by Colin Downes
In the air glory lay with the fighter interceptor squadrons as these were the units in combat with the Mig-15s of the communist air forces. There was little or no opportunity to shoot down a Mig while flying fighter-bombers or tactical reconnaissance aircraft. It was the numbers game all over again. This resulted in intense competition between the two fighter interceptor groups, and for the ‘firing slots’ on the fighter sweeps in the ‘Mig Alley’ area along the border of North Korea and Manchuria, 200 nm from the front line. To this end K-14, home of the 4th Fighter Group, and K-13, home of the 51st Fighter Group, were the nearest USAF fighter bases to the front line. Each fighter group could put up sixteen F-86s from each of the three squadrons in the group. A maximum effort from both fighter groups on a sweep of the Yalu would average between seventy-two and ninety-six fighters over a period of two hours. To the RAF the designations Wing and Group were confusing because in the RAF a wing consisted of two or more squadrons and a group several wings. In the USAF at the time of the Korean War the 4th Fighter Interceptor Group was part of the 4th Fighter Interceptor Wing that consisted of a flying group, a maintenance and supply group, and an administrative base group. The basic element of a fighter squadron was a pair, and two pairs made up the operational unit of a flight. The tactics employed on the fighter sweeps during 1953 were to feed flights into the combat area at altitude under some radar control of limited capability. In the combat zone the flights operated virtually independently. There was no ‘Big Wing’ concept along the Yalu. The flight and pairs’ leaders on a group sweep were the senior and experienced pilots, with the junior pilots as their wingmen and ‘eyes’. The opportunities for the wingmen to fire at a Mig lay in the break-up of a flight during combat. The wing commander, the group commander, the squadron COs, the squadron executive officers and the flight commanders all jockeyed for the ‘shooting slots’ on the offensive sweeps, and added to this mix were the supernumeraries from Wing and Group Operations, and 5th Air Force Headquarters. There be many Caesars.
The commander of 5th Air Force during 1953 was Lieutenant General Barcus, a gung-ho air commander who liked to keep in current flying practice on the aircraft under his command. One anecdote concerning our flamboyant commander, that may be apocryphal, had him flying in an F-86 over the Yalu and calling over the R/T, ‘This is General Barcus, commanding 5th Air Force; come up and fight you yellow bastards’! When the word got out at 5th Air Force Headquarters that – Barkis is willin’ – many senior air staff officers tried to justify their flying pay and attempted to join the ‘Mig Maulers’ to share the glory. I was not alone in resenting these selective flyers imposing themselves on the 4th FIG, the nearest and more successful of the two fighter interceptor groups. Unfortunately, the 335th as the most successful squadron attracted more than their fair share of staff desk jockeys. Fortunately, the majority of the sweeps were conducted when fine weather offered the best prospects for engaging the Migs, as flying in adverse weather conditions with leaders that were not operationally competent was indeed more daunting than engaging the Mig-15s. Their presence and intrusion in the squadron could be hazardous to one’s health and I experienced two examples showing how the air staff interlopers were not up to scratch in leading any fighter unit. The first was with a colonel from 5th Air Force in Seoul who led my flight on a Yalu sweep and while flying into Mig Alley and climbing through a high overcast of cirrus cloud managed to stall out the flight at 35,000 feet. Fortunately, we were not in tight formation in dense cloud and we did not lose contact with one another and were able to form up again quickly, but it might have been interesting if some Migs had been waiting above us. When queried as to why, the colonel said he thought we had reached the top of the cloud layer and tried to zoom into the clear. Even the most junior second lieutenant on the squadron knew how deceptive high cloud can be: fortunately, we did not experience that aspiring ‘ace’ again.
The next impressive bit of air leadership involved another gung-ho air staff colonel who tried to impress us with an affected burning desire for air combat with, ‘Those damn Migs’! The weather was overcast with a high cloud base but we flew into ‘Mig Alley’ at 40,000 feet in the clear. Despite hearing calls from other flights that Migs were up, our gallant leader did an about turn and headed back south. I asked his intention to be told he wanted to have sufficient fuel for a bad weather let-down at base. About halfway back to the front line our leader started a let-down and I called that we were letting down over Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea. Our leader replied that his ADF indicated that we were over the base approach beacon and I suggested he look outside his cockpit as we were being bracketed by black puffs of flak from the radar tracked 88 mm AA guns around Pyongyang. After landing at base the colonel in a rather more subdued fashion regretted having to leave the fray and was surprised to learn of the two ADF beacons on the K-14 frequencies used by the communists as decoys to lure aircraft into a flak trap of AA guns. In all the other less glamorous missions of the group the ‘one-day wonders’ were conspicuous by their absence. For this I was grateful because their presence would certainly have been hazardous to one’s health. With so many colonels, lieutenant colonels and majors leading the flights on the Mig sweeps it is not surprising that a large number of senior officers made up the ranks of the ‘aces’. Captains and first lieutenants usually led the other missions undertaken by the 4th and 51st Fighter Groups: such missions included fighter-bomber escorts, photo recce escorts, the dawn and dusk airfield recce and weather flights, ‘rescap’ sorties and the tedious readiness alert. I certainly did my fair share of all such missions.
A young second lieutenant having completed his tour of 100 missions on the F-86 made the following comments at his farewell party in the K-14 Officers’ Club, ‘Well; I made my hundred missions and I suppose I should be grateful for that. One hundred missions and I never fired my guns at a Mig or anything else for that matter. I’ve been fired at from the ground; I’ve been fired at from the air, and I lost one F-86 in the process. So; a score of zero to one in their favour is not exactly an achievement I am proud of, but it is said one gets something out of a fighter tour in Korea and I’m sure glad to be able to say It’s going to be my ass!’ This is a fairly accurate assessment of the experience of the majority of the junior pilots joining either the 4th or the 51st Fighter Interceptor Groups of 5th Air Force during the later part of the Korean War.
The majority of ground attack operations of 5th Air Force during the later part of the war involved F-84 fighter-bombers; and by the spring of 1953 included F-86 fighter-bombers. The task of the fighter interceptor groups being to keep the Mig-15s off the backs of the fighter-bombers by drawing them up into air combat. In our operations from K-14 the favoured option of the 4th FIG was a full Group sweep of the Yalu area. To this end every day at dawn and at dusk a reconnaissance flight of F-86s would cover the Yalu area to establish the disposition and dispersal of the Mig-15s on the airfields, and the state of the weather. These circumstances dictated the decision whether to launch a full-scale sweep of Mig Alley. Often there were Migs in revetments on the airfields and often the airfields were deserted with the Migs deployed to their rear bases. We flew at high altitude and at a high Mach number if the weather was clear and I used binoculars to count the aircraft on the airfields. In the process of covering all the known Mig bases around the Sinuiju/Antung complex it was necessary to fly across the border into Manchuria, with the rationale that if one had engine failure one could glide back across the border to North Korea before ejecting from the aircraft to become a legitimate POW. If the weather was bad or there was cloud cover over the airfields, we would let down to a safety height of 6,000 feet to establish the cloud base. The safety height was necessary because, although the area was not as mountainous as it was further eastwards, there was still plenty of high inhospitable territory to be avoided. There were no navigational aids to assist us other than some initial positioning by the tactical radar sited on Chodo Island. It was mostly a question of D/
R navigation and failing all else the only other option was to let down over the Yellow Sea and fly in from the Yalu estuary. The only heavy and accurate AA fire encountered came from around the Antung – Sinuiju complex and around the Suiho Dam, about 60 nm up the Yalu River. These were both very sensitive areas for the communists and were heavily defended by batteries of Soviet radar tracking 88 mm anti-aircraft guns.
Not too late tomorrow to be brave. The competition to fly on the Yalu sweeps made it difficult for me as a foreigner to be scheduled other than as a wingman and my background and disposition rejected the ‘lone wolf’ approach to secure Mig scalps. I was given the opportunity to lead pairs and later flights on the other less popular missions, especially the airfield and weather recce flights where the squadron recognized that the RAF had more bad weather flying experience than could be gained flying at the flight schools in the United States. Interestingly, even when not leading a flight or a pair and there was a question of weather penetration, the lead was often handed over to me to lead the flight home, when the flight stuck to me as on the proverbial blanket. The average pilot from the US may have lacked experience in actual instrument flying but in holding formation they were tops.
I got an early introduction to ‘Mig Alley’ as wingman to Captain Clyde Curtin, who was initially my flight commander and later the squadron executive officer. I also flew as wingman to Captain Ralph Parr, with whom I shared a hut, but more often I flew with Captain Lonnie Moore, who gave me my most extensive tour of the Yalu and the Manchurian border. I also flew with Major Vermont Garrison, the squadron executive officer, before he took over command of the 335th. All four were experienced and aggressive fighter pilots, and as ambitious Mig killers all four were to join the list of the thirty-nine ‘aces’ of the Korean War. Curtin was a reserve officer hoping to become a career officer in the USAF, Parr joined the squadron from the staff of a tactical weapons school in the US, Moore came to the squadron as a test pilot from Edwards AFB in California and Garrison was a reservist with ten claims in Europe during the Second World War. Garrison was the oldest and most experienced pilot on the 4th Fighter Group; his snow white hair and his ability to see the Migs before anyone else earned him the respected sobriquet of ‘Bald Eagle’.
The ability to see aircraft while flying at altitude requires not only excellent eyesight but also an aptitude to focus the eyes to scan at long range. The RAF aviation medicine establishment discovered while conducting trials that the average fighter pilot scanning the sky from within the aircraft cockpit focused his eyes thirty inches outside the canopy. A vitally important factor in scanning for enemy aircraft is the need to stay alert and it was common practice to take an amphetamine stimulant dispensed by the squadron sick bay as ‘Mig Pills’. These did not prove detrimental when taken in moderation and the mission followed by a good night’s sleep. Of the six enemy aircraft I saw shot down while flying my 100 missions with the 335th one fell to Garrison, two to Parr and three to Moore. There were two factors common to these kills: a non-deflection shot fired from the six o’clock position at close range. My experience of flying with these ‘aces’ showed me that their dedication to glory and possible Valhalla tended to cloud their judgment at times with a propensity towards tunnel vision.
Another frequent mission from K-14 was escorting the RF-80 reconnaissance flights from the 67th TRW on the south side of the airfield. The F-86 flew much faster and higher than the RF-80s, who generally covered their targets from around 30,000 feet at a speed of between 0.78 and 0.80 Mach. At this height and speed when over the Antung – Sinuiju complex, or the Suiho Dam area, the radar directed 88 mm AA guns would bracket the reconnaissance F-80, as the shell bursts were fairly accurate up to this height at this speed. However, in our F-86s we would set up a weave above the RF-80 at a speed of not less than 0.9 Mach, and at this speed the flak bursts were always behind us. Later in 1953 the 67th TRW received RF-86s and we would make up the recce flight with three of our F-86s as escort. The rationale for the odd number from the squadron was to make the communists think we were a regular flight of F-86s and thereby not attract so much attention from the AA guns, as the communists were very sensitive to reconnaissance aircraft in the ‘Mig Alley’ area. The change of aircraft equipment was very welcomed by the recce pilots who, now being able to fly higher and faster, were not troubled by flak, and we were seldom troubled by Migs while escorting the RF-86s on their reconnaissance missions. When flying cover for the fighter-bomber strikes we could rely on some protection from the flak by our high speed and this tended to keep us out of trouble while protecting the F-84s from the Migs.
Although the winter months provided the best flying weather for the fighter sweeps with periods of clear skies, the advent of the monsoon period saw a lot of activity in Mig Alley. It was our understanding that spotters in the hills to the north of the Han River overlooking K-14 would count the fighters heading north and telephone calls to the Mig bases enabled the Migs to scramble and to be at altitude above the incoming F-86s as they flew into the Yalu area. This would give the Migs three big advantages: first, they had the advantage of height and could make their attack out of the sun. Second, they could time their attacks as the F-86s flew out of the area on their 200 nm return to base, and third, after combat the F-86s had a long journey home over enemy territory whereas the Migs had only a short distance to fly to their secure bases on the other side of the Yalu. Therefore the Migs could break off combat at their convenience with a lower fuel state to return to their bases in Manchuria. A ‘bingo’ fuel call was an indication of the minimum fuel remaining for a safe return to base with a reserve. There were many factors that governed this call based on the distance, altitude and weather involved. If an F-86 was hit over ‘Mig Alley’ or had an engine failure some distance north of the front line, the main hope of survival was to head for the Yellow Sea, where the surveillance radar sited on the islands of Cho-do and Paengnyong-do could cover an aircraft in distress. A ‘rescap’ flight scrambled from K-14 with sufficient warning covered aircraft heading for the islands, where helicopters and amphibian aircraft were on patrol to retrieve pilots ejecting over the sea.
The two islands off the west coast of North Korea occupied by UN forces were bases for guerrilla raids on the mainland and both had rescue helicopters on readiness. The prospect for a pilot ejecting over the Yellow Sea in fair weather was good and many pilots were saved. However, the temperature of the water during winter and spring was such that without an immersion suit the pilot’s expectancy of life was a matter of a few minutes. The rubber immersion suits gave the ejecting pilot a good chance of survival but were very uncomfortable to fly and to fight in, as the watertight seals around the neck and wrists chaffed the skin. Also, while wearing the suit on the ground one would sweat profusely and the boots filled with condensation, which resulted in the suit being very cold while in the aircraft at altitude. It was fortunate that the F-86 had a magnificent pressurization, air conditioning and heating system by which one could blow snowflakes in the cockpit while on the ground in summer and remove any frosting or icing from the cockpit canopy and windscreen while flying at fifty below zero at altitude. Some pilots preferred not to wear their immersion survival suits preferring to take a fatalistic attitude. Similarly, some did not bother to prepare or carry a land survival kit with them. The ‘Catch-22’ was to decide whether to be uncomfortable while flying and then possibly survive after an ejection over the sea, or be more comfortable while in the air and then probably die while in the sea.
On one sweep of the Yalu area in early June 1953 while flying at 40,000 feet as Captain Lonnie Moore’s wingman, six Migs jumped us from above and we broke into them. I counted four Migs as they came towards us firing their cannon way out of range with no chance of a hit. In the ensuing mêleé our pairs separated with Moore chasing two of the Migs heading north. The second Mig or wingman was trailing his number one by at least 2,000 yards. Diving slightly to pick up speed and keeping below the Migs we were able to
close on them and then ease up behind the trailing Mig. I called Moore clear and he opened fire at around 300 yards range to slow the Mig down or get him to turn. I saw some strikes on the Mig but did not see anything come off the aircraft as it went into a slight dive at maximum speed. Moore continued to fire as he closed on the Mig and I saw smoke coming from the jet-pipe. At this moment the Mig canopy came away and the pilot ejected. Moore then called that he had an explosion in the engine. I checked him over and called there was no fire visible but for him to head for the coast. Moore turned south-west and I asked if he could make Chodo Island and he replied affirmatively. As I could not see any Migs I told Moore I would cover him to the coast. I turned the IFF to the distress mode and put out a distress call on the R/T. Chodo replied they had a good ‘paint’ on my ‘squawk’ from the IFF and that a helicopter was on station over the island awaiting his arrival. Moore arrived over Chodo at 2,000 feet and I saw him eject and after seeing his chute open, I spotted the helicopter waiting for him. I was then anxious about my fuel state and wondered about going to Paengyong-do to the south as my fuel was well below my ‘bingo’ call of 1, 500 lb of fuel. I cruise climbed to 30,000 feet before shutting down the engine for a quiet flight south as I decided to make for home. When the Han River came in sight I lit up the engine calling for a priority landing and taxied in with about 200 lb, around 30 gallons, showing on the gauges.