Korean Combat (Yeoman Series) Page 9

  Swearing, Yeoman tried to follow, but his Meteor was right on the edge of its limiting Mach number and it began to buffet badly. The pilot felt control slipping away and knew that he had no chance of catching the MiG now. Cursing, he throttled back and eased the aircraft gently out of its dive, feeling the buffeting slowly die away.

  Again, he called up the others. His number two had managed to loose off a burst at a MiG at extreme range and reported having seen smoke coming from it, but it too had got away. There was a breathless call from Anzac Dog Three, who had gone out of control in the dive — just as Yeoman had almost done-and spun down through ten thousand feet before he managed to recover. He told Yeoman that the skin on the upper surface of his port wing was badly wrinkled, and that he was heading for home.

  Yeoman looked at his fuel state; it was getting rather low, and would certainly not stand any further combat at full power. Reluctantly, he ordered Dog Section to set course for Taegu.

  Everyone, apparently, was in the same state. All over the combat area, Sabres and Meteors were breaking off the action and heading south, leaving the sky over the Yalu criss-crossed with masses of vapour trails. There was little talk over the radio as the jets flew homewards; the few words that did pass between the pilots were monosyllabic, almost weary.

  Later, they counted the score. The pilots of 493 Squadron had definitely destroyed two MiGs, together with a third probably destroyed and three damaged, while 77 Squadron had knocked one down as well. The Sabre pilots had claimed six enemy aircraft destroyed for the loss of one of their own number.

  But 493 Squadron had lost two Meteors, together with their 76 pilots. One of them was Anzac Dog Three, who had limped away from the battle with a damaged wing. A search helicopter found the remains of his aircraft later, spattered over a hillside north of the Han River. The body of the pilot lay nearby, still strapped in his ejection seat. He must have waited until the very last moment, desperately trying to keep his Meteor in the air, before baling out.

  Chapter Seven

  THE SUMMER OF 1951 WORE ON, AND THE METEORS OF 493 Squadron continued to work at full stretch. Sometimes they carried out straightforward fighter sweeps over the Yalu, usually in conjunction with larger numbers of Sabres; at other times their task was to escort B-29s or unarmed RF-80 Shooting Star reconnaissance jets.

  During the fighter sweeps in ‘MiG Alley’ there were several skirmishes with the enemy jets, in the course of which the squadron lost three Meteors and one pilot; the other two flew south in badly-damaged aircraft and were picked up by helicopters after baling out. On the credit side, the squadron could claim only one MiG probably destroyed and one damaged. Every new encounter with the MiGs seemed to be a taunting lesson that the Meteors were completely outclassed by the Russian-built jets.

  Yeoman made only a handful of combat sorties during this period, for now that the Australians were thoroughly familiar with the Meteor and its capabilities — or lack of them — his operational flying was restricted on the orders of Commonwealth HQ in Japan. By mid August, only he remained of the RAF instructors who had converted the Australians from Mustangs to the jets, and even then much of his time was spent behind a desk in the Joint Operations Headquarters, acting as an advisor on air fighting tactics and helping to compile intelligence reports on the enemy’s fighting prowess.

  Consequently, he missed the biggest success story No. 493 Squadron had enjoyed since its arrival in Korea. It happened during the last week in August, and Dick Thornes recounted it with much enthusiasm and hand-waving over several pints of beer at Taegu, the next day.

  ‘We were on a sweep to Sonchon’ — he named a town thirty miles south of the Yalu — ‘with fifteen Meteors. Thirty-odd Sabres led by your pal, Colonel Callender, were flying top cover.

  ‘Well, we entered the patrol area right on schedule, and a few minutes later we sighted two formations of MiGs heading south from the Yalu, high up. It looked as though they were out on their own fighter sweep, but they turned back towards the north and didn’t come down on us. We went after them, climbing, in the hope of cutting into them if they started a descent.’

  As he spoke, Thornes dipped his index finger into a pool of beer, tracing the course of the United Nations formation and that of the MiGs.

  ‘Just then,’ he continued, ‘Colonel Callender called out ‘Bogies’. They were coming across the river dead ahead of us and about five thousand feet lower down. He asked us to investigate, because more MiGs had been sighted coming down from the Alley and there was a good chance that the Sabres would be getting tangled up with them at any moment.’

  His finger pushed a rivulet of beer forward a short distance on the bar top.

  ‘We couldn’t believe our eyes. The bogies turned out to be a formation of twelve Tupolev Tu-2 bombers, flying in three boxes of four and escorted by maybe fifteen or sixteen La-9s. All piston-engined jobs. There were same MiG-15s up above, too, but the Sabres were getting stuck into them by this time so I didn’t think they would worry us too much.’

  By now, the top of the bar looked as though several drunken snails had made their way across it, and Thornes was only just getting into his stride.

  ‘The bogies were flying from west to east; God knows where they were heading, unless it was to one of the new airfields the Commies have been building up near Huichon. Well, we piled on the coals and came round in a big curve to cut them off. Charlie and Dog Sections went for the fighters, while Able and Baker came down hard on the bombers, head-on.

  ‘They were shooting back, but they were misjudging our speed all the time and none of us took any hits from defensive fire during the whole of the scrap. We knocked three of ’em down on our first pass, then we pulled up hard, straight through the middle of part of their fighter escort, and came down again for another pass from six o’clock high.’

  Yeoman was listening with rapt attention, recalling an experience of his own, back in 1940, when the Hurricane squadron with which he had then been a pilot had ripped into an unescorted formation of Junkers Ju-87 Stukas. It was the kind of situation that presented itself to a fighter pilot once in a lifetime.

  ‘The remaining bombers were still flying straight and level, bunched tightly together,’ Thornes continued, ‘firing back for all they were worth, and now some of the La-9s that had slipped past Charlie and Dog Sections turned towards us too, in the hope of turning us aside. But we were doing nearly 600 miles an hour and we just went straight through them. There were smoke trails all over the sky. It was a hell of a sight-our boys scoring hits all over the bombers, and their escort couldn’t do a damn thing about it because of our superior speed.’

  ‘That makes a nice change,’ Yeoman commented. ‘It’s usually been the other way round, over the past few weeks.’

  ‘Right. Well, anyhow, I lined up the bomber on the left-hand side of the last box, and he started to burn after I’d given him just a short burst. I let him have it again and he dropped out of formation, blazing like mad. I saw two of the crew bale out. Then a couple of La-9s crossed my sights and I managed to get a quick shot at the leader; it was the world’s biggest fluke, but I hit him fair and square and he fell apart at the seams. Went down like a stone, in half a dozen bits. Reminded me of the Jap Zeros we used to run into over Lae; they couldn’t take a good solid hit, either.

  ‘All this happened in just a few seconds. I got the boys together again and we turned in for a third pass, but by this time there wasn’t much left, because the La-9s had scarpered and Charlie and Dog Sections had decided to come down for a piece of the action, as had a few stray Sabres. The sky was so full of bloody fighters I had to weave in and out of ’em before I could get lined up on a target. I managed to get in really close to two bombers which were flying wingtip to wingtip, going flat out and heading north; I think they must have been using some sort of supercharging, because both engines were leaving black smoke trails.

  ‘I fired my remaining ammunition into one and saw it hit all along his fuselage, ri
ght through from tail to nose. He turned over on his back, very slowly, and went into a vertical dive. I saw the tail assembly fall off, and that was that.’

  Yeoman learned that the Meteor pilots had accounted for nine out of the twelve Tu-2s, and had also destroyed three La-g fighters. It would be a long time, he thought, before the Reds again ventured far across the Yalu with piston-engined aircraft.

  Nevertheless, the Intelligence staff at Joint Operations Headquarters felt that the presence of the Tu-2s-which were light attack bombers — over North Korea was highly significant, for it seemed to indicate that the Communists were trying to build up an offensive capability. So far, air attacks on United Nations troops had been limited to nuisance raids by little PO-2 biplanes, coming over the lines singly or in pairs after dark. What the Communists lacked, so far, were aircraft that were sufficiently modern to carry out assaults on United Nations ground forces without being massacred by the air defences.

  Then, a few days after the incident with the Tu-2S, there came a sinister new development.

  For some weeks, two RB-45 Tornado reconnaissance aircraft-versions of the jet bomber that was then the mainstay of America’s Tactical Air Command squadrons-had been operating over the Yalu, flying at very high altitudes and taking photographs of the enemy airfield complex on the other side of the river. Because of their high speed and the height they could reach, they were the only aircraft that could undertake this task without interference from the MiGs.

  During the first week of September 1951 one of these aircraft brought back a series of photographs that sent the UN Air Intelligence Staff into a mild frenzy. Showing up clearly on one of the airfields, parked neatly alongside a line of MiG-15s, were four sleek aircraft with straight wings, under which two turbojet engines appeared to be slung, and swept-back tail surfaces.

  The Intelligence experts did not need to rush to their classified handbooks on Soviet aircraft to identify these four. They were Ilyushin II-28 jet bombers, of the type that now equipped the front-line squadrons of the Frontovaya Aviatsiya-Russia’s equivalent of Tactical Air Command-in eastern Europe.

  The Americans already had a lot of information on the II-28, which was Russia’s first operational jet bomber. It was powered by two Klimov VK-1 turbojets and, like the MiG-15, owed a lot to wartime German aviation technology. It carried an armament of two 23-mm cannon in the nose and two more in the tail position, and it could lift about 7,000 pounds of bombs. Even with maximum bomb load, the II-28 had a combat radius of over 600 miles. Its combat radius also meant that, operating from bases in Manchuria, it could hit United Nations targets anywhere in Korea-and in some areas of Japan.

  The presence of the II-28s in Manchuria-and as yet there was no reason to believe that there were any more in the area — led, in part at least, to a complete revision of the Meteor’s role in the Korean War. But this was not the whole of the story.

  Early in September — as though to avenge the massacre of the Tu-2S by 493 Squadron-the enemy sought out the two Australian fighter squadrons and attacked them with unparalleled ferocity whenever they encountered them, often avoiding combat with Sabres to strike at the Meteors.

  There was a particularly hard-fought battle in the middle of September, and once again Yeoman was not involved. But he was in the control tower at Taegu, listening-in to the fighter frequency, and was able to keep track of events as they occurred.

  The squadron, led by Dick Thornes, was carrying out a sweep at twenty thousand feet when the Meteor pilots spotted forty-plus MiGs high above them. The Australians stayed where they were, hoping to draw the MiGs down to their own level, where they could fight on better terms, and sure enough the enemy jets started to come down in pairs, making fast diving attacks on Baker and Dog Sections.

  This time the Australians seemed to have the measure of the enemy; three of the pilots in Baker Section fired at a MiG and it was seen to go down vertically, with flames bursting from it. But then Baker Two was hit in the ventral fuel tank and left wing; cannon shells blasted away his port aileron and the Meteor rolled uncontrollably, then went down in a flat spin with smoke and vapour streaming from it. The pilot ejected.

  The MiG that had attacked him was attacked in turn by two more Australians and sheered off, although no hits on it were claimed. By this time the MiGs were pressing home determined attacks from three directions, trying to box in the Australians, and it was all the latter could do to avoid being hit. Only the timely arrival of a group of Sabres saved them from taking more casualties; when they saw the American fighters approaching, the MiGs broke off the engagement and sped away across the Yalu.

  On the way home, the Meteors ran into cloud. When they landed at Taegu, two more aircraft were missing. Yeoman, in flying control, told Thornes that he had heard one of the pilots calling for a QDM-the magnetic heading required for him to reach base — but something seemed to have been wrong with his radio, for he had not acknowledged the instructions he had received. He had kept on calling for a while, then his transmissions had ceased abruptly.

  Later, they received a report from one of the American infantry units in the front line. Troops had heard a sharp explosion, and seen a red glow in the clouds. Moments later, a mass of wreckage, identified subsequently as that of two Meteors, had fallen from the cloud base some two miles to the rear. Neither pilot survived what must have been a mid-air collision.

  This disastrous sortie had immediate repercussions. Within forty-eight hours, a signal arrived from Commonwealth Air HQ in Japan, forbidding 493 Squadron’s Meteors to operate north of the Chongchon River-well clear of MiG Alley. No such restriction applied to 77 Squadron, as yet, the reason given being that its Meteors were fitted with radio compasses. If the two Meteors that had been lost in the collision had been equipped with such compasses, the argument went, the tragic accident might never have happened.

  Another task was allotted to 493 Squadron. Because of the threat posed by the enemy’s II-28 jet bombers, a flight of Meteors was to remain on readiness at Taegu at all times during daylight hours, ready to intercept the enemy aircraft if they put in an appearance. It was, Air HQ stressed, a vitally important role, and one to which the Meteor-because of its excellent rate of climb-was admirably suited.

  The pilots, on the other hand, felt that this was nothing more than a sop for their morale. From now on, they did not see much prospect of real action.

  They were wrong, mainly because neither Yeoman nor Dick Thornes felt much like quietly accepting Air HQ’s edict.

  As Thornes pointed out, the Air HQ order must have passed through Fifth Air Force Headquarters for approval, because the two Australian squadrons were still under Fifth Air Force operational control. Accordingly, the two officers decided to seek an interview with the Commanding General. It was speedily granted, and they drove down to Pusan the following afternoon.

  Entry into Fifth Air Force HQ proved to be unexpectedly difficult, for the entrance was guarded by a pair of burly, heavily-armed US military policemen who, having newly arrived from the United States, were not familiar with RAF and RAAF uniforms. It took several telephone calls before the two officers were allowed inside, the MPs standing aside reluctantly, uncertain whether to salute or not.

  The General greeted Yeoman and Thornes warmly. There was a twinkle in the American’s eye which made Yeoman suspect that he knew all about the purpose of their visit. The General’s first words confirmed this, and somewhat took the wind out of their sails.

  ‘Okay, so you don’t like being taken off fighter sweeps and assigned to strip alert. What’s the alternative?’ he asked them bluntly.

  ‘Well, sir,’ Yeoman said, equally as bluntly, ‘I think the Meteor is wasted as an interceptor, at least here in Korea. I think we ought to try it in the ground attack role. It will carry just as big a weapons load as the F-80, and is a much more stable firing platform. Besides, I believe that the Meteor’s cannon armament alone could be devastating against most types of enemy vehicle-much more effective than
the F-80’s machine-guns.’

  He had omitted to tell the general that the Meteor 8s used by the Australians in Korea would need some modifications before they could carry either bombs or rockets. These were not extensive and could be carried out by the workshops at Iwakuni; they’d worry about such details later.

  The general looked at each of the two officers in turn, then fixed Dick Thornes with a piercing eye.

  ‘D’you agree with this?’ he asked the Australian. The latter nodded.

  ‘Yes, sir. One hundred per cent. I think that in the ground attack role, the Meteor will really come into its own. As a matter of fact’ — he glanced sideways at Yeoman — ‘the wing commander and I have been working out some details on how best the Meteor might be employed in this capacity. I’ve got the information here, if you’d care to take a look.’

  He passed an envelope to the general, who opened it and scanned its contents, nodding as he did so.

  ‘All right,’ he said at length, ‘I can see that the pair of you have been doing your homework. Listen, I’ll get in touch with Commonwealth HQ and put forward the strongest case I can for employing the Meteor as you suggest. I see no reason why we shouldn’t give the idea a try with 493 Squadron, then bring both squadrons in, if it’s a success.’

  They thanked him, rose and saluted, and turned to leave. As they did so, the general called out to Yeoman.

  ‘By the way, George, there’s just one thing.’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘You’d better get the necessary modifications under way, hadn’t you?’

  It took the General less than twenty-four hours to obtain the necessary authority to employ the Meteors as ground-attack aircraft. In the meantime, Yeoman and Thornes had discovered that the modifications required were by no means as extensive as they had at first believed; in fact, the Squadron Engineer Officer declared that he would carry out the work-which mainly involved wiring up firing circuits-on the spot at Taegu, without having to fly the Meteors back to Iwakuni.