ATTACK ON PYONGYANG (JULY 1952): The problem inherent with flying the type of predictable missions that the 8th was involved in was that they were vulnerable to enemy flak. Basically the fighter-bombers would appear like clockwork at the same time and from the same direction at the same altitudes against the same targets. The Communists could set their watches by this and simply laid in wait with their automatic weapons.

The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p447) states "On the operating level, Lt. Col. Levi R. Chase, commander of the 8th Fighter-Bomber Group, phrased the problem succinctly. "Our goal," Chase said, "has resolved itself into a simple equation -- to achieve a maximum percentage of rail cuts in inverse proportion to personnel losses and battle damage to our aircraft." Fifth Air Force fighter-bomber pilots were fairly unanimously agreed that the manner in which the Fifth Air Force had been scheduling the railway attacks had made them vulnerable to enemy flak. Each day, morning and afternoon, the 12 to 24 fighter-bombers had been hitting targets selected on 15- to 30-mile stretches of railroad. The pilots argued that enemy gunners knew exactly when and where to expect them." However, Fifth Air Force analysts disagreed with this contention saying the automatic weapons were NOT clustered, but rather spaced evenly along the rail system.

Later in January 1952, Fifth Air Force relented in its opinion and shifted the target areas. The Thunderjet wings target areas on the main railway line northward from Sinanju to Sonchon and ordered the Shooting Star wing to attack the rail line between Kunu-ri and Huichon. After this, fighter-bombers encountered less flak and scored a larger percentage of rail cuts, but the ground was frozen so hard that bombs often skipped off the ground and exploded in the air. Other bomb-blasts in the frozen ground deflected debris upward. As a result of both phenomena, many planes were damaged by their own bomb-blasts as they made low-level attacks."

According to the AFHRA: 8th FW, "The 8th FBG returned to forward bases in Korea some six months later, continuing to provide close air support to UN ground forces but increasingly flying interdiction missions against enemy transportation systems, airfields, troop concentrations, and supply areas. By January 1952, rail interdiction missions had become such a regular activity that the men chose as their theme song, "We've Been Working on the Railroad."

Fifth Air Force changed its strategy to "Saturate" attacks where massed forces would concentrate on a key railhead from March to May 1952. The fighter-bomber wings employed massed formations, but intensive study of flak positions prior to missions allowed the formation to neutralize the enemy's automatic weapons."

According to Officers in Flight Suits, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War (p 112), "Levi Chase -- a gruff World War II veteran who gave all new pilots a speech about how he had "five hundred missions in World War II" and knew what he was doing -- had his personal plane painted in garish colors; one color for each squadron in his wing. Chase then flew this colorful plane on three "max effort" missions against Pyongyang; he won the Silver Star for his efforts; the other members of his flight merely received air medals."

The website for Levi R. Chase (later a Major General), WWII ace (12) and Commander of the 8th FBW in 1952, provides insight into the type of ground attack missions the 8th undertook. It says, "Probably his most important combat operations were a series of low level bombing attacks he led on the North Korean capital of Pyonyang on July 11, 1952. He planned and led three wing-strength sorties through intense flak concentrations, without any loss of life or aircraft to inflict serious damage on several military and industrial targets." In Crimson Sky, The Air Battle for Korea by John R. Bruning (p.193) it says, "On July 11, 1952, targets in Pyongyang were hit by hundreds of napalm-dropping fighter-bombers. Again, the goal was to break the deadlock at Panmunjom. Despite tremendous damage, no concessions were forthcoming at the truce talks." (NOTE: For some pictures of Suwon AB and its aircraft go to Maj. Gen. Levi R. Chase website.)

Life of a Fighter-Bomber Pilot According to Officers in Flight Suits, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War, (pp 98-99), "The life of a fighter-bomber pilot was hazardous and often short. Typically, fighter-bomber pilots flew lower-performance planes and exposed themselves daily to more hostile ground fire than the typical fighter-interceptor. Overall, only 147 Air Force planes were lost in air-to-air combat; by comparison, over 816 planes were shot down by ground fire. As Raymond Sturgeon, a pilot with the 35th squadron of the 8th Group, put it, "I had friends in 86s who never saw a MiG their entire tour, but we got fired on every mission with high-powered guns that shot golf balls at you." Sturgeon's squadron lost "a pilot or two" every week, and losses like these were not unusual. Perrin Gower, another pilot in Sturgeon's squadron, claimed that five of the ten pilots he shared his hut with were killed, and Howard Heiner, a pilot in the 12th Squadron of the 18th Wing, remembers one week when seven pilots in his squadron were shot down."

However, the job of the fighter-bomber was often messy and brutal. Everything became "up-close and personal." Views of "mass killings" were routine. Napalming enemy columns advancing on friendly ground forces or strafing enemy troops in the trenches were justifiable, but how about civilians working on railroads or in villages. Each pilot handled this dilemma differently. Most simply said that anyone above the 38th Parallel was "the enemy." A village filled with civilians became "a troop concentration." This was the nature of the beast...this was their mission. Many also felt their missions were fruitless...to blow up a bridge that the Reds would repair in two hours...and they would be back again tomorrow to do the same job over.

When General Barcus took command of the Fifth Air Force, he noted the "partial paralysis" which had settled over Korea and resolved that the Fifth Air Force should attack the Communists with "increasing vigor and efficiency." The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p483) quotes General Weyland as saying, "A significant change in combat operations policy took place in May. The scope of interdiction operations was expanded to include destruction of important targets, targets complexes, and target systems." For several months in Korea intelligence officers had been targeting significant centers of hostile logistical activity. In a specially ordered, one-time, day-long assault on 11 March (1952), the 8th Fighter-Bomber Group had already flown 254 fighter-bomber sorties to deliver 154.2 tons of high explosive bombs, 33,660 gallons of napalm, and 63,900 rounds of ammunition against well-dispersed dumps comprising the Red branch logistical depot behind the western end of the front lines at Mulgae-ri."

The U.S. Air Force in Korea (pp483-485) states "Throughout May 1952, the Fifth Air Force began massed fighter-bomber attacks against other logistical targets. On 8 May 485 fighter-bomber sorties blasted the Red supply depot at Suan in "the biggest single attack since the beginning of the Korean conflict." On 15 May 256 fighter-bomber sorties completely destroyed a vehicle-repair factory at Tang-dong. On 22 May 472 fighter-bombers sorties destroyed factories near Kihang-ni where the enemy was making had grenades and ammunition. On 23 May 275 fighter-bomber sorties returned to this same area to attack a steel-fabricating plant."

Perhaps the most satisfying raid for Air Force and Navy commanders and pilots alike were the sustained air strikes against the North Korean Sui-ho hydroelectric plants at Choshin and Fusen. 90 percent of North Korea's electric power potential had been knocked out. Though it was not in violation of Chinese or Russian territory, the air attacks brought world-wide repercussions.

In August 1952 the massed raids against military targets in Pyongyang had the highest priority, and on 29 August an operation called the "All United Nations Air Effort" against Pyongyang. The 8th and 474th Wings attacked hostile flak batteries. During the day most Fifth Air Force planes flew all three strikes.

However, there was some friction between the F-84 jocks and the F-86 jocks. Basically, the F-84 pilots felt that they were doing the dangerous interdiction work but receiving no credit, while the F-86 pilots would bask in the spotlight after shooting down a MiG. According to Officers in Flight Suits, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War (p 102), "A village bombed was not the same as a MiG destroyed --no visible status symbols were awarded and rarely was the press interested in hearing bomber stories. Aces such as James Jabara and Joseph McConnell had their pictures plastered in such national magazines as Life, Look, an Time... Fighter-bombers, on the other hand, only received attention in service-oriented journals, such as the Air Force Times and Air Force Magazine: napalming a village or suspected troop concentration was hardly as romantic as shooting down a sleek MiG. No titles, parties, or awards were given for bombing five villages. In fact, a fighter-bomber only received a party after his death or his hundredth mission -- whichever came first."

The 8th was stationed at Suwon (K-13) which was also provided opportunities for direct competition with F-86 pilots often provided the necessary tonic to keep a fighter-bomber outfit in high spirits. Raymond "Dewey" Sturgeon in Officers in Flight Suits, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War (p 113)

The 35th FBS's assigned T-33A Shooting Star trainer (51-4484) parked in its revetment at Suwon in late summer 1952. The three squadrons of the 8th FBG kept their T-33s in the air constantly on numerous assignments, which included giving newly arrived pilots familiarization flights around the area. More than once, a T-33 was used to haul an F-89 crew chief to a "divert location" when his talents were needed to get a fighter back into the air. Richard Durkee (From The Korean Air War by Robert Dorr and Warren Thompson) Acknowledgement: Thanks to Jim James for this article found on his site, the 8th Fighter Bomber (Hoboes). Training Mission By PFC John Gueinzius, Pacific Stars & Stripes Korea Bureau IT STARTS WITH A BRIEFING and ends with a cup of coffee. It doesn't last very long because the fuel consumption on a jet is rapid. But it leaves you with a sense of speed and power that is difficult to put into words and, according to one Sabre jockey, "It just sorta gets into your blood." Your first flight is arranged by the 8th Fighter Bomber Wing and 1st Lt. Charles B. McCollister, Petrolia, Tex. It is his job to ferry you up to 12,000 feet for a ringside seat at the greatest show above earth. The mission is "air-to-air" in which four F-86s from the 36th ("Flying Fiends") Fighter Bomber Sq. will swoop down and machinegun a towed sleeve target. You will occupy the rear seat of a "T-bird" and remain above the tow ship in a position to observe the firing. When it is over, McCollister will make a pass himself and show you how it feels. That is the plan when you enter the briefing. The room is not large and it's cluttered with maps, aerial photos, charts and cigarette smoke. Four pilots are seated listening to the flight leader, 2nd Lt. Robert T. Slater, Lynchburg, Va. Three of the men are in the flight. The other's job is to pull the sleeve target through the air. "Gentlemen, today's code word is Pacify Uncle. The mission is air-to-air. Your time for takeoff is 1350...Johnson, you'll take No. 2 and leave with me. "The area we'll fire at is here," continues Slater pointing to a large wall map inscribed by lines from a black grease pencil. "Emergency stops may be made here, here, or here. You know the cautions to be observed on this type of target shooting. Fire strictly at the bull's-eye at 40 degrees off up to 15 degrees off. "Your last pass will be here. Stay over the clouds. If there is a radio emergency, fly in front of the tow ship, waggle your wings and go home. If you have other than radio trouble, do the same and the tow ship will radio the plane behind you to accompany you home. When you land, taxi in here..." Then the weather officer appears and gives a rundown on visibility, highs, lows, winds, temperatures and ground elevations in the area. After the questions session, the briefing breaks up and fliers go to their locker room to dress for the mission. Over their flight suits, they tighten the strings of their "G suits," belts to hold the body's blood in its place during gravity pulls. Then a liner is donned to be worn underneath the weird-looking "moon suit"--a rubber coverall affair that will keep a man afloat and warm in icy water in the event of a crash landing at sea. A parachute, a collapsible one-man life raft, a "May West," and a crash helmet comprise the remainder of the gear. The pilot is ready to enter his jet. MAN FROM MARS?--Attired in his flying suit, liner, "moon suit," parachute, collapsible life raft, May West, crash helmet, and oxygen mask, pilot looks like weird robot. McCollister and you get into your T-33 minutes before the Sabres are scheduled to take off. This is because of the difference in speed between the two types of jets. You leave with the target ship so as to be in position when the flight arrives. After the safety belt, shoulder straps, and oxygen mask are adjusted, you hear the tower's okay and wheel to the takeoff strip. The takeoff itself is fast but the rate of climb seems faster. After a long right turn, you fly westward toward the Yellow Sea and break through the gray clouds into a brilliantly white world. Below, through the fleeting mists, can be seen glimpses of raging waves as the turbulent ocean thrashes about. The tow ship on your left appears to flying smoothly and unperturbed by the headwinds. When you approach the target area, you begin a large circle to await the Sabres. The radio silence is interrupted from time-to-time by mentions of emergency landing spots and precautionary measures. The oxygen flow indicator blinks regularly like a pair of parting and closing lips on the instrument panel and you can hear your breathing in the earphones. The altimeter registers 14,000 feet. Suddenly they appear. Four silver jets high in a thin finger-tip formation glisten in the sun above the skittering clouds. At the command "Go trail!" the Sabres fall into an attack formation, one behind the other. Slater's ship quickly rolls over and begins its pass. As he gathers speed in his dive, he swoops into the sleeve and passes over it. You can't hear his guns because the sound doesn't reach you. First Lt. Orville C. Johnson, Edmore, N.D., who's flying the No. 2 plane, then banks and begins his dive. He is followed by the No. 3 and No. 4 jets. The first pass is finished. Regrouping and climbing above and to the left of the target, the planes make their second pass--exactly like the first. Before the tow ship makes a 90-degree left turn, six complete passes have been made. The target is now heading east, back toward land. Two more passes are made until the tow ship swings left and heads northward. Another five passes are made on this attack. The mission has been completed and it's your turn. McCollister speaks quietly into the microphone. "You all set?" You grunt and ready the camera in your lap as the T-bird's right wing suddenly points directly to the sea below you. What happens next is hard to describe. You are aware of a tremendous pressure pushing you hard against the back of your seat. You figure you're diving but its difficult to determine speed without having a stationary object with which to compare it. You catch a glimpse of the target sleeve and try to raise the camera to your eye but it's no use. The camera seems to weigh a ton. You try to bring your hand to your head and can't. The guns burp twice and the smell of cordite fills the cockpit. As you pull out, your face feels drawn out of shape. You give up moving and stare straight ahead trying to figure out what your plane is doing. The left wing then dips as did the right a few seconds before. Another pass. Again you try to raise the camera and smile inwardly at your complete lack of strength. The target looms vividly for a brief moment and then disappears as blue sky takes its place. Finally you're straight and level and feel the strength coming back into your body. "Well, that's what it's like," McCollister drawls. "How 'ja like it?" "Fine," you answer, embarrassed to ask him exactly what had happened. "Fine." "Would you like to see what dive bombing is like?" he asks. "Yes," you reply weakly, wondering if you will be able to keep track of the target this time. "Okay," he says, "we'll drop to about 5,000 and pretend to bomb that big rock island down there on your left." The plane drops all right. Nature's own altimeter, your ears, can tell you that by their constant cracking. At 5,000 feet, the "target" is clearly visible, splashing spray on the side where the waves are hitting it. Then, with a "Here we go," the wing dips and the dive begins. The heaviness of limbs starts again and into your drawn eyes comes the image of the rock. At the same moment, it disappears and only the whitecaps of the ocean can be seen. You have "dive bombed" and pulled out, only seconds after you started. "Did you feel the Gs?" asks McCollister. "Was that what it was? Gs?" you answer. "Yup. You just went through three or four Gs. At that pull, your camera weighed between 50 and 60 pounds." So that's what happened to you. That's why your strength went and you felt your face pull out of shape. It was just plain old gravity, exaggerated three or four times. And it was nothing in a T-bird. Imagine diving in a Sabre. On the way back to the base you wonder about jet pilots and how they are able to manuever their fighters in a dive. You ask yourself where they get the strength to move their sticks, to release their bombs or press their triggers. You muse about the seeming lack of speed at one instant while suddenly the sea or ground looms up at you and the altimeter spins crazily in front of you. Back at the base, you examine the tow target. Each hole is marked by a colored streak or smear to identify its shooter. Second Lt. James D. Howe, Whittier, Cal., and 2nd Lt. Jack D. Herritt, Worthingham, O., have scored about 18 percent of their bullets in the target. Slater and Johnson are right behind them to average a 17 percent average score for their flight. Another routine training mission is over.

MAJOR CHARLES LORING (NOVEMBER 1952): Probably the best-known name of the unit is that of Major Charles Loring of the 80th FBS who sacrificed his life in action on 22 November 1952. While leading a flight of 4 F-80s on a close support mission, his aircraft was hit. At approximately 4,000 feet, he deliberately altered his course and aimed his diving aircraft at active gun emplacements concentrated on a ridge northwest of the briefed target, turned his aircraft 45 degrees to the left, pulled up in a deliberate, controlled maneuver, and elected to sacrifice his life by diving his aircraft directly into the midst of the enemy emplacements. He received the Medal of Honor for his actions. In ceremonies at the White House on May 5, 1954, President Dwight D. Eisenhower presented the Medal of Honor to Loring's widow. On October 1, 1954, the former Limestone AFB, located in Limestone, Maine, was renamed Loring AFB in the Maine native's honor. (Go to the 80th Fighter Squadron for the citation.)

The following was published in the Air Force Association Magazine, January 1991, Vol. 74, No. 1. as part of their Valor series.

By John L. Frisbee, Contributing Editor

Sacrifice at Sniper Ridge

Every gun destroyed would save American lives as Chinese Communist masses surged toward Sniper Ridge.

NOTE: The 8th FW honors Major Charles Loring of Suwon AB by naming the collocated NCO/Officers Club at Kunsan in his honor.

Unfortunately, the 8th FW has failed to specifically acknowledge the Medal of Honor recipient Capt. James Walmsley of Kunsan AB. Capt Walmsley's only official recognition at Kunsan is that he is on a large plaque with all the other Medal of Honor recipients dating back to the Civil War.

Capt Walmsley's unit, the 8th Bomb Squadron, 3rd Bomb Group, moved to Kunsan on 18 Aug 51 and he was KIA on 14 Sept 51. (For details of Capt. Walmsley's act of heroisim go to the The Way We Did Business on the 8th Bomb Squadron (L-NI) page.)

We believe that this is not a sign of disrespect. It is simply that the 8th's historical agenda deals with the 8th's history...NOT with Kunsan AB's history. Kunsan is a one-year tour "Warrior" base so the wing must focus all its attention on quickly instilling in its personnel pride in the Wolfpack. All previous units of Kunsan AB are irrelevant to the 8th Fighter Wing.

To officially recognize Capt Walmsley at Kunsan, the 8th Attack Squadron Association presented a plaque in his memory to the Loring Club on 26 June 2000. Col Moon-hyun Baek, 38th Fighter Group Commander (ROKAF), presented the plaque on behalf of the Association to Col. Philip Breedlove, 8th Fighter Wing Commander.

THE BRIDGES AT SINANJU AND YONGMIDONG (JANUARY 10-15 1953): The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p542) states, The Fight Air Force began experiments with a "pathfinder" fighter-bomber technique on 20 July. The pathfinder flight of two experience pilots left the tactical airdrome ten minutes ahead of the main fighter-bomber strike, reconnoitered the assigned target, and subsequently marked the objective for fighter-bombers by making the first attack. After tests in January 1952, the 9th Fighter-Bomber Wing recomended that pathfinder aircraft should be used on all large-scale close support strikes." The Bridges at Sinanju and Yongmidong was such a mission.

Air Power, The Decisive Force in Korea (p156) states that on 9 Jan, "18 Okinawa and Japan-based B-29s rode through intense antiaircraft fire to radar-aim 170 tons of bombs on the Sinanju-Yongmidong bridges, flak batteries, and railroad marshalling yards. Less than 12 hours later over 300 Fifth Air Force fighter-bombers dived 282 tons of high explosives on eight of the key rail and highway bridges and 27 of the antiaircraft gun positions defending the complexes. These two attacks kicked off the massive 5-day air assault on the Sinanju-Yongmidong bridge corridor."

"For the next four days and nights FEAF bombers, fighter-bombers, and fighters hammered the two-by-four-mile bridge area in relentless, coordinated, round-the-clock attack. Great formations of 200 to 400 fighter-bombers roared down in wave upon wave to keep the area under constant demolition. Eight fighter-bombers per minute went into target, two each 15 seconds -- including roll, track, and release. It was a formidable demonstration to the enemy he could not stop determined air attack regardless of concentration of flak."

"By night flak-suppressing B-26s joined the fighter-bombers in hammering antiaircraft positions and strewing time-fused and frag-clustered bombs throughout the area to pick off defending personnel. The daylight assault was taken over at night by B-26s and B-29s. Large numbers of F-86s, by day, and F-94s, by night, escorted the attacking aircraft, effectively screening the operations against intruding MiGs from the Yalu region. Both day and night, high-and-low altitude harassing attacks kept the area under complete air cover, picking off ack-ack positions, searchlights, and anything that moved or that had been left untouched in the mass attack."

There were 1116 sorties flown by the work-horses of the Korean air war--the fighter-bombers. In the morning of 13 January, 197 fighter-bombers from the 8th, 474th, 49th, 58th, and MAG 33 were involved. In the afternoon of 13 January, 172 fighter-bombers from the 8th, 474th, 49th, 58th, 478th, and MAF 33 were involved -- along with 8 B-26s from the 3rd BW.

At the close of the first day, Sinanju-Yongmidong lay "smoldering, a reeking mass of gnarled steel, wrenched earth, and jagged chunks of concrete torn away and hurled hundreds of yards over the landscape." Reconnaissance pilots in post-strike interrogation reported the "entire area torn up, the approaches to the bridges, the bridges themselves, and the area between." One pilot commented, "the bridges look like some giant picked them up and twisted them around like pretzels...it's a wonder if there is anything left.

According to The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p544), "Beginning on 26 December 1952 and concluding on 14 February 1953, the Fifth Air Force employed the 8th, 58th and 474th Fighter-Bomber Wings in operational demonstrations with each American division in Korea. Each daylong exercise included elaborate planning and briefing phases attended by key officers of the division whose personnel would witness the strikes and of the fighter-bomber wing which would fly the attacks. So far as Air Force personnel were concerned, these demonstrations produced next to nothing of value." Unfortunately, one of these exercises in January 1953 ended up with 64 friendly casualties and the public outcry and Congressional investigation brought this experiment to an end.

CONVERSION TO F-86F SABRE (FEBRUARY 1953): Between February 18-19, 1953, the 8th Fighter Bomber Wing participated in a two-day attack on a North Korean tank and infantry school at Kangso. In these two days, the 8th and three other wings destroyed 243 buildings at the school.

On February 22, 1953, the wing began the transition from the F-80Cs "Shooting Star" to the F-86Fs "Sabre".

The F-86F Sabre was basically a more powerful version of the F-86E. It was powered by the 5910 lb.st. J47-GE-27 engine in place of the 5200 lb.st. J47-GE-13. These aircraft could carry a pair of 200-gallon drop tanks and had armor protection fitted around the horizontal stabilizer control system. They had a different radio and cockpit arrangement than previous Sabres. It could carry a 120-gallon drop tank or a bomb of up to 1000 pounds in weight on each of the inner underwing pylons, and two 200-gallon tanks on the outer pylons. If the maximum fuel load of two 200-gallon and two 120-gallon drop tanks was carried, ferry range was 1600 miles and combat radius was 568 miles. The "6-3" wing was an immediate success, quickly boosting Sabre victories in Korea. With the "6-3-wing" F-86F, the USAF now had a fighter which could match the maximum speed of the MiG at altitudes all the way up to the Sabre's service ceiling of 47,000 feet, could turn inside the MiG, and which had almost as great a rate of climb.

The conversion t