that trigger is a nuclear one. Let us pray that no one gets an itch.


HOT PURSUIT

by Paul Kattu

 

 

This is a story about killing MiGs on 'the other side of the river'. The motivation to cross the Yalu looking for a fight wasn't to keep the MiGs from "being there the next day". It was simply to put another 'W' in the win column - a victory. Fighter pilots somehow are able to divest themselves of the horror of war, becoming totally immersed in achieving credibility through their skills with an airplane. There is no thought of taking an enemy pilot's life. If you shoot him down. once, let him rise to challenge you again. Chances are you will win again. The exact same rationale is offered concern any so-called threat of the Migs being there the next day. Let them be there, the more the merrier. So some of the guys flew across the river in 'hot pursuit'. Maybe, and maybe not! Either way, they were playing out the role of a well trained, very aggressive fighter pilot. Even me.


There are Two Chinese airfields on 'the other side' of the Yalu River. The airspace above them was, of course, off limits during the Korean War. In 'hot pursuit" many Sabres strayed across this line of demarcation. I was involved in one such incident. My first encounter with the MiGs was within a few miles of Sinuiju. They had just taken off, turned south across the Suiho Reservoir, punched off their tanks, and begun their climb to altitude. We hit them from out of the sun, catching them completely by surprise. My claim for a kill was downgraded because the film showed inconclusive results, and the other members of the flight were also unable to add confirmation. That was mission number one -almost across the river, but not quite. A long time later, in the same locale, another engagement took place.

7 September 1952, towards the end of my tour, I was leading Tiger Flight, Bill Powers was #3, the element leader. Two younger pilots were flying wing. We were in a fluid four formation at about 40,000 feet, swinging westward on what would have been our last look at Antung and Sumiju before returning to K-13, Suwon By The Sea. My #4 had already called 'Bingo', signifying that his tanks had about 700 lbs left, enough to fly the return route of 250 miles and still have a couple hundred pounds left for the traffic pattern. Fully intending to RTB, I scanned the airfield across the Yalu one last time.

From the east, six MiG-15s flying in trail formation were approaching Among at about 1500 feet I called, "Tiger 2 & 4, head on back: Bill, follow me." We chopped the throttles to idle and rapidly descended toward the airfield. My tactics became evident as I watched the MiGs approach the pitch. They were of varied paint schemes, as though they had been on an operational test and evaluation of the different colors. The MiG leader was bright polished aluminum, #2 was camouflaged like a lizard, #3 was robin's egg blue. #4 and 5 were olive green, while #6 was a dark forest green. MiG #6 seemed like a good choice. He not only was the easiest to keep in sight - dark green against the light brown hue of the rice fields - but he would be the last to pitch out. As an element, we closed within firing range just as #6 lowered his gear and began turning for final. I opened fire and continued to close to point blank range, with an overtake of probably a couple hundred knots. MiG #6 went out of control just as Bill called ' "Break right!", and at the same instant I heard, then saw the 37mm cannon of mother MiG pounding at my 6 o'clock! Porn! Pom! form! His range was no more than 30 feet. But somehow the guy missed me clean. I broke hard, narrowly missing the lizard (#2 MiG) as he touched down, then I flew but a scant few feet over the top of the silver leader.

Across the taxiway and down the ramp toward a revetment complex full of MiGs I roared, looking almost level into the eyes of a ground crewman who was riding a tug towing a MiG minus its aft section. "You OK, Bill?", I asked. "Roger that, 'cept low on fuel." "Me too. Let's get out of here." "Rog."

Bill and I had become separated during the excitement and had to proceed home singly. To have attempted a rendezvous in that hostile airspace was out of the question not to mention the need to conserve every last drop of JP-4 for the landing. Bill put down at K-14 on fumes.

As I accelerated across the rice paddies on the west side of Antung, heading for the sanctuary of the Yellow Sea, two MiGs rolled in from a perch position as though to initiate a pursuit curve. When they made their reversal, bringing them into lethal range, the MiG leader suddenly (and unexpectedly to me) broke off their attack, They chandelled back toward the MiG field, probably also low on fuel.

My fuel tank registered something over 200 pounds, maybe closer to 300. I was on the deck doing about 450 knots, and approaching the mud flats at the Yalu River estuary. A bailout over water seemed imminent, especially if I was attacked by more MiGs. My throttle was cobbed as I turned south along the coast, and "Gloria Beth" (the name of my F-86) clawed for altitude. No tanks, no arnmo, not much gas left. Only a 150 pound jock with a parachute, helmet, .45 automatic and a hunting knife - hardly more than 'Gloria Betb's' gross weight EMPTY!

Cold air, a favorable wind, and a humming J47 took us to over 20,000 feet as we passed Cheju-Do. The fuel gauge registered empty. I stop-cocked the throttle, decelerated to 180 knots, and began a descent, hoping to glide across the DMZ, then eject into friendly hands. The clean and very light Sabre did more than that. She coasted to K-14 at 8,000 feet, more than enough to continue on to my home plate at K-13.

At 1000 feet and about a mile out, I airstarted the engine, which provided both warm air to clear the fogged up windscreen, and a solid 3000 psi to power the flight controls. Cleared by the tower for an emergency, straight in landing, I lowered the gear and flaps and touched down. On the roll-out, the engine began surging and I shut it down. Ground crews towed "Gloria Beth" and me back to the 16th Squadron revetment area.

The MiG kill was confirmed by sightings from other pilots who reported a crashed MiG just short of the east end of the Antungmain runway, It was obvious to me, that I too would have bought the farm in the same spot had it not been for Bill's timely call to "Break right". We therefore, shared the victory. I got the MIG, but Bill earned his share by saving my life.


THREE'S COMPANY

The Last Checklist Item

By Red Face' Broussard

 

 

This is not exactly a flying story, but it is about F-86 pilots. It is about an incident which some might consider distasteful. For their sake, the author has endeavored to relate it in language appropriate to this august publication. If by chance the reader finds the story inappropriate, and would like to lodge a complaint, please be advised that the author's name, Red Face Broussard, is a "nom de plume", but a fitting one for a Cajun boy from a little town in South Louisiana whose ancestors were really named Broussard.
K-13 Air Base, Suwon, Korea, Spring 1951: It does not take an experienced fighter pilot to understand the importance of not suffering gastrointestinal pains or full bladder agony while piloting a single seat fighter on a combat mission. In case the latter occurs, there is always a recourse to the "relief tube", but using this instrument while in a fight is, for all practical purposes, impossible. But for the former, which is always exacerbated by the lowered air pressure of high altitude flying, there is no clean cut option.

In the Air Force of 1999, aircrews are provided high protein, "low residue" meals prior to a mission. But in Korea of 1951, the standard menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner consisted of Spam, reconstituted powdered potatoes, powdered eggs, powdered milk, and possibly a canned entree from a K-ration. Gastrointestinal distress was predictable following such a repast. For this reason, one of the last items on a fighter pilot's personal checklist before a mission was a visit to a "facility" (a.k.a., latrine, head, outhouse, chicksales, privy, etc.).

Being a child of the depression, and having spent several years living in a house with no modern plumbing, I was no stranger to such a facility. My memories of cold winters and hot summers in south Louisiana always included trips to the facility. By 1951, the state of the art in facility design and construction had not advanced one iota as far as I could tell when I viewed the facility near our squadron tent area at K-13. It was a three hole design within a small wooden structure. (Since the term "hole" may upset some readers, I shall henceforth use the term "position" as a synonym.) The facility was always smelly (to the extreme), dark, hot in summer, cold in winter, and inhabited by hundreds of flies. Yet there was no alternative when one sought relief.

I should add at this time that whoever designed the flying suit never conducted field tests in a facility. To this day, the fundamental problem is that there is no "trap door" such as is found in many styles of "long john" underwear. The result is that in order to use the facility, the wearer must virtually disrobe, and secure the flying suit somewhere around his knees to prevent it from contacting the filthy floor. Not an easy task at any time, but made significantly more difficult just before a mission, when the pockets of the flying suit are loaded with a wide variety of emergency items, such as spare ammunition, matches, knife, flashlight, rations, survival radio, etc.. (This was before the invention of the survival vest.)

So it was that I found myself, a second lieutenant with a handful of missions and a greasy breakfast under my belt, and with a few minutes between the end of the briefing and "start engines" time for an F-86 mission to the Yalu River. Time for the last item on my personal checklist. An onerous job, but essential to my comfort on the mission I was about to fly.

As I approached the facility, I could detect the unmistakable odor, and dreaded the gymnastics I was about to perform. Opening the door, I peered into the darkness, and the light from the open door revealed two pilots with their flying suits secured around their knees, also accomplishing the last checklist item. One of them occupied position number 1, and the other had position number 3. I recognized them immediately. Number 1 was the group commander, a full colonel with 24 kills in World War II (he would get 2 more in Korea), and number 3 was the deputy group commander, a lieutenant colonel with 18.5 kills in WWII, 2 in Korea. I was in awe of these two gentlemen, who I now observed under rather indelicate circumstances, and I considered whether or not I should salute them. Thinking it would be presumptuous of me to occupy position number 2 while they were on either side of me, I began to close the door and back away, saying, "Oh, excuse me!" They shouted, "Come on in here, you don't have much time before start engines." So I did. And I suddenly found myself with no feeling of urgency (if you catch my drift), but I took my place in position 2. In short order, the two aces completed their checklist and departed. My urgency returned, and I, too finished my checklist.

It was about as close to these two famous men as I ever got, and years later when the colonel was wearing four stars and had become the USAF Vice Chief of Staff, I sometimes recalled the accommodations we had once shared. It was a rite of passage, I guess, and I never again had a problem with the last checklist item.

 

(Editor's note: In reality, Red Face Broussard is our associate editor, Lon Walter - a genuine Cajun. Sorry, no photos available.)


THE ENGAGEMENT

by Reg Adams

 

It was a beautiful flying day in Korea with unlimited visibility as the 39th Squadron launched a full blown Yalu Sweep in June 1953. No less than forty-eight Sabres from the 16th, 25th, and 39th Squadrons were lined up on the runway at K-13 (Suwon) in central South Korea. The air to ground boys across the field (the 8th FBW) were scheduled to launch soon afterward.

Leading my flight was Colonel (later General) George "Shakey" Ruddell, 39th Fighter Squadron commander. I was flying number 4 as wing man to Lt. Wade "Killer" Kilbride- We were 'Cobra Flight', which coincidently was also the emblem of the 39th Squadron. Flying with the squadron commander was not exactly every pilot's dream, because he was always the most demanding. We also suspected that the engine in his F-86 was a little 'souped up' so to speak. The only setting that Col. Ruddell knew on the throttle was full forward from takeoff to landing

Our mission was to intercept any MiGs attempting to cross the Yalu River and attack the F-84 and F-86F fighter bombers that were working targets in North Korea. Soon after arriving at our patrol station on the Yalu River, we spotted six MiGs in formation attempting to slip into North Korea at low altitude. Col. Ruddell immediately began a dive which put us right on top of and directly behind the MiG formation, i.e. the perfect 'bounce' from 6 o'clock high.

The Colonel and his wing man took on the MiG leader. Kilbride set his sights on the leader of the second element. The other two MiGs broke their formation and disappeared for the moment. Though we lost sight of Ruddell, he eventually shot down the MiG that he had engaged. He was already an ace and this was his eighth victory of the war.

Kilbride, my leader, engaged his Mig in a tight turn, firing continuously and scoring numerous hits on the Russian fighter. I attempted to stay on his wing, protecting his tail and watching the MiG Wade had staked out. Thank God for the 'G' suit, because I was holding a constant '4 Gs' trying to stay with Wade and the MiG in the turns. In the course of all this action, the enemy wingman appeared on my left side attempting to get into a firing position on Kilbride. As the MIG pulled up on my left, I held my 'G' forces until I felt that it was time for me to do something to prevent his firing on Wade.

I relaxed just enough stick pressure to put me in position to fire. My .50 caliber tracers laced through the canopy of the MiG, which immediately did a lazy roll and beaded for the ground. In spite of my gun camera film confirming this part of the action, I didn't see any type of explosion. I suspect that my bullets may have killed the MiG pilot, as my tracers penetrated the fuselage where the MiG had very little armor protection.

However, the intelligence people would not confirm the victory. Many times I have wondered if I should have broken off and followed that MiG down to get the confirmation. But, needless to say, as a wing man I was commited to staying with my leader and protecting his tail. Shortly thereafter, Kilbride 'fired out' (expended all his ammunition) and called on me to continue the engagement with 'his' MiG. I pulled in behind the MiG Wade had been firing on. The MiG pilot, thinking the engagement was over, rolled out straight and level, turned north and headed for the Yalu and safety.

I very deliberately pulled in right behind the MiG, put my pipper on his tailpipe, and almost Counted a kill. Suddenly I noticed what appeared to be flaming ping pong balls floating past my Sabre. Cannon shells! Really big 37min cannon shells! I heard a frantic call from Wade, "Cobra 4, break right NOW!" I had no choice but to break off from a certain victory and head for home.

Later Wade and I determined that the two MiGs we thought had abandoned the fray after our initial bounce, had decided to come back and help their comrades. We also figured they had received a bit of 'encouragement' from the MiG that Wade and I were firing on, i.e. Chinese for "Get these guys off my tail!" My hard right break saved my life as the MiGs didn't give chase, which allowed us to return to Suwon safely. There were a lot of hairy Stories floating around the bar that night because we, the 51st group, had several confirmed kills that day. Kilbride bought me a drink!


TSUIKI BY THE SEA

by Howard Weston

 

 

Most of us finished our 100 mission tour and departed for some stateside assignment. When I found myself being sent to the 51st M&S; Group (Maintenance & Supply) located at Tsuiki, Japan, I thought I was being discriminated against. Little did I know that it would be the best non-combat duty for a single, 25 year old 1st Balloon. I knew thing, were looking up when a 'boy-san' named junior met my flight and carried my chute back to Ops - a duty he Performed conscientiously for the next five months.
The periodic as well as most of the major maintenance on all the F-86s in the Far East was done at Tsuiki. I believe there were only three of us to fly the test hops as the aircraft came out of the shop. One of those turned out to be a fellow '52B classmate, Ed Hepner. The 335th FIS where I had flown my combat tour, had only been equipped with F-86A and E model Sabres. Now I was flying the F model as well. These were aircraft that had been with the 335th Squadron, as well as several of the South African squadron planes (No. 2 Sq., SAAF), that I remember as being some of the newest and best of the aircraft in Korea. A recent review of my old form 5, shows that I was getting about twenty-five flights a month, including a ritual ferry flight to one of the Korean bases to qualify for that month's combat pay. (Some things never change in the boondoggle world!) Also, about once a month, there was a ferry flight to Tachikawa for some reason that I forget. So we went from permanent R&R; at Tsulki to TDY R&R; in Tokyo. As I recall, the test flights all lasted at least one hour. But as soon as it was obvious that everything was working correctly, you were pretty much on your own to do such rewarding exercises as 'bouncing' the F 84s from Itazuke.

Many of the readers undoubtably got to Tsulki on occasional ferry flights, either delivering or picking up aircraft. I am sum there am many who have fond memories of the local bistro appropriately named the "Sabre Dancer". in order to protect the 'innocent', I won't go into further detail regarding the Tsuki social scene. But suffice to say, I felt terrific pressure to entertain all the visiting 'firemen' in from Korea, with complete disregard for my own health and well being. It was a great life from March 195 3 to June 195 3. But then it was back to reality, which ended up to be Tyndall AFB, FL, to my dismay.


GETTING INTO COMBAT

(Stories I probably Shouldn't Tell)

by Dick Merian

 

As a college senior and an avid light plane pilot, I wanted some excitement before settling down to a civilian career. It was peacetime, and I was was tired of school, so I decided to join the Air Force and fly fighters - jet fighters.
I graduated from flying school at Williams AFB two days before the Korean War started. Originally slated for Japan, my orders were changed to the 4th Fighter Group at Langley AFB. With my thirty-five hours of jet experience in T-33s and F-80s, I became part of the 335th Fighter Squadron in July 1950. Shortly thereafter the squadron moved to Andrews AFB. Now it was up to our flight commanders to make fighter pilots out of us. The 4th Group was an interesting mixture of pilots with WW2 combat experience (including a number of aces), and youngsters like myself who were as green as green apples and knew nothing of fighter pilotage.

In October, on a routine takeoff, I lost all hydraulic power and the nose gear would not retract fully. After talking to our fellows on the ground, we concluded that I would have to land with the two main gear extended and the nose gear partially retracted. Not knowing what to expect, I braced for the crash after touchdown by putting my feet up on the instrument panel. To my amazement, the Sabre went gently onto her nose and gracefully slid to a stop. I was rushed off to the flight surgeon, and he took a look at me, gave me a couple of shots of booze, and sent me on my way.

In November 1950, the 4th Wing received orders (secret at the time) to K-26, Pyongyang, North Korea. Unfortunately, by the time we got to the Far East , the Chinese had pushed down to central Korea, and our destination was changed to Johnson All in Japan. I was fortunate to be airlifted to Japan, and celebrated Thanksgiving in Fairbanks, Alaska. The initial combat with the MiGs was flown around Christmas time from K-14 by the older heads with combat experience, while the rest of us remained at Johnson. There, our flight leaders continued to train us, mostly concentrating in how well we protected there 6 o'clock during mock combat. Unfortunately, none of us greenhorns had ever fired a gun! This was remedied by loading one gun, one time, and permitting us to make two passes on a sleeve (ammunition was needed for the war). Needless to say, I didn't score on the sleeve.

Johnson AB was loaded with fighter units recently pulled out of Korea as the Chinese advanced. As a consequence there were some wild parties in the O-Club with guys letting off stem. I recall South Africans who were gifted as 'wall walkers', i.e. with enough to drink one would run at a wall and demonstrate how far up and across he could run. The championship was conceded to the guy who walked across the top of the fireplace. Following one such party, after returning to the BOQ, a small earthquake shook us up quite a bit. Lon Walter came streaming out of his room in his under shorts with his .45 strapped on and shouting, "The Chnese are coming, the Chinese are coming"

Billy Hovde was our squadron commander. Unfortunately, he was involved in a buzzing incident over the golf course while the base commander happened to be playing. Billy went to the maintenance group, and Ben Emmert became our squadron commander.

Thus prepared, we went to war. Part of the squadron was sent to K-2 (Taegu) to fly air to ground missions to stem the Chinese advance. The front lines at that time were between Seoul and Taegu. We were armed with two five inch rockets and our six .50 caliber machine guns. My ignorance of how to fire the rockets was complete. I asked Capt. Ernie Mack, our armament officer, two questions; How do I arm and fire the rockets? And, How does one aim them? Ernie was very helpful.

The first time I ever fired all six guns was in combat. It was awesome! I was really impressed with the power of those guns and the racket they made in the cockpit. On one mission, flying with J.0. Roberts, he spotted some gun emplacements at the end of a bridge. We strafed the area, and I tried to aim where J.0. had fired. After the mission debriefing, I told J.0. that I hadn't seen the guns he said were down there. His response was, "Dick, look back over your shoulder when you pull off the target. That's when they shoot at you!" On the next mission, I did just that, and was absolutely amazed that so many guns were all shooting at me.

As I taxied in after another mission, my crew chief started jumping up and down to tell me to shut down. A hydraulic line was leaking and had blackened the aft fuselage. That was the only real problem I had on any combat mission - a real tribute to my crew chief, who's name was Gus Miller. A recalled reservist, he had owned a restaurant in Poughkeepsie, NY, and candidly told me he knew nothing about taking care of an F-86. Gus turn out to be a real jewel. What he lacked in experience he made up for with dedication. After the first, uncertain weeks, my airplane was maintained as well or better than any of the others. Gus liked scotch, so I made sure he always had an ample supply.

End of Part One.


RETROSPECT

Korea Today

by Harvey Brown

 

A few years ago, my son and I went to Korea for a visit. The trip took a week. One of the interesting things we did was to take a very wild taxi trip from Seoul to Osan and visit my old base at Osan. The whole area was hardly recognizable. Suwon looked like a rice paddy again, from all appearances. However, it wait hard to really tell as we barely slowed do", much less stopped, going through Suwon at Mach I on a two lane road. The old K-13 is a Korean Air Force base.

Osan wasn't much better. But the strip at K-55 was a real eye opener. The ONLY thing I recognized was the beautiful 11,000 foot strip to which I came home sixty-three times between March and November 1953. All else was like a scene out of some real estate development.

Building construction, crude at best in 1953, now included Pizza Huts, MacDonalds, shopping centers, permanent Air Force structures, hangars, etc. 'The squadron' diamonds' were recognizable. But there were hangars built on them now. ALL of our beloved(?) tin huts and other tin buildings were gone. It was difficult to orient myself due to the new construction.

K-55 is now an Air Force "town" of over 7000 souls - Osan Air Base. They live very much like they would on a base in the states, except that they know they're in Korea. Get this!! None of the Air Force personnel with whom we spoke, had any idea that the base was once known as K-55!!!! We spent some time with the base Public Affairs Officer, and even he didn't know about K-55.

Initially, we were denied access to the base. But after a lot of time cultivating (BSing is closer to the truth) the heavily armed gate guards, they agreed to allow us to drive around with the PAO, who finally came to the gate to get us. They even let the Korean taxi driver go onto the base with us. Needless to say, he was in Hog Heaven, or whatever the Koreans call it. I think he enjoyed the ride even more than we did. We visited the Ops of one of the fighter squadrons, and shot the bull with some of the F-16, U-2 and A-10 pilots them. I felt like Eddie Rickenbacker describing the olden days at K-55, flying combat with the 18th Fighter Bomber Group, with the 67th Squadron leading the way and the 2nd South African bunch. Now that was a real wild gang!

These guys today have no concept of the air war that we waged in the early 50s. But the base historian (a very nice gal) was intrigued and said they would launch an effort to learn more about the Korean War days, and make it available on the base as part of the Osan 'heritage'.

By the way, the lineup of aircraft at Osan was F-16s, A10s, U-2s that were based there; with C-130, KC-135, and other types in and out on the transient ramp. We were told that this was THE Air Force fighter base in South Korea now. The gate guard aircraft is a copy of Joe McConnell's F-86F, "Beautious Butch". It will probably be changed once the history of 18th is known, possibly to Jim Flagerstrom's 67th FBS F-86F, #FU-????. Jim was the 28th ace in the Korean War. OK you l8th Group guys, what was the tail number on Hagerstrom's airplane?

We got a super 'cooks tour' of K-55 from the PAO. He hauled us all over and even to places which were probably restricted. But we didn't see anything that we couldn't have seen from off-base with a good set of binocs. The far side of the runway, the north side, was a regular lineup of AA installations. And I'm sure we only saw a very small part of what's out there.

I really had strong feelings as we motored by the approach ends of that long East-West strip. It sure as hell looked familiar. And for just a fleeting moment, I was 'back them' at 100 kts. touching down, letting go a little and opening the canopy for a blast of sea level (and safe) air. I really felt that I could kick the tires, hop in, and with a very few minutes of cockpit time, fire up old FU-350 and spend forty minutes honing it around. Maximum 2 1/2 Gs of course! I suppose all of us feel that way, don't we? I'll have to admit that twenty-four years flying a Navion kind of keeps me primed.

My last recollection of Seoul in 1953, was pretty bleak. The three bridges over the Han River were bombed and down in the river. Now there are nineteen (count 'em) bridges over the Han. And that's still not enough for the twelve MILLION souls that live there. We had lunch on the 63rd floor of an insurance building on the Han one day.

One of the days that we were there was the Korean Thanksgiving. Every one in the country was in the process of either going to, or returning from their ancesural home. What a mess that was. A very good day to be walking and not driving.

Since this was a 'Veterans Return' trip, we were feted by the ROK government, and given a Korean medal and other goodies as a 'Thank You' for whatever we did. Even the US Amy PR people gave us a big welcome. It was the first time anyone at all had ever given me any kind of 'thank you' for my Korean War service. Anyway, that's what we did during a week in Korea. Like all travels, it seems to get better in restrospect.