July 1950
18th Fighter-Bomber Group Gets The Call
On July 24th, the 18th Fighter-Bomber Group, based at Clark AFB, plus the 67th Fighter-Bomber Squadron, received orders transferring the unit to Johnson Air Base, Japan, “for the purpose of staging and receiving aircraft and for further transfer to Taegu (K-2), Korea.”
The 67th was commanded by Major Louis J. Sebille until his death in combat on August 5th.
Until July 27th, the 18th Group, commanded by Lt. Col. Ira L. Wintermute, remained attached to the 18th Fighter-Bomber Wing at Clark AFB, Philippines. On that date “the Group was moved to Japan.
The 44th Fighter-Bomber Squadron remained at Clark AFB under the Command of Major Charles H. Gipson.”
On July 30th, the 18th Group and the 67th Squadron moved to Ashiya, and on August 3rd, the group headquarters moved to K-2.
18th F-B Group Combat Operations
Until it was called into the Korean War, the 18th Group had been flying the F-80 “Shooting Star” aircraft. However, “when the group was attached to the Fifth Air Force it was given F-51 aircraft to use in the Korean conflict.
Ordinarily, when changing aircraft, checkouts and transitional flying are in order. However, the exigencies of the situation precluded such action. For the most part, checkout and transition for pilots consisted of a three-hour ferry mission from Johnson AB to Ashiya AB. Several pilots checked-out and flew their first combat mission at the same time.”
The impact of the Mustang’s relentless daylight fighter attacks became apparent rather suddenly during the last week in July. “Where the Reds had previously charged blindly ahead in full daylight, seemingly oblivious to the toll we were taking of their tanks, trucks and troops,” Biteman recalled, “they all of a sudden began seeking concealment during the day, and making their advances only at night.”
As the North Korean forces neared the Naktong River, the Mustang pilots “really had to search hard for them, looking under each tree and inside the buildings of each village. They would drive their tanks right through the walls of several buildings in the village, then drive their trucks and tanks inside and camouflage the openings with net or straw so they would not be detected from the air. Or, if there were no villages nearby, they would park under a clump of trees and spread netting and branches over the equipment.”
The new concealment tactics “made it necessary for us to drastically change our tactics, because we had to search out the targets at minimum altitude—literally lifting the branches of the trees to look underneath for their arms, or to find their tank tracks, where they’d failed to cover them.”
There were just as many targets as there had been before, but it was much harder to find them.
The Mustangs also “started picking up more holes in our ships from small arms fire while we were down on the deck searching for clues.”
One new tactic became known to the pilots as “yo-yo” maneuvers.
“Instead of two or more ships going in to search or attack a target simultaneously, we’d keep one ship high—above 2000 feet, just high enough to stay out of much small arms (rifle and machine gun) range—while the other went down onto the deck. Then, if the enemy fired on the attacking plane, the top-cover could usually spot the muzzle blasts and be able to dive in to attack, while the first attacker would pull up to fly “shotgun,” continuing the one up, one down coverage for as long as there were targets in the area,” Biteman explained.
When the Mustangs would locate “an especially lucrative or heavily-defended target, one that we had to hit repeatedly, we’d try to vary the patterns to be sure that we never made our attacks twice from the same direction. To do so was to invite disaster, because the gunners were able to take a sighting on one ship, then be all set to blast the next one down the ‘chute.’ Instead, we’d make sure that our attack headings were at least 60 to 90 degrees offset from the preceding ship.”
Biteman would “always let loose a short burst of machine gun fire just as I started in on the target, even at long, out of range distances—just to suggest the gunners put their heads down. They really didn’t know whether I was shooting at them or not, so they’d often hold their fire for fear I’d see their muzzle blast and aim directly at them.”
Camouflage” and Protection “In order to look more like Infantrymen, some of us traded our one-piece flight suits for two piece Army fatigues and had pencil pockets sewn on the sleeves,” Lt. Col. Barber explained, “in case we got shot down and captured we didn’t want to look like a ‘pilot.’” “In my case, I had a pile jacket sewn up by a Korean woman with gloves and headgear (warm) in the same shape as the backpad of the parachute. I then replaced the backpad with this expedient so if I crash landed or bailed out, I would always have these warm clothes with me.” Barber also had “a small holster made for my .25-caliber pistol and strapped it out of sight under my fatigues in case I was captured and the enemy removed my .45 from its shoulder holster.” As additional protections, Barber “strapped a switch blade knife in a small holster around my lower leg and connected under my fatigue pants.” He was “loaded for bear” but hopeful that the “bear wouldn’t come!” Looking back, he found the psychological effects of flying combat missions “interesting.” For the first 20-30 missions he “flew well prepared.” Gradually, as the number of missions grew, he found himself gradually “slacking off in carrying additional protection.” When he reached 80-85 missions, and “had the feeling that I might make it through after all,” he “started re-strapping the ‘protection’ on.”
[“We’d only fire a warning burst if we suspected ‘friendlies,’” explained Lt. Col. Kenneth Barber. “Our commander, ‘Moon’ Mullins always taught us to ‘shoot to kill.’”]
Once the attacking Mustangs had completed their run and passed the positions of the enemy on the ground “and they knew we couldn’t turn on them—WOW!—all hell would break loose and everyone on the ground would swing their guns around and try to get us on the way out—unless my wingman was coming down the slot at the same time that I was pulling off.”
Biteman soon acquired the habit of “jinxing” the ship around as he approached the target, and especially as he pulled off.
“I’d push rudders, stick and ailerons all over the cockpit, to keep the ship flying as UNCOORDINATED as I could make it. If there was a hill nearby, I’d roll over on my back and scoot over the hill close to the ground, rolling right-side-up only after I was on the opposite side, where the targets’ gunners couldn’t take aim on me. Then, after a few miles or so on the other side, I’d pull up steeply to trade my excess full-throttle airspeed for a couple thousand feet of quick altitude, and start another attack from a far-different angle. My defensive techniques worked very effectively for me, and although most attacks were at low altitude, in heavily defended areas, few gunners were able to successfully take a bead on me. My Mustangs picked up very few holes,” he remembered.