F-80 of Col Raymond Gallagher, 8th FBW Commander (52-Jan 53)

MORALE BUILDING: Despite the war going on, the folks at Suwon tried their best to have celebrations for special holidays to boost the morale of its men -- Thanksgiving turkey dinners or Christmas parties. Joseph Scott, a Career Guidance Specialist served with the 8th M&S Headquarters from Dec 50 - Jun 52 remembers, "While with the 8th M&S Group was quartered with the 8th Supply Squadron - in 1951 we held a Christmas Party and I published a program which I still have - it was done with memograph but can still make out most of it - one of the things I did was list everyone and the city and state they were from but I have only Last names and first and middle initials." These small mementos mean a lot as the years go by.

However, the lower performance F-80s and F-84s caused some unit morale problems as the F-86 units looked down their noses at the "straight wings" -- referring to the straight wing design of these aircraft. But the F-80 pilots felt they were being slighted. Basically, the F-80 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. As a result, fighter-bomber units took greater pride in unit accomplishments versus the individual pilot accomplishments. Squadrons had special baseball caps and beer steins made. Each squadron custom-designed and ordered its own cap from Japanese manufacturers. The squadron logos in Korea were emblazoned on caps, signs, beer mugs, jackets, and flight suits. But most importantly, unit history and lore were carefully recorded and used by unit commanders. The history provided the members of the group with a sense of mission and history.

According to Officers in Flight Suits, 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."

To buildup unit morale, Group commander Levi Chase had his plane painted in the garish colors of his three squadrons. In addition, direct competition with fighter-interceptor units aided to keep the units in high spirits. In Officers in Flight Suits, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War (p113), Raymond "Dewey" Sturgeon recalled how "one F-80 pilot trailed the ace Francis Gabreski during a victory pass over the Suwon air base -- a tradition that Francis Gabreski indulged in after many of his kills. Although he flew a vastly inferior plane than Gareski's F-86, the F-80 managed to stay right on his tail during the entire performance -- and made Gabreski the laughingstock of the 8th Wing."

"On another occasion, the 8th Wing competed with the 51st to see who could get a flight of fighters to K-14 faster in the event of an alert. Pilots of the 8th sat in their F-80s all day until the alert finally came and they launched. The 51st Wing, by comparison, was so confident that its faster F-86s would win that they waited for the alert in their hammocks. In the end, the F-80s carried the day -- an event that did wonders for unit pride."

It continued (pp125-126) to relate how "booze became the primary recreational activity. Whereas beer was bought locally, liquor was imported to bases from the rear-echelon base at Tsuiki to Kimpo. Pilots ferrying planes back to Tsuiki for maintenance would also bring back as many fifths of liquor as their flight suits would carry. The 80th Squadron went so far as to cut doors in a spare set of wingtip fuel tanks to carry booze from its rear base at Itazuke to its forward base at Suwon. According to Pilot Dean Price, "Our F-80s didn't have enough fuel to make it from K-13 (Suwon) to Itazuke without tip fuel, so we'd land at Pusan to refuel. On the trip back we'd load the tips with rice beer, usually Asahi, and land again at Pusan for fuel for the trip home. You could get about four cases of beer in each trip. After about three trips we'd have enough for a squadron party." Dean Price flew with the 80th FBS. They would also stick them in baggage wing tanks. The o clubs would pay for liquor and other supplies by collecting dues from users and also by charging small dues for drinks. At most bases, all drinks were twenty-five cents." These were the "wild ass days" when pilots were given a long leash as long as the impressive numbers of bridges downed continued. The officers could do as they pleased during off-hours. When the war ended, so did the relaxed attitudes of the Air Force. In an environment where pilots were shot down every day, drinking provided an important escape from the danger and boredom of war.

F-80 Battle Damage (USAF Photo)

But the bottom line for the Fighter-Bomber pilot was survival. Many pilots felt with absolute certainty that would never return after being assigned to fighter-bombers. Rather than chasing status symbols like MiG kills, the F-80 pilots simply concentrated on surviving their tour honorably. In Officers in Flight Suits, The Story of American Air Force Fighter Pilots in the Korean War (p98) it states that though casual and individualistic, "their self-worth was very much connected with the accomplishments of their unit: number of bridges destroyed, troops killed, railroad tracks cut, and so on. One could see a red star on one's aircraft or call oneself an ace for napalming a concentration of railroad laborers. All a fighter-bomber could hope for was to survive his tour and return to the U.S. with a Distinguished Flying Cross -- the standard reward for flying one hundred missions."

"HOBO": As was mentioned previously, the derivation of the unofficial nickname "Hobo" is from when the unit -- in supporting the UN forces with their F-51s -- operated out of makeshift airfields as the 8th Fighter-Bomber Wing's tactical unit moving about without a home attached to the temporary 6131st Fighter Bomber Wing. The official name of the unit was "5th Air Force 8th Fighter-Bomber Wing 'Hobo Squadron'." John Glassford Sr. remembers that the name came from when a "Hobo Squadron" of the 8th FBW (35th FBS & 36th FBS) moved around setting up temporary airfields for their F-51 Mustangs in the early days of the war. He stated, "I was part of what was called the Hobo Squadron of the 5th Air Force 8th Fighter Bomber Wing when I was first assigned to Korea from Yokota AB in Japan." This group is referred to in the Air University site as the "Tactical Group" of the 8th FBW during the early days of the war.

In October of 1952, 2Lt Warren Guibor of the 80th FBS flew the 50,000th sortie of the Korean War in an F-80C named "The Spirit of Hobo." (Click on the photo to enlarge) (From 80th Headhunters Homepage)

However it appears that the origins of the name had been forgotten by 1953 when Jim James reported for duty with the 36th FBS. In his website, the 8th Fighter Bomber (Hoboes) he states, "The 8th Fighter Bomber Wing was called the Hoboes. On at least two occasions the wing had to evacuate a forward airfield so quickly that most or all of the ground equipment was abandoned. The wing moved up or back according to the location of the front. " Jim later wrote, "It has been so long since 1953 that I don't recall anything about the Hobo nickname except that it was used. It certainly would have been unofficial." The history of the name had been forgotten in the collective memory of the unit and all that remained was the image of the "hobo."

Hobo Comm Shop of 8th Maintenance Squadron (1952)

Col William Elder (Fick Henderson)
Col Elder became 8th FBW Commander on May 1953

In The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p439) it talks about the importance of the North Korean rail-transportation system's importance to the Communists and how it provided attractive targets to "bomb the enemy's railway track and roadbeds. In experimental attacks, late in July (1951), the 8th and 49th Fighter-Bomber Groups got good results in skip-, dive-, and glide-bombing attacks against the enemy's railroad tracks. Glide-bombing attacks with 100-pound bombs aparently gave the best results and accuracy against railway tracks. In making its rail attacks, moreover, the 8th Group was easily able to avoid areas defended by flak, and it lost no planes on its rail-cutting missions."

By early August 1951, the Fifth Air Force conceived an air interdiction plan against North Korea's railroads in "Operation Strangle." The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p439) states "The Fifth Air Force reasoned that replacement railway rails were too heavy to be transported by coolies with "A-frames" or even, as a usual thing, by trucks. In short, the Reds would require rail equipment to repair rail equipment. In short, the Reds would require rail equipment to repair equipment to patch breaks in their railway tracks, the Fifth Air Force planners decided that a few key rail bridges should be destroyed and kept out of use." When the implementation of this strategy was found to be impossible to do and downplayed "Operation Strangle" as having to "interfere with and disrupt the enemy's lines of communications".

But there were spin-offs from this campaign as F-80s involved in these raids swept southward after making rail cuts looking for strafing. Such armed rennaissance was often fruitful. The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p445) states "On 30 September (1951) a notable last-light flight of two 80th Fighter-Bomber Squadron F-80s destroyed an estimated 40 trucks out of a large convoy caught moving southward."

However, the Reds concentrated their automatic weapons along the rail lines to counter the attacks. In October 1951, the group gaggles gave way to flights taking off at five-minute-spaced squadron takeoffs. The 8th experimented with carrying bombs on the unused rocket racks, but the additional weight decreased speed and range markedly. It discarded the idea. By December 1951, Fifth Air Force analysis stated that only 7 percent of bombs dropped by Thunderjets were cutting the enemy's railway tracks.

F-80 Armament and munitions (USAF Photo)

The 8th Group history Nov-Dec 51 states "With deadly monotony and a somewhat creeping paralysis of enthusiasm, returned again and again to hit a piece of terrain that became as familiar as Main Street, USA." The 8th Group's rail target was critically important, 25-mile long stretch of winding, twisting railway between Kunu-ri and Sunchon." The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p447) states "Despite the almost undivided efforts of this peerless fighter-bomber group, Communist repair troops filled bomb craters as fast as the Shooting Star pilots could make them. From the outset of the "Strangle" attacks the Reds had managed to repair rail cuts very quickly. No doubt assisted by frozen ground which caused some delayed-fused bombs to skip off the target and reduced the dimensions of bomb craters of those that hit the target, the Reds seldom left rail cuts unrepaired for more than twenty-four hours in November. When it appeared that the battered Kunu-ri to Sunchon track defied further repair, the Reds redoubled their efforts elsewhere in December."

Fifth Air Force intelligence, on December 1951, "acknowledged that Red railway repairmen and bridge builders "have broken our railroad blockade of Pyongyang and ... won...the use of all key rail arteries"." By the spring of 1952 FEAF's General Everest made efforts to "eliminate the use of the term "Strangle" when he explained to newsmen on 12 April 1952 that "Operation Strangle" had been the name for the short-lived highway-interdiction program and that the aerial interdiction campaign against North Korea's railroads was properly termed the "Rail Interdiction Program." Bottom line: "Operation Strangle" was a bust!

According to the "Flying Fiends" website, "In a one-day strike on 11 March 1952 against enemy troop and supply concentrations in the Mulgae-Ri area of Korea, the 8th Group flew 254 sorties and delivered 153 tons of bombs, 124 tons of napalm and 46,000 rounds of ammunition, heavily damaging and killing dumps, buildings, troops, anti-aircraft positions and vehicles. Two months later, the group destroyed positions near Pyongyang. On 23 June 1952, the 36th successfully bombed the Suiho hydroelectric plant on the Yalu River and one of the chosen hydroelectric plants in northeast Korea. The raids were highly successful and electric power was cut off for industrial areas of North Korea and Manchuria. On 29 August 1952, the 8th Group flew 166 combat sorties against targets near Pyongyang."

80th FBS (1952)

Dean Price wrote on 80th Headhunter Site:

"When I was in Korea, it was strictly bare bones. We lived in Quonset huts that had never been painted and had no insulation or covering of any kind on the inside walls, all you saw or felt was the cold, corrugated steel. There was one flight to a hut. The hut was heated with fuel oil furnaces made of 55 gallon fuel drums, two of them in each hut. We slept on canvas Army cots with lots of blankets. The only women on base were either Korean or a few nurses. The nurses had their own hut of course, inside a fenced in compound with one other house, it was used by the group commander and hospital commander. The bath house sat off by itself about 100 yards from our hut (we were the closest) and it had the commodes too. There was nothing like taking a hot shower and then running 100 yards through snow and zero degree weather to get back to your warm hut.

But it wasn't all bad. We had some good times, too. The Club, which was for the entire base, really wasn't much. They served some meals there, if you could call them that, and had a small bar. Powdered eggs, powdered milk, canned Argentine beef, and Spam taste the same no matter where you eat it. Liquor was plentiful and cheap. Most of the boozing was done in your hut or with some buddies in their hut. Most of the huts had arraigned some space to have a poker table in it and there was a lot of poker played. We did get some R&R in Japan, I can't remember whether if it was at the end of so many missions or whether it after so much time in the country. We really looked forward to those trips. And of course, we were always ferrying aircraft back to Itazuke for any heavy or periodic maintenance. We had a set of tip tanks that we had cut doors in and we put those on for the ferry flights. Our F-80s didn't have enough fuel to make it from K-13 (Suwon) to Itazuke without tip fuel, so we'd land at Pusan to refuel. On the trip back we'd load the tips with rice beer, usually Asahi, and land again at Pusan for fuel for the trip home. You could get about four cases of beer in each trip. After about three trips we'd have enough for a squadron party.

We usually have the party in Operations. At the time, the squadron had the full crew with it, all the enlisted troops (photo, armament, mechanics, clerks, personal equipment, and all the rest) so it took quite a bit of room. Needless to say, we did that when the next day was a down day...

At the beginning of the war, the flight docs were handing out 1 ounce bourbons at the end of each mission. It was claimed it was needed to steady the pilots' nerves. But they were also flying 5-6+ missions a day, and by mid-afternoon they couldn't find anyone sober enough to fly! That policy didn't last too long before they started giving you a whole bottle for each 25 missions. ..."

The following photos are from 80th Headhunter Site:

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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.)

Colonel Levi R. Chase, Commander, 8th Fighter Bomber Group,
Suwon Air Base, Korea, 1952
Note the 8th FBG Insignia on his helmet.
(Click on photo to enlarge)
(From Maj. Gen. Levi R. Chase website.)

From Maj. Gen. Levi R. Chase website. The following is the unedited text from an April, 1953 article in SAGA magazine entitled: Hot Sky Over Pyonyang by Emile C. Schurmacher You're flying to the heart of Red Korea, with three targets to hit and 80 planes to bring home. This is interdiction BETWEEN THE UNCEILINGED BLUE SKY and the mountainous Korean terrain, which at 30,000 feet looks like smeared, yellow ~brown finger~ painting, you're flying your F-80 fighter bomber on the most important mission of your life. You are Colonel Levi Chase. A group leader as well as a combat pilot, you have a lot on your mind. You fly brilliantly and alertly, yet only a part of you is concentrating on your instruments, the planes around you, the potential MiG, and other traps ahead. Most of you is anticipating the action that will take place when you reach I.P.-the Initial Point- where, according to plan, your airborne devastation is supposed to commence. Fanning out behind you are the 80 planes of the three squadrons of your outfit, the Eighth Fighter Bomber Group, loaded with thousand-pound bombs and rockets. "For immediate delivery in Pyongyang and never mind signing any receipts," you reflect grimly to yourself, as you automatically scan the cloudless brass-and-blue dome ahead for MiGs. You check the position of your wing men and your fuel supply. In a fighter bomber you're forever checking fuel supply. It seems that you're always flying F-80 sorties at extreme range with just enough fuel to make it back to your base if you're careful. And the Pyongyang operation is no exception. This is your 357th combat mission in two wars and you've been hoping for it for a long time. The Commies have it coming to them. For months they've been using Pyongyang for a buildup, somehow bringing in supplies and material despite the bridges and the locomotives you and your group have been blasting and the rails you've been cutting over and over again. You know that up to now there has been little harassing of the North Korean capital itself. But the other day Lieutenant General Glenn 0. Barcus, commanding general of the Fifth Air Force, told you that the lid was off and you nodded soberly and waited for the final briefing. When the tacticians and the strategists, the logistics experts and the intelligence officers put it down on paper it looked easy. On July 11th, 1952, you Colonel Chase were to take your group over the northwest sector of Pyong yang and knock out three all-important, primary objectives with pinpoint bombing: a roundhouse and locomotive repair plant, an ordnance manufacturing plant and adjoining ammunition dump, and a telephone and communications equipment factory. But when you're doing interdict work, raising hell with the enemy in general and pinpointing your targets, there's a lot that the experts can't put down on paper. For one thing, they can't quite call their shots as they do with saturation bombing by the heavies. And you can't leave much to chance like in fighting air-to-air. Interdiction has a technique all its own whether you're flying at 45,000 feet or at 25. You may do both before your mission is completed. And a lot of the stuff isn't in the text books. Like when- you're interdicting a hard-to get-at cave full of enemy in a boxed-in canyon. Your napalm isn't going to explode at 40 feet unless you've got another fighter bomber diving in behind you to machine-gun it, a neat little interdict trick developed by "Rice Paddy" Reusser and Charley Garber. But there won't be time, or room in the sky for neat little interdict tricks on this mission. Or napalm, either. It is strictly a bomb-and-rocket job. You check your fuel again. You look toward your wing men. Then forward, up and back. The Group is flying in perfect formation and by the book everything is going exactly according to plan. It's what you expect, of course. The Eighth Fighter Bomber Group is an-outfit of which you're mighty proud. And understandably, you're proud of your record with it. Since taking command you've increased the sortie rate and, at the same time, cut losses by 50 per cent. This meant hard work and anxiety. Hard work you've always been used to. The anxiety came with the Korean War. Back in the old days, you won your Air Force wings at Maxwell Field, Alabama, two months before Pearl Harbor, trained as a fighter pilot and got a speedy introduction to combat in North Africa. You were pretty hot. Flying P-40 Warhawks from a sandy airstrip in Tunisia, you soon became the top American ace in the North African- campaign. Eight German fighters, one German diver bomber and one Italian fighter went down under your blazing guns, and the Nazis hated your guts so much that they bombed your squadron base 36 times before they were driven out of North Africa. The hero-loving press tried to give you the glamour treatment when you began to receive your combat medals, three Silver Stars, a Legion of Merit, five Distinguished Flying Crosses, Bronze Star, the -French Croix de Guerre. But the more you went into combat-and came out of it alive the more you realized the deadly seriousness of what you were doing. You dodged publicity as you did enemy planes, leaving the glamor stuff to the wild-blue-yonder boys. In becoming one of the nation's most highly decorated combat pilots, you also remained the one least known to the public. That was the way you wanted it. From North Africa you went to the China-Burma-India theater where you were one of the first Air Force pilots to use napalm, a new weapon then. There in the jungle you developed a miniature interdiction campaign of your own, knocking out bridges and railroad tracks. One day a Jap bullet brought you down near Rangoon, some 50 miles inside enemy territory. Fortunately for you, a tiny L-5 liaison plane flying from a secret base in enemy territory picked you up and flew you to safety. Before you left the theater you got revenge by. knocking down three Zeroes, bringing your score of enemy planes to 13. When the war was over you left the Air Force for civilian life and went to law school for a little while. Then the Korean war broke out and because the Air Force still was in your blood you joined up again. Eight months after returning to active duty you were flying Sabrejets over the Yalu River and it was like beginning all over again. The planes were faster and the interdict targets were even harder to locate than those in the Burma jungle. And you were no longer a spring chicken. At 34, you are flying with kids who were still in school when you were mauling Nazis over Tunisia. After your first three missions you began to feel better about things and by the time you got in 15 missions with the 51st Fighter Interceptor Wing, you knew that you hadn't lost your old touch. The 51st was flying F-80s and getting the works thrown at them-from the ground with flak, in the air by MiGs, and even from snipers' hangouts on the sides of Korean mountains. You carried on a ceaseless interdiction program, hitting everything that moved, blowing hell out of the enemy, coordinating napalm, bombs, .50 calibers and rockets with each mission. One day you were cutting rails, the next fighting air-to-air. Always you were available for close support work for our ground troops or blasting enemy concentrations 15 or 20 miles behind the Red lines. Then you took over the Eighth Fighter Bomber Group and discovered that skillful interdiction had been a sort of warm-up for this particular mission. Minutes from the I.P., you check your fuel and frown as you look ahead in the still untroubled sky. Not a MiG in sight. It would be stupid to think the Reds didn't know that Pyongyang was about to be on the receiving end of an interdict. You're far too wise to underestimate the Commie intelligence. The enemy probably knew when your Group left its base. He must be prepared to give you a hot reception and you've got a pretty good idea of what the main dish will be. A few months before, when you led four fighter-bombers over Pyongyang you ran into a formidably impressive curtain of flak. The enemy has had plenty of time to reinforce it since. "They'll probably throw up a flak barrage such as you've never seen before," you warned your pilots in the final Group briefing back at base. "We've got to come in lower than they expect. Under the flak layer. We go out the same way." Now, 30 seconds out of Pyongyang, the Eighth is coming in over the northwest sector according to plan, and as you make a final check and head for the I.P., you are no longer thinking ahead, but concentrating intently on the business immediately at hand. At this precise instant the enemy barrage goes into action, trying to blast your Group out of the sky and it's got a fairly good idea, not only of your targets, but also of the I.P. where the devastation take-off begins. The blue sky has suddenly ceased to be blue, and is filled with smoke and exploding shells. Like a sinister curtain, the flak spreads high above the wings of the fighter-bombers, then falls swiftly as though trying to ensnare them. You grunt to yourself in satisfaction as you reach I.P. and prepare to make your own run. Your initial evasive tactic has been successful. To the last plane, the Group has come in under the flak layer. The layer is lowering fast, but the F-80s are moving faster still. You hope this luck will hold. The F-80s roar in behind you in perfect coordination, target bound. For months, on hundreds of sorties your Group has been working on this split-second precision timing. It has to be for 80 fast-flying planes to stay in the air and out of each other's way. None of this "drop your load, Charley, and head for home" stuff of World War II. Right now you're flying in the world's fastest company and you're flying strictly according to schedule. Your fighter-bombers knock out gun emplacement A and proceed to plaster position B before dealing with objective X. There's extra heavy stuff coming up at you from the vicinity of the roundhouse and engine repair set-up. It isn't the kind of a target which can be camouflaged and the enemy has made no attempt to do so. But as you go in on it and the planes behind you begin unloading their thousand-pounders, concealed anti-aircraft guns around the objective go into action, throwing up a cone of fire. Your rockets seek out the guns but it is a long time before the intensity of their barrage diminishes. You pull out and begin leveling on and suddenly you find yourself in the midst of a lethal barrage which seems to be concentrating on you, exclusively. "This is the guy we really want," the shells seem to scream. "This is the bastard we're going to get right now." Maybe It's just coincidence. Maybe the Commies down below are trusting to sheer dumb luck, but the crew of one of the radar-controlled heavies has picked out your particular F-80 as t he most important one to hit. You can see the flak marching ominously across the sky. And so can your wing men who are quick to warn you. "Break right, colonel, it's creeping in On you, the voice of a pilot cuts in amidst the staccato chatter of air-to-air. You've already anticipated that. You've angled away. "That's fine. Now break right again." You follow instructions, like in the old days when you were a student pilot listening to your instructor through training headphones. Now the flak is jumping around and you try to anticipate the enemy gunners. "Break left, colonel," advises a voice. It's your other wing man. As you obey another pilot's voice cuts in. "What the hell is this, a waltz?" it demands. "Let's go get those dirty-" Fiery-fingered rockets begin reaching for the radar heavy. They close in around it just about the time that the second primary objective, the ordnance plant and ammunition dump are hit. A pall of ugly brown black smoke studded with tiny flashes of fire rises from the exploding ammo. "Jeezus. That's doing it!" says a voice in your ear. You recognize the voice of a young pilot. You're not quite sure whether he's impressed with his own accuracy, or with the sum total of devastation. It doesn't matter. You hear a lot of voices. A lot of swearing. The boys have to let off steam. You're breathing easier. Some of the flak came pretty close. Especially 'from that radar heavy. The F-80s are coming through the smoke, eager to get at the third objective, the telephone and communications equipment factory. "We then proceed from primary objective B to primary objective C and-" The words of the briefing officer come back to you now as the fighter-bombers roar on target. The rockets blast the anti-aircraft guns with a withering barrage. Mostly they're where our intelligence said they would be. They're knocked out methodically according to plan. You soon discover 'the enemy has a few surprises of his own-hidden gun positions. It seems as if two new anti-aircraft guns are going into action for every one that is silenced. If anything, the flak is again increasing in intensity. You've got your fingers crossed as the thousand-pounders begin hurtling toward your third objective. You keep them crossed as the F-80s pull out, wondering how in hell they'll be able to avoid being hit by all the upcoming stuff. Now you've got an urgent personal problem of your own. Another radar-controlled heavy has singled you out and is reaching for you. You start breaking right and left again. Smoke is billowing from the telephone plant and rising thickly from several direct hits. It is creeping upward, joining the smoke from the exploded ammunition dump, spreading an awe-inspiring blanket across the sky over Pyongyang. The F-80s disappear into that smoke and as you hit it you're grateful for the fleeting moment of concealment. The radar heavy has lost you. Maybe it was knocked out by rockets. Maybe it's seeking another target. Whatever happened it's off you. When you emerge from the smoke, you're headed for base. Automatically you check your fuel. You're going to make it back. You scan the sky. It's filled with planes F-80 fighter bombers. You look behind you at a grim and terrible spectacle you will never forget. A curtain of flak is rising into the brown-black sky like a solid wall. It seems a miracle that any plane could pierce that wall without being shot down. In a way it was a miracle of split second precision and timing. You took 80 fighter-bombers in. You brought the 80 of them home. You went through an intense enemy barrage without major damage or the loss of a single aircraft. That is interdiction. THE END

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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)

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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.

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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.)

Major Charles Loring
(Click on photo to enlarge)

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.

The "Valor' series has told the stories of several Air Force men who made conscious and unequivocal decisions to sacrifice their lives for some moral or martial imperative that to them was more valued than life itself. Precisely what inspired such acts of heroism will never be known. Among such men was Maj. Charles Loring, one of only four airmen to be awarded the Medal of Honor during the Korean War. All those awards were posthumous.

Charles Loring was no neophyte when he joined the 8th Fighter-Bomber Wing in Korea in June 1952. On completing flying training in February 1943, he had spent several months with the 36th Fighter Squadron patrolling the Caribbean in P-39s and P-40s. The squadron then returned to the States, converted to P-47s, and was sent to the European Theater in the spring of 1944. From its base at Kingsnorth, England, the squadron, part of Ninth Air Force, primarily flew interdiction missions in preparation for Allied landings in Normandy on June 6, 1944. A month after D-Day, the 36th moved to a series of bases on the Continent, flying close support and interdiction, paving the way for ground forces in their drive toward Germany.

On every mission, the fighter-bombers faced ground fire ranging from heavy antiaircraft artillery to rifles. Loss rates for Ninth Air Force fighter-bomber's were high compared to the escort groups of Eighth Air Force. Early in his tour, Lieutenant Loring was wounded on a close support mission, but soon he was out of the hospital and back to the war. On his 55th mission, Dec. 24, 1944, during the Battle of the Bulge, Loring's luck ran out. Hit by ground fire, he crash-landed in Belgium and spent the next four months as a POW.

Charles Loring decided to make the Air Force a career. He spent six years in nonflying positions, including two years as an instructor at the Army Information School at Carlisle Barracks, Pa. Then the Korean War broke out. Loring, now a major, requested assignment to a combat unit and waited impatiently for two years until his request was granted.

When Major Loring reported to the 8th Fighter-Bomber Wing, it had been in combat for two years, first with F-51s, then in F-80s. Initially he was assigned to Headquarters and Headquarters Squadron in charge of training and indoctrinating replacement pilots. But Loring had come to Korea to fight. A month later he began flying combat missions and was made a squadron operations officer. The combat environment was in most ways a replay of his World War II experience, except that now he was flying a jet fighter. Ground fire was there as always, but the chance of escape or evasion if shot down in an Oriental land was practically nil. The prospect of becoming a POW of the Chinese was not attractive.

The Chinese Communists had, as we know, entered the war with massive forces in December 1950, driving United Nations troops back to positions near the Demarcation Line. For the next 18 months fighting was sporadic, interrupted or slowed by fruitless peace negotiations. During the late summer and fall of 1952, the war heated up. With enormous sacrifice of their troops, the Communists recaptured Triangle Hill in early November and were threatening US ground forces at Sniper Ridge.

On the morning of Nov. 22, 1952, Major Loring, on his 51st mission, led a flight of four F-80s in a close support strike against enemy formations in North Korea. He was directed by an airborne controller to dive-bomb gun emplacements that were pinning down UN forces near Sniper Ridge. Ground fire, as usual, was heavy.

After locating his target, Loring rolled into his bomb run. Enemy fire concentrated on his F-80. Other members of his flight saw Loring's plane take severe hits. They expected he would pull out of his dive and attempt to reach friendly territory. Instead, he continued the attack, altering his course some 45 degrees in a deliberate, controlled maneuver and dove directly into active enemy gun positions, destroying them at the cost of his own life. There was no indication that Loring had been mortally wounded when his aircraft was hit or that it could not have been flown to safety. What impelled Major Loring's calculated act of self-sacrifice that "exemplified valor of the highest degree"? No one could say.

Today Loring AFB in Maine commemorates the extraordinary heroism of this honored son.

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Army Medal of Honor
The Army Medal of Honor was awarded to Major Loring.
The Air Force did not have its own Medal of Honor until 1965.
(Click on photo to enlarge)

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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.

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Capt. Jack Taylor, a pilot in the 36th FBS, with his hungry-looking F-80C (49-726), nicknamed Ye Old Wilde Goose at Suwon in December 1952. Taylor's squadron was part of the 8th FBG. The shark's teeth added a ferocious look to the two or three fighters that were briefly painted with them, but they were short-lived; Fearful that civilians might think they were demons, and inflict harm on any pilots shot down with them, the dentures were soon removed. Jack Taylor (From The Korean Air War by Robert Dorr and Warren Thompson)

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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.

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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 took place gradually, with one squadron at a time stopping operations in the F-80 to train in the F-86F. On 22 February, the 36th FBS began F-86 training, with the 35th FBS beginning the conversion in March and the 80th FBS starting the conversion on 1 May. On April 7, 1953, four aircraft of the 36th FBS flew the wing's first F-86 combat mission during the conversion. The 8th Wing took their Sabres into action in a MiG Alley sweep on April 8, and on April 13 this Wing carried out its first ground attack mission by hitting an enemy troop concentration. The unit completed the conversion on June 4, 1953 and would fly the F-86F until 1957.

F-86 belonging to Col Elders, 8th FBW Commander, F-86 (Paul Gushwa)

According to The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p637), "The new model Thunderjets increased the Fifth Air Force's combat capability, but the biggest news was the proposed equipment of the 8th and 18th Fighter Bomber Wings with F-86F Sabre air-ground attack planes. Except for bomb shackles, a modification of its gun-bomb-rocket sight, and special 200-gallon external fuel tanks, the F-86F Sabre-bomber would not be greatly different from the F-86F-interceptor. Many pilots were not completely convinced that the Sabre would be satisfactory as a fighter-bomber. "It's much too fast," some said. "It's bound to be unstable," thought others. Despite such pessimism, the Fifth Air Force planned to convert the 18th Fighter-Bomber Wing at the new Osan-ni Airfield, squadron by squadron, beginning in November 1952. Sometime in January 1953, after the 18th Wing had obtained its full complement of Sabres, the 8th Wing was to begin to convert its squadrons at Suwon Airfield. Conversion of air wings to a radically different type of aircraft is never an easy task, and a number of unforeseen developments made the Sabre fighter-bomber conversion program the most difficult. Slippages in deliveries of Sabres to the Far East delayed the 18th Wing's conversion and put both wings into transition at the same time. Concerned with the growth of Red air capabilities, General Barcus ordered the new Sabre wings to make their pilots proficient in fighter-interceptor tactics before beginning fighter-bomber training."

The 18th transitioned from its worn-out F-51 Mustangs with many difficulties. The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p639), "the 8th Fighter Bomber Wing met fewer difficulties transitioning from the old F-80C jets to the new F-86F fighter-bombers. No change of station was required, and the 8th Wing's pilots were qualified in jets. By keeping the Shooting Stars in operation to the last, moreover, the 8th Wing was able to allow many of its pilots to complete their tours in the older planes. Sabre training began at Suwon on 22 February, when the 36th Squadron stood down from combat. On 14 March the 35th Squadron also quit combat and began to train with the new planes. The 80th Squadron, whole F-86F's arrived in the theater with ultra-high-frequency radio sets and had to be retrofitted with usable communications, continued to fly combat with the old F-80's. In a daylong tribute to its old F-80 Shooting Stars, the 80th Squadron, using 20 aircraft and 29 pilots, flew 120 effective sorties to drop 114 tons of bombs on the enemy on 24 April. Four pilots flew four missions, ten flew five missions, and two has six missions, the latter two tying the Korean record for the most sorties flown by a single pilot on a single day. This was the swan song for the rugged Shooting Stars, and the last sortie of these faithful old planes was flown on 30 April. The 80th Squadron stood down on 1 May, and within two weeks it was operational with Sabres. On 7 April four 8th Wing Sabre pilots had already joined a Yalu sweep for the wing's first F-86 combat mission, and the 35th and 36th Squadrons were in combat with Sabres before the 80th Squadron surrendered its old Shooting Stars. The 80th Squadron continued to meet some delays in getting its full quota of Sabres, but on 4 June 1953 the 8th Wing was up to strength with the new planes."

"Because the Sabre transition program was running behind schedule, General Barcus amended his instruction that the wings would qualify all of their pilots in fighter-interceptor tactics before beginning fighter-bomber training. On 1 April the 18th Wing began bombing practice and the 8th Wing integrated bombing tactics with its interceptor training. On 14 April 8th Wing pilots flew the first F-86 fighter-bomber mission, and on 14 April the 18th Wing made its debut with F-86 fighter-bombers.

REMCO (or Rear Echelon Maintenance Combined Operations) was conducted at Tsuiki, Japan. Starting in February 1953, the REMCO for Sabres at Tsuiki was expanded to serve all four Sabre wings. The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p640) states, "Under the REMCO concept, all maintenance personnel, over and above those required to perform preflight and post flight inspections, emergency engine changes, one-time repair of battle damages, and simple replacements of components at Korean bases, were concentrated at REMCO, where they comprised a periodic maintenance section. The REMCO system possessed both advantages and disadvantages. To some combat commanders the whole REMCO system was repugnant since it denied them control over their maintenance. Time lost in ferrying planes to and from Japan detracted from the availability of pilots and planes. Personnel assigned to the REMCO detachments failed to identify themselves with a combat mission and had little unit pride." It continued, "The advantages of the REMCO system outweighed it disadvantages. Mobility of the units at forward "staging" bases was increased. Had the combat wings been forced to move, they would have been burdened only by a small level of spares and a limited amount of maintenance equipment. ... The mechanical condition of combat aircraft improved, and at the same time maintenance work was done more quickly, more thoroughly, and more consistently. Consolidation of technicians supporting the same type aircraft allowed closer supervision of the supply of critical parts. Finally, the rear-area establishments made good use of mechanically qualified Japanese personnel."

F-86 Flight Restrictions Jim James continues on to tell about the restrictive mission directives of the 8th. He said, "Let me tell you of the integrity of the 8th. We were under strict orders that if we were bounced by MIG's, we had to make a first break to evade the MIGs, THEN, we had to make a second break back toward the target before we could jettison our bombs and wingtanks, and engage the MIGs. I am not aware that other wings had such stringent standards."

In Air Power, The Decisive Force in Korea (p113) states, "All pilots who flew in this last phase of the war will remember the increasing number of restrictions and restrictive procedures taht were placed on pilots as a result of incidents which involved the inadvertent bombing of friendly positions. These incidents were few and the number steadily decreased. But since they had more news value than other current Korean events, they received undue publicity in the national news periodicals. Aside from the fact that these incidents were extremely regrettable and all that was humanly possible was done to prevent their happening, the pressure brought on by each occurrence usually resulted in a new restriction or restrictive procedure that made the fighter-bomber's job more exacting and difficult."

It continued, "Restrictions also resulted from a concerted effort to reduce combat losses. It was readily apparent that, with the slowing tempo of the war, there were few if any targets that were worth the loss of a plane and pilot. Studies showed that the greatest amount of aircraft damage had been sustained at altitudes below three thousand feet and on the second and third passes at targets. As a result, accuracy suffered, but combat losses were substantially reduced."

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, "Far and away the greatest danger to the fighter-bomber were anti-aircraft (AA) weapons. The Communist AA effort was concentrated to cover the areas sound of the Chongchon River that the MiGs did not patrol. Bridges were especially well defended, but even along standard stretches of track, the Communist forces deployed anti-aircraft emplacements every four miles. ... However the weapons that pilots feared most were not these big guns, but small caliber 37-millimeter automatic weapons operated by regular Chinese and North Korean troops." The book explains (p100), "Small caliber anti-aircraft weapons presented such a dangerous threat for the fighter bomber because they were indiscriminate and easily hidden in so-called flak traps. Regional militia and repair troops would guard important interdiction routes by creating large barriers of small arms fire. These troops also strung wire cables between hills to thwart low-level attack, and created elaborate ambushes using tanks as bait to lure U.N. aircraft into carefully configured "kill zones of automatic weapons."

It continued (p101), "Superior flying could not warn you of hidden flak, nor could it necessarily save you in a typical bomb run. All a pilot could do was minimize his exposure to fire by employing a steep angle of attack in a bomb run; however, exposure was still unavoidable. Such daily, involuntary risk taking made fighter-bombers much more fatalistic than their fighter-interceptor brethren...lived a life of uncertainty, praying every day that their luck would hold out."

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80th FBS

80th FBS HEADHUNTERS (1953) Most of the following photos are from the 80th Headhunters site:

80th FBS Guys at Squadron Bar between Oct52-May53 (GeneZehr)
L-R: Standing--Ken Tallant, Ken Murley, Jack Gallagher, Angus Saunders, Don Elston, Gene Zehr Kneeling--Cecil Ward, Dean Price, Jim Palmer, Frank Ray

80th FBS F-86s at Suwon -- Early 1953 (Jim Escalle)

80th FBS Low-level pass -- Late 1953 (Al Shortt)

80th FBS F-86s on 5-minute Alert -- Late 1953 (Al Shortt)

80th FBS F-86s at Suwon

80th FBS F-86s Going Down Runway (Fick Henderson)

36th FBS FLYING FIENDS (1953) According to the "Flying Fiends" website, "By February 1953, the 36th had converted to F-86 aircraft. Their first deep thrust into North Korea was against the Army General Headquarters and radio broadcasting stations at Pyongyang. During June and July, the 36th was tasked with heavy bombing and strafing missions against enemy airfields to prevent any possible reinforcements of air elements during cease-fire negotiations."

On 1 May 1953, the 8th Wing participated in a raid to take out Radio Pyongyang. The U.S. Air Force in Korea (p653) states, "...on 1 May he (Gen Barcus) served as airborne commander for the Radio Pyongyang attack. While the 4th and 51st Wings screened and covered, the 8th and 18th Fighter-Bomber Wings passed over Pyongyang as if heading toward a Yalu patrol and then suddenly let down to bomb the radio station and its power supply. Surprised Red flak batteries managed to damage one Sabre, but its pilot brought it home. Circling above Pyongyang and ussing a radio frequency which the Reds monitored, General Barcus identified himself and promised: "We will be back every time you broadcast filthy lies about th Fifth Air Force." The audacity of the Fifth Air Force attack and the insult offered by General Barcus represented an utmost loss of face to the Red air forces."

The following is excerpted from Jim Escalle's website honoring his uncle 2Lt Jimmy L. Escalle at 36th FBS: Jim Escalle. It gives an excellent description of the life at K-13 during the early days of 1953. Lt Escalle was KIA while on a strafing run against a North Korean truck convoy. The photo collection tells the story of the 36th FBS at Suwon more graphically than any word could convey.

Jim (Escalle) arrived at Suwon Air Base (K-13), South Korea in February 1953. It was a large base with one very long asphalt runway (over 9,000 ft.). The taxiways were all made of pierced steel planking (PSP) and the aircraft were parked in sandbag revetments on the ramp, which was also PSP. The base was shared by the 8th Fighter-Bomber Wing on the east side and the 51st Fighter-Interceptor Wing on the west side. Each wing was self-contained, but the Base Operations building along with the tower were on the 8th FBW side of the base. The two wings controlled their respective combat groups and other individual squadrons that were attached to them. Also assigned to the base was the 319th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron. They flew radar-equipped F-94B night fighters.


2Lt Jimmy L. Escalle of Mike Flight (Jim Escalle)

Base Operations Welcome Sign (Jim Escalle)

He was assigned to the 8th Fighter-Bomber Group, under the command of Lt. Col. Walter G. Benz, Jr., a highly decorated combat veteran of World War II with eight air-to-air kills to his credit. The 8th FBG was attached to the 8th FBW, whose motto was Attaquez et Conquerez, which when translated meant "Attack and Conquer". The 8th FBW was under the command of Col. James J. Stone, Jr. at the time Jim arrived, and was still flying the F-80C, but it was very soon after his arrival that the 8th FBW began the transition into the F-86 Sabre. (SITE NOTE: Jim Escalle wrote in Dec 2003, "Walter Benz, the 8th FBG commander at the time, was the squadron commander for the 342nd Fighter Squadron, 348th Fighter Group, under Neal Kearby in the Pacific in World War II. He shot down eight Japanese aircraft including two Zekes. His P-47 had the same name as did his F-86F in Korea - "Dirty Old Man", which was something interesting when I first found out. He's living in San Antonio and is 83 years old.")

Before Jim was sent to a specific squadron, he and the rest of his group of new pilots were assigned to the Replacement Training Unit (RTU), where they went through orientation training in the "Little Jet School House", as a sign above the door of the RTU building once stated. The course of instruction for these new pilots included a detailed description of the combat areas, radio and navigation procedures relating to the various radar controllers, and several solo and formation flights to familiarize them with the local area. They also got to fire and drop live ordinance on the Suwon gunnery range, located west of K-13 on the coast of the Yellow Sea.

When Jim finished orientation training, he was assigned to the 36th Fighter-Bomber Squadron. They were called the "Flying Fiends" and their squadron patch was affectionately called "The Puking Pup" by the pilots. The other two squadrons assigned to the 8th FBG were the 35th FBS "Black Panthers" and the 80th FBS "Headhunters". Each squadron was identified by the color of the tail flashes that were on their planes. The 35th had blue tail flashes; the 36th had red tail flashes; and the 80th had yellow tail flashes. The pilots wore baseball caps in their squadron colors, and many of them also had colored scarves with their name and squadron insignia sewn on.

36th FBS F-86s in Revetments (Kermit Keeley)

36th FBS Flightline (Jeanie Mayo Thornton)

There were four flights in the 36th FBS: Mike, Queen, Uncle, and Victor. Jim was assigned to Mike Flight. The pilots lived in corrugated-steel Quonset huts with plywood floors, and had two oil-burning stoves inside to keep them warm during the cold winters. They slept on standard cots, and were issued an air mattress and a couple of blankets. Sheets and other "extras" could be bought at the BX or sent from home. Furniture was made from whatever materials a person could scrounge up. There was a central shower area, and latrines could be found in several locations. Water taps were behind each hut for washing and laundry purposes, and each flight hired a Korean houseboy to do their light laundry and other chores. Choy was the houseboy for Mike Flight.

36th FBS Quonsets (Bob Veazey)

Victor Flight Pilots in front of Ops Bldg (Paul Gushwa)

Between each Quonset hut was a small slit trench with a wall of sandbags around it. This was for those nights when a Russian-built Po-2 biplane dubbed "Bedcheck Charlie" decided to make a surprise visit to K-13. It would sneak in under the radar at very low speed and the guy in the back seat would drop hand grenades or other small incendiary devices onto the base. Usually, it didn't do any serious damage, but it did annoy the pilots when they were awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. They quickly ran outside, some carrying their government-issued fifth of Canadian Club, and jumped into the slit trench between the Quonsets. At the same time, Army anti-aircraft units that surrounded the base would open up with their artillery, firing tracers into the night sky. According to what I've been told, it was quite a show.

36th FBS Sign above Ops (Paul Gushwa)

36th FBS Sign next to Squadron HQ (1953) (Paul Gushwa)

It was a long walk from the Quonset area to the squadron headquarters and Operations building. They were located just off the main road, which was parallel to the flight line. The Operations building was the place where the pilots spent most of their time, and between missions they would play cards, compete at ping-pong, or just relax and read. Jim also spent a great deal of his free time on the flight line learning from the maintenance personnel.

The pilots were also given extra duty assignments, such as runway control officer, tower officer, range officer at the Suwon gunnery range, and airdrome officer, where they would assist the base operations officer for a day. There was even a squadron mascot, a small black dog that the pilots adopted as one of their own. They named him Figmo.

36th FBS pilots next to 8th FBG Ops Building (Fick Henderson)

Pilots reading outside Ops Bldg (Jeanie Mayo Thornton)

Crackel, Hodges, Mouton, Demint & Irish at Ops (Fick Henderson) (SITE NOTE: Jim Escalle wrote in Dec 2003, "On 18 June 1953, the 36th FBS lost three pilots and their flight surgeon, along with several enlisted personnel, on that C-124 crash at Tachikawa in Japan. Other 8th FBW personnel were lost as well. Jim James and my uncle graduated from the same base in the same class as did many others who were there together. Two of them were aboard the C-124 - Raoul Mouton and Albert Hamilton.)

The 36th FBS was the first squadron in the 8th FBG to transition into the F-86 Sabre, beginning this changeover on February 22, 1953. All of the pilots with fewer than 50 missions in the F-80C stayed with the squadron to fly the new jets. Jim flew both F-80s and F-86s at Nellis AFB, but his first experience in combat would take place with him sitting in the cockpit of a brand-new F-86F.

However, it wasn't until early April 1953 when the squadron was considered to be "combat capable" in their new aircraft and they flew their first operational missions into North Korea. Those first missions were MiG Alley sweeps, and according to Jim in one of his letters, the experienced pilots (old heads) went on most of them because they had the seniority. Even though he was a "new head", he did get to fly on a few of these early interceptor missions. After the planes were fitted with their bomb racks, the squadron returned to their fighter-bomber role.

The planes would usually be lined up on the squadron's PSP ramp, located at the southern-most end of the base ramp, and the pilots arrived at the flight line following their briefings at the Ops building. Most of the pilots had their aircraft personalized with names written on the left side of the fuselage, such as "Shimpai-nai", "My Darling Patricia", and "Wild Bill".

Jack Taylor's Shimpai-nai (Jack Taylor)

It was the goal of every pilot to get 100 combat missions, which was the standard tour of duty in Korea. Jim was no exception to this and he would even give up a scheduled R&R (rest and relaxation) in Japan to go on a mission. When the squadron returned to its role as fighter-bombers, he went on a wide variety of them. Some of these missions included dropping 1000-lb. bombs on a multitude of tactical targets, skip-bombing dams at extremely low altitudes, going on armed reconnaissance patrols, and dive-bombing enemy troops and supplies. On close air support missions where he would have to drop bombs or fire his guns on the front lines, a T-6 "Mosquito" plane (Forward Air Control) usually fired white phosphorus rockets known as "Willie Petes" in the area to pinpoint the location of the target.

Pilots returning from mission (Fick Henderson)

When the Chinese army broke through the Republic of Korea (ROK) sector of the front lines on June 15, 1953, the 36th FBS was up in the air before dawn and didn't land until long after dark. Jim got four missions that day, bombing various targets near the front lines in the daytime, and strafing trucks that were moving behind the lines at night. The flak at night would be so heavy that the tracers were described by him as being "like a Fourth of July in the late evening." As soon as he started down for the trucks, the Chinese would open up with their anti-aircraft guns from both sides of the valley. It was very dangerous work; however, it was also the normal routine of the fighter-bomber pilot.

The pilots of the 36th FBS, commanded at the time by Major Robert C. Ruby, flew a total of 121 sorties that day, setting a record that stands today. Jim gave most of the credit to the crew chiefs and armament personnel for their quick turn-around times in repairing and loading the aircraft with the necessary ordinance for each sortie.

Maintenance Crew of 36th FBS (Jeanie Mayo Thornton)

Before the sun was up on the 16th of June, the squadron was back in the air, dropping bombs on the front lines during the daylight hours and strafing trucks again when it got dark. It was another four-mission day for Jim, which brought his total to 40 missions. He wanted to get at least 50 or 60 by the time the war ended, but when he got his next one three days later, it ended up being his final mission.

Pilot checking plane on cloudy day on flightline (Paul Gushwa)

Lineup of F-86s on Flightline (Paul Gushwa)

On Friday morning, June 19, 1953, Jim went on Mission Bromide 21, an armed reconnaissance mission along one of the main supply routes, about thirty miles deep in North Korean territory. The purpose of this mission was to first hit a primary target of personnel and supply shelters, then separate into two elements and proceed on road reconnaissance, seeking out enemy vehicles along this route and destroying them. The commanding officer of the 8th FBW at the time, Col. William E. Elder, was flight leader on this mission. However, 2nd Lt. Kermit Keeley, who was briefed to fly the number two position, flew as "Mike Lead" while Col. Elder flew as his wingman. Jim flew as element leader (number three position) and 1st Lt. Jack Senneff was his wingman on this four-ship flight.

Crew chief directing a 36th FBS pilot (Jack Magee)

Jim was flying an F-86F named "The Georgia Peach", which the crew chief had painted on the right gun door of the fuselage. The plane's serial number was 52-4367 and it was assigned to 1st Lt. Bill Demint, who was the flight commander of Uncle Flight at the time. On many missions, it was routine when one pilot would sometimes take another pilot's assigned plane, and this was one of those times.

The flight took off from K-13 at 10:40 a.m. and headed north to strike their primary target. As soon as they released their 1000-lb. bombs on the shelters, they immediately broke up into elements and began road reconnaissance.

After flying for about fifteen minutes scanning the roads in the area, Jim, whose call sign was "Mike Three", spotted several camouflaged trucks parked along the side of a dirt road that ran into the main supply route. He called Lt. Senneff (Mike Four) to say that he was going to initiate a pass. Jim went in on a strafing run from north to south and called when he had broken off the target. Lt. Senneff then made his pass from south to north. They made their strafing runs in opposite directions in order to avoid as much anti-aircraft fire as possible. In doing so, they lost visual contact with each other and had to maintain their relative positions to the trucks by radio calls.

When Lt. Senneff pulled off the target, he noticed more trucks in the area and called Jim. In the meantime, Jim had already spotted these trucks and was starting his second pass. He called to say that he was going in again, this time from west to east. Lt. Senneff waited for the call from Jim saying that he was off the target, but no call came. He called Jim but there was no answer, so he began his second pass going from east to west.

After pulling off the target, Lt. Senneff called Jim again for his position, but still received no answer. He then climbed back to about 10,000 ft. and began circling the target area trying to contact him on "Green" channel, which was the channel they were working. He even tried contacting him on "Grey" channel, which was the 8th Group's common channel, but with negative results. Jim was officially reported missing at 11:33 a.m.

Lt. Senneff, along with the rest of the flight, continued to circle the target area looking for a parachute or any sign of a crash until their fuel status made it necessary for them to return to base. After refueling their aircraft, they quickly returned to where Jim was last seen and made a thorough search. It was not long before they spotted the smoking wreckage of his aircraft about 9-10 miles southwest of the target area. The entire tail section along with part of a wing were seen, but still no sign of Jim. Although no one saw him go down, the cause of the crash was considered to be enemy anti-aircraft fire, and 2nd Lt. Jimmy L. Escalle was officially listed as Missing in Action.

During the few months that he spent at K-13 with the 36th Fighter-Bomber Squadron, Jim had the privilege of flying with some of the best fighter pilots in Korea. He was able to get in 41 combat missions and was awarded an Air Medal for his efforts. He also received the Soldier's Medal for putting his own life in danger when an accident occurred one day on the flight line. He was well-liked by everyone in Mike Flight, and according to those who flew with him, he was one of the best pilots in the squadron. Jim's squadron commander, Major Ruby, in a written evaluation done a few days after he was reported missing, stated that Jim had "superior growth potential" and "it would be a distinct pleasure to serve with him at any future time." Unfortunately, that future time never came.

On June 20, 1954, according to the requirements of a law known as the "Missing Persons Act", Jim's MIA status was changed to a presumptive finding of death. This wasn't considered to be the actual or probable date of his death, but was done for the purpose of terminating his pay and settling his accounts. Three months prior to this date, he was promoted to first lieutenant.

In 1992, the Delano High School Class of '47 established a memorial college scholarship in Jim's name to show their love and pride for him as a fellow classmate, and to keep alive the memory of the sacrifice he made for his country. Jim may be gone, but he is certainly not forgotten.

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35th Black Panther

35TH FBS BLACK PANTHER: Jim James, who flew with the 36th FBS at K-13 (Suwon), stated that all units used their World War II names. The 35th Fighter Bomber Squadron was known as the "Black Panthers." He said, "The name Panton had to have been after 1953. The three squadrons went by their old World War II names: Black Panthers, Flying Fiends (Puking Pups), and Headhunters." (See 8th Fighter Bomber Wing (Hoboes).) In addition, in "A Ridge Too Far" by John Lee Burns, Col, USAF, Ret., it states, "The 35th TFS Black Panthers (F-4D) had been deployed TDY from Kunsan AB, Korea to SEA on 1 April 1972." Thus we know it was AFTER 1972 when the unit joined the 8th TFW that the "Panton" tag was officially adopted. It is assumed that the squadron wanted to distance itself from the racially divisive and militant "Black Panthers" of the "Black Power" movement in the 60s-70s.

How this nickname (Pantons) originated has been lost in time, but some have suggested it was the Korean way of saying "Panthers." However, the term "Pantons" was in use in Japan -- though unofficially -- and Col Burns noted that after the move to Korea, the pilots from Japan seemed to use the term more frequently than others. Thus the origins of "Panton" are assumed to have been from Japan -- not Korea.

After more than 30 months of fighting with the F-80C Shooting Star, the 8th FBW became the fourth USAF wing to convert to the Sabre, on the heels of the 4th, 51st, and 18th. The wing began receiving the F-86F models early in 1953 and used them for air-to-ground work. Seen with external fuel tanks and bobs at K-13 Suwon Air Base, Terrible Turtle was an F-86F Sabre (52-4446) flown by 1st Lt. Perrin W. Gower of the 35th FBS/8th FBW. Pilots in this squadron shot down three MiG-15s in 1955, two years after the Korean ceasefire was signed Perrin W. Gower (From The Korean Air War by Robert Dorr and Warren Thompson)

Some of the canopy and cockpit detail of the Sabre is evident in this view of 1st Lt. Joe Lynch sitting on the alert pad in his F-86F. The dark blue command stripes around the aircraft nose indicate that this Sabre belongs to the 35th FBS/8th FBW, which belatedly turned in its F-80Cs to begin flying the F-86F. Joe Lynch (From The Korean Air War by Robert Dorr and Warren Thompson)

On 27 July 1953, the 8th Wing executed a "Fast Shuffle" deployment of half of their Sabres to alternate bases. Although there was no attack, General Anderson wanted to be sure there was no surprises when the Armistice took effect at 2201 on the 27th.

35th FBS F-86s in Revetment (Paul Gushwa)

Ken Creasy of Fredericksburg, VA remembers 1953 when he returned to Korea for his second tour, his first being with the 49th at Taegu. Ken was assigned to the 35th Fighter-Bomber Squadron (Black Panthers). He wrote, "In late 1953 or early 1954 I returned to Korea to Suwon K-13 AFB with the 35th FTB Squadron. The 35th did several Bug-outs to different air base in Korea & Formosa , before we moved out to Itazuke Japan." He later clarified that these were not real "bug-outs" or emergency evacuations but rather deployments. The deployment to Formosa was after the Korean War when the tensions flared between China and Formosa. In the pictures below, he said, "These are our planes standing alert duty, 24 hours a day while we were on this practice (BUG OUTS) that I told you about. That is how we got involved in the dog fight with the Migs, flying patrols along the 38th parallel near the Yalu River." In the photos below, he said the bombs were "on standby in case there was a counter attack from the North Korean Air Force."

35 FBS Operations	35 FBS Armament Shack
8th Operations with 3 squadron signs)	35 FBS aircraft parked in revetment
35 FBS aircraft ready for patrol	Bombs stored on the flightline
F-86s on alert (1954)	Anti-aircraft guns that surrounded base)

Click on photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Ken Creasy)

KOREAN CONFLICT HONORS: For its efforts during the war, the 8th Fighter Bomber Wing was awarded two Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citations and 10 campaign streamers. (Campaign Streamers. Korea: UN Defensive; UN Offensive; CCF Intervention; First UN Counteroffensive; CCF Spring Offensive; UN Summer-Fall Offensive; Second Korean Winter; Korea Summer-Fall, 1952; Third Korean Winter; Korea Summer, 1953.)

From a 1953 Stars and Stripes Article about the 8th FBW:

8th FIGHTER BOMBER WING FIRSTS

WE WERE THE FIRST

* AERIAL UNIT COMMITTED TO ACTION IN KOREA
* JET GROUP TO FLY COMBAT
* AMERICAN UNIT TO BE FIRED ON IN KOREA
* UNIT IN KOREA TO SHOOT DOWN ENEMY PLANES
* UNIT IN KOREA TO SHOOT DOWN A MIG
* TO FLY 255 SORTIES IN ONE DAY
* TO FLY 50,000 SORTIES IN JET WARFARE (KOREA)
* TO FLY 60,000 SORTIES IN JET WARFARE (30 MAY 53)
* TO FLY 290 SORTIES IN ONE DAY (15 JUNE 53)
* TO FLY 121 SORTIES FOR ONE SQUADRON FOR ONE DAY

(NOTE: The 80th FBS flew the 121 sorties in one day on 14 April 1953 in one 14-hour period.)

During the Korean War, the 8th Fighter-Bomber Wing and its flying units, the 35th FBS "Black Panthers", 36th FBS "Flying Fiends" and the 80th FBS "Headhunters" were credited with destroying "at least 45 enemy aircraft, 256 tanks, 1916 artillery positions, 4026 vehicles, 48 locomotives, 6026 buildings, and 14,684 enemy troops." According to the 8th Wing Historian, it is also credited with 18 aerial victories. We are still researching this area as there are conflicting records in different books. (NOTE: 15 of the aerial kills came in the first month of the war. (Go to Kills). The unit did score more kills AFTER the conflict ended (See KILLS (1955).)

8th MAINTENANCE SQUADRON: Very little is heard about the "backline shops" which fell under the 8th Maintenance and Supply Group. The 8th Field Maintenance Squadron provided the field-level maintenance in the repair of the radio, nav/radar, electrical, structural repair, wheel and tire, aero repair and fuel systems -- while the major depot-level repairs and isochronal inspections were handled by the REMCO in Japan. Their contributions were not as "glamorous" as those directly related to the sortie generation, but their work was just as vital to the war effort.

The following photos were sent by Larissa Reutgen, the daughter of James Ainsworth, Jr, who graduated from Fort Monmouth Radio school and was sent to the 8th FBW in Suwon near the end of the war. His job at Suwon was to recover electronics from the downed aircraft. In some of the photos, flatbed trucks are seen which were used to haul the downed aircraft off the runways. The following candid photos are of the maintenance folks at work and play -- and shots of the mid-tour Rest and Recreation (R&R) to Tokyo that everyone looked forward to. (SITE NOTE: James Ainsworth is unusual in that he served with the 8th in Korea AND later between 1969-1970 as part of the Wolfpack 8th TFW at Ubon Ratchatani, Thailand. He retired as a major in 1977.)

Off-base in Suwon


(L) A mudwattle farmer's house in Suwon (NOTE: That the vegetable fields extend right up to the house.) (R) Behrons in Suwon Rice Paddy


(L) Charley, Blankenship and Baby-san in Suwon Hills (R) Behrons-Charley and Blankenship at Suwon South Gate Wall (NOTE: The South Gate remains in the much the same condition as seen here except that there is a road encircling the gate now.)


(L) Wright-Bohanon-Biener (R) B-26 Taking Off K-13


(L & R) Koreans changing old Hwan money for new Won money

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Candid Shots of Life at K-13


(L) Merry Christmas from 8th Maintenance Squadron banner over Wheel and Tire Shop (1952) (R) Hobo Comm Shop


(L) Blankenship and Charley (R) Blankenship-Kim & Charley (NOTE: Charley refers to Charley Ainsworth of Springfield, MA.)


(L) Bob Utterback - Big UN (R) Kim Korean in Electric Shop


(L) M. Richman Chief Clerk (R) Adams-Moris-Kuld playing horseshoes


(L) Biener Radio Shop (R) Gehringer


(L) Lyn Hicks (R) James Ainsworth, Jr.


(L) John Carr (R) Thomas


(L) A2C Colton Blankenship (R) Kee & White in Radio Truck


(L) Quonset hut -- K13 Home (R) Thomas-Herbrand-Tennessee


(L) Bill Miner of W.Virginia (R) Charley Ainsworth of Springfield, MA


(L) Chung Korean in Supply Section (R) John Marich


(L) John Pozega of Van Neys, CA (R) Joltin' Joe Kim


Kim & Kim K-13 Houseboys


(L) Charley Ainsworth and James Ainsworth, Jr. (R) TSgt Chester Green Aero Repair


TSgt Williams


(L) Wright-Bohanon-Biener (R) B-26 Taking Off K-13


(L) Crashed British Firefly K13 (R) Crashed F-86 K-13


(L & R) F-9F after flying into bomb blast


(L) C-119 Boxcar Taking Off K13 (R) F-86 Drop Tanks K13

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Mid-Tour R&R to Tokyo


(L & R) Group Shot


(L & R) Beiner in Kamaka Hotel in Tokyo


(L) Beiner in Kamaka Hotel (R) Lintz-Beiner in Tokyo
(L & R) Ernie Pyle Theater in Tokyo


(L & R) Tokyo Street Scenes


(L) Shrine in Tokyo (R) Unnamed Hotel in Tokyo (Observation Platform)


(L & R) Tokyo Street Scenes


(L & R) Tokyo Street Scenes


(L & R) Ginza Tokyo


(L) Hotel in Tokyo (R) RTO in Tokyo

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AFTER THE ARMISTICE (1954):After the Armistice, life continued on at Suwon as the GIs waited to go home. The life of the GI at Suwon didn't change much. The food was still sorry, living conditions still crowded, freezing in winter, sweating in summer, homesick all the time, surrounded by abject poverty outside the gate.

Ken in front of K13 Main Gate (1954)

But what was made was friendships that would last a lifetime. Ken Creasy's photos below give a feel of the living conditions at Suwon in 1954.

Ken in front of K13 Main Gate (1954)	Ken in front of Sandbag Revetment
Ken in the Barracks (1954)	Inside the barracks (1954)

Click on photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Ken Creasy)

After the Armistice in July 1953, the tensions died down a little and travel outside the base was permitted. Though the Conflict was over, most Koreans felt another invasion was imminent and the "peace meetings" dragged on at Panmunjom with frivolous claims and counter-claims flying on both sides. The land had been ravaged and after the war, Korea was without resources. Life was not easy in Korea. Ken wrote of the pictures below: "This is what the living conditions were still like in 1954 outside of the Base. The people had very little and their homes as you can see were not of the best quality...plus the filth they had to put up with." Signs of war were everywhere. One of the photos shows "a bombed out bridge just outside the base on your way south of K-13".

Koreans outside K-13 (1954)	Koreans outside K-13 (1954)
Bombed out bridge south of Suwon (1954)	Suwon Orphanage (1954)

Click on photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Ken Creasy)

The following two pictures are interesting. The first photo is of the fledgling ROKAF Air Force P-51 Mustang. During the war, the Koreans flew under the leadership of Americans flying lead as they had little command of English. (For more info on the ROKAF go to ROKAF.) The second photo is of Namdaemun (South Gate) "in Seoul, the Gateway, going out of the city north on the main highway north to the 38th Parallel." This gate is now a major tourist attraction featured in most travel brochures today. When these photos are compared with things as they are today, you realize the phenomenal strides Korea has made.

ROKAF P-51 Mustang (1954)

Namdaemun (South Gate), Seoul (1954)

Click on photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Ken Creasy)

MIG KILLS (MAY 1955): But the Korean war was not over simply because the Armistice was signed. Ken wrote, "On one of our Bug-out's I can't remember which Base K-8, K-9 or which base it was we were flying recon along the 38 Parallel & was engaged in a Dog fight with some MIG-15's in which we shoot down 1 or 2 I can't recall just how many. Our planes had the Blue strips on the tail , our sister squadrons the 36 & 80 had red & yellow strips on their tail. In Oct 1954 we were moved back to Itazuke AFB Japan." Later Ken sent the following article from The Free Lance Star dated May 10, 1955. The headline read "US Jets Down 2 MIGs After Being Attacked While on Patrol Duty -- Another Is Probably Destroyed. TOKYO (AP) -- American Sabre Jets, jumped by Communist MiGs between North Korea and Red China, shot down two of the Russian-built jets and probably destroyed another this morning, the Air Force announced. The dogfight started over international waters of the Yellow Sea, the Air Force said, when eight Sabres were attacked by 12 to 16 Communist fighters."

May 10, 1955 "US Jets Down 2 MIGs After Being Attacked
While on Patrol Duty -- Another Is Probably Destroyed.
(Courtesy Ken Creasy)

The article continued, "All the Sabres, on a patrol mission returned later to their Korean bases. The fight area was about 50 miles southwest of the mouth of the Yula (sic) River, boundary between North Korea and Red China. Communist China has a large air base at Antung, and North Korea, on opposite banks of the Yalu. The Air Force gave no clue on the nationality of the MiGs, used by their forces of North Korea, Communist China and Soviet Russia."

It went on, "REDS FIRE FIRST An Air Force announcement said the MiGs fired first, It said the Sabres, from the 35th Squadron of the 8th Fighter-Bomber Wing, returned the fire. Two Communist pilots bailed out and the third plane was last seen diving straight down trailing smoke."

The article continued, "It was the third almost identical incident in the same general Yellow Sea area in 16 months. On Jan. 22, 1954, American Sabres escorting an RB45 jet reconnaissance bomber shot down one MIG 15 when a flight of Red planes attacked of the west coast of North Korea. Feb 5 Sabres escorting another RB45 jet shot down two more MiGs in a similar battle."

The following pictures are of Ken Creasy repairing the guns on a plane involved in the dogfight mentioned above. Ken said, "The picture is of myself taking the guns out of one of the planes that was involved in that dog fight. The pilot that was flying this plane burned the guns up on one pass, while he was chasing the MiG, which he could not get a confirmed kill for." As to the second photo, he said, "At the time this picture was taken this picture was 'classified'." It shows the 50-caliber machine guns and their mounting in the F-86s. He added that the pilot that was flying this plane was nicknamed "One Burst" from then on out.

Ken working on guns of F-86 involved in dogfight (1955)

Internal workings of the 50-caliber machineguns (1955)

Click on photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Ken Creasy)

F-94B NIGHT FIGHTERS AT SUWON (4TH FIS & 319TH FIS): Ken Creasy later wrote, "The 4th Fighter Interceptor Sq was the outfit across the field from us there at K-13 , also we had a Sqd of F-94s the radar night intercepts on the same side of the field as we were. They flew night recon mission." The 4th FIS has the distinction of having the first jet-to-jet kill in history. In November 1950 an F-80C from the 4th FIS shot down a MiG-15. The 4th FIS "Flying Fuujins" (or 4th F(AW)S) were out of Naha, Okinawa and flew F-94s. Unfortunately, the F-94 could be only called "inadequate" at best with a radar that couldn't be relied on.

The 319th FIS was an Air Defense Command (ADC) unit sent to Korea with their F-94s. The J. Baugher site states, "The first F-94As to reach the Far East Air Force (FEAF) arrived at Itazuke AFB in Japan in March of 1951, equipping the 68th Fighter Interceptor Squadron. They were deployed to Japan primarily to guard US bases in Japan against attack by Soviet bombers. By the end of 1951, this squadron began posting two F-94s on strip alert at Suwon AFB in Korea. They were to be scrambled in case any enemy night intruders came South. ... The 319th Fighter Interceptor Squadron began operating F-94Bs from Suwon on March 22, 1952." They flew with the Marine VMF(N)-513 from Kunsan on missions to cover the B-29 bomber streams over the North during the later part of the war. Though the aircraft was flown by brave pilots, the aircraft was just not up to the task. In fact, one credited 319th kill came from a mid-air collision with the enemy aircraft. After this the B-29 command ordered that no F-94 would fly within 30 miles of the B-29 stream. All cover was provided by the Marine F3D-2 Skyknights.

F-94B Emergency Landing Note fire on edge of runway (K-13 1954)

F-94B Night Fighter 319th FIS

Click on photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Ken Creasy)

---

BASE OPS AT K-13 (1954):The daily activities at Suwon centered around the runway -- with its life and death scenarios for the aviators. Don Hill was a Base Operations dispatcher on duty when an F-94 from the 68th Squadron and a rescue chopper went down in 1954. (NOTE: If the 68th Squadron sounds familiar, it's because it was the unit that scored the first kill of the Korean War with a F-82 Twin Mustang while attached to the 8th FBW at Itazuke, Japan.)

F-94

Don wrote, "I was a Base Operations dispatcher at K-13 Suwon and K-8 Kunsan in 1954. I wrote a story which I published in a book, Slices of Life. It was the story of the crash of a F-94 and the rescue helicopter killing 8 men." The story is below, but Don asked that a disclaimer be mentioned about the names. He wrote, "In reference to my story, Korean Night Flight, the names Capt. Ronsan, M/Sgt. Flick and A/1c Ron Isler are made up. I believe the ranks were correct. I believe Col. Bearskin is correct, however, I can't be sure. His name was so unusual I seem to remember it. Col. Ernest Beverly was Wing Commander and A/1c Cottingham was my relief. I would appreciate that a disclaimer be mentioned. The fact that I wrote this some thirty years after the event might have clouded my memory."

Don is not the only one who remembered this incident. Ken Creasy wrote, "In reading the website page the story about the F-94 crash & the Chopper crash that killed the 8 men there at Suwon K-13 AFB, believe it or not, but myself & a buddy of mine saw that crash. We were coming back from the chow hall & it was about dark or edge of dusk when this F-94 was taking off for his night mission & we stopped to watch. We enjoyed it when they kicked in the after-burnners. They left a pinkish glow as they got off the runway & they started to climb out over the hills at the end of the runway. This plane started to make a slow left bank about 2 miles out when it just crashed into the side of the hills making a big flash, almost at the same time the siren's started to wail, very shortly after the chopper took off. I didn't know till the next morning that the chopper had gone down, killing the other 6 men."

Korean Night Flight Late July, 1954 - Suwon, Korea... It was the fringe area - it was the razor's edge between peace and war. Words and seconds separated hell and silence. it was like sitting on a powder keg with generals and diplomats twirling the fuse. It was the rainy season and I was knee-deep in Korea. The flight plans on the dispatch console felt damp. The air was damp - everything had the musty reek of mildew. Lieutenants Murphy and Reinecke had just filed clearance from the "Hobo" squadron and the roar of their afterburner vibrated the operations building. It was shortly before midnight and Captain Ronsan, the Airdrome Officer for the night, had settled back for a snooze knowing that this was the last scheduled flight until 0500 hours. The squawk box from the tower crackled, "Operations, the F-94 is down.......stand by one." Captain Ronsan leaned forward in his propped up chair. "What did he say?" "The tower reported the jet is down, sir," I answered. "They must have had trouble and brought her back in," he stated matter-of-factly as he walked to the window to peer out. The tower came on again over the box, "We have lost contact with 8024, F-94. We have a fire approximately two miles off the end of runway two......better hit it." "Roger," I responded as I reached for the crash phone. Captain Ronsan looked pale as he came towards the console. "What....," he paused as he watched me pick up the red phone. I nodded to him as a sign of reassurance even though I felt a knot in my stomach. This was not a test run. This was not the 0800 test of the crash phone which I pulled every morning. This was the real thing. The crash phone was a regular black phone which had been painted with red enamel; not like the fancy red one which we had back in Memphis. It was a party line which rang the six stations when I lifted the receiver. Each station would answer in order by number. The crash crew was first and answered immediately. "One," the voice came in a sharp, anxious tone. Funny how I could tell by only one word; I knew that the crews were already in action behind the voice, for the crash phone set off an alarm at the crash station that would awaken the dead. All they needed now were the facts. The office of the Flight Safety Officer was number two. The answer came hesitatingly in a weak voice. It was not Captain Kidwell; probably some A/2c assigned the duty. Number three came through loud and clear. It was the Medics. Number four was the Air Police. I had been on the other end when assigned to the AP squadron. I had answered the 0800 test many times. This time it was a gruff voice and he knew it wasn't a test. The longest pause was the Base Commander's office. After waiting a few seconds, I asked "Number five? No answer at five?" I repeated. "Yeah, this is number five. This is the base commander's office," came the answer. That figures, I thought to myself. They make the system and they're the ones who foul it up. The final station was the Chaplain. He had waited patiently to respond. he was probably thinking the same thing that I was. SNAFU was the word for it. Situation normal, all fouled up. My report had to be short and to the point. "We have an F-94 down approximately two miles off end of runway two. Tower reports fire and no radio contact. All emergency personnel report to Base Operations immediately, over and out." I heard the phones clicking as they were hung up. A few "rogers" were heard and a final, "I'll be there," came just before the last phone clicked and silenced the system. I recognized the southern drawl of Chaplain Roberts. His "I'll be there," seemed reassuring and calming just as his Sunday morning services had been for me during the past three months. I hung up the phone and looked at Captain Ronsan. He had quickly grabbed the "Control Manual" and was thumbing his way to the section on "Crashes" mumbling something about, "Why did this have to happen when I'm on duty?" The crash truck pulled up almost before I could say anything to the Captain. Master Sergeant Flick came through the door with a map of the base in his hand. "Are they near a road?" he asked. I picked up the tower phone and waited for a response. "Tower," came the reply. "Can you tell if there is a roadway near the site? Can we get a truck out there?" I asked. "Looks to us like they're deep in the paddies. I don't think there's anything out there but paddies," the tower replied. "Damn," Sergeant Flick responded as he hit his fist on the counter. "Operations?" came the call from the tower. "Operations here," I answered. "We estimate that you might get within a half-mile of the site. The north boundary road would be the closest as far as we can determine," came the instructions from the tower. "We'll head on out. You get a convoy out as soon as possible, ok, sir?" Sergeant Flick half ordering and half asking Captain Ronsan. "Yeah....Oh, yeah, get as close as you can, I'll get the others together," answered the Captain, not sure of the procedure and feeling relieved that Sergeant Flick had suggested it. The Sergeant dashed out the door as we heard the whipping of the Air-Rescue chopper setting down on the pad directly in front of Operations. The alerted personnel started coming through the door from all directions. Lt. Col. Joyce Albert, the Medical Officer, came in with two medics following closely behind him. Captain Julian Kidwell, the Flight Safety Officer soon arrived and immediately took charge, to the relief of Captain Ronsan. Major James Roberts, Base Chaplain gathered with the group and soon they were headed for the chopper. The others headed for the group of trucks which were making up a convoy to follow the crash truck. A/1c Ron Isler dashed in with his photo gear hung from various parts of his huge frame. Sweat dotted his forehead. It was obvious he had made a mad dash to Operations, lugging his equipment wherever it would hang. He dashed up to the counter. "I've got to get on that chopper," he half questioned and stated. H-19 Rescue Helicopter at Suwon (K-13) (Paul Gushwa) I could hear the revving of the rotors and knew that the chopper was lifting off. "Sorry, Ron, it's full. You'll have to take the convoy," I ordered. "But I've gotta.....," his voice was drowned out by the whirling liftoff. He looked up to the ceiling as if he could see through it and knew that he had missed his chance to get to the site first. He dejectedly dashed out the door to catch his second choice, the convoy. Captain Ronsan and I suddenly found ourselves alone after the commotion of the chopper and trucks and personnel had vanished. Then Wing Commander Colonel Ernest Beverly skidded to a sudden stop in front of Operations. "What's the story?" he asked in a hurried voice. Captain Ronsan gave the Colonel the details. "Call Colonel Bearskin and get some more trucks up here!" he barked to me. "Yes, Sir," I responded as I checked the motor pool's number. "Operations," came the voice from the squawk box. "Operations here," I responded. "We have lost contact with the chopper. There was a secondary fire ball. I think we've lost them," the calm voice returned. "Roger, keep us posted," I answered with a deep knot in my stomach. I turned to Colonel Beverly and Captain Ronsan. "What do they see? Can they see anything?" the Colonel spouted as he hung over the console. I called tower, "Can you see anything, tower?" "Just the fire. Can't tell much. I see the lights of the crash truck. They're about a half-mile from the site," the voice stated. I could picture him with his binoculars, staining through the blackness of the night. I looked at Colonel Beverly. "Call Taegu, have them send some help," the Colonel ordered as he swung around and headed for the door to see if he could see anything. Captain Ronsan came up behind me and watched over my shoulder as I picked up the phone to "Center". "Taegu, Taegu," I spoke into the phone which was a party line between several bases. The Operations dispatcher at Taegu could hear me direct on his squawk box. "Taegu, here," came the reply. "Roommate, Roommate, this is K-13, request Air-Rescue assistance. F-94 and Air-Rescue chopper down. No access to site....over." "Stand by, "came the reply. I looked into the anxious face of Captain Ronsan. He had the same lump in his throat as I did. The code "roommate" was our SOS signal. It was a high priority message and I knew that buttons were being pushed and personnel were scattering in all directions. "K-13, Marine Air-Rescue chopper 356 on its way....over." The squawk box message gave us a short sigh of relief, yet we couldn't help worrying. My thoughts were with Chaplain Roberts. My heart sank as I thought of last Sunday's service. Chaplain Robert's sermon had been "The Reality of the Unseen." I felt his firm handshake at the doorway. I recalled his uncanny way of greeting each airman with a different phrase. I wanted to try to remember exactly what he had said to me, but then I didn't. "Roger, Taegu, thanks, over and out." I hung up the phone. Colonel Beverly came back inside. "What's the story?" he asked. "They have a Marine chopper on the way," Captain Ronsan stated. The Colonel turned and went back out the door. "Operations," the squawk box came on. "Operations here," I responded. "We have contact with Marine chopper. They are on the way to the site," the tower reported. "Roger," I answered as I could hear the chop, chop, chop of the rotors overhead. Captain Ronsan headed out the door. The next hour was long with various personnel coming in to ask questions. The Colonel had taken a truck out while Captain Ronsan and I held down Operations. Several people milled around, waiting for some word. No communications over the box. Nothing from the tower. They could only see the lighted horizon of the site knowing little more than we did. Then I heard the chopper hovering as it set down in front of Operations. He was a big Marine with mud up to his knees. He came through the door carrying only a service cap. "That's all we could find," he said as he tossed the cap on the counter. There was no doubt as to who's it was. Chaplain Robert's cap with mud spatters lay in front of me. I held back the tears. The service cap which was worn with the dress uniform was usually worn with the crushed look which was characteristic with the WWII "Fifty-mission" pilots. Each cap, on issue, came with a spring steel band which could be inserted to hold the cap rigid when not in use. Chaplain Roberts, however, preferred to keep this band in his cap and always wore it as a very perfectly formed cap. This was the cap that lay in front of me. I knew it was his. The sun was beginning to add light to the sky and A/1c Cottingham came on to relieve me. The stillness of the last few hours began to groan with trucks and jeeps going about the duties of the day. The drizzle of the monsoons had started. I walked out to the ramp in front of Operations and gazed off of the end of runway two. There was nothing but the Korean hills which made a backdrop for an occasional jet blasting off. That was all there was. PACIFIC STARS & STRIPES AIR FORCE IDENTIFIES 8 VICTIMS OF KOREA FIGHTER, COPTER CRASHES WASHINGTON, July 31 (AP) - The Air Force today identified eight dead or missing and presumed dead in two air accidents in Korea Wednesday. Two officers are presumed dead in the crash of an F-94 fighter and six believed to have lost their lives in a helicopter which crashed while in search of the downed fighter. Listed as missing and presumed dead in the fighter plane are: 1st Lt. John Francis Murphy, Jr., New York. 2nd Lt. Howard Emerald Reinecke, Spearfish, S.D. The Air Force listed as misusing and presumed dead three officers who boarded the helicopter for the search: Lt. Col. (Medical) Joyce A. Albert, Walnut Creek, Cal. Maj. (Chaplain) James W. Roberts, Nashville, Tenn. Capt. Julian M. Kidwell, San Bernardino, Cal. Three members of the helicopter crew were listed as dead: 1st Lt. Stanley Wright Jr., Maplewood, N.J. 2nd Lt. Richard I. Schneider, Riverside, Ia. A/1c Vernon Elmer Cranmer, Portland, Ore.

Lessons Learned from Korea

Throughout the Korean Conflict, the wing primarily conducted air-to-ground operations, providing close air support for United Nations ground forces, and striking enemy resources such as supply centers and transportation assets. During the initial days of the war there were multiple problems in this role. An Air University paper, "THE US AIR FORCE IN KOREA: Problems that Hindered the Effectiveness of Air Power" by Maj Roger F. Kropf, USAF, outlined many of these problems. The first was that the Air Force experienced major problems in air-ground coordination and close air support (CAS) due to major Air Force and Army shortcomings. Entering the war, FEAF's primary mission was the air defense of the Far East, especially Japan. It had conducted minimal and unrealistic training in close air support with the Eighth Army. In addition, initially, FEAF had only rudimentary tactical air control capabilities and demonstrated an inability to get far enough forward to direct effective air strikes. Additionally, the Army had failed to develop adequate communication nets for tactical air requests and liaison, forcing the Army to use (and to overload) the Air Force tactical air direction network. Communications was a nightmare as everyone jammed the few channels available for the pilots. The sum total of these problems was a ploddingly slow network that inhibited rapid response to immediate needs for CAS.

The paper went on to say, "Although the tactical air control system was improved significantly later, its continuing deficiencies were masked by the decreasing importance of CAS due to the improved organic firepower of the ground forces and the change from a fluid war of maneuver to a static front in the second six months of the war, a condition that lasted the rest of the war. However, even with the static ground environment, CAS was not very responsive. In September 1951, the Marines, now integrated into Eighth Army and without their own organic air support, were involved in the heaviest fighting on the front. FEAF supported their need for CAS with an average response time of 113 minutes. Overall, the Army and Air Force failed to find a satisfactory way to provide timely response and front-line control of air strikes. This was finally revealed in the last months of the war, when the Chinese mounted one last offensive and the Army needed CAS. Clearly the ability to rapidly respond to emergency needs for CAS was never established in Korea."

Early in the war, the Army depended heavily on Close Air Support provided by the FEAF units such as the 8th Fighter Bomber Wing, Maj Gen William Kean, commander of the US 25th Division, said after two days of heavy fighting in September 1950: "The close air support rendered by Fifth Air Force again saved this division as they have many times before." The official Army history also noted that in the first month of the Korean War, close air support was a vital factor in preventing the North Koreans from overrunning all Korea, and in gaining for the United States the margin of time necessary to bring in reinforcements and accumulate the supplies needed to organize the Pusan Perimeter . It should be noted that this "close air support" included what we now call battlefield air interdiction (BAI). Indeed, most tanks killed by air power were destroyed by BAI sorties, not CAS.

In South to the Naktong, North to the Yalu (p.376), it relates the influence of this Close Air Support as the U.N. and ROK forces withdrew into the Pusan Perimeter. It states, "The Far East Air Forces probably exercised a greater relative influence in August 1950 in determining the outcome of the Korean battles than in any other month of the war. As the number of tactical air control parties increased in late July and during August, the standard practice of the Fifth Air Force was to place one with each U.S. Army regiment and division headquarters and one with each ROK division and corps headquarters. Fighter aircraft in August normally left their Japanese bases at Itazuke and Ashiya on a daily schedule of two planes every fifteen minutes. They reported to the tactical air control center at Taegu where they received specific missions. After receiving them the planes reported to the proper division TACP and then to a regimental TACP for their target assignment."

NOTICE/DISCLAIMER: The content of this page is unofficial and the views and opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect those of anyone associated with this page or any of those linked from this site. All opinions are those of the writer and are intended for entertainment purposes only. Links to other web pages are provided for convenience and do not, in any way, constitute an endorsement of the linked pages or any commercial or private issues or products presented there. None of this site has been endorsed by the DOD, the Air Force, the 8th Fighter Wing or Mickey Mouse. All Air Force links are publicly accessible through the world-wide web. If there is any discrepancy between eye-witness accounts and OFFICIAL DOD records, this site opts to lend credence to the eye-witness views.

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