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

by Colin Downes

  We never did get a daylight raid on K-14 while I was there but we did get some night raids carried out by single Russian built PO-2 biplane trainers dropping mortar bombs and hand grenades. Despite the searchlights and the heavy concentration of 40 mm AA guns and the quad mounted 50 calibre machine-guns, these gutsy North Koreans managed to cause considerable confusion and inconvenience to the base facilities. They succeeded in damaging several huts and F-86s in the revetments and I recall one F-86 destroyed when hit by a dropped mortar bomb. The flak barrage was something to be seen and would have done credit to any fireworks display on the 4 or 14 of July. One could hardly imagine anything flying across the airfield without being hit, yet these slow cumbersome night raiders named ‘Bed Check Charlies’ evaded all efforts by the AA guns on the base, and the Marine Corps Skyraider assigned to K-14, to intercept them. The PO-2 flew too low and slow for the F-94 Starfighter and the Marine Corps F-3D Skynight jets to intercept, and the only success I recall against them was a single kill by a Marine Corps F-7 Tigercat.

  The only other memory of significance I carry from the irksome alert strip duties occurred after the cease fire at the end of July 1953, when in September a North Korean Mig-15 piloted by Lieutenant Kum Sok No defected to claim the US $100,000 reward offered by the United States during the war for a Mig-15. It was a fine day as I sat in my aircraft while leading a readiness flight watching a flight of F-86s overhead breaking and spreading for their landing from the east. Suddenly, a Mig-15 touched down from the west causing the four F-86s to overshoot. The Mig turned into the alert strip and stopped in front of me. I was able to take a photograph of it before hiding my camera, which was circumspect on my part because when the base police arrived at the alert strip they confiscated all the cameras they could find. We had a good look at the aircraft before it was towed to a hanger under a tarpaulin. The following day a military transport flew the Mig-15 to Okinawa for evaluation. The thing that impressed me the most while inspecting the Mig-15 was the superb high gloss finish on the aircraft. Although Russian aircraft construction looks somewhat agricultural in build quality when compared with US aircraft, the finish on the Mig was immaculate and highly polished.

  We were able to talk to the North Korean pilot via an interpreter and he told us that after every flight a squad of mechanics would clean and polish the aircraft before it flew again to keep aerodynamic airframe drag to a minimum. This suggested to me that the communists accepted the fact that the F-86 was faster than the Mig-15. We learned a few things from Lieutenant Kum before he left K-14 for Okinawa to assist in the evaluation of the Mig-15, which had previously puzzled us. For example: why did the Migs appear to fire their guns even without a target in their sights? The reason given for this was that they had no official mission tour and in any event they had to fire their guns before being credited with a mission. There were airborne commissars flying the missions to monitor tactics and to confirm when and where the F-86s operated, and if air combat had taken place. Another query: the Mig cockpit canopy was a clear bubble hood yet why was it possible to close on a Mig at altitude from the astern position without the Mig taking any action? The reason given for this was the cockpit pressurization and heating system of the Mig was very inferior to that of the F-86 and the armoured glass plate behind the pilot’s head would ice over cutting off rear vision. Several of the Mig-15’s systems were inferior to that of the F-86 because they were Second World War design; this applied in particular to the oxygen equipment, the radio equipment and the gyro gun sight.

  The Mig pilots were also at a disadvantage compared to the F-86 pilots under high G conditions because they had no G-suits but wore a tight wide leather belt to lessen the G effects. An interesting aspect on which we were unable to get confirmation from the North Korean pilot was the colour schemes of the Migs and the pilots flying them. We saw some Migs with a beautiful camouflage on the upper wing and fuselage, and underneath a duck-egg blue. This was an effective combination when viewed from either above or below. We thought by the way they were flown these were North Korean Migs with Chinese and Soviet pilots flying with them as instructors and airborne commissars. There were also silver Migs that appeared to be flown more aggressively and handled more competently than the camouflaged Migs, and we assumed these to be flown by Chinese and Soviet pilots; although it was a silver Mig-15 flown by a North Korean pilot from the North Korean Air Force that defected and landed at Kimpo. Very occasionally, some grey Mig-15s appeared in the sky over the North Korean – Manchuria border that were believed to be Soviet Marine aircraft from Soviet bases around Vladivostok. I only saw the grey Mig-15s on one occasion and if they were Soviet Marine aircraft they were probably on detachment to one of the main Mig bases around Mukden. The North Korean Mig-15 was test flown in Okinawa by test pilots from the US, and by pilots detached from the 4th and 51st Fighter Groups for combat trials. Lieutenant Kum Sok No received his US$100,000 a little belatedly and reluctantly from the US authorities because they intended to withdraw the offer after the cease-fire. However, the US obtained its first and only Mig for technical and combat evaluation at a reasonable price. As for Lieutenant Kum, in addition to the money, he also received a visa for the US and enrolled in the University of Delaware, and eventually became a US citizen.

  There were many variations of flying songs from the First and Second World Wars sung in the 4th FIW Officers’ Club at Kimpo. One sung to the tune of ‘On top of Old Smoky’, included the following verse:

  When up at the Yalu,

  Just turn up the grill.

  If the Migs don’t get you,

  Then the ‘88s’ will.

  It was over Antung,

  When covered in flak;

  I lost my poor wingman:

  He’s not coming back!

  This was appropriate during a sweep of the Yalu on 18 June 1953, flying F-86E No. FU-852. The mission nearly resulted in disaster and its only achievement, as far as I was concerned, was in staying alive. The mission was certainly unusual in its duration, and also unique in being the only occasion when an F-86 landed on the beach of an offshore island of North Korea and flew back to base. The day started like so many others, rising at 5.00 am for a briefing at Group Operations at 6.00 am, followed by take-off at 8.00 am on a full Group sweep of the Yalu area. The briefing covered the usual weather and emergency procedures that included the facilities on the islands of Chodo and Paengnyong-do off the west coast of North Korea. Chodo was a small rocky island with no suitable landing beaches, 5 nm off the coast and 90 nm from the mouth of the Yalu. Paengnyong-do, 15 nm from the coast of the Haeju peninsula and 100 nm from K-14, was a slightly larger island 40 nm south of Chodo with a good beach on the east side. This beach was suitable for aircraft crash landing with battle damage, and at low tide the sand was firm enough for a normal landing. The radar on both islands provided surveillance cover for the west coast of North Korea with tactical information and guidance for parts of the ‘Mig Alley’ area. Helicopters on stand-by at both islands were ready to pick-up any downed pilots in the Yellow Sea and along the coast. These helicopters, together with patrolling SA-16 amphibian aircraft, saved many pilots unable to make it back to friendly territory. The briefing ended with the standard warning about the dire consequences of intruding into Manchuria.

  The weather forecast was good with clear skies over the Yalu area established by the dawn Mig airfield reconnaissance flight along the Yalu. I took-off as wingman to Captain Lonnie Moore, the flight leader of four F-86Es, as we headed for the Yalu 200 nm away. As customary at 15,000 feet we test fired our guns and my radar gun sight appeared satisfactory. We dropped the external wing tanks as we flew into ‘Mig Alley’ at 45,000 feet and Mach 0.9. The 4th FIG flights were sweeping the south side of the Yalu from Sinuiju at the estuary, 100 nm up river to the Suiho lakes. The tactical radio frequencies were designated by a colour code and in line with Moore’s briefing we used one of the colours, ‘Silver’, to change to the tower frequency at K-14. This was to avoid bein
g monitored by the tactical controllers, and at 200 nm range our transmissions could not be heard at Kimpo.

  Moore then swung north from the Suiho area where the GCI radar from Chodo had indefinite coverage and we crossed into Manchuria, heading towards Kuan-Tien airbase about 20 nm north-west of the Suiho Dam. Shortly after crossing the Yalu I looked down and saw four pairs of silver Migs flying in line-astern formation heading west towards Feng Cheng, a large military airbase 25 nm north of Antung. The Migs had probably been above us at 48,000 feet waiting for the right moment to attack and now low on fuel were heading for one of their forward bases around Antung. The Feng Cheng airbase lay between the walled city of Feng Cheng, on the main road and rail communications between Mukden and Antung, and close to the Ai-Ho River flowing into the Yalu. Moore called the ‘bounce’ on the last pair of Migs and we rolled over in a sonic dive and found we were alone as the other pair called ‘bingo’ and headed back to the Yalu. As we continued down in our dive I reminded Moore of a previous occasion in making a similar attack on some Migs, when on pulling out of the dive at high G behind the Migs we both went into a violent longitudinal oscillation banging our helmets on the canopy as we bounced past the Migs trying to correct the oscillations. This was an aerodynamic phenomenon referred to as pilot induced oscillation, and in the confusion we lost sight of the Migs who were probably too low on fuel to react. This particular handling problem on the F-86Es was a function of the hydraulic controls, for in trying to correct the oscillation we got out of phase and over-corrected thereby increasing the oscillation. The solution was simple; either let go of the stick and the oscillation corrected itself, or apply steady back pressure to dampen the oscillation. On this occasion we pulled out of our dive at 3,000 feet without problems with two Migs ahead of us.

  We closed rapidly on the Migs in front of us and I could see two more ahead of them, as they approached the Ai-Ho River with the runway of Feng Cheng visible ahead. I was to the right and behind Moore and I called him ‘clear’ as he closed on the trailing Mig. I asked if he was sure the pair in front of us were the last pair of Migs and received an ‘Affirmative’ answer from him that was incorrect! The Migs were flying at 2,000 feet and Moore opened fire on the Mig in front of him at 300 yards range. I saw some strikes around the aircraft as Moore closed rapidly to 100 yards still firing. The stream of bullets must have gone straight up the tail-pipe of the Mig for several pieces came away, followed quickly by the cockpit canopy as the pilot ejected at 1,500 feet. I did not see what happened to him as Moore, anticipating he would over-shoot the leading Mig, must have closed his throttle with his air-brake selected. I closed rapidly on him and in order to avoid over-running him I pulled up in a barrel roll around him. While inverted on the top of the roll, I saw two Migs closing in fast from our six o’clock position. I called Moore and told him that he had one Mig at six o’clock and one farther back at eight o’clock. I called for him to break left and take the wingman while I dropped down behind the leading Mig. Moore did not respond and I saw he was firing at the first Mig now approaching the runway. I repeated the call to break left and as he did so I dropped down behind the Mig chasing him. Moore’s call of ‘Roger, breaking left’ was the last I was to hear or see of him for a while.

  We passed over the airfield boundary and I saw Migs in the revetments: then the whole airfield seemed to light up as if it was a flashing Christmas tree as the AA guns opened up on us. I headed for the deck as the black puffs appeared everywhere and had a bumpy ride as I flashed through them at full throttle hugging the ground. I had a quick glimpse of a Mig on the over-run of the runway as I turned south away from the airfield thinking that the AA fire was just as likely to hit some of the Migs as my F-86, and there were more of them. I called Moore to say I had lost contact and asked if he was on the second Mig but I got no reply. I thought I had lost the Mig in front of me but then saw it above me, silhouetted against the sky and heading towards a 3,000 feet high sharply pointed hill to the south of the airfield. The black puffs were following me and I imagined the intense AA fire was as disconcerting for the Migs as they were for me, forgetting that the F-86, in common with all US jet aircraft, had the bad operational characteristic of trailing black smoke from its exhaust at low level. If I stayed down low level I was a marked man, but the alternative did not appeal either.

  I started to track the Mig in front of me when clear of the airfield, easing up behind him to around 1,000 feet. In the turbulence with my flying helmet bobbing against the canopy while trying to rubber-neck looking for Migs, it was difficult to keep the gun sight pipper on the unsteady target ahead. In my anxiety to open fire and get out of the area before more reinforcements arrived, I opened fire too soon at 400 yards range. I saw strikes around the fuselage as the Mig broke to his left towards Feng Cheng. I followed and managed to put the pipper back on the Mig and opened fire again. A red ‘cricket-ball’ passed close to the top of my canopy and looking back I saw the underside of a Mig with flashes around the nose intake. I pulled left as hard as I could in a maximum G turn lowering the nose to increase speed, and as I did so another red ‘cricket-ball’ passed slowly ahead of me with a second passing behind the aircraft. I was probably lucky in two respects in that the Mig in front of me broke when he did, and the slow rate of fire of the 37 mm cannon placed a convenient distance between the shells in a high G turn.

  I was now sandwiched between two Migs with no support, low on fuel and with other Migs in the vicinity; a veritable Catch-22 situation. In a game of chess the term ‘zugzwang’ would be appropriate: being a position where any move would be disadvantageous. Air combat is no game although chance can be a major factor in success. Turning towards the Mig behind me, I lost sight of the Mig in front of me but I was confident I had inflicted sufficient damage to the aircraft, if not to the pilot, for it not to present an immediate problem. Anticipating other Migs arriving, and with the Mig having a superior acceleration and rate of climb performance over the F-86, I continued to turn at full power and maximum G. With a thumping G-suit and my flying helmet weighing like a sandbag on my head as it pushed my goggles down over my eyes, I strained to look back at the Mig following me. At around 7 – 8 G a few hundred feet above the ground and ‘rat-racing’ around the hill towering above us, the Mig pilot, following me without the benefit of a G-suit, should have been feeling an even greater strain. I was close to greying out as I kicked the top rudder bar hard to skid the aircraft before pulling harder into my turn. The desired effect was to upset the deflection sighting of the gyro gun sight of the Mig following me. It apparently succeeded for I saw the Mig take off some bank and I was no longer looking at its underside. The Mig pilot no longer had a deflection shot on me, but whether this was due to him anticipating a reversal on my part or a correction on his part to avoid a high speed stall, I had no way of knowing. Checking ahead and above, I looked back to catch a brief glimpse of the Mig as it slammed into the ground in an explosive ball of fire. I assumed the Mig had over controlled while trying to regain deflection; resulting in a high-speed stall that snap rolled the aircraft into the hillside.

  I could no longer see any Migs following me and going down to the deck at full power I straightened out on a southerly course heading for the coast. When confident that any Migs following me would be unable to catch me and on seeing some cumulus cloud building up ahead, after a short buffeting ride at very low level, I eased up into cloud holding my altitude as I turned south-west to avoid the Antung area. After a short while I continued my climb breaking into the clear at 10,000 feet, and the only signs of aircraft were some contrails to the east. On crossing the coast I felt fairly secure although, with 800 lb of fuel remaining rather than a ‘bingo’ of 1,500 lb, I knew I had no chance of making it back to K-14. My only prospect was either to eject over Chodo with no means of communicating to the island, or a landing of sorts at Paengnyong-do.