18th Fighter-Bomber Wing in Korea

1st Lieutenant CLAUDE R. 'SPUD' TAYLOR - Capt. Chappie James, An Exceptional Friendship

Pyongyang, North Korea, October, 1950

Following the North Korean invasion of South Korea on Sunday morning, June 25, 1950, we had gone into Korea in mid-July 1950 with the first increment of the 'Dallas Project', a hastily-formed squadron of volunteer fighter pilots from the USAF's 18th Fighter-Bomber Group, then stationed at Clark Field in the Philippine Islands.

First Lieut. Claude R. "Spud" Taylor, was another unique example... of the courageous band of Air Force pilots who flew early combat in the Korean War.

‘Spud’ had been one of the first to raise his hand when the 18th Group Commander, Col. Hank Norman asked for volunteers to go into battle; he went up to Korea as a "buck fighter pilot"; I went along as the full-time Squadron Intelligence Officer and part-time combat pilot.

It didn't take either of us, or any of us, long to realize that our gallant, but feeble efforts, initially flying ten derelict 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. Things improved considerably in early August, with the arrival of a shipload of 150 'new' F-51 Mustangs and a batch of experienced fighter pilots fresh from the 'States on the USS Boxer.

But it wasn't until at least two months later, during September, 1950, that we honestly felt that we might be on the winning side. General Douglas MacArthur's audacious, amphibious landing at the port of Inchon put a completely new perspective on what, until then, had been a purely defensive war.

The North Korean forces were soon forced into a complete rout; their offensive pressure around Taegu and the Pusan Perimeter was released immediately, and our attack efforts were simultaneously redirected toward support of our troops racing for the North Korean capitol city of Pyongyang.

But, before getting too far ahead of our story, it's appropriate to tell a bit more about Spud Taylor ... and Chappie James.

Like so many of the World War II Army Air Corps fighter pilots, Spud had been released from active duty in the drastic (RIF’s (Reductions in Force) of 1946. ‘Having been trained as a professional jazz musician, Taylor made a reasonable living playing with small combos at various nightclubs and cocktail lounges around the country.

But, also, like so many others of us, he too had been afflicted with the "fighter pilot bug" during the war and wanted very much to be flying again. He applied for Recall to Active Duty and was pleasantly surprised to be accepted for P-51 retraining during the Spring of 1948.

After a brief tour of duty in the 'States, he was transferred to Clark Field, Philippines, travelling across the Pacific by ship with his family.

It was during the voyage from San Francisco to Manila that he met another fighter pilot with unusual musical talent... a singer with a pleasant deep bass voice, and it was only logical that they should share many pleasant musical hours en route.

Lieutenant Taylor stood about five foot seven inches and, soaking wet could not have weighed 150 pounds. He wore a well-developed bushy walrus mustache and affected a slouched, rhythmic walk; he played beautiful Dixieland Jazz on the saxophone and, well, ... he just looked the part of a jazz musician!

His new friend, another fighter pilot en route to Clark Field, First Lieutenant James... Daniel James, had a deep, well-trained baritone voice; and in contrast to Spud's slight stature, he was six foot four, and tipped the scale at about 220 pounds; he was built like a pro football lineman. They made quite a combination. A study in contrasts... 'Spud' Taylor and his new friend 'Chappie' James.

Besides the other visual contrasts between the two, Spud Taylor was Caucasian and Chappie James was Afro-American, ...in the days when it wasn't popular to be a black officer ...the only black officer in a recently-integrated all-white fighter squadron. Black or not, Chappie's personality was such that he was immediately accepted as a professional U.S. Air Force fighter pilot. They were both assigned to the 12th Fighter Bomber Squadron at Clark Field in late 1948.

A few months before the start of the Korean war, the two officers were flying Instrument practice together in a tandem-seat T-33 jet trainer. Moments after take-off, the engine flamed-out and they were forced to crash land, wheels up, in a rough sugar cane field several miles north of Clark's airstrip.

Spud, in the front cockpit, was knocked unconscious when his head hit the instrument panel in the crash. Chppie, in the rear cockpit, was bruised and shaken, but remained conscious and when the airplane slid to a stop, found the clamshell canopy jammed shut. He stood on the seat, put his back to the canopy, and with tremendous effort forced the canopy open and scrambled out. The ship's fuel tank had ruptured in the crash and there was a very strong possibility that the leaking fuel could catch fire at any time.

Although shaken, James realized that Taylor was still motionless in the front cockpit, and despite the hazard of the spilled fuel, climbed back onto the wing and somehow managed to lift his limp friend out of the cockpit and drag him a couple hundred feet to safety. Few men could claim such devoted, dedicated friends as were Spud Taylor and Chappie James.

Together still in July, 1950, in the newly-redesignated 12th Fighter-Bomber Squadron at Taegu, Korea, flying combat missions together whenever the schedule would permit, they complemented each other in the air as well.

On October 20, 1950, following the Inchon Landings, Spud Taylor, while flying element leader, was hitting the Pyongyang airfield area as part of the "softening up" prior to an air drop by one of our Paratroop units, hoping to cut off a goodly number of the retreating North Korean Army.

During his dive-bombing and rocketing of the airfield, Spud's airplane was hit by ground fire ... hit badly enough, apparently, that he was barely able to maintain control long enough to pull up a couple thousand feet and turn southerly toward our front lines. After just a few miles, however, the engine caught fire, forcing Spud to take to his parachute ... he had to bail out while still several miles north of friendly territory. His 'chute was seen to open, and he reportedly appeared to be conscious as he floated down, for he waved to one of his wingmen who flew by to check his condition.

Our ground troops came in by mass parachute drop early on the following morning, taking the area with but little opposition.

Spud Taylor's body was found where he had touched down, still in his 'chute harness. He had been shot while descending in his parachute.

Spud's great friend, Chappie James... who had pulled him from the crashed T-33 at Clark Field the previous year... was absolutely beside himself with grief when told of Spud's fate. He had to be physically restrained from running out to one of our armed Mustangs with the intention of seeking single-handed retribution for Taylor's death.

Instead, he was ordered off to Tokyo for a week's Rest & Recuperation Leave, after which he returned to Korea to finish his 100-plus combat missions before returning to the United States in December, 1950.

Daniel "Chappie" James was promoted to Captain before leaving Korea. He then went on to a highly successful Air Force career, rising rapidly through various command positions, with further combat responsibilities in Viet Nam ... to become our nation's first black four-star General, as head of NORAD (North American Air Defense Command).

‘James did much to inspire hope among the black youth of our country, and he always "told it like it was" ...he told the youngsters that they could not expect freedom and equality to be given to them as a "Right" ...they had to "get their ass in gear and work for it"!

General 'Chappie' James died of a heart attack in 1978, at a young 56 years of age, and was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery, Washington, DC.

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