By the Skin of my Teeth: The Memoirs of an RAF Mustang Pilot in World War II and of Flying Sabres with USAF in Korea

by Colin Downes

  I continued a cruise climb setting course south-east for Chodo. The weather and visibility were good with only some scattered cloud along the coast. I could see the many islands between the Yalu and Chong-Chong rivers quite clearly, but the mouth of the Taedong River was obscured by cloud and I was concerned that the cumulus cloud starting to build up might prevent a view of Chodo island. I tried all the R/T channels again without success and remained on the distress channel. The IFF was switched off for the excursion into Manchuria so I switched it back on and selected the emergency mode. Checking that I was below contrail height I levelled off at 30,000 feet and cruised until the fuel gauges registered 400 lb. I shut down the engine and switched off all non-essential services. The windmilling engine provided enough hydraulic power for the gentle operation of the flying controls, and the emergency battery supply took care of electrical requirements. I set up a glide angle at 160 knots that gave a still air distance covered of 14 nm per 5,000 feet of descent. I hoped the IFF was giving the Chodo and Paengnyong-do radars a good ‘paint’; and it was with some relief I saw Chodo through breaks in the cloud as I passed overhead at 15,000 feet. This was sufficient altitude to make Paengnyong-do 40 nm to the south. I was thankful that Moore’s ejection over Chodo with engine failure earlier in the month enabled me to recognize the island, for now I knew that with my remaining fuel I could land on the beach at Paengnyong-do.

  The island of Paengnyong-do had a distinctive banana shaped beach running north-south on the east side of the island. The north end of the beach had a cliff rising to a low hill with the radar unit on top. The south approach to the beach was clear over sand dunes. Our briefing told us that at low tide the sand was firm enough for fighter aircraft to land. Many fighter types with battle damage were able to crash land on the beach, but no F-86s had landed on the beach from K-14. The briefing that morning stated that the sea would be halfway to full tide by the time I arrived. At 3,000 feet I saw Paengnyong-do ahead in the clear and fired up the engine. The 400 lb of fuel remaining would enable me to fly over the beach for a circuit, approach and an overshoot if necessary. I could see the tide was about halfway in and approaching from the north saw the northern half of the beach covered with people and the odd bullock cart. I pushed the nose down and buzzed the radar hut and continued down the beach at 50 feet as I buzzed the whole length of the beach. I pulled up at the sand dunes in a steep climbing turn and flew back along the beach dropping landing gear and flap as I touched down as close to the water as possible. I came up the beach and the congregation parted before me like Moses and the Red Sea. I reached the north end of the beach near the cliff and parked above the high water mark near a Meteor VIII of 77 Squadron and an F-84 fighter-bomber. I shut down the engine with, as the saying goes, nothing showing on the fuel gauges but the maker’s name. There was probably about 20 gallons left in the tanks as I switched off everything, put the safety pin in the ejection seat, locked the flying controls and closed the hood.

  I went over to the Australian ground crew working on the Meteor that crash landed on the beach with battle damage, and asked if it was possible to refuel my aircraft. The sergeant in charge answered that there was Avgas available but it would need hand pumping from fuel drums. I told him I could refuel through the fuel filler in the wing. I then asked if he had a suitable engine starter because the Australians used a trolley accumulator for the Meteor that was unsuitable for the US aircraft. He directed me to where the Americans working on the F-84 had a standard US generator for engine starting. Borrowing a screw driver from the American crew I removed the film magazine from the gun camera in the nose intake of the F-86, for no matter the fate of my aircraft I wanted camera confirmation for the claim of a damaged Mig-15. I asked for a guard to be placed on my aircraft as it was attracting a lot of attention from the large crowd of Korean peasants on the beach. The South Korean army was in the process of evacuating some North Korean refugees from the mainland and were using Paengnyong-do as a staging post while waiting for a boat to take them to South Korea.

  It was then about 10.00 am and with the tide coming in it would be some hours before I could attempt a take-off. A Jeep drove me up the hill to the radar unit where they confirmed the fact that my radio and IFF were not transmitting, and they had wondered if I was a hostile aircraft. Presumably they identified me correctly as I had no AA reception overhead when I arrived. I asked if they could contact the 4th FIG at K-14 and 5th Air Force operations in Seoul to say that I was OK and attempting to refuel my aircraft and return to base. What transpired was that neither was informed and I was already listed as Missing in Action. Returning to the beach I prepared to refuel my aircraft: the Sabre carried 435 US gallons internal fuel and it was 100 nm back to K-14. I intended to fly back low level and I calculated that 150 gallons was sufficient for my return. Fortunately the weather was good because without a radio and radio compass I needed a visual approach. With the help of the American ground crew servicing the F-84, it took two hours to hand pump the fuel into the wing tanks. It was then 1.00 pm and I calculated it would be at least another three hours before the tide would allow me a firm beach on which to take-off. I went back up the hill to inform the radar unit of my intentions and they provided me with lunch.

  Around 4.00 pm I prepared the aircraft for a start-up and we manhandled the F-86 facing down the beach. I attempted to start the engine but only got a wet start, and I shut down the engine. I now had a problem, for if the starter generator was supplying insufficient power the same result could occur on the second start-up attempt. To remove the excess fuel from the engine it was necessary to carry out a dry run, and to wait for the fuel to drain from the engine would take too long, so after a few minutes wait I carried out a dry run. After another short wait I prepared for the second attempt at start-up. It was now getting late in the afternoon and with some apprehension I tried again. As the engine lit-up a loud bang came from the jet pipe and ramming the throttle fully open I stood up ready to abandon ship. The excess fuel ignited sending a jet of flame torching 20 feet out of the jet pipe. The engine continued to run up to power and waving my starter crew away I headed for the beach while buckling up my harness. One good effect of the dramatic Roman candle firework display was to scatter the Korean bystanders who had been crowding in on the aircraft. People were still wandering about the beach despite the Jeep sent to clear them away. Running close to the water I opened up the throttle and started the take-off run. In similar fashion to my arrival, the people parted almost magically before me and the southern half of the beach was clear as I unstuck and cleared the sand dunes.

  I throttled back at 200 feet and headed for K-14. This height was a compromise in keeping above the seabirds and below the radar: with my radio and IFF not functioning I wanted to avoid scrambling the alert on a ‘hostile’ aircraft approaching K-14. The sun had started to drop in the west with the prospect of a beautiful sunset, although this did not concern me as I headed south-east to avoid the Haeju peninsula before turning east for the Han estuary. There was no danger from enemy aircraft that far south but there was from North Korean AA fire along the Haeju peninsula. I assumed K-14 would not be expecting me, unless Paengnyong-do had managed to inform 5th Air Force, therefore, the radar would pick me up when close in and scramble the alert. I was a little uncertain of my landfall with the myriad small islands along the coast and I eased up as I crossed in to identify the Han River and saw the distinctive hill we called ‘The Witch’s Tit’ in the distance to my right. I flew in low over the paddy fields and lined up for a straight in approach to the runway from the west. On seeing the runway and approach clear, I pulled up with air brake out, selected landing gear, flap and landed. I reached the end of the runway just in time to beat the scrambled alert flight taxiing for a take-off to the west.

  With dusk approaching I taxied into my dispersal to be confronted by my crew chief with the words, ‘Gee, Captain, you’re reported shot down and Captain Moore said you were dead!’ I replied that I was fine but the a
ircraft had a failure in the electrical system and that he should also check for turbine damage. As I wrote up the Form One there was a question whether the flight was one or two missions with the two landings. A chock-to-chock time of nearly ten hours was a very long mission for an F-86; and it had certainly been a long day for me. Moving to Group Operations I proceeded to give an edited debriefing to the intelligence officer omitting our excursion into Manchuria. Lonnie Moore arrived and his first comment was ‘Did you confirm my two Migs?’ I replied I confirmed the Mig where the pilot ejected. Unfortunately, our two reports did not tally with other combat reports of the group on the Mig activity. The Group Commander, Colonel James Johnson, then ordered Moore’s camera gun film shown after clearing the room of the others present, excepting the squadron commander. The film clearly showed Moore’s attacks on two Migs but unfortunately, while attacking the second Mig, it also clearly showed the runway with Migs in revetments on the Manchurian airbase of Feng Cheng, 25 nm north of the Yalu. The group commander took possession of the film saying to Moore, ‘You know this means a court-martial’! This dampened my confirmation of Moore’s fifth Mig-15 to claim ‘ace’ status. In a sombre mood I returned to my hut to end the discussions regarding the disposal of my personal effects and to retrieve my record player.

  Moore told me in the Officers’ Club later that evening that the last call he heard from me was to break left and he did not see either of the two Migs I was involved with, although he saw my progress across Feng Cheng from the flak bursts. As he could not contribute to the situation and being low on fuel he headed south. None of the Migs milling around Feng Cheng caused him any trouble but he had to do a ‘dead stick’ landing on the runway when his fuel ran out while overhead K-14. In his combat report he claimed two Migs shot down and reported my probable demise. Regarding Moore’s first claim there was no problem about confirmation as I saw the pilot eject and this was supported by his gun camera film. However, on the second claim, although I saw Moore firing at the Mig on the approach to the Feng Cheng runway, I observed no hits or visible damage. On seeing a Mig on the over-run of the runway as I passed overhead I assumed it was the same Mig. At best, this could only be considered a damaged claim. With the amount of light flak over Feng Cheng airfield it would not be surprising if the Chinese had managed to hit one of the Migs milling around the airfield. Ironically, I was thankful that when attacked by the Mig-15 following me it was not armed like the F-86. The more accurate and greater density of fire of the six 0.5-inch Browning machine-guns of an F-86 flown by an experienced pilot using a radar gun sight would probably have been successful in shooting me down. As it was, the slow rate of fire and the inferior ballistics of the Russian 37 mm cannon aimed by a gyro gun sight placed one 37 mm shell in front of me, with the following shell passing behind me in a maximum ‘G’ turn at low level.

  My own claim for a damaged Mig came to naught as the camera film I nurtured so carefully on Paengnyong-do had not turned over showing a blank film. I only had myself to blame for this as I had changed from the standard black and white combat film to a new Kodak colour film that had teething problems. In speculating on Moore’s two claims and the two Migs I was involved with, that I personally considered being a ‘damaged’ and a ‘probable’ claim; only those present at Feng Cheng at the time would be able to confirm this with the records office in Peking. Moore had certainly damaged the second Mig and probably would have shot it down if he had not been shot down himself in the process. I knew I had damaged the Mig I attacked but that was all. Similarly, I was convinced the Mig that attacked me crashed during our dog fight. It is therefore, just a possibility that the Chinese lost more than the one Mig-15 that day at Feng Cheng. I have known less plausible claims: on one such occasion during a debriefing of a Yalu sweep, a colonel placed his hand on the North-West corner of the map of North Korea and asked the assembled pilots, ‘Did anyone see my Mig go down here?’ A young second lieutenant answered, ‘I thought I saw an explosion on the ground, Colonel.’ The colonel turned to the debriefing intelligence officer and said ‘This boy confirms my Mig, Captain!’

  My analysis of our decision to cross the Yalu and of the mission as a whole, quite apart from any aspects of legality, discipline and plain folly, was the fundamental error in not determining the disposition of the Mig formation. This was a crucial blunder aggravated by an eagerness to engage any of the Migs before they reached the Feng Cheng circuit, with odds of four to one against us. Crossing the Yalu was like Caesar crossing the Rubicon – Let the dice fly high! Initially there was the prospect of picking off the last pair of the formation and withdrawing back to the Yalu with ample fuel to return to K-14. In becoming mixed up with the formation over Feng Cheng the die was cast for a very different scenario. My post mission impression was that we attacked the middle of the formation, as I saw two pairs of Migs ahead of us out of the original eight in pairs line-astern. Moore very effectively shot down the wingman of the second pair and while opening up on the lead Mig, the third or fourth pair bounced us. On giving the break I expected him to engage the wingman while I tackled the lead Mig. When I dropped down behind the Mig following Moore his wingman probably called my position and this dissuaded him from his attack, by which time we were over Feng Cheng. Moore heard no radio calls following the break or saw other Migs, and the reception over the airfield preoccupied his attention as he withdrew south. When south of the airfield I opened fire on the Mig and clearly saw some strikes on the aircraft before he broke north. Despite my continuous scanning for other Migs milling around Feng Cheng I saw nothing until attacked and I assume the second Mig was following me trying to get within range. During our low level dogfight this second Mig appeared to over control while pulling too much G, resulting in the high speed stall that snap rolled the aircraft into the hillside. Although I did not see the start of this manoeuvre, I had a momentary sighting of the impact followed by a big fireball on the ground. This impression was confirmed by the fact that I did not see the Mig again, or any other, as I withdrew south from the area. Although unconfirmed claims do not count I at least felt confident in my own mind with a ‘damaged’ and a ‘probable’ Mig claim.

  There were precedents to our Feng Cheng affair: in February 1952, Major George Davis of the 4th FIG and the leading Korean War ace at the time with twelve kills was shot down and killed pursuing Migs across the Yalu River. He was awarded a posthumous Medal of Honour, the only Sabre pilot to receive this distinction. Again, in April 1953 Captain Harold Fischer, another double ace of the 51st FIG, was shot down pursuing Migs into Manchuria. He was to survive the war for the following two years as a guest of the Antung Hilton. I cannot view our Feng Cheng affair as the smartest operational sortie of my Korean tour: in retrospect it may have been the most foolish, but it was certainly the most exciting and interesting mission I was to fly with the 335th FIS. Fortunately, there was no court martial and with no proceedings against Moore he retained his four previous Mig claims; and so with the granting of a fifth Mig destroyed over Feng Cheng Moore became the 34th ‘ace’ of the Korean War. No further action occurred, nor was I questioned again on the incident. I believe the ‘brass’ viewed any proceedings against Moore, who received considerable publicity as a result of his ‘ace’ status, would create too many problems and backfire to the detriment of the 4th FIW. Also, I do not think they cared to have a foreign pilot involved. They decided to let the dogs lie.

  I should like to think I learned something from the experience and although I did not venture to Feng Cheng again, I continued to fly with Moore to and over the Yalu. Despite his considerable experience of the ‘Mig Alley’ area, Moore always seemed to have a problem in navigation when approaching the Yalu. There was no question that infringement of Manchurian airspace was a frequent occurrence by aggressive pilots to find the Mig-15, in direct contravention of standing orders. I had no problem with this as I viewed Migs over Manchuria as fair game. The one-sided rule of engagement that restricted flight into Manchurian airspace
during air combat over the Yalu was, in my opinion, an absurdity. The Migs could come out of China to attack us in North Korea but we could not respond by intruding into Manchuria. My sole reservations were with the possible consequences of such action and a natural concern for discretion therefore, apart from the Feng Cheng affair, I drew a line when it came to joining the Migs over their bases in their sanctuary of Manchuria. I flew with four successful ‘aces’ in Korea and, except for Vermont Garrison, they did not rate too highly in leadership in my opinion. Their flying ability was beyond question, and it was a great experience to fly with Lonnie Moore for although he had an individualist approach to flying, he was an aggressive fighter pilot with exceptional flying ability. He was certainly a genuine ‘ace’ and he would certainly figure in a short list of unforgettable characters I knew during my flying career. After the Cease Fire he returned to the flight test centre at Edwards AFB; sadly to lose his life while test flying the new McDonnell F-101 Voodoo fighter.

  It was some years after the Korean War that I read Joseph Heller’s satirical novel ‘Catch-22’, about an American bomber squadron operating in Italy during the Second World War. There have been plenty of incidents in my life when I could readily empathize with the definition contained within Heller’s maxim that describes a ‘Catch-22’ situation as one characterized by obstacles that defeat any attempt of the victim to escape it. Possibly my most lasting memory of a ‘Catch-22’ situation in war is encapsulated within a very brief contribution to the ground war in Korea. The 4th FIG operational roles did not include ground attack, but for a brief period in early July 1953 all our normal operations ceased as we joined the fighter-bombers in supporting the UN land forces. The Chinese army, in a massive assault against the South Korean army in the centre of the front, broke through for a distance of several miles and threatened Seoul. The offensive made without air support was the first major offensive by the communist forces since 1951, and it proved to be the last major offensive of the Korean War. The breakthrough stalled when the Chinese army, unable to sustain the momentum, halted their advance for reinforcements and supplies. The continuous interdiction, both day and night, on all types of communications into the salient caused the Chinese to resort to lesser means of transportation such as horse and ox drawn wagons, together with thousands of men carrying supplies on A-frames.