18th Fighter-Bomber Wing in Korea

LUCK'S THIN THREAD

August 1950

On August 29th, 1950, while our ground troops were still locked in the battles around the Pusan Perimeter I was assigned to fly another long five and one-half hour 'ass-buster' from Ashiya, Japan, to the area north of Pyongyang, the heavily-protected capital city of North Korea, but despite the tedious, long hours in the cramped little cockpit of the F-51 Mustang, it turned out to be an exceptionally good mission; I was able to destroy two locomotives, one howitzer on a flatcar, several boxcars, four trucks, and about twenty enemy troops. But the troops almost got to me in the process.

It happened near Chorwon as I flew south looking for targets of opportunity. I'd found the four trucks heading out of Pyongyang and was able to destroy them all with just my machine guns, saving my rockets for something more lucrative. And a prize it was... a locomotive with a half dozen boxcars about to enter a short mountain tunnel. There was little room to maneuver in the narrow canyon, but as I dove to intercept I knew that I could get a fairly straight shot into the tunnel from the far side, by flying down the railroad approach, then pulling up at the last instant, to just clear the hills above ...and that's just what I did.

I got a beautiful six rocket launch right into the tunnel to destroy the locomotive, but as I pulled up I could see a machine gunner on the ridge above, peppering away at me the whole time I was coming down over the track. I didn't feel any hits however, and, since I was almost out of ammunition and fuel, decided to head back to Taegu, rather than challenge the machine gunner on the spot.

The thirty minute flight back to our staging base atTaegu was uneventful, and upon taxiing up to the rearm-refuel parking area, the line crewman chocked my wheels as I shut down, he then climbed up to help me unstrap and climb stiffly out of the tight little cockpit.

Our ‘old time, old reliable, line chief met me and was already starting to remove the engine cowling on the left side of the nose. I promptly told him not to bother... that the airplane was in good shape; that it was ..."running like a fine Swiss watch".

With a friendly, knowing smile, he motioned me to come down by the nose to take a look at my "fine Swiss watch", and when I'd stepped down from the leading edge of the left wing onto the tire, I could then see a very long, narrow-angle slit in the cowling, which when projected by the angle of its penetration, was found to be aimed just very slightly forward of the cockpit.

With the cowling panel removed, we could see where the slug, a steel armor-piercing fifty caliber bullet, had missed my coolant line by a scant fraction of an inch, but had gone through and shattered a large section of the heavy aluminum "I" beam bracing which supported the left side of the engine, then had struck the engine block and penetrated to a depth of almost a quarter of an inch, before stopping to drop into the cowling below.

We found two of three shattered pieces of the enemy’s projectile still resting in the lower cowling. We never did find the third piece, the tip. We assumed it must have shattered into several smaller bits when it hit the engine block.

I had been very, very, VERY lucky. Had my speed been just a fraction faster as I pressed my attack against the locomotive, that single bullet would have come into the cockpit at an angle that would have hit my chest. Had it's angle been a bit steeper, it would have probably had force enough to penetrate and destroy my engine. And, if it had been but a fraction of an inch lower, it would have gone through my coolant line, causing the engine to quit before I could reach friendly lines, or it could have destroyed the engine mount "I" beam... any of which would have put me down behind enemy lines in short order!

Since there was no way to make a permanent repair to the engine mount at Taegu, the maintenace people rivetted a steel brace to cover the hole in the structural beam, and I flew very carefully, at low power settings back to Ashiya.

I have saved those two broken pieces of that .50 caliber armor piercing bullet, 'had them mounted on a key chain ...they serve as a constant reminder to me of just how thin and fragile is the thread of "Luck", and just how close I came to using my entire allotment on that day near Chorwon.

Upon returning to Ashiya with my 'wounded' Mustang, I found that we had 'adopted' a squadron of Marine F4U Corsair fighters ...twenty planes and pilots, from an aircraft carrier which had put into port for fuel and supplies. It meant that our little Intelligence office would take on a 30% increased workload, and that I'd have to spend a few more days on the ground helping with their mission briefing and post flight critiques.

I stood-down from flying on August 30th, making good use of the time and opportunity to meet the pilots of the Marine squadron during their briefings and critiques, and to compare notes on combat tactics, equipment and the policy differences of our two services. A basic advantage to the Marine pilots was their Service's policy of supporting their own ground troops; we wished that we could have been so selective. But for us to confine our aerial support to just one Army Division would have meant that several other Divisions would have been without tactical aerial support of any kind.

Another item of interest to our USAF pilots, was the fact that the Navy and Marines issued their air crews .38 caliber revolvers for personal service weapons, a much lighter and more accurate handgun than the ancient, heavy .45 caliber Colt automatic which was then issued by the Air Force.

Although completely illegal and against regulations of both services, and despite the fact that Air Force supply channels had no .38 caliber ammunition, nor did the Navy stock .45 caliber rounds, the pilots of both services made it a point to swap pistols and as much ammunition as the traders had in their possession... usually plenty enough to carry them through the war.

My personal view of the transactions was one of complete disinterest.

I had carried my big heavy .45 automatic on several missions, in an uncomfortable shoulder holster, pressed against my right ribcage by the tight harness straps of my parachute.

Later I decided to try a hip holster in the hopes that it might work a little better in the tight confines of the Mustang's little cockpit. But that wasn't much better, because the straps and seat bucket just weren't built to carry such a large, hard, inflexible piece of personal gear.

It was necessary, each time I climbed into the cockpit, to lift the holster, attached to a three-inch wide web belt, until it hung outside the seat bucket, between the seat and the map case, which, in turn made it almost impossible to reach the forms or maps in the case. Finally, I found it necessary to thoughtfully analyze the reasons for my carrying the big pistol in the first place, and came to realize that handguns were, truthfully, just psychological "pacifiers", basically nothing more than "adult security blankets", for the pilots!

I carried the big, heavy handgun in my cockpit only to prepare for the remote chance that I might be shot down and, as that would most likely occur behind enemy lines, then I would have two choices: I could shoot myself, or I could shoot at any enemy who might be trying to capture me.

Since I certainly had no intention of shooting myself, I then carefully considered the second option. I reached an interesting conclusion: namely, if I used the weapon to threaten someone close enough to see the tremendous size of the .45 caliber barrel ...provided they were unarmed, or I caught them unawares, as they do in the movies, the gun might be somewhat useful.

More realistically though, if I were to use my pistol against an enemy soldier ...a highly inaccurate weapon, even in the best of circumstances, I would simply expose myself to very precise rifle fire from their side. My longevity would be reduced in direct proportion to the number of enemy riflemen exposed to the erratic muzzle blast of my seven-shot, barn-door accurate .45 automatic.

At that point I decided that it was a waste of my time and precious cockpit space to carry the pistol on my person while flying combat missions, and reserved it's use for those few times when our base might be exposed to guerrilla activity ...or when newsreel cameras were in the area and I wanted to convey the expected macho look of the true fighter pilot.

Carrying the service automatic was, to me, sort of like the World War II practice of wearing the Chinese 'blood chit flags' on the backs of the pilot's leather flying jackets ...wearing it thusly allowed the Japanese or other enemy to confirm that he was one of the "bad guys" without having to stop and ask questions first ...they could then shoot the pilot in the back before he even knew there was anyone in the area.

On the other hand, by wearing the "blood chit" flags stitched to the inside of the jacket flap, the pilot could be more selective in who he showed it to, and be facing the questioner at the time of disclosure. The wartime flying movies never did figure that one out; but those of us who flew in China during the war didn't have any trouble deciding where to wear them!

NOTE: During 1952 the Air Force finally 'saw the light' and issued .smaller and much lighter 38 caliber pistols to aircrews ...much more practical and convenient than the old 1917 issue Colt .45 automatics.

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