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Before Things Get Too Organized

One Army historian noted that after World War II, institutional knowledge seemed to disappear "at the speed of light." Less than five years after VJ-Day, the U.S. armed forces were not only ill prepared to fight a major war, but in many cases they had forgotten how to do so. Basic mistakes were committed; essential lessons had to be relearned. One example was communications: Frequently, the Army and Air Force could not talk to one another owing to different radio equipment.

Air power was politically restrained in Korea, prohibited from striking lucrative targets across the Yalu River in Manchuria. However, tactical air power demonstrated its effectiveness in interdicting Communist communications and supplies in North Korea.

When war erupted in Korea, the 5th Air Force in Japan had three wings of F-80 Shooting Stars, two all-weather fighter squadrons with F-82 Twin Mustangs, an RF-80 recce squadron, two light bomber squadrons with Douglas B-26s, and a troop carrier wing. The 20th Air Force in the Marianas and Okinawa had a bobtailed B-29 wing with two squadrons plus a long-range recce squadron, an F-80 wing, and an all-weather F-82 outfit. In the Philippines, the 13th Air Force owned an F-80 wing and a troop carrier squadron. The Far East Air Forces commander, General George E. Stratemeyer, was returning from a conference when things popped. Confusion reigned for some hours. There was no help from the ROK Air Force, which possessed about 60 trainers.

The North Korean Air Force had 130-odd combat aircraft, all Soviet built and nearly half devoted to ground attack. On the first day, Yak fighters strafed Seoul and Kimpo. That night, Communist tanks were less than 20 miles from Seoul and the U.S. ambassador ordered an evacuation from the port of Inchon. The theater commander, General Douglas MacArthur of World War II fame, directed long-range fighters to cover the embarkation but remain offshore unless the ships were directly threatened. It was an absurd order, depriving the F-82 Twin Mustangs of the initiative necessary in fighter combat.

Meanwhile, other measures were enacted that included deployment of jet and piston fighters. F-80s and F-82s "capped" a formation of C-47s that helped evacuate American civilians from Korean airfields. Lieutenant William G. Hudson won the first aerial victory of the war when he bagged an intruding Yak-7 on June 27; two of his Twin Mustang companions added to the score. Later that day, F-80s downed four more Communist planes, but the enemy offensive continued largely unabated.

However, in the summer of 1950, clear-cut success lay in the future. The Pyongyang steamroller bulldozed its way south, very nearly pushing Allied forces into the sea. The Pusan pocket was barely held, with relief only coming in September when General MacArthur pulled off his masterpiece - the almost-impossible amphibious landing at Inchon. Meanwhile, suitable airfields in South Korea were overrun one by one, forcing fighter-bomber squadrons in Japan to stretch their endurance almost to the limit. On-call TacAir became increasingly difficult to coordinate, but slowly order was built from near-chaos. Communications and procedures were established, leading to much greater teamwork between the Army and the Air Force.

That summer was one of confusion, adaptation, and improvisation. F-80s could not operate from most South Korean airfields owing to vulnerability of jet engines to dirt and foreign objects. Additionally, with useful loadouts the Shooting Stars were limited to about a 100-mile radius of action, which further restricted their utility. Consequently, six jet squadrons hastily reverted to F-51D Mustangs, which, although lacking the Lockheeds' speed, could reach almost anywhere they were needed and could operate from unimproved fields. Amid the catch-as-catch-can operating environment, some officers thrived on being left to their own devices. Said one jet jockey, "I learned in Korea you want to get in on the early part of a war, before things get too organized."

By far the most publicized aspect of the Korean air war was fighter combat. The world's first jet-versus-jet dogfight occurred on November 8, 1950, when Lieutenant Russell Brown of the 16th Fighter Interceptor Squadron was credited with destruction of a "Korean" MiG-15. In truth, Brown's opponent was a Russian, Senior Lieutenant Kharitonov, who motored home with his MiG's tough hide ventilated by.50-caliber rounds. (One Soviet ace said it was not unusual to find 40 or 50 hits on returning MiGs.) The first authenticated jet-to-jet kill occurred the next day when Lieutenant Commander W T Amen, in a Grumman F9F-2 Panther off the carrier USS Philipine Sea, bagged a MiG harassing Navy attack aircraft.

For decades, the true identity of MiG pilots was an open "secret," but the end of the Cold War opened many Russian files. Chinese MiGs began operation in late 1951 and North Korean's in early 1952; neither was ever as significant as their Soviet counterparts.

Whatever the nationality of the Communist pilots, transonic F-86s and MiG-15s represented the same public perception as SPADs and Fokkers 40 years before. There were other similarities as well: a strategic stalemate on the ground that led to a meatgrinder war of attrition and an almost wholly one-sided naval war.

The main air combat arena was called MiG Alley in the northwestern corner of North Korea. Owing to political considerations, Communist air bases in Manchuria were off limits to Sabre jocks, who were officially forbidden to cross the Yalu River into Chinese airspace. The fact was, however, that aggressive young (and not so young) fighter pilots who got their teeth into a MiG could develop tunnel vision, disregarding the meandering Yalu beneath their wings. It became a bragging point for some pilots that they checked their wristwatches by the clock on the Antung control tower.

Nevertheless, most F-86 pilots played by the rules. They had a big job to do, and on occasion they were hard pressed. The two Sabre wings dedicated to the air-to-air mission were faced by hundreds of Chinese, Soviet, and North Korean MiGs only about 200 miles from South Korean airfields. Because tactical air power was the Allied trump card in Korea, it was essential to give the fighter-bombers, mediums, and heavies as much latitude as possible. Otherwise, Communist ground forces might have gained enough logistical support to mount a major offensive that would drive the UN forces off the peninsula.

Professionalism was the keystone in the Korean air war. For example, of the top 10 Sabre aces, seven were World War II combat veterans, including Captains Joe McConnell (16 MiGs) and Lonnie Moore (10), who had been in bombers. Colonels Royal Baker (13) and Jimmy Johnson (10), Majors Jim Jabara (15) and George Davis (12), and Captain Ralph Parr (10) were career fighter pilots who had flown against the Axis. Captains Manuel Fernandez (14.5), Frederick Blesse (10), and Harold Fischer (10) were new to aerial combat.

America's first jet ace was a 27-year-old former P-51 pilot, cigar-chomping Captain "Jabby" Jabara of the 4th Fighter Wing. He bagged his first four MiGs in April 1951, but by late May he was getting frustrated. "I'd begun to think that I never was going to get a chance at that fifth MiG," he related. The MiGs had been playing coy, unwilling to fight without a significant advantage.

On May 20, Jabara led his F-86 flight over the Yalu, hearing another formation engaged in a fight. He ordered his three pilots to drop their external tanks, but one of his hung up. Disregarding standing orders, the aggressive Jabara pressed ahead, insisting, "I wasn't about to lose what may be my last shot at becoming an ace." (Technically, he was already an ace by virtue of 1.5 kills in Europe seven years before. But among F-86 jocks, only jet scores were accorded full honors in Korea.)

Jabara's Sabre was hampered by the hung-up drop tank, but he found 12 or more MiGs approaching. When another pair of Sabres split the MiG formation, his flight tackled three bandits. He was lining up a shot when three more MiGs jumped his flight.

Jabara turned hard into the threat, forcing the MiGs to overshoot. Although two broke away, he latched onto the tail of the third one, which maneuvered violently Absolutely determined, Jabara hung on, closing to within 1,500 feet distance. He pressed his trigger three times, seeing his armor-piercing incendiary rounds light up the MiG's fuselage and left wing. The batwinged jet did two violent snap rolls, then started to spin. Circling at 10,000 feet, Jabara and his wingman watched the MiG pilot "pull the handle." The canopy came off, followed by the seat and the pilot's parachute opening. The MiG exploded a few seconds later.

That was not the end of the fight. For the next several minutes, 28 Sabres sparred with an estimated 50 MiGs venting their anger. Jabara climbed back to 20,000 feet and spotted 6 more MiGs. Again disregarding the odds, he picked a target, closed in and opened fire. As before, hits registered across the target's fuselage and tail. The Klimov engine flamed out almost immediately, emitting thick smoke. Jabara still had the gunsight "pipper" on the MiG, so he fired again. Number six gushed flames and went down burning.

Jabara was the first Korean War jet ace, with one to spare. He returned to combat in 1953 and rang up nine more MiGs, finishing as the second-ranking U.S. ace of the war. He also flew briefly in Vietnam, but after surviving three wars Colonel Jabara died in a 1966 traffic accident.

Even with frequent air superiority, the Korean campaign did not always favor the Americans. B-29s were first employed in large numbers on November 19, 1950, bombing a barracks complex at Musan near the Tumen River. However, during the next year the Superfortresses were driven from daylight skies owing to losses that would not have evoked a "golly" in 1945. The MiG-15 had practically been invented to destroy B-29s over postwar Europe, and the fact that the venue was relocated to Asia mattered not at all. There simply were not enough F-86s and F-84s in-theater to provide all the protection necessary, and each B-29 lost was irreplaceable; Boeing was no longer building them.

On October 23, 1951, 8 Superforts were escorted by 55 F-84s with 34 Sabres as an advance screen. More than 100 MiGs tied up the F-86s while another 50 Red fighters attacked the main formation. Making good use of superior speed, the MiGs penetrated the Thunderjet perimeter and hacked down three B-29s. The five survivors all landed with serious to severe damage. Even after switching to nocturnal missions, the big Boeings were not immune to interception: Two were lost in one night during June 1952.

More and more of the air war was fought at night, often at low level in mountainous terrain. Cotnmunist logisticians knew that trucks and trains could move more safely in darkness, leading to a hide-and-seek campaign that favored moonless nights, preferably in bad weather. Air Force B-26s with Navy or Marine Skyraiders and night fighters searched beneath the eerie, harsh glow of parachute flares, seeking worthwhile targets.

Fighter-bomber pilots took enormous risks to support friendly ground forces. No better examples exist than the first two Medals of Honor awarded to Air Force recipients: Major Louis Sebille and Captain Charles Loring both dived their damaged planes into their targets rather than return to base or bail out. Whether either pilot was able to pull out of his attack will never be known, but their example of self-sacrifice remains an inspiration. In fact, all four Air Force Medals of Honor were posthumous awards. It was that kind of war.

Airborne operations were a notable feature of AAF contributions to World War II, but they were not unknown in Korea. Two significant "drops" were made: at Sunchon in October 1950 (2,860 troopers) and near Munsan-ni in March 1951 (3,486 troopers). Although small by 1944 standards, they demonstrated the Air Force's continuing role in supporting the U.S. Army and kept airborne options before senior American commanders.

Air Force manpower tripled in Korea: from 33,600 Far East Air Force (FEAF) personnel at the start of the war to more than 112,000 at the end. In three years, Air Force squadrons logged 721,000 sorties while losing 1,180 men killed and 1,466 aircraft. Other airmen remained missing or unaccounted for - a sore point with friends and relatives half a century later.

In the aftermath of the three-year Korean experience, the Air Force examined the lessons-and drew the wrong conclusion. Institutionally, the service decided, "we won't have to do that again!" Despite the purely tactical nature of the conflict, and continuing U.S. treaty obligations in the region, the Air Force remained convinced that its future lay in long-range, strategic missions of deterrence and, perhaps, full-scale war in Europe.

Converselv, the Navy and Marine Corps did better. Partly because of the fully integrated sea-air-ground nature of amphibious operations, the naval services not only retained their tactical emphasis, but improved upon doctrine, technique, and equipment. Carrier squadrons still trained for Armageddon, but they were prepared for lesser scenarios as well. A decade later, the Air Force had to relearn the same hard lessons.

Walter J. Boyne, USAF (ret.) Series Editor, Barrett Tillman. The Jet Age. Alpha Bravo Delta Guide to the U.S. Air Force. Alpha Books. 2003.

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