“Recollections Of One Very Fortunate Mustang Fighter Pilot”
Submitted by Melvin V. Corley, Lt. Colonel, USAF, Ret.
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9 July 1951. "I'd flown three combat missions since early morning and thought I was through for that day. I'd told my crew chief to pull the Mustang's cowl and check an oil leak we'd seen. I was in Squadron Operations when I was told there was a unscheduled 'rapid response mission' that had to be flown. I told them that my 'bird' was out for maintenance but Operations told me to take the Squadron's spare and go along.
So, off I went in the spare airplane. After we'd flown about 50 miles beyond the 'bomb line', 12th Fighter-Bomber Squadronthe Group Commander radioed us to release the spare airplanes to return home. I was the only pilot in a spare, so I peeled away from the flight and, since I had two 500 pound bombs, four 5 inch rockets, and a full load of 50 caliber machine gun ammunition on board, I started looking around for targets of opportunity
I flew over a small village where, near a bridge, where I saw six Chinese military trucks. I immediately rolled in... 'made two bomb runs, hitting the bridge once. Then, I made my rocket runs against the trucks. During my attacks, I was being shot at during each run by .50 calibers, 20 millimeter and 40 millimeter anti-aircraft guns. None of the flak came too close. But the trucks didn't move; they were dummies. I'd been suckered into a flak trap.
After my last strafing pass I pulled up to go home, leveling off at 6,000 feet. I was about to give Control a radio call, alerting them of my return... so they wouldn't 'call out guns' on me.. when my 'bird' took a monstrous 40 millimeter hit in the right wing root. The airplane immediately snap-rolled out of control, and the cockpit filled with smoke.
I pulled the canopy release. The canopy came off clean, but the cockpit then filled with fire. I tried to stand up to get out, but the aircraft was snap-rolling so badly I couldn't kick away. As I was standing there, I was violently thrown back into the fire, then just as violently, was tossed out of the cockpit and on the way out I slammed into the aircraft's tail. The impact stunned and knocked me out for a few seconds. But I quickly regained consciousness, and pulled my parachute's
D-ring. The chute billowed out; I swung twice, then hit the ground on my back .
I couldn't move for several seconds. I lie there on the ground, unable to move at all. When I turned over on my side, I saw a man standing at his doorway looking at me in stunned amazement. I pulled out my .45 automatic to 'cover him', but quickly and painfully realized that I couldn't stand up. My left shoulder was broken, my right leg was hurting badly, and a few of my ribs were caved in.
The man didn't run; he just stood there transfixed. I struggled and finally got out of my chute harness, and waved him over. I desperately needed help to get out of there. He was old, small, and very scared. I got hold of him, turned him around, and after a few tries, I finally got on his back 'piggy back' style. He began carrying me south. He could only haul me a short distance, then had to stop and rest. But after about an hour of this, I heard the sound of airplane engines and looked up to see a SA-16 rescue aircraft. How'd they find me so quickly? I fired my flare. The pilot signaled his recognition by rocking his aircraft's wings, then turned away. I mounted up - we started south again.
Thirty minutes later a half-dozen Chinese soldiers started shooting at us. They were quite a distance away but I could see each of them, clearly. As they began getting closer we dropped low behind a rice paddy dike, and I began firing at them with my .45 automatic. I guess just the sound of the big weapon stopped them. But just for a minute. They had begun moving closer again, when I heard the sound of a chopper. I fired another smoke signal. The helicopter pilot landed on the dike and two crew members came running out to pick me up.
The old Korean helped them carry me to the helicopter. I wanted to take the old man along with us. I was so grateful for what he'd done. But the pilot said "absolutely not!". And off we went, but not before we were fired upon from the ground. I was injured again when hit by the ground fire.
Since I had been flying alone and didn't show up, my outfit had reported me as missing.
I didn't awaken until the next morning. Since I was shot down only forty or fifty miles behind enemy lines, the SA-16 'Dumbo' amphibian did a splendid job.
The morning after my rescue, I awakened in a hospital. I gave out my squadron information and the administrator let my people know where I was. The following day my squadron C.O. hopped a plane and flew over to check up on me. I visited with him, then told him I wanted to get out of that hospital and go back to flying airplanes.
Two days later, the C.O. returned with two of my pilot friends. They checked me out of the hospital, and the three of them picked me up and carried me out to a waiting car, drove to the airport, hoisted me into a safe old C-47 'Gooney Bird' transport.
But, that's wasn't quite the end of my adventure. Our home base destination was 'mucked in' by strong winds and awfully grubby weather. On landing, the C-47 driver landed too long, going too fast... on a very wet and slippery runway. On and on, then 'Off' we went... right past the far end of the runway, hit some-thing, then nosed over ...the Gooney's tail was pointing toward the sky.
In the blink of an eye, there I was hanging from my seat belt thinking, ' All of the crap I've been through in combat, and now I'm going to die in an old Gooney Bird'.
The maintenance crews finally got the Gooney's tail down. We left the 'battered and wounded' transport and once again, I was checked into the base hospital.
After three weeks of recuperation, I was sent TDY to Japan for an Escape and Evasion debriefing. Any relevant facts, knowledge and skills leading to a successful E & E had to be passed along for possible use by other crews.
I limped along on my cane in Tokyo. All the hotel rooms were booked full, so I had to stay in one of the rooms on the main floor of a large hotel. I was unpacking my bag on the cot bed and wall locker, when a Lieutenant came in and sat on the cot next to mine. He asked what was wrong with my leg. I gave him a quick summary of what had happened. He looked at me with a funny expression on his face, and began asking me about the specific dates and times.
Unbelievably, it turned out that he was a radar rescue controller on duty at the radar scope on the day I was shot down. He told me that he had seen one blip on his radar screen, that became two blips... it turns out that he was watching as the right wing fell off of my airplane .. then both blips disappeared. He thought to himself, 'That's a really strange one'....
On the same screen, he also had an SA-16 amphibian 'blip'. Since that rescue aircraft was the closest to where the blips disappeared, 'water rescue' or not, he ordered it over to check out the strange blips.
The radar Lieutenant and I remained in Tokyo for several days. Believe me, if he glanced at or indicated an interest in anything, I bought it for him; he lacked for nothing.
We stayed in touch for a long time, but we eventually lost contact with each other over the years.
I had been shot down on my 70th mission; and after a short period of recuperation, I was returned to combat flying and was able to finish my 100 mission Korean combat Tour.
