18th Fighter-Bomber Wing in Korea

First Lieutenant 'Snowflake' GRISHAM - Day or Night, F-51 Mustangs Still Don't Float

Chinhae, South Korea, May, 1951

Those who have experienced the painful loss of dear friends in battle already know the feeling. Those who have not shall probably never know; for it is impossible to truly describe such heartfelt feelings.

.... But I will try to relate more of the circumstances which enabled me, personally, to endure some of those feelings.

Because of the men I was priviliged to be associated with during my Korean air war experiences, I remain firmly convinced that valor and courage are not inborn, they are not hereditary; instead, they are the result of their then-current environment:

When you are surrounded by heroes, it is damned difficult to NOT perform in a heroic manner.

Undeniably, Korea in 1950 and 1951 were vintage years for Courage, Valor and Heroism.

Perhaps this, another of my personal experiences will help to explain what I mean....

As the full-time 12th Squadron Intelligence Officer and part-time Combat Pilot, it didn't take me long to realize that our gallant, but feeble efforts, flying ten weary F-51 Mustangs from the dirt airstrip at Taegu, South Korea, were having little effect in slowing the North Korean's relentless offensive drive toward Pusan. I continued my dual duties until mid-November, 1950, when I returned to Clark Field's 44th Squadron flying the F-80C jets until May of 1951, when an extreme shortage of fighter pilots ... caused by overly-optimistic Personnel forecasts during General MacArthur’s "Home by Christmas" euphoria prior to the November entry of Chinese forces on the side of North Korea.

Because I had not thus far been able to escape the grip of Far East Air Forces, I was hastily transferred back to the 18th Group in Korea, this time into the recently-absorbed 39th Fighter Squadron. It was there, at the newly-refurbished base at Chinhae (K-10), on the south coast, near Masan, that I met another of the Unsung Heroes of the Korean Air War...

First Lieutenant David Howard 'Snowflake' Grisham.

Lieutenant Grisham (I didn’t learn his first name until many, many years later; he was always known as "Snowflake"); he was our ever-friendly Weather Officer, a forecaster who had one time forecast a July snowfall at their central-Japan airbase and he turned out to be correct. It snowed enough to briefly close their airfield ...hence the nickname "Snowflake".

Grisham was caught up in the same Reduction in Force administrative "grounding" that had decked Don Bolt. In fact, his name was on the same set of orders returning him to flight status... provided that he "volunteer" for immediate combat duty in Korea. And, like Bolt and the others so named, he also had not flown any kind of an airplane for almost a year.

Snowflake maintained his ground responsibilities as well, serving as one of just two base weather forecasters assigned to Chinhae air base (K-10), Korea, which meant that his combat flying had to be carefully integrated with his ground duties. He couldn't fly very often ... maybe once or twice a week, at most, and it meant that he had to fill in on many of the odd-ball scheduling times.

For example, Grisham would often request the early, pre-dawn missions so that he could be back on the ground in time to meet his schedule as weather forecaster for the day; or he would take the last flight of the day for the same reason, so that he could finish his Weather forecaster duties before going off on his combat missions.

Chinhae Air Base, on the south coast of the Korean peninsula, had been a Japanese seaplane base during World War II and, although it had a semblance of a landing strip along a steep rock bulkhead ... about 4500 feet of packed gravel topped by pierced-steel-planking (PSP), separating the sea from the shore, and a large, tall hangar within 200 feet off of the centerline on the East end. It was a long ways from being a "comfortable" strip for land flying operations.

The twin mental hazards of the steep bulkhead with the sea on the left, and the proximity of the big hangar on the right, made it mandatory that we pay strict attention to countering any wind-drift while coming down the final approach at our usual 130 mph glide speed.

Night flying conditions were even more seriously aggravated by the barely visible string of dim, temporary runway lights, and the single little red light atop the corner of the hangar ...all of which had the nasty habit of shorting out and going black at the critical point of the landing pattern ...the final approach.

In early May or June, 1951, when the 39th Squadron was flying out of Chinhae and staging out of the little Han River sand-strip island K-16 base near Seoul, ‘Snowflake’ Grisham flew a late combat mission to the target area in the vicinity of the 38th Parallel, making it necessary for him to return to Chinhae long after darkness had enveloped the mountainous coastal area. His mission had been pretty "routine", if any ground bomb and strafing attack combat mission could ever honestly be considered that... striking targets along the front-lines at dusk, then a leisurely one-hour flight in the dark back to our coastal K-10 base. The remainder of his flight had returned to K-16, at Seoul City Airport, where they were to operate for a few more days. He flew on alone toward Chinhae.

‘Snowflake’ navigated to the field at Chinhae without difficulty, called the control tower, and set up his usual initial approach at 1000 feet for landing toward the west; the water and the bulkhead would be on his left, and he would have a good, clear over-water final approach.

He 'pitched out' in a steep ninety degree left turn, leveled his wings briefly on the crosswind leg, then rolled smoothly into another steep 90 degree turn to downwind leg.

With throttle reduced and speed dropping, he reached down by his left shin to extend the handle which lowered his landing gear and, with his left hand, he then placed the flap handle in the 'full down' position, then eased gently into another left banked turn onto base leg and final approach.

He tried desperately to keep his eyes focused on the dim lights which marked the separation between the bulkhead and the approach end of the landing strip...

Moving his left hand from the flap handle near his left thigh, to the landing light switch at the lower left corner of the Mustang's instrument panel, Grisham flicked the switch to light the landing approach ahead.

Simultaneously, as he did so, there was a great splash, as the Mustang's gear and propeller hit the sea.

Instantly, the nose and cockpit dove beneath the water, and in brief seconds the entire airplane was completely submerged in the dark sea, just 500 feet from the end of the runway ...and safety.

The landing light continued to glow eerily, deep under water, marking the location of the submerged Mustang. But before a boat could be launched, and divers get down to the cockpit where Snowflake Grisham ...the outstanding weather forecaster and volunteer combat fighter pilot, had already drowned. They were never able to determine just why his familiar, final landing approach had been so misjudged in the darkness.

'Nor could his determination to fly combat ever be fully explained.

"Snowflake" was just one more of the very special ones... another of the Unsung Heroes of that dirty, forgotten war.

Duane E. 'Bud' Biteman,
Lt. Col, USAF, Ret
‘...One of those Old, Bold Fighter Pilots’
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