18th Fighter-Bomber Wing in Korea

BIRTHDAY BASH - Quad 50's are on You, & Ken Carlson

South Korea, September 1950

The North Koreans chose a bad-weather day, September 1, 1950, to launch their expected "victory" offensive ...the extra lunge which they thought would drive our United Nations forces completely off of the Korean peninsula. The weather stayed poor ... low clouds and rain all along the front lines for three days, and only a few isolated flights could sneak across the Sea of Japan from Ashiya to the Pohang-Kiggye area near the East coast of South Korea.

On Sept 4th, I flew a two and one-half hour mission from our remote base at Ashiya, Japan to Hyopchon, near Seoul. I was amazed that we could almost navigate to Seoul by following the line of burned-out tanks, trucks and artillery pieces; it was even more accurate for navigating than the outdated maps of the roads and railroads. It was a good mission; lots of targets... a startling contrast to the unseen enemy of the previous week.

I saw a truck race into a tunnel near Tandong, a few miles west of Seoul, and was able to skip my Napalm bombs up against the tunnel entrance. I knew I'd destroyed the truck, and perhaps a few troops nearby... I learned to my surprise, a few weeks later when our forces took the area, that the tunnel contained, in addition to the truck: ten 76mm cannon, eight 120mm howitzers, five other trucks, four small jeep-like vehicles, and twenty or more soldiers ... all destroyed by my 15 minute attack on 4 September.

September 6th, 1950, was a busy, busy day; when I flew three missions to celebrate my 27th birthday.

To give an idea how a day in a combat Fighter outfit ran during those early days of the Korean war, I tried to describe it from one pilot's personal veiwpoint ... from the time I awoke at 04:20 AM until the end of the day...

"I dressed quickly, 'just slipping my grubby flying suit over my underwear, which I'd slept in, then up to the Mess Hall for a breakfast of fried eggs and bacon, and a pint of reconstituted milk, the only kind available. Then, at 5:15 I went to the day's mission briefing ...'four ships to contact the controller nearing Pusan, for the first targets'.

We were to land at Taegu after our first mission and work out of there for the rest of the day, then return to Ashiya after the last flight. Take-off was to be at 0615 (it didn't get light until about 0645).

After a short Operations briefing to my flight, where I told them specifics about power settings I'd use as Leader, we started getting into our flight gear about 0600. That included: pistol and belt (we'd be spending some time on the ground at Taegu, and the enemy troops were just a few miles north of the base), escape vest, Mae West (inflatable life vest), one-man life raft, a seat cushion, oxygen mask, gloves and a stack of aerial maps about an inch thick ... since we don't know in advance what area we'd be working after take off, we had to carry detailed maps of the entire country, plus one more covering the Japanese island of Kyushu.

We were strapped into our cockpits and started engines at 0610 AM, taxied out and stopped at the end of the runway for the armament crew to plug in the wires on our rockets, and check the fuses of our Napalm (fire bombs). After those were all checked, we ran up the engines and checked the magnetos and instruments. With all the checks 'OK', we pulled out onto the runway, lined up, turned on my landing light and 'poured on the coal'.

With a full load of fuel and armament, we took off one at a time on those bumpy runways, rather than taking off in formation; that way, an engine failure wouldn't cause an explosive accident for the wingman.

When my wheels broke ground in the darkness, I raised my landing gear, throttled back to climb-power settings, and climbed straight ahead at 190 mph for 30 seconds, then started a gentle climbing turn to the left for 180 degrees of turn. By the time I passed the field at 2000 feet, the rest of the flight was easing into formation on my left wing, and I set course for Pusan ...still in a gentle climbing turn.

About two miles offshore my No. 4 man had an airspeed indicator, vacuum system failure and decided that he had better "abort" the mission. We made a 360 degree climbing turn while he dropped his bombs harmlessly into the Sea of Japan and returned to Ashiya for landing. The extra weight, about 1700 pounds, of the Napalm tanks, plus the hazardous possibility of having them accidentally drop off onto the runway, made it necessary that we throw them away, rather than try to land with the bombs.

After one orbit (circle), we continued on course, while I flew "on instruments" in the dark, with the other two ships flying formation on my navigation lights. When we reached 5000 feet and leveled off; streaks of light were beginning to splash across the eastern sky behind us, and I could see the horizon well enough to fly visually. When I crossed the northern tip of Tsushima Island I called the Controller by radio, told him how many ships I had, and the armament we had on board. He directed us to the Masan area and contact the local control ship for targets. At 0645 we passed over Pusan and flew southwest along the lower Naktong River.

When directly north of Masan, I called the ground controller, gave him the details of our armament load; he told us to contact a certain T-6 air controller in the vicinity of Yongsan. After some trouble making radio contact, we got together with the spotter ship over the town of Yongsan, and he directed us northwest to where the Hwang-gang River empties into the Naktong.

On the southeast bank of the river, in a couple of small villages there were supposed to be some camouflaged vehicles and supplies. I told the rest of the flight to remain at 5000 feet while I went down for a closer look at the target.

Making my first pass on the deck, down river from the east... out of the sun, at about 350 mph I followed the river around the bend, looking into the villages on the left bank, but didn't see anything of interest at that time, so I pulled up in the other direction.

The T-6 spotter called and asked us to put a few rounds of machine gun fire into a certain square-looking haystack. When I did, the tracer ricochets went all over the place ...that meant that there was something very hard inside of the hay. I pulled up to the east, set the switches for my napalm bombs, and came down out of the sun again. I released my bombs at about 50 feet altitude, and the napalm splattered all over the haystack. Later, after some of the hay had burned away, we found a truck burning inside.

There were several more suspicious-looking stacks in the little village close by, so the rest of the flight dropped their bombs on them. One started a good oil fire ...more fuel supplies knocked out. We worked over that bend in the river, hitting any and all haystacks in the area with rockets and machine guns. Several of them burned ... they were not ordinary haystacks.

Before all of our ammo was expended ...we always save some in reserve, in case we run into an enemy fighter on the way home ...we headed northeast to Taegu landing about 0900 AM.

Intelligence interrogation, then down to the mess tent for a cup of coffee and a couple of doughnuts. About 1030 we strolled leisurely back to the Ops tent, found an unoccupied medical litter... no GI cots available, and took a little nap until 1130, when our ships were supposed to be rearmed and refueled. This next time we were loaded with rockets and 500 pound demolition bombs.

The three of us took off again at noon, climbed over the hills north of Taegu, where we contacted our ground controller. He sent us to Yongchon, on the railroad about 15 miles northeast of Taegu. There, about a mile south of the town, were a number of enemy troops pinning our GIs down in a valley. Our men were in valleys on each side of a ridge, and couldn't put up artillery fire for fear of hitting our people just a short distance on the other side of the crest. The low ridge was only about 350 feet high, a mile long and about 1/4 mile wide. That was just our 'meat', giving us the opportunity to show our Infantry what a couple of good F-51 pilots could do for them.

There was a cluster of huts at the southern tip of the ridge; they were to be our first target. With the flight "in-trail" behind me, we climbed to 7000 feet, and came straight down on the village, strafing as we dove. I released both bombs at about 2000 feet, and pulled out at 1000 feet doing about 450 mph. Both bombs were direct hits on the little village, and between the three ships, we blew the little community right off of the hill.

We then circled the ridge and set up a 'traffic pattern' while we worked over the hill with our rockets and machine guns. Our shell casings were literally dropping into the backs of friendly trucks on every strafing pass and, since we had the enemy completely pinned down, our Army troops were standing up and waving at us every time we flew over their positions.

When my ammo was almost gone, and I had only one gun still firing, I found a truck hidden in an orchard. With but one gun firing, instead of the usual six, it seemed like I was shooting with a water pistol, but in three passes I finally got it burning.

When we left the area we could see our troops climbing to take the battered ridge... 'a good feeling.

We were on the ground at Taegu again at 1330 and I found one bullet hole in the left wingtip of my airplane. Again we were interrogated at Intelligence, then went down to the Mess tent for a bite of lunch. When we wandered back to Operations about an hour later, I found an empty litter and a Time magazine, and relaxed for a bit. 'What a soft life', I thought; I sure envied the pilots without ground jobs, 'nothing to do but fly missions all day long!'

At 1600 hours Harry Dugan woke us and told me that he had a 'juicy target' for us ...three enemy tanks rolling toward Taegu. One of them was reported to be already damaged, but the other two were still running, and a flight of F-80 jets had them pinned down with machine gun fire in a valley alongside the railroad tracks, twenty miles northeast of our base. This time two of us carried napalm fire bombs, and one had a pair of 500 pounders, plus rockets and machine guns. We took off at 1630 and went directly to Kunwi, where we contacted the aerial controller, who pointed out the tanks. There they were... no camouflage, right out in the open ...lined up about 100 feet apart, right next to a steep hill.

We made our first pass from the west, out of the sun, in case there was enemy ground fire; my napalm landed short, in a rice paddy, and only a small bit splashed up onto the end tank. It didn't create much of a fire.

Our number 2 man came in from the north and got a good hit on the middle tank, destroying it with his blazing napalm. No. 3 climbed to higher altitude and rolled over to dive bomb the same tank that I'd worked over. He got a near-miss on the railroad, but didn't do any damage to the tank. I made a couple of rocket runs and had two direct hits on the tracks of 'my' tank; that put it out of commission. We then worked over the surrounding area, looking for other traces of the enemy, and strafing suspicious-looking haystacks.

At about 1715 I called the flight together and we headed back across the water toward Ashiya, arriving on the ground at 1830. That time I had to write my own interrogation report, then went back to the BOQ about 1930, where I showered, shaved and put on a clean uniform before going up to the Officer's Club about 2030 for a delightful dinner and a couple of nice after-dinner drinks.

About 2230 (1030 pm), feeling a little weary, I went down and hit the sack ...to end my most unusual birthday anniversary. It was an exciting and very successful day. I had flown six hours of combat time on three missions ...a couple of weeks previously we were flying that long on just one mission; and we had done a helluva lot of damage to the enemy. I didn't see one shot fired back at me, although obviously there must have been a little bit on the second mission, judging from the hole in my left wing.

But for me the whole day was a welcome variation from my usual daily mixture of paperwork and mission flying routine ...I thoroughly enjoyed my 'birthday bash'!

We moved our base back to Korea on 8 September ... this time to the newly-refurbished base at Pusan (K-9). Back into tents with dirt floors again!

On September 10th, a mission from our new base at Pusan (K-9), to Kunsan, near Seoul, took me just 2+45 hours, and made it possible for me to carry bombs and rockets again, instead of just the long-range fuel tanks I'd have had to carry if we'd been still flying out of Ashiya.

Hard rains throughout South Korea on September 11th, kept our sortie rate to the lowest of the war, at a most critical time. The Red troops were by then within ten miles of our base at Taegu, and were bringing up artillery to begin the shelling of the airstrip. On the following day, the 12th, they were within 8 miles of the base, at Tabudong, but, fortunately, the weather ceilings lifted just enough to enable a maximum flying effort by our crews.

Five "waves" of attacking Red troops battered our frontline at Yongsan, but each was thrown back by our GIs ...aided by our incessant close air support pressure. Despite the rain and low, scuddy clouds over the battle area, our 12th Squadron pilots got thru to the targets while all other fighter and bomber units were grounded by the weather. At that point we were very thankful that we had moved our home base from Ashiya to Pusan just the previous week!

I spent the following day pounding the typewriter and assisting in the steady stream of pilot interrogations; now that we were separated from our cohorts in the 67th fighter squadron, we had to go back to handling all of our own intelligence interrogations and related paperwork. It made my ground job tougher than ever, not only because of the accelerated sortie rate, but because our fellow pilots were accumulating Air Medals, Purple Hearts, Bronze Stars, Distinguished Flying Crosses, Legions of Merit and Silver Stars at a fantastic rate. My typing skills improved by leaps and bounds on an old L. C. Smith...in those 'olden' days, before electric typewriters.

The Reds were making a desperate attempt to break through our lines on three or four different fronts; they were pounding in the south, in their 'end-run' around Masan; they were still trying to cross the Naktong near Waegwan, still beating on the central area north and east of Taegu ...and they were racing, almost unimpeded, down the mountain road along the far east coast near Pohang-dong. Our pilots were based closest to the east coast, so many of our strikes went to that area.

I flew my next mission on the 14th of September, with a 'distinguished' wing man ...Major Ken Carlson.

I'd first met Ken at Roswell, New Mexico in 1948, when he was the Commander of the 60th Fighter Squadron, 33rd Group. He'd come over to Japan on the USS Boxer in July 1950, and had been temporarily detained in Tokyo because they wanted him to work in FEAF Headquarters ... an assignment of which he wanted no part.

He was adamant in his desire to get into one of the Korean operational combat squadrons. He had flown combat in Europe during World War II and reportedly, had several victories to his credit, and a whole chest-full of high-powered medals.

Because of our brief acquaintance at Roswell, he asked to fly with me during his 'combat check-out' at Taegu, and he soon learned that I was 'hard' to fly formation on, because I was continually 'jinxing' the plane around the sky, to keep gunners from taking accurate aim on their target. He liked that '...you pick up fewer bullet holes that way'!

On the 14th we were set up in a four-ship flight, with Bill Slater leading, Bill Bridges on his wing, I was Element Lead and Ken Carlson brought up the rear on my wing. We each carried two napalm tanks, rockets and machine guns, and were in the Pohang-dong area within twenty minutes after take-off-off from our base at Pusan.

We contacted the local T-6 spotter ship, which told us he had pinpointed the location of a gun position which had shot the tail off of another control ship just thirty minutes before. He wanted us to go in and knock him out before the guy created some really serious problems for someone.

There is little in life that makes you feel more insecure than to know you're going to have to attack a known flak position ...knowing that the gunners can see you, but you don't know for sure where they are. It always gives the flak gunner the first shot, and you're not much of a threat to him until after he starts firing at you ...at which time you hope you can see his muzzle blast and return his fire, quickly and accurately...or else.

The Mosquito spotter ship pilot fired a smoke flare into a creek bed between a group of low, bare ridges, then told us the guns were in a certain clump of bushes on a ridge two hundred yards east of the smoke flare.

Bill Slater dove in first, dropping his Napalm bombs east of the smoke flare. It landed fifty feet short of the intended ridge. Bill Bridges went in next, from a different direction, and dropped his bombs nearby... close to where we thought another set of machine guns were located. Carlson and I circled at about 3000 feet over the area, just out of the gunner's effective range, looking for muzzle flashes. We couldn't see any until Bridges had finished his attack, and started climbing, when we could see the flashes coming out of a clump of trees about 75 yards behind where the bombs had been hitting.

During the time Ken and I had been circling, I was planning my line of attack to place my ship within the enemy's line of sight for the briefest possible time. So, when Bridges pulled off, I knew just which way I was heading. I signaled Ken, by hand, to 'firewall' his throttle, then dove onto the deck just behind a low ridge south of the target. We followed a little ravine which ran toward the north, then popped up over a little covering ridge just in front of the tree clump. With Carlson following just a few hundred feet behind and to my side, I fired steadily at the trees with my machine guns as soon as we cleared the first ridge, then dropped my two Napalm bombs so they'd splash forward into the suspected clump. I got a beautiful hit, with the fan of flaming jelly bouncing and spreading out to penetrate deep into the trees. Ken Carlson dropped his bombs right next to mine, and they too penetrated deep into the forest.

We immediately hit the deck again, and I started kicking rudders to skid the airplane from side to side, turned north at the first little valley and continued to 'jinx' around for a couple of miles before pulling up into a steep, full-throttle climb, leveling off, finally, at about 2500 feet.

Carlson had seen another gun position firing at me, off to the side of where he had dropped his bombs, and, before he could turn out of the way, his airplane was hit in the engine by a 20mm shell. He immediately pulled up and headed toward the nearby airstrip at Pohang ...now deserted and in the middle of 'no-man's-land'. We weren't sure whether we or the North Koreans owned the real estate by that time, but Ken had to find a level spot to put it down, and quick, for his engine had started to flame.

He managed to spike it onto the ground ...downwind, and get it stopped at the far end of the runway.

As he opened his canopy he heard the sharp "twang, twang" of rifle fire, which told him he we didn't really own the airfield. He jumped out and ran for a nearby drainage ditch, while we circled overhead, looking and ready to strafe any troops which didn't look friendly. A group of five Koreans in civilian attire moved toward him, and Ken wondered how far his seven rounds of .45 pistol fire would go towards stopping them ... but they stopped, and tried to signal that they were friends. About that time the Mosquito control ship came over to tell us the field had not yet been taken by the Reds. But Ken didn't know that; and he didn't move from his huddled position in the drainage ditch ...until the T-6 spotter landed and taxied over to where he was hiding.

There wasn't room in the control ship to pick him up, but he was assured that there would be a helicopter along very shortly. We continued to fly top-cover until the chopper had safely picked him up and he was on his way back to Pusan.

Ken Carlson had just survived his fourth knock-down. He had been shot down three times in Europe, and now once more during his first week of combat in Korea. Ken blamed himself for getting hit; 'said that he was too intent on taking accurate aim on the target and wasn't 'jinxing' his airplane around like I was. The gunfire that he heard on the ground was a lone sniper in the hills north of the Pohang airfield perimeter.

Major Ken Carlson was a Regular Air Force officer, professional Air Force. He was an example of the dilemma that the Air Force began to encounter in the years immediately following World War II ...namely: the best, most successful combat pilots oft-times did not fit the "Jack Armstrong, All-American Boy" image that the peacetime Air Force wanted to present to the American public. Many, like Carlson, received rapid promotions while they were quite young, and were at their efficient best while winning victories and successfully killing the enemy. But, with Victory and peacetime, these brave killers were then suddenly expected to keep all of their uniform pockets buttoned, hair properly combed, shoes shined and teeth brushed and sparkling... fitting into the imaginary mold devised by some unseen "they", who contributed little more to the war effort than the reams and reams of restrictive regulations.

Many fine pilot officers couldn't ...or wouldn't, bend to the false image demanded by that peacetime mold. Ken Carlson was one of these. He had been "passed over" for promotion to Lieutenant Colonel for a second time and, with the current rules, that meant that his Regular Air Force Commission would be revoked, and he must be separated from the service ...at a time when his highly-developed skills as an experienced combat fighter pilot were direly needed in Korea ...combat victories and a multitude of awards and decorations notwithstanding!

Ken was transferred to Tokyo in November, 1950, where I ran into him, briefly, in the University Club. We had a farewell drink together... but he had no good news to pass on to me. He was later transferred back to the 'States, but I was never able to learn the final outcome of his hearings. I had always hoped he was ultimately able to 'beat the system' ...he was a helluva good fighter pilot, and we needed a lot more of his ilk.

It's really too bad that we can't put our highly-skilled, professional 'killers', our top notch fighter pilots, in a state of suspended animation during peacetime, so they would not embarrass the Air Force bureaucrats with their drinking and their youthful, carefree hi-jinks. Then, when the wars come, we could pull them off the shelf, dust them off, shoot them with a hypodermic of some sort, and send them off to risk their necks for us while mercilessly attacking the enemy! We needed more combat fighter pilots like Ken Carlson, and fewer of the Tokyo-based desk jockeys!

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