18th Fighter-Bomber Wing in Korea

WILD BILL McBRIDE - Too Close for comfort

With almost three long years in the Far East on my present tour, eighty-eight Korean war combat missions successfully completed, and only twelve more to go, a touch of cautious optimism started to creep into my thoughts once again. I began to see myself finishing my 100 combat mission 'Tour' about the 1st of June, 1951 and, with a bit of luck, finally to return to the 'States after another ten days to two weeks.

My brief elation was soundly splashed that night, however, when I heard that my good friend Captain Ross Cree had taken a .50 caliber slug in his left arm, effectively grounding him in his race to complete 100 missions. It reminded me that not all hits were fatalities; several of the guys had been wounded pretty badly, and had managed to land their airplanes ... many to recover and to fly again.

Colonel William McBride was one of them; he was hit while on a strafing pass ...just a day or two after I'd returned for my second series of Korean combat missions. At the time, I wasn't even aware that he was the current 18th Group Commander ... I'd just found my name next to his on the Operations Flight Schedule, and when we briefed he introduced himself simply as "Bill McBride".

I was flying McBride's wing when it happened; or at least I was trying to fly his wing.

Like many old-time Colonels, McBride didn't seem to pay much attention to my position as his wing man; Colonels just naturally expected wing-man Captains to do whatever was necessary to stick with them as they zigged and zagged at minimum altitude thru the narrow mountain canyons.

As a result, when I flew with 'Wild Bill' it was all I could do to manage to stay with him, and out of the way of his F-51 Mustang, because he was as apt as not, to turn right into me during his intensive search for targets, sometimes making me chop my throttle and pull-up into a sharp turn to keep from colliding with his airplane. Consequently, on those few missions when I flew a Colonel's wing, I concentrated on my formation techniques, not on my own bombing or strafing attacks.

On the specific day in question, I was following Colonel McBride down a railroad track where we had seen a locomotive and a string of boxcars race into a short tunnel. As he prepared to skip his bombs into the tunnel, I decided to trigger my bombs off at the same time because, with the narrow canyon, I knew I'd have to pull up early to avoid flying through his bomb blast.

McBride made a good skip-bomb, right into the mouth of the tunnel, and I toggled mine off when I saw his release, then went into a steep climbing turn to the right. McBride climbed steeply straight ahead... right over the top of a ridge above the tunnel, then made a wide climbing 180 degree turn to position himself for a rocket attack against the opposite end of the tunnel. He dropped low as he lined up with the track leading into the mouth of the tunnel, where he salvoed his six rockets right into the opening, then pulled up once again, directly over the top of the low ridge.

I tried to align my airplane to follow the same path down the track into the narrow canyon, but was caught swinging wide on the outside of the turn, and was not able to take satisfactory aim on the tunnel entrance, so I pulled off into a climbing right turn, preparing to make another pass to launch my rockets into the opening.

However, as McBride skimmed across the top of the ridge at minimum altitude, he took a burst of small arms fire into the right panel of his windscreen, shattering the plexiglass and stinging him alongside his right eye. He was wounded, ... but couldn't yet know how badly.

He immediately turned south, away from the target, and called to advise me that he'd been hit ...and to confirm that I was still with him. I had him in sight and quickly pulled off of the target and added full power in an attempt to catch up with him, as he poured on full throttle, heading southeast for home at high speed. I was gradually able to overtake him, despite the fact that I was still carrying my rockets, which I quickly disarmed as I pulled into formation on his right wing.

I would have preferred to drop the big, drag-producing 5" HVAR rockets if I could have done it without firing them blindly into space; but there was no way to drop them in a "safe" mode, so I decided I'd better carry them back to base.

We were only about twenty minutes northwest of Seoul's K-16 airstrip when McBride was hit, and close enough to the front lines to be fairly certain to reach friendly territory if he were forced to bail out. We climbed to about 4000 feet as Bill assessed his wounds.

He'd been hit with a relatively small caliber bullet, which went into the scalp next to his right temple and eye. He was bleeding profusely from the wound and could not see out of his right eye, but despite the beginning onset of a state of shock, he was still able to concentrate on keeping his airplane level and on a general course heading toward Seoul.

As we neared the airstrip at K-16, I pulled into close formation on his right wing, and asked him how he thought his eyes would be for a landing. He reported that he couldn't see a thing out of his right eye, and his vision from his left was somewhat blurred. He tried to read his airspeed indicator, but couldn't focus on the numbers.

He would never be able to land by himself, I thought, so I slid underneath his airplane and pulled ahead on his left side. I then asked if he could see me well enough to fly formation on the final approach ... he agreed that would be better than trying to make it on his own.

So, with 'One-eyed' McBride, half-blinded and losing blood from his wound, tucked in very close on my right wing, I verbally warned him by radio what I was about to do, then slowly eased back on my throttle. He bobbled around a bit, once surging forward as if to chop my wingtip with his propeller, but managed to stay in close position on my wing.

Then, when our airspeeds had dropped off sufficiently, I called :

"Gear Down ...NOW". He bobbled around a bit once more, as his gear doors opened and his landing gear came out; then he tucked in close on my right wing once again. I called to tell him that he had three good gear, and told him to prepare to lower half landing flaps. By this time we were lined up about five miles southwest of the short 3200 foot K-16 airstrip. Because of a brisk northeasterly wind, we'd have to make our final approach down between the maze of towering smoke stacks ...we didn't dare try for a downwind landing from the other direction, which had a better, more clear approach zone; because the wind was too strong, and the runway too short.

I could see McBride trying to wipe the blood from his right eye with his throttle hand... his left hand; he had to keep his right hand on the control stick at all times to maneuver his airplane. Slowing to about 125 mph, I called:

"Half Flaps ...NOW" Then, moved my flap handle down to the half-down detent.

McBride's airplane bobbled close to my right wing momentarily, and I had to again add power quickly to keep him from hitting the wing tip with his prop, then I saw him drop back suddenly.

He had missed the "half-flap" detent, and had put down Full Flaps.. "No Sweat", I thought, that'll slow him down faster when he wants to reduce power. But I then heard the sudden roar of his engine as he jammed his throttle forward to catch up with me, just before I slowly started a long, gradual descent toward the short, rough airstrip on the little sand island in the Han River.

I called out my airspeeds as we gradually slowed our glide speeds:
"..140.......135......135......130. .....130
. ....One-twenty-five 120... 120... 120...
.... One-oh-five ..105... one-oh-five ... "

I did not dare drop the airspeed any lower until we were over the threshold of the runway and in a safe position for landing.

He was rough on his controls, trying to hold position on my right wing as I began a flare-out ...off to the left side of the landing strip, so that McBride could fly over the center of the runway. Finally, as we slowed to ninety mph and he was in a nose high attitude over the end of the runway, I called him to :

...."CHOP IT",

and pushed my throttle full forward to start my go-around. I could see him rock the Mustang from one wheel to the other, then hold his airplane straight down the rough, narrow runway, as the fire truck and ambulance turned to chase him down, until he finally turned off at the far end. He still had the presence of mind to turn off and pull clear of the runway before stopping, so that I would be able to land behind him.

Colonel Bill McBride was one of the very lucky ones.

He'd been hit by a .30 caliber slug, which had penetrated the skin next to his skull, barely missing his right eye... and had lodged there. Stunned and temporarily blinded, he was able to bring his airplane back and, after but a week in the hospital, his eyes were again almost as good as new and he was out flying combat missions again.

McBride went on to make a splendid name for himself as a Group, Wing and finally Air Division Commander, retiring many years later as a two-star Major General ... with a Purple Heart Medal among his many decorations, to remind him of his near-catastrophe in late May, 1951, somewhere along the front lines northwest of Seoul, South Korea.

Major General William P. McBride, USAF, Ret., continued to enjoy an active semi-retired life with Connie, his wife of many years, in Austin, Texas, until his death at age 79 on 8 June, 1996.

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