18th Fighter-Bomber Wing in Korea

Part 8: Korean Tales Unsung Heroes of the Korean Air War by
Duane E. 'Bud' Biteman, Lt Col, USAF, Ret

TENDER WAS THE TAIL - - FIRST AIR RAID ALERT

Taegu, South Korea, July 1950

The Dallas Provisional Squadron had been at Taegu Air Base (K-2)for less than a week when we received our first Air Raid scramble by telephone from 5th Air Force's Taegu headquarters... on the night following the heavy Typhoon Gloria rains ...the 23rd of July, 1950. It came at about dusk, around nine-thirty PM.

I was still arranging my Intelligence tent, when our C.O., Captain Harry Moreland, received word that unidentified aircraft were headed our way from the northwest. With a yell, the few pilots remaining on the flightline dropped everything and each headed for one of our dispersed Mustangs. I ran to one parked about 200 feet from my Intelligence tent, jumped up on the wing and into the cockpit ... only to suddenly realize that there was no parachute or life-raft in the seat. The crew chief had been working in the cockpit, and when he'd finished, had neglected to return the chute and raft.

The aluminum metal seat of the F-51 Mustang was designed to carry a parachute at all times... either a seat pack or a back-pack 'chute. We carried the backpacks so that we could use the space below... the "pan", a square space about 18 inches on a side by 4" deep, a perfect fit for the one-man life-rafts and survival gear, and which also served as our seat cushions. The seats were adjustable in a vertical dimension only ...up and down, not front-to-back. If fore and aft adjustment was needed to bring the pilot closer to the controls and instrument panel, it was necessary to slip a tall, flat cushion between the back-pack parachute and the seat back.

Having neither the life-raft pack nor a parachute in the seat pan, with my spine against the seat back, my legs were about five inches short of reaching the rudder pedals, even when I lowered the seat to its lowest position. But, after I'd adjusted the rudder pedals to the "full out" position, I could finally get enough leverage with my legs to activate the toe brakes and rudders by sliding my buttocks forward onto the rolled metal front edge of the seat.

I knew that I had to get the engine fired up and get the airplane into the air before the base was attacked. There was no time to run back for a chute pack, so I hit the magneto and starter switches and began to taxi just as soon as the engine fired and I could move the mixture control to "rich".

My take-off roll was erratic, as I tried to counteract the torque of the big Merlin engine with my short leg on the right rudder. As I started to veer left I reached down quickly with my left hand and cranked in full right rudder trim, to take some of the pressure off of my right leg. It worked; I got into the air without running off to the side of our dirt "runway".

Once in the air, with my landing gear up, I could maneuver by use of the rudder trim wheel on the left console, while I squirmed on the narrow rolled metal seat ridge trying to find a more comfortable position.

Fortunately for us, the "air raid" was a false alarm and, after about fifteen minutes in the air we were informed that we could return to base.

I was greatly relieved at the news, but still had a few problems of my own to contend with: namely, making a night landing on our dusty, unlighted airfield, trying to control the squirly F-51 while sitting on the rolled metal edge of the seat pan ... with little leverage to operate the rudder pedals as needed.

While waiting until all of the other airplanes had landed. I felt around in the cockpit for anything that would make my seating a little less difficult. I reached into the map case next to my right thigh, and pulled out the "Form 1", the pad of Flight Log forms used to record flight time and write up aircraft discrepancies. I folded the thin pad in half and slid it over the seat edge; it didn't help much. I then felt the map case itself, a plywood box-like affair about 12 by 12 inches by 3 inches deep.

With a couple of sharp tugs I was able to break the front panel loose, and slid the piece of three-sixteenth inch plywood under my thigh for a "seat". As long as I could squirm from one cheek to the other, slipping the board from side to side at the same time, the pain from the sharp seat edge was temporarily relieved. By the time I felt ready to attempt a landing, everyone on the base at Taegu was aware of my predicament and were relaying suggestionss by radio:

"Fold your 'Mae West' life jacket and put it over the edge of the seat"... A great idea... except that I didn't have a Mae West with me, nor a pistol belt, or anything else except that little piece of plywood. By making a wide pattern and by judicious use of the trim tabs, with the plywood piece under my left thigh so I could push the left rudder, I finally managed ...very carefully, to get the ship back onto the runway and parked.

As I climbed stiffly and very slowly out of the cockpit, with a smile and a great sigh of relief ...I realized for the first time that without a parachute I'd have been in a helluva predicament if it had really been an air raid, and I had gotten hit !

Many months later, when I was nearing my 100 combat mission quota that would finally allow my return to the U. S., a new Headquarters clerk tried to tell me that I could not take "Combat Mission" credit for that night flight since I had not fired my guns and because, as it had turned out, there had been no enemy air attack.

I very patiently explained to him the facts of life: how Corporals get to become Sergeants ... and all that.

He finally agreed that my pain in the butt was not only worth the mission credit, but suggested that I should have received the Purple Heart medal for my painful bruises, as well.

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